Perfect little hand
A bubble of love surrounds
Baby brings such joy

Perfect little hand
A bubble of love surrounds
Baby brings such joy

This New Year’s is getting me down. I had so hoped that 2025, the year I turn 60, would be the year we’d finally stop seeing his ridiculous orange face and hearing his racist, lying voice forever. I had thought if we could just get through the November election, he’d fade from our consciousness. I worked hard to try to make that happen.
Instead, the shitshow continues. All the anger, fear and bitterness of the past nine years is back. I’m suspicious of old friends who seem to blame all their problems on immigrants. I’m worried that racism or god forbid—gun violence—is going to affect my family. I’m so sad for the planet. I’m scared that our new leaders are truly just self-dealers.
I used to want to try to make the world a better place for all our children and grandchildren. Now I just want to try to protect my own children and grandchild in whatever way I can.
All the expansive positivity, American pride, and hopefulness for all women I felt watching Kamala Harris accept her nomination for president is gone.
I am taking solace in the unparalleled personal, private, internal joy of becoming a grandmother. Maybe my love for this one child will save me.

This year is a milestone Christmas for us—our first one as grandparents.
We know our sweet little baby granddaughter won’t remember this Christmas, but we hope to have many more where we’ll make memories she can remember.
Christmas already feels so exciting again just having this perfect little girl in the world.

Merry Christmas 🎄
XOXO
Mary
For those of you who successfully raised kids who are now independent young adults in their 20s and 30s, well done. It’s a heavy lift. From sleepless nights to FAFSAs, it’s not easy. I mean just keeping them fed, clean and alive for 18 years is a major undertaking.
People are understandably proud of their adult kids. They worked so hard to get them to that point!
I think it’s that primal, arduous journey of parenthood that makes becoming a grandparent the most incredible blessing imaginable, and I am not someone who typically uses the word blessing. But having a beautiful, healthy baby grandchild in your arms, smiling up at you, is like walking through a field of flowers on a sunny day with a double rainbow overhead. It’s pure joy. Pure love.

OK, here’s the whacky confession. After spending the day with my perfect baby granddaughter (and her lovely mommy) yesterday, I missed the baby the second I got home. So I requested that my 6-foot 180-pound 23-year old son—MY baby— briefly sit in my lap like when he was small. He obliged. He knows it’s easier to just humor me than to argue.
My parents are part of the so-called Silent Generation. They were born in the 30s, in the decade before the baby boom started. My father is about five years older than my mother so he remembers being a kid during World War 2. He was born to poor Italian immigrants, but thanks to the GI Bill, after serving four pre-Vietnam years in the Air Force, he got to go to college for free. He wisely studied engineering and his life went straight up from there. My mother was born to lower middle class second-generation immigrants of mixed European descent and her parents were able to afford to send her to UMass on their modest incomes. She graduated debt-free and stopped working as a teacher the minute she started “showing” with me and never really had to work after that.
They were able to buy a new house (actually two), raise two daughters, send them to college (in my sister’s case, numerous colleges), travel the world, and enjoy a decades-long comfortable retirement, including 6+ weeks in sunny Florida each winter. Now, as they enter the final season of their lives, they are in remarkably good health and have various good options. They could sell their two-story home (which they purchased for about 30K in the 60s and is now worth 1M+) and move into one of several different high-end assisted living facilities nearby, or move into their one-floor condo, or adapt their two-story house as needed and just stay there. They have many different options.
From the GI Bill to plentiful and affordable new housing, quality public education (including college), Medicare, Social Security, and generous ongoing veterans benefits, America has been great to them.
Now, I’m not complaining (much) because I’ve been lucky too, but things were a bit different for us. My husband and most of my friends incurred tremendous debt to go to college and grad school in the 80s and 90s. We made sacrifices for me to stay at home for a couple of years when my kids were babies, including buying a dilapidated, antique house with a down payment I had to ask my father for in a humiliating conversation.
We worked hard to fix up that tiny old house with the severely slanting floors, lead paint, and leaking fieldstone basement. I got a job, my husband got a second job, and he also put in tons of sweat equity. We were able to roll his student loans into our mortgage. And then, when we decided to try to sell that house in 2004, we got lucky. I found buyers that overpaid significantly for our house. I met a woman on a playground (another young mom) who wanted to buy a house in our town and I told her that ours just happened to be on the market. We hit it off personally and that predisposed her to like my house more than she should have when she and her husband came to see it with a realtor. We ended up making nearly 150% on that house in just nine years. If we had waited three more years to sell it, the subprime mortgage crisis would’ve been underway and we never would’ve done so well. That one lucky sale set us to be able to get most of the things my parents got. We’ve achieved a similar lifestyle to theirs, but without the second home, extravagant travel, and 6+ weeks in Florida each winter.
After we moved to our bigger, newer house, we were super savers and got lucky with some corporate stock from one of my husband’s jobs and were able to give our two kids debt-free college educations. We know this is rare. This is not what most Americans can expect these days.
And as we face very uncertain times ahead, I can only hope that my kids, and their kids, will be able to get most of what we had. We will help them as much as we can, but we have our own retirement to worry about. Who the hell knows what will happen with Social Security and Medicare. We have to be prepared to pay for everything ourselves.
The contrast between what my immigrant grandparents arrived with and what my parents have been able to achieve in this country is staggering. Yes, my parents worked hard and stayed married (divorce is a real wealth killer), but they also happened to be born at a very good point in American history. I think it may turn out that they got the absolute best of America.

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I am continuing my weekly grandma snuggling sessions with my adorable granddaughter and I really wish everyone had such an amazing option. I know she won’t be so sleepy forever, and that we will be doing a lot of fun, active stuff in the future, but for now, this is perfect. She is perfect. Her mom and dad are doing such a great job taking care of her, there’s not all that much else to do. Snuggling is Job One.
The best is when she falls into a very deep sleep on me and stays that way for a couple of hours. When she’s awake, she is very cute and smiley, but there’s only so long you can stay awake when you’re busy growing so fast!

For all the folks dreading dealing with MAGA relatives on Thanksgiving, I recommend yesterday’s post in The Brevity Blog by guest blogger Andrea Tate, as well as her original, viral day-after-the-election piece in The Huffington Post. There’s nothing normal about any of this.
Baby burrito
Snug as a bug in a rug
Nothing else matters

NOTE: I am dying to share photos of my infant granddaughter with my readers, but will refrain, as this is a public blog.
I just love to wrap her up like a burrito (aka swaddling) and snuggle with her while she takes a nice long nap in my arms. It’s basically grandma nirvana. I wish I could bottle the feeling and share it with all the broken-hearted people.
🥰
XOXO
Mary, GenX Grandma (I still have 204 days of my fifties left, but who’s counting)
3 quick things:
First, I learned a new word on Bluesky and it is “kakistocracy.”

Second, I got my tickets for the new Wicked movie starring Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. We’re going Thanksgiving weekend and I fully expect the audience to be chock full of musical theater kids (young and old) who WILL sing along. My husband said he wanted to go with me, so he’ll just have to deal with it. (I will be one of the singing people.)

Third, I will be spending the day with the world’s most adorable and perfect infant today. I thought my own kids were pretty darn cute, but my granddaughter is off-the-charts gorgeous. And it’s not just me saying that…there is a general consensus that she’s the prettiest little dark-haired, dark-eyed baby that anyone has ever seen! There is absolutely no danger that anyone has to fake it, like Jerry and Elaine did in that classic Seinfeld scene. 🤣
Have a great day, if you can. If not, just keep going.
XOXO
❤️
Mary
On the eve of you
I slept with a golden charm
My Daughter, my heart

To my readers: my granddaughter has arrived safe and sound – thank the universe! She is perfect in every way and so is her name, which I love, but won’t be sharing publicly at this time.
As a mother, I can tell you it’s pretty darn stressful to have your own precious daughter go through labor and delivery. I wrote this haiku during the first night of her labor, which went on for two whole nights. I barely slept a wink!
I’m a grandma, people!!!!!
Best promotion ever!
💕
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