26 Feb 2026

Do you enjoy riding roller coasters?

The kids stared in awe at the towering coaster rails as we drove passed the Six Flags Discovery Kingdom park on our way to up to Healdsburg. "I would baaarf," Josie said. Maggie said she probably would too. Eugene, on the other hand, said it looked like fun. Joe mentioned there was once a time when he enjoyed the thrill but that it would probably make him sick if he tried it now. As for me? I like the mellow roller coasters. Think Thunder Mountain Railroad at Disneyland. No loop-de-loops for me, thank you.

Speaking of ups-and-downs, this past week was full of them.

It all started on President's Day, where I was lucky enough to have some restorative time with Aubri, but by early evening, I was already yelling at the older kids for teasing their younger sister and for not being cooperative as I was trying to clean up the house. Joe was out watching a movie (only fair since he graciously solo-parented while I was with Aubri for the day), so I was on my own and must have looked like a hot mess, alternating between vacuuming and screaming.

Before we had children, I told Joe that it was of the utmost importance to me that we be emotionally available parents to our children. The way Joe and I were parented did not allow for much of an emotional relationship between us and our own parents, so we both have had to work hard to break the cycles we were born into. I always take the time to apologize to the kids for raising my voice, but I also reiterate that if I ask them to do something or to not do something, it's for a good reason. All I want is for my kids to be good, kind people.

Let's continue the roller coaster ride of last week, shall we? Plenty of peaks and valleys to discuss.

• Good riddance

I've had two confrontational friendship breakups over the past few years, and though the particular circumstances of each loss were quite different, I couldn't help but notice a couple of stark similarities. Both people threw around accusations and projections of who they thought I was, and for a long time, I bought into what they were telling me. I wondered constantly if I was the kind of person that they believed me to be. Even when I apologized for not being a good friend, they only doubled down on the accusations, never mind the possibility that the problem could also be on their end.

In some ways, I feel like losing a friend is worse than death. There's a finality to death, but when you lose a friend, the person you knew is gone – yet they somehow still exist and move along without you.

Peter, one of my best friends, is grieving his own personal situation right now. His experience pushed me to face my grief head-on and to take the necessary actions to really let go. I also gained a lot my courage from listening to Anderson Cooper's podcast, All There Is, where he discusses his own experience dealing with the suicide of his brother and the recent passing of his mother, and invites guests to discuss their own grief and loss with him. It is a truly enlightening podcast that makes you realize grief displays in so many ways.

I deleted photos on my phone and sent away anything that reminded me of these friendships long gone. I did ask each of these ex-friends if they wanted any photos before I removed them, though neither responded. (My brother and I recently found out that our parents didn’t keep our childhood photo albums when they moved. We were truly devastated and I still can't quite wrap my head around that situation at all, so I couldn't bring myself to do the same thing to someone else.)

I sent one last email to each of them, and this time, I didn't apologize. I told them that I know I am not the person they’ve made me out to be. I know who I am, and I am done being gaslit. In other words... this fool is through!

By the way, what are the kids listening to these days? I don't know how I would have survived high school without The Starting Line, among many other artists on the Drive-Thru Records label. As it turns out, many of the songs of my youth still ring true well into adulthood.

• My very own Julia Child

I can't remember exactly when I learned about Julia Child or when I first watched one of her shows. All I know is that I truly adore her. Both volumes of Mastering the Art of French Cooking sit on my shelf, and whenever I get to pick what to watch, I almost always say Julia, Jacques (Pepin) or Jamie (Oliver). I owe so much to all three of these chefs for influencing my passion for cooking and baking.

Maggie recently had to pick a historical figure for her "wax museum" project. I expected her to pick a singer or an athlete, someone more trendy so to speak, but much to my surprise, she chose Julia Child. I hope this means Julia has made an impression on Maggie the same way she made an impression on me several years ago.

Although meeting the deadlines of the project was stressful at times, Joe and I had a wonderful time learning all about Julia’s life with Maggie. Though I couldn't get Maggie to wear a wig or imitate Julia's trademark voice, Maggie did an amazing job giving her speech to me and many others who walked through the 3rd graders’ wax museum last Thursday. I can’t believe I finally got to meet “Julia Child!”

I am so proud of Maggie, but what I hope for most is that she is proud of herself. She has worked so hard this year.

• A wedding reprise

“Would you rather I kept my rings as they are but never wore them, or would you prefer I redesign the rings so I would wear them?”

I asked Joe this question sometime last year.

Basically since Maggie was born, I stopped wearing my engagement ring and wedding band daily. It was initially due to the swelling of my fingers during pregnancy, but even after my fingers went back to normal, I wasn’t motivated to wear the rings much anymore. Something about them felt foreign to me, like they no longer represented me. I loved the ring when Joe proposed and I picked the wedding band to match, but that person has grown and changed quite a bit and arguably, for the better.

Joe answered that he loves when I wear a ring to symbolize our commitment to each other, but that he wants it to be a ring I would want to wear. I thought a long time before deciding to move forward with redesigning my rings because I wanted to make sure the rings not only held meaning for me, but also for Joe. I reassured him that the elements I love most about the original rings would remain, including their significance.

Joe’s Uncle Malcolm, also his godfather, is a deacon up in Healdsburg. When Joe and I got married in 2013, he had not yet been ordained, so he attended our wedding as a guest and made a touching toast with his younger sister Auntie Teresa, Joe’s godmother. While the rings were undergoing their makeover, I reached out to Uncle Mal and asked if he would be interested in renewing our vows and blessing our wedding rings.

On Sunday, February 22nd (2/22 — that number combination has been following me for a while, maybe one day I will write more about that), Joe and I renewed our wedding vows, with just our children in attendance. Uncle Mal officiated while his wife Auntie Monika snapped photos. It all felt so fitting and right for where our lives are right now. The kids were so antsy and impatient during the ten-minute ceremony, pulling at our clothes and asking “Is it time for pizza yet?” Through it all, Joe and I stood together while Uncle Mal blessed our marriage along with our wedding rings: Joe’s, the same from when we first wed, but mine, a new set — now in yellow gold (matching Joe’s wedding band) and with diamonds borrowed from my engagement ring, my wedding band, and even the promise ring Joe gave to me after our first year of dating. I’ve been wearing my new wedding band every day since.

Back to the reality of a full week, but I hope it brings you some simple moments of joy. Since I am late to publish, your week is already half over! You’re doing it!

I have to quickly mention how enamored I am with Alysa Liu, a 20 year-old figure skater who recently brought home an Olympic gold medal. Alysa is awe-inspiring for many reasons, but I admire her most for trusting herself. Her story shows that we truly thrive when we learn to love who we are and when we take care of ourselves both physically and mentally. Burnt out from the pressure of competitive skating, she retired from the sport when she was only 16 and made her way back to the ice on her own terms. It’s amazing to see the difference: watch her skate at 16 and again at 20. Prioritizing herself and her own happiness has brought her here. Plus, she’s from the Bay Area. We love a hometown hero!

Take care of yourselves. I often forget to, but I’m working on it.