What I learned in 2025

It is December 30 at around 8:30PM and I’m laying in my bed munching on chocolate covered pretzels certain of two things: I will not finish this piece by 2026 and I will not see the ball drop. My eyes are heavy and my snack was a comforting way to close out the year. I start scrolling through my entire camera roll to relive the peaks and the valleys of this past year. We learned, and will continue to learn all the days of this wild and beautiful life.

I learned that joy, grief and self expression are not reserved for anyone in particular. They’re accessible to all and the bedrock of our humanity. Emotion is the great equalizer. You don’t need money or shiny things, status or perfect perception; you just need to feel.

I learned that shopping lists will become treasures. My father in law called with his orders for Giant Eagle and I always snuck in the requested sweet treats that he shouldn’t have had, but he had a zest for life and Marie Callender cream pie. God rest his soul.

I tried to tune out the noise because the only voice I often needed to hear was my own along with some guidance from the good Lord. No one can tell you what you need and no one’s coming to rescue you so take up your arms and do it yourself and give grace and kindness and let others flourish while you quietly and patiently unwrap the gift of your life.

I found solace in a cozy garden center, collecting stuffed animals, Gregory’s Coffee drive through, cemetary drive-bys, and lots of trail mix.

I re-learned that special events are especially likely to be an emotional and logistical mess. Lower your expectations or opt out of events that trigger bad feelings and overwhelm.

I learned that grief evolves. I realize I compare the present day to the way it used to be. Before the pandemic, or the breakup, or you stopped drinking finally, or your Papa died or whatever your pivotal moment was. For me it was when nana and even our Mimi hosted parties and Papa ate everything in sight and recycled all the little ginger ale bottles and read the paper with his coffee. And Nonny picked the chicken bones clean and Homer ate fusilli and Wilma made apple crumble and Carl enjoyed her meatloaf sandwiches. When James and I had more time to just be, when gatherings felt safe, and there was a little less tension in the air. I also realize if we continually compare the imperfect present to the perceived glory of a past we long for, we will always feel a tinge of sadness. But I want to enjoy what we have and how far we have come and relish the gifts of our babies, and the noise, and the graying hair and soft belly that made life, and the extra effort required to find your misplaced grace, and the sweet release of accepting the flawed within all of us.

I keep relearning that reinforcing something makes it significant; what you resist persists.

I learned that Purely Obsessional OCD is still a doozy and the postpartum varietal is really monstrous. But feelings aren’t facts, you’re not the sum of your fears, and you will continue to be ok.

I learned about symbiosis…as in the baby, well sturdy toddler now, and I have become quite symbiotic. We actually fell into co-sleeping which is something I didn’t envision for us. I chose not to breastfeed and I know that breeds a lot of closeness so we started contact napping. I savor every day the chance to rest with the baby. And while it's a responsibility and sacrifice when a life relies on you for sleep, it has been such a gift of pause and calm and sweet serenity. His chest rising and falling in cadence with mine, searching for me in the night, nestling his tussled hair atop my chin or in the crook of my neck, the air of evening milk I shouldn’t have offered but you do what you must, and the release of a periodic snore.

While it can be seen as limiting, it’s been the joy of my life to be a sanctuary for this child. I am not certain we will have any others. I was not certain we would even have him. So I relish the naps and I relish the nights and I pray that I'll always remember the feeling of his little body next to mine breathing in deeply in perfect peace, and also an occasional head butt! Let’s be realistic.

I’ve learned it is squarely our responsibility to regulate our emotions, navigate our outcomes, and handle our responses. As a reassurance seeker and a people pleaser it is common for me to seek cohesion, advice, and comfort from those near and dear, but you also have to find a way to create a safe place unto yourself.

I've learned that I'm virtually replaceable everywhere in the world except within the four* walls of my home. In the role of mother I am irreplaceable in this moment in time. Thus I pray, I may always have the strength and the longevity to fulfill this role. And while motherhood is glorious, it also comes with pockets of rage, overwhelm and loneliness. I think we have to be transparent about how indeed hard it is. Does the irritability and strain ever pass if we place impossible expectations on ourselves? Likely not.

I've learned that little boys are wild. Positively wild. Curious, and clumsy but all the while determined, with an infectious laugh like a drunken college student running naked through the hall. Nothing is safe! Nothing is safe. But they make you laugh, and keep you on your toes and you love them all the while and Google should my toddler wear a helmet many times throughout the day.

Even the tantrums and big emotions are endearing. When I was in therapy navigating life with JJ, my therapist said it was quite courageous to demand that your needs are met. To do whatever is necessary to enact change in the way that you need changing. Somehow, as we age or maybe this is just me projecting, I do not always fight for or demand what I need. I may sulk or moan in perfect passive aggressive fashion, but this little person not even on the earth for two years already knows what to do to get his needs met. And I will use him as my example to garner the outcomes I am seeking.

The love between JJ and Jameson continues to nurture my soul. They have a connection that is incomparable and it warms my heart to know that while they were not birthed by the same woman, they are connected in life as soul brothers. And my first born Tiernan is becoming such a strong willed and ethereal spirit. I love listening to her sing song renditions of favorite music and when she tells me all the best secrets.

I learned about fungal diaper rash, and whoa is it funky. So much poop!

Individuals very dear to me said goodbye to their grandmothers this past year and I learned that while our parents’ love can be grand a grandmother's love is indomitable and transcends space and time. To my dear ones who buried someone that they adored in 2025, I pray that you see their smile in every star in the sky.

I'm still learning so much about my husband. I feel like nothing tests you or exposes your weaknesses like a tiny human, staring at you with beautiful bold eyes, taking in every effort and word like a sponge at the bottom of the ocean. We were married 10 years this past October and there and chapters we've yet to read, and I find it especially fragile to unearth these next chapters with the steady gaze of a child looking on.

I learned to do quite a bit while nap trapped. I actually wrote Christmas cards that were not on time. They will never be on time. I also made little trinkets for my mother and father's anniversary party. I learned a few basic stitches and embroidery, and I read new books. Well, not really. I read parts of books and then lost interest because my attention span is abysmal. I answered lots of emails cocooned next to the once hopelessly busy, now dormant little man for our daily siesta.

I learned how to cheat the algorithm. I started a brand new account where I only follow toys, crafts and stuffed animals. I also learned how to not consume or scroll so much. I don’t want the baby to inherit my phone addiction so I use the Meta app to post and share some tidbits. I do not take in content unless I am on my laptop which is way less accessible than my phone. I want to keep my toes in the world of media, but more prominently be in the actual world through its highs and its more accurate woes.

If you've something super important to tell me and we are in real life friends, please text or call me. I might miss it on Instagram!

I learned that friendship can span the sea. And age and culture bear no importance for twin flames.

I learned about forgiveness. By the grace of God, many people came together to comprise the village caring for a very special teenage boy, now 18 and staring at me in the face with his eyes full of hope and wonder, despite all he has navigated.

I learned I still have so much to learn but with earnest effort the pursuit continues. May 2026 and may you be kind to you.

Chicken Milanese for the Soul

We will be rewarded for sharing vulnerabilities like Tinkerbell and her pixie dust, they said. Tossing it around for all in need to benefit from and partake in. Everyone is hurting to some degree, so by sharing we collectively heal.  Some people you give a gift as precious as your vulnerability to will protect it. They, like you, know how it feels to be exploited, misunderstood, and uncertain. Some will absorb it, with a feigned look of understanding, and quietly tuck that very valuable piece of you away until it is advantageous to use. When the circumstances align, they reach into their closet of intel, pluck it, and voila. You are hurting again.

The feeling empathes in a world that wants us to believe something is seriously wrong with us as we are, must not allow these circumstances to harden us. Someone, somewhere is deserving of our gifts. We just might have to be a little more selective when doling them out.

The best we can do as people is make of ourselves what we are able,  sharing with those deserving of our vulnerability. Plant our feet firmly on the ground, ignite our surroundings with our passion, quietly give thanks, tenderly love,  enthusiastically try, and make chicken Milanese. After all this feeling, I’m starving.

You'll Need:

For the chicken:

• 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 6 ounces each, lightly pounded)
• 2 large eggs
• ⅔  cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup plain dried breadcrumbs 
• 1 cup olive oil
• kosher salt and pepper

For the salad:

• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
• 3 cups baby arugula
• 6-10 grape or heirloom tomatoes, halved
• ½  red onion, sliced thin
• 2 roasted red peppers, sliced thin
• kosher salt and black pepper  

To Prepare:

1. For the chicken: Lightly beat 2 large eggs in a medium bowl. Place all-purpose flour and breadcrumbs in 2 separate wide, shallow dishes.
2. Season eggs, flour and chicken with coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper.
3. Working with 1 cutlet at a time, dip into flour, turning to coat and shaking off excess. Dip into egg, and lift out, letting excess drip off. Dip into breadcrumbs, pressing firmly to adhere. Set aside.
4. Heat oil in a 12-inch skillet (oil should be between 1/4 and 1/2 inch deep) over medium-high heat until shimmering; a breadcrumb should sizzle when dropped into oil.
5. Gently place 2 cutlets in skillet, and fry until bottoms are golden brown, 3 1/2 to 4 minutes. Flip cutlets, and fry until cooked through and golden on other side, about 2 1/2 minutes more.
6. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined baking sheet, and pat off excess oil.
7. Repeat with remaining cutlets, skimming brown bits and adding more oil if necessary.
8. For the salad: Whisk together Extra Virgin Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
9. Toss arugula, tomatoes, red onion, and red peppers with vinaigrette. Top cutlets with salad.
10. Finish with a drizzle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil as well as a turn of salt and pepper. 

Commuter: Connectedness and a cake

Someday I want to say that a splendid work was written in the notes app of my iPhone while waiting for a train, bereft of cell phone service. During the time I wasn't able to access the distraction of the inter web, the mindless scroll of social media and the compulsive checking of my four email accounts. As much as I crave the connectedness, I feel something like liberation when I am cut off from everything, however briefly. Then I charge up the steps into the sunlight or evening dusk to re-engage with the world, rather than lingering in the curated version accessible from my palm.

Much happens when we connect with what is in plain view. We talk to the young mother sitting next to us, rather than longing to be somewhere else on a lavish adventure. We find the poetry in the mundane.

When I was purposefully observing the other day, I got reacquainted with some truths: Laughter out of context is still infectious. Someone is chuckling incessantly in the row behind me and I am desperate to know what they are laughing at. Simultaneously, I don't care what the stimuli is, I feel happier anyway. 

People are predominately good and well-intentioned. There is a baby on the train screaming, bone curdling screams. Her mother is desperate to soothe her, all the while feeling judged by the serious commuters, when in an instant everyone in proximity to the little one find their silliest faces and as a community calm her down. I mean everyone including the suave, well-groomed man I see nearly everyday, who never smiles. Until now. 

The hum of the whistle makes me feel like a character in The Polar Express. I'm reminded of our family's tradition of reading the story each Christmas Eve and exchanging just one gift before laying cookies and carrots out on the fireplace. We haven't done it the past few years, but we should. 

Two teens giggle jovially, picking at their pimples in the reflection of their iPhones and dishing about the latest mean girl encounter at school and picture day. They seem so innocent, unencumbered by the threats all around us.

Across the way an Irishman and his wife are laughing as if the hydrant to their souls had come unplugged. Bursting with glee, sipping on beers and vowing to feign ignorance if they get caught with them. The man jokes that the subway itself holds more people than his tiny town. He observes that everyone's brow is furrowed and looking angry and suggests we try and relax a little more, enjoy the journey. We being the folks sharing the Path car with him erupt into laughter. There are group photos and high fives. They are off to a football match, and to be quite honest for a moment I longed to he going where they were going, or at least to be living like they were living, freely by the moment.

Then I listen to myself again. While it might be nice to be a teen again absorbed in the quandary of school picture day, or sipping a beer on the way to a football match, I have faith in this here journey, where my feet stand. I catch laughter from my neighbor and smile at children. I'm reminded to relate to others, to connect,  but not to compare. How do we know with any level of certainty that their story is favorable to ours. And if it was would it matter?

PS: The cake is an Olive Oil Spice cake. I use Botticelli Foods Extra Virgin Olive Oil.  The applesauce in the cake was freshly made from left over pears and apples, and a little sugar. Buttermilk was made from milk and lemon juice as I didn't get to the grocery store, although I recommend actual buttermilk. The berry cherry basil mixture was residual from another baking project. It's all connected.