Laugh. To the Point of Tears.

Ok, I am a chicken. A Mother’s Day post was a little more than I could handle yesterday. The day is too much of a juggle between happy and sad, tragic and coping, to have been able to do this. So, I opted for the day after. Because, truth be told, you can only push it down with so much stuff before you find yourself in silence, and the simmer comes to a boil.

Our extended family had much to celebrate this weekend: a new baby, a wedding, a medical school graduation, an anniversary, another successful 140-mile charity bike ride, lunch with our new extended family… we were overflowing with joy.

As with sadness, happiness tends to come in big waves. It gives the sadness context.

As time passes, and the years without Elaine click over, we find that she insinuates herself back to us in not so mysterious ways. Mother’s Day is hard. Just is. No way around it. For both the day and the DAY. But she is very much in all of us.

Saturday, she (and some kick-ass bike handling skills) kept my brother safe. She showed up in a shawl that wrapped Jana in warmth during a wedding ceremony, miraculously still smelling of her essence. This morning, I passed the fridge and there was this picture. I see it everyday. But this morning it called to me. And I could hear her voice:

Lighten up. Be kind to yourself. Let happy outweigh sad. Her favorite to me: I wish I could take it on for you but I can’t, so instead I will just be here for you. But the most important thing she ever taught us was to love fully… and to laugh. To the point of tears.

Happy Day After Mother’s Day to you all.

Now go have a good laugh on Elaine.

Very Useful Websites

I have not been here in ages, but today seemed like a good day to come back. My favorite artifacts from my mom were here journals, in particular, “Articles of Importance – 2007”.

I often open it to a random page, not unlike a Magic 8 Ball. Today this gem came up. Let’s face it… Taxes. Gardening. Travel. Just about sums it all up, right? Certainly for her it did.


MOM. In caps.


I am a mom. And a daughter. And everything that I have learned about being a mom, I learned from being her daughter.

Those who knew Elaine, knew the extraordinary life that she lived in a very ordinary way. I say that because she touched so very many people. Effortlessly. With humility. And frankly not thinking twice about it. She gave advice, comfort and joy to so very many people. I can only hope she knew that.

And she suffered. With grace and determination. And concern, not for herself, but for us. Always. She taught our family how to be a solid unit. How to live the joys to their fullest and survive the depths clinging tight to each other.

The quote above sits proudly on page 1 of one of her famous journals ‘Important articles 2007’. I am so very grateful for these physical reminders of her quirky sense of humor and passion for clipping.

In honor of my red-headed giraffe of a mom, here’s a small list of what I learned from her:

  1. Don’t go out without lipstick (for me it is eyeliner)
  2. Give your kids enough rope to hang themselves (I hung often)
  3. You could do it the easy way, but if you do it the Amy way I will be there to pick up the pieces.
  4. Your toddler is not an asshole, she is just acting like one. Go out for a walk and cool off, I’ve got this.
  5. You are sweet like me, but a bit of a hot head like your dad, I think this will both serve you well and get you in trouble. Remember this when you have kids.
  6. Don’t cross me when I am holding a frozen hot dog (this one is for my brother)
  7. Love with your whole heart.
  8. Be the one who says ‘I think it might not be a good idea for us to do this’ (btw, I was, but did it anyway… persuasive friends)
  9. Be a FRIEND and make sure it is in all caps.
  10. Let your kids fail, but make sure you are in the wings to help them find their way back.

But most of all: Life is what you make it – always has been, always will be.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there. And remember, if you have lost your mom, you are not friggin’ motherless, she is just watching you from another place.


Positive things

The ultimate gardener. One more from the bulletin board. 

The Original Latergram

I always loved the  hashtag #latergram. Post something you forgot to earlier that means enough to share. Two and a half years after she left us, Elaine still finds a way to impart the wisdom that meant the most to her. 

I found this on the little bulletin board by the phone in the Florida kitchen. How have I never seen this? 

How wonderful that I did today. She certainly was the grand puba of empathy. 

A mother’s roots, 2 years later

a mothers roots

This was one of the first things I posted here on Elaineisms. Like my own blog, this too has been taking a long rest. What better day to post here again than Mother’s Day.

I first found this the day Elaine fell, Mother’s Day two years ago. I am convinced now that she knew Mother’s Day would always be tough so, not wanting to have another day of the year be an awful reminder of her absence… well, you get the picture. Funny how we justify what cannot be justified.

This was framed in a grouping with pictures of my two grandmothers on one of her desks. She always thought of her mother-in-law as her second mom.  I had never read this until then, although I had seen it often. Finding it that night was too raw, but I took it and it now sits on my desk.

I just read a passage in a book today about reading the same thing at different times of your life and getting something all together different out of it.


Happy Mother’s Day to a mom who never lets me forget what is important, and who truly lives on in me every day.

I love you mom. And don’t worry, I’ve got this where you left off. I promise.


Learning to Crochet on the Groovy Couch

My beautiful pictureEverything about this photo is amazing to me. Even the fact that it was the last shot on the roll and got cut off.

The outfits.

The concentration.

The moment.

The COUCH! Flower Power, indeed.

Just another reason I am convinced I had the perfect mom. And why I spend every day trying to live up to her example of motherhood. Even in the small moments.

(side note: I never taught Jana to crochet, but I pretty sure I taught her other good stuff)

Happy Birthday Elaine

i could cry but i don't have time


Today would have been my mom’s 83rd birthday. Now that she is gone I guess it’s OK to let her real age out of the bag, right? I always wrote her a birthday blog post, some of which she had framed, I might add. So it only seems right to keep up the tradition.

In celebration of who she was, I decided to grab one of her many journals off the shelf and open to a random page. You know, so she could send me a message. And yes, I do believe in that crap now. Just go with it.

I suppose you will too, after you read this. No lie, this was the page I randomly opened to. (Click on this image and blow this baby up to read it, you won’t be sorry). This is a list of tactics for discovering pleasure and satisfaction in every day moments…

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Nosh House


We lived in a nice house, but it was also a nosh house.

For those not of the tribe – or living in parts not exposed to nibblers of the yiddish persuasion– a nosh is a snack. A little something. A tidbit, if you will.

Elaine, for a skinny woman, was a serial nosher. She had the home of the ‘goodie basket’. Friends from childhood can confirm its legendary status in the neighborhood.

This hung in her kitchen. Of all the things I have not taken home from there, this one keeps calling my name.

The Management


Yes, still cleaning out the house!

Every time I am there I find one thing that delights me and one thing that takes me down.

This little hot plate had me laughing out loud. It is one of those things that I have seen my whole life. It is cloaked in familiarity. And yet until last week, I don’t believe I ever read the thing.

The best part about this is that when I showed it to a friend, he told me that his mom had the exact same one hanging in their front hallway.

Must have been one of those 1970s things spawned by the women’s movement.

Hey, I wonder if Betty Friedan had one of these in her kitchen.

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