THIS is ALD #19 — Alan, Cesar and Maximiliano

THIS is ALD.jpg

My name is Kim and I’m the oldest of four children. I have 3 brothers. Angel , Cesar, and Alan. My brothers were all born healthy. Until 2016 nobody knew this horrible disease ran in the family.

December, 2015 my mom started noticing changes in my brother Alan – he was eight-years-old. He was having hearing problems and a hard time at school. My mother took him to a hearing specialist and they didn’t think anything was wrong. By May, 2016 things got worse. Alan started complaining of a terrible headache and was taken to a local hospital. They transferred him to a bigger facility, but the doctors had trouble figuring out what was going on. It wasn’t until they did an MRI that they discovered Alan had ALD.


Alan and Cesar before ALD

My parents are Mexican and speak little English. They understood the diagnosis, but had many questions. When they learned that ALD is genetic, my two other brothers, Angel and Cesar, were tested — Cesar tested positive for ALD. My parents were heartbroken.

This was the same month I found out I was pregnant. When my parents shared the news with me, I took it pretty bad. I was six months pregnant when I found out I was a carrier. I learned that, since I was having a boy, he would need to be tested as soon as he was born.

Alan’s health started going down hill quickly. Doctors told my parents Alan had very little time and there wasn’t anything anyone could do. He lost his hearing, vision, speech, and started having trouble walking. My mom became his full time caregiver. Cesar was not as symptomatic and qualified for a bone marrow transplant (BMT) which he had in December, 2016. My mother was now caring for one son who was recovering from a BMT and another who’s disease was moving quickly.

My son, Maximiliano, was born just after Cesar’s BMT and was 3 weeks old when he was diagnosed with ALD. By January, 2017 my brother Alan was in a vegetative state and Cesar was doing well and was out of the hospital. It was really hard on everyone. We couldn’t believe three people in our family had ALD, including my son. The reality really set in when on March 23, 2017, my brother Alan lost his fight to ALD – just a few days after his 10th birthday.

Maximiliano is now a year old and he’s the sweetest little boy ever. He’s so smart, always smiling, and super curious. It’s really hard for me knowing my son has ALD. Knowing ALD took my brother away from me. Maximiliano is seeing specialists at UCLA and at Santa Barbara. I’ve gotten in touch with doctors at the University of Minnesota and I plan on taking my son this summer, and seeing what they have to offer.

Next month will be a year …a full 365 days since my little brother left us. It’s been really difficult for all of us to continue our lives without him. Holidays were more sad than happy. There were a lot of ‘firsts’ without Alan. In my heart I know he’s in a much better place. He’s at peace.

I really wish Alan had been diagnosed sooner and could’ve gotten treatment. Newborn screening could’ve saved his life. I think about everything that’s happened in the last 2 years. I’m a strong believer in God, but can’t help but think to myself why did He let this happen? To an innocent child? This horrible disease ruined my family but also made it stronger.



This beautiful family lives in California, which has now added ALD to it’s newborn screening panel. I try not to spend too much energy with “if onlys”, but I am glad that future generations of ALD families in CA will have the luxury of knowing and preparing. Alan didn’t have that luxury, but Cesar is doing well because he was treated in a timely manner and Maximiliano is being monitored by a team of specialists who will be prepared to help him IF he becomes symptomatic.

Corresponding with Kim has been an honor. She has been so honest and informative. I wanted to share two other notes I received from her last week:

I forgot to tell you, when I was pregnant I would place both of Alan’s hands on my belly, and he would get this huge smile and hug me because he knew it was me. He couldn’t see, but he was still aware of his surroundings. Before he lost his eyesight I showed him a picture of my ultrasound and he told me my baby looked like a little alien! I remember he was so happy he was going to be an uncle …

The night before my brother passed away, my mom had a dream. She told me Alan appeared to her in her dream and he told her that he was going to be okay but he didn’t want her to cry. I get the chills every time I think about this. I guess that was his way of letting my mom know … the next day he passed.

Thank you Kim.


Love, Jess

a ski weekend, the Jack Pack, and next year


Just getting back from a ski weekend in Vermont with friends. Over the years we’ve done a lot of these weekends. We rent a house with a few families. Most everyone skis, but there are always a couple of people who linger with me and Jack. Our days are filled with quieter activities, but we always manage to have fun.

Each morning the house scrambles to life as the kids all frantically run around searching for their gear while the parents try to get some breakfast into everyone and make the lunches for the mountain. Depending on how late the previous night’s festivities went, the skiing crew heads out the door between 9:00 am and 10:00 am — then the house falls silent. That’s when the non-skiing crew makes a plan.

This trip included an awesome hike, a three hour/10,000 calorie lunch, an adventure to visit my oldest friend and her daughter AND a whole lot of girl talk – the rest of non-skiiers were ladies (sorry Jack). Jack is accustom to hanging with the ladies, and knows more than his share about the local gossip and just how many Weight Watchers points are in a margarita, but he always knows that by the end of the day he will be reunited with his peers. They will all walk in the door and, without missing a beat, find JackO to greet him and fill him with stories from their day’s escapades. Anna is always the leader of the Jack Pack – the best sister on the planet.


But what about next year?

THAT’S the question that seems to fill my mind constantly these days. We just had an amazing weekend in a beautiful log cabin in Vermont — enjoying friends and the landscape and late nights singing along with music from our high school years (sorry I am not allowed to post any activities that took place after 9:00 pm). A perfect weekend and my biggest take-away is — What about next year?!?

Anna will be starting her second semester of college by February next year. Will Dan, Jack and I still head up to a mountain for a long winter weekend? What will it be like to travel with Jack as the only Torrey kid? Is it worth trying to continue these annual traditions or is it better to start new ones?

I know what you’re thinking — Anna isn’t moving away permanently. She’s going to college. College kids are home as much as they are gone AND she is only going to be 180.6 miles away. There will be many more family trips.

BUT, it is going to be different once she heads off to Baltimore. Her priorities will be — should be — on her life, on her future. It will be the beginning of her life as an adult and the beginning of our nest changing – again. The house is going to be so quiet when she isn’t around. Who is going to remind us what Jack should be wearing and listening too? Who is going to protect Jack from the endless hours in front of Bravo (with me) and PBS (with Dan)?

We will figure it out. Anna will only be a phone call away with her fashion advice and Dan and I will learn to control our TV habits (we know how to find TruTV). And, as far as the ski trip goes — we can go earlier in the winter if a ski trip is a “must do” Torrey activity. We can also forgo skiing altogether and go down to Baltimore and eat some crabs with Anna.

THIS is the real issue. THIS seems to be my go-to solution to all “my nest is changing” worries. Sorry Anna.

Love, Mom



Two-Armed Sister Clutch


You’ve heard from me for ten years. Now, it’s Anna’s turn. When it came time for her to write her college essay I was excited to help, but like all things academic, she insisted on doing it on her own.

Two-Armed Sister Clutch

        I have to hold his torso carefully so that he can’t bite me. For years, as my brother has gotten stronger, my technique has evolved from a simple shoulder hold into the now perfect “Two-Armed Sister Clutch.” My dad takes care of his head to keep it propped up—after all, the neck is the most important part. After ten minutes of very cautiously carving away at his beard, the world’s brightest smile emerges from his newly exposed face. I’ve just shaved my nineteen-year-old brother for the third time this week; my favorite chore with my favorite person.
        A sharp automatic razor and Jack—that’s my brother—make for a very interesting endeavor. But despite the chaos of the project, it always gets me thinking clearly. I think about the disease that forced its way into Jack’s brain ten years ago and made him this dependent on me, and about the fact it has been TEN years. I think about who he was before his disease—my typical big brother, goofy and in love with life. I think about who he is now—my silent and disabled big brother, goofy and in love with life. And finally, I think about who I am, and who his disease has made ME.
        Shaving my brother is a difficult task. I start off by trimming the top layer of the every-so-gnarly hairs. The first layer of Jack’s story is one very long word (the first word with more than six letters that I ever learned): Adrenoleukodystrophy (ALD). That is the neurodegenerative disease that turned my family from one straight out of a J. Crew catalog to the very quirky, “special” family that we are today. I was six, Jack eight, when he was diagnosed with ALD and his brain function slowly unraveled. Suddenly, my brother’s voice wasn’t around to fill up my house with jokes and curiosity. Suddenly, I had to be the athlete of the family…and the social butterfly… and the nerd. And now, a decade later, I am a hop skip and a jump away from being a professional groomer, too.
        After I trim Jack’s beard, its time to crank the razor up and dig down through all the brush, rounding the jawline and inching in to each crevice. Shedding that hair makes Jack look so presentable,… so professional… so normal. I get flashes of Jack Torrey as an adult (Doctor? Lawyer? Artist?), walking the streets of a big city, wife and kids by his side, living a normal life. I see myself meeting him for a bagel and talking about our careers, our friends, or our families. Sometimes I just picture us talking. It has been ten years since Jack last spoke.
        Luckily, my feeling sorry for myself is quickly interrupted by the most amazing laugh to ever exist. The disease that stole Jack’s words and independence did not manage to steal his laughter. I look at him and see what that sweat-inducing work out really uncovered: a giant, radiating smile. I let go of him and he wanders around the kitchen, slowly making his way back to me, tongue out and eyebrows raised, to give the best hug any sister has ever gotten from their big brother. That is Jack’s way of saying thank you.
        I’ll never have a typical sibling to show me the ropes of life and gossip with when I’m older, but Ill always have Jack. I’ll have his smile to tell me to always work as hard as I can. I’ll always have his laugh to encourage me to give back to other people and other families. I’ll always have his hugs after a lacrosse game or job interview gone wrong. And, I’ll always have an escape when I want to think about these things all over again—after all, that boy could always use a shave.

Anna Cappello Torrey
Johns Hopkins University Class of 2022 (we just got the news!!)


Love, Proud Mom




lucky mom


Every weekday morning, Anna races downstairs making sure she gets a chance to give her Boogie* a hug before his bus arrives. It makes my heart melt. No matter what’s going on in our family, our country, or the planet, I try to pause and enjoy the love that these kids have for each other. Siblings/best friends – the strongest bond I’ve ever witnessed. I’m a lucky mom.

That is all.

Love, Jess

* Jack AKA Boogie, Boogie Brown, Boogs, Boogs McGee, JackO, WackO, The Weasel


My Sister (daughter/bestie)


I didn’t have a sister, so I made one. It took a bit of help from Dan and loads of support from our friends and extended family, and I think we’ve done a pretty amazing job with the project. She’s just one inch shorter than I am, has the same blonde hair (although hers is a little more natural than mine), and we defiantly share the same sense of humor. She is a great sister to have. She is smart beyond her years and is the kindest person you will ever meet. She is a much younger, smarter, kinder version of me. Anna is my mini-me daughter/sister/bestie.

Thanks to my daughter/sister/bestie being thirty years younger than I am, I get to have a window into the life of a teenager in 2017. Trust me – it’s amazing!

This June has been particularly packed with fun and signs that our little girl is not so little anymore. I know I am not alone in being caught off guard by how painfully long parenting goes on AND just how quickly it’s over. How can our girl who was just in pre-school be on her way to starting her last year of high school and filling her life with so many adult things?

Last weekend Anna stayed home alone for a night. She had to stay local while the rest of us went to visit family. We were going to have her stay with friends, but after a lot of back and forth, we caved. She has never done anything to lose our trust and she did not disappointment us last weekend. There were no parties. If you are thinking, “How would Jesse know?” . . . I set up a camera in the center hall — really — I might trust her but I am not a fool AND I’m also a little nuts.

Then, this week Anna went to her second Prom for the season. Our beautiful girl looked stunning in her red dress and wore higher heels than her mama can manage. She shared plenty of fun stories of teenage silliness with her (much) older sister (that’s me). She also came home at 4:03 am (I still have the camera in the center hall). I sure wish I could have half the energy of my daughter/sister/bestie!

The last hurrah for Anna’s Magical June will be her birthday. Anna turns 17 on the 28th. In NJ, 17 means she gets her driver’s license. That chunky little peanut who used to snuggle safely in a car seat just a minute ago is going to be driving a car. It’s a little hard to imagine, but at least now I have a daughter/sister/bestie who can help me with errands and is also a designated driver!

All these significant events are to be celebrated, and I feel so lucky that Anna and I have a relationship that is so close, but as each of these events happens there’s a little stab to my heart. Prom, staying alone, senior year, driving – these are all milestones that Jack will never reach.

It’s hard, but so far I’m holding it together. Thank goodness I’ve mastered the ability to compartmentalize. It’s the only way I can survive. When I look at my daughter/sister/bestie, I try to clear my head of what ALD stole from Jack, and focus on how amazed and thrilled I am for her. So much of Anna’s life has been about Jack. It’s her turn to be the center of attention.

Besides venting a tiny bit here, I am going to do my best to continue to ignore that little stab to my heart. It might not be the healthiest decision, but I really want to avoid missing these celebrations by wasting time with the “If onlys”. Life is way too short and my sister/daughter/bestie needs me!

Love, Jess




Enough with the hard stuff – let’s celebrate!

A crazy few weeks around here and most of it has been WONDERFUL.

Last week, Jack and I had the honor of speaking at an event for CPNJ (the parent organization of Horizon High School). 150 employees were celebrating 5, 10, 15, and 20 years of service to CPNJ. We were asked to speak representing CPNJ families and sharing a bit about how their team has helped us. My nerves still cause me to jitter a bit when I speak publicly, but overall I think I’m doing a better job. And, looking out at a room full of so many people who have helped our boy, I felt extremely grateful. I did the majority of the speaking, but when Jack joined me on the stage, he really did steal the show. His smile is electric.


Then yesterday, we shared our story in a whole different way. Through Jack’s school, we were approached by a Taiwanese television station that is making a documentary about children with special needs and adaptive equipment. A large crew of people and cameras arrived bright an early to catch our morning routine (I took care of some early morning messiness before they arrived – THAT would have been a little TOO real). The crew followed JackO around throughout his entire day, and by the time they arrived back from school, they all seemed like old friends. It’s amazing the connections our silent boy is able to make. The documentary is following children with disabilities from four different countries, discussing different approaches cultures have towards the special needs community. It’s scheduled to air in Taiwan in the Fall. They promised to send us a copy. I can’t wait to see our boy on the screen (and to see if my need of highlights is distracting;-).


It’s not just our boy who has been getting some attention. Anna received a wonderful invitation last week. On Monday, Boxes of Fun is being recognized as a recipient of the Friends of Child Life Award at New York Presbyterian Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital. We’ve been making Boxes of Fun for the children on the Bone Marrow Transplant floor at the hospital for eight years. Last year, Anna asked to take over and started a club at her school with her dear friend, Jane, to help raise money and fill the boxes. No surprise, they dove right in and have not only raised enough money to extend the program to Hackensack Hospital, but they have raised awareness for both Boxes of Fun and paying it forward. Kids these days . . .


Our lives are complicated. Big things like fighting with Social Security and little things like Jack developing a habit of soiling his bed overnight. Some days I feel like we are dealing with more than our share of sh*t, but when I step away and look at the big picture, I am reminded that the good still outweighs the bad by a long shot.

I am beyond proud of both of our children. Each with such different lives. Each extraordinary.


Love, Jess





What I realized while in Paris


Sitting at a dinner table in the heart of Paris I watched my mother and daughter debate everything from single-sex college dorms to the definition of rape. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was watching two extraordinary women. Two of my closest friends.

I’ve always been close to my mother – first as a daughter and then as a friend. I remember when our relationship turned from mother/daughter to friend/friend. I was older than Anna. I needed to be older than Anna. I needed guidance well into my twenties (okay – I still need guidance, but my mother is much better at slipping her advice into polite conversation – usually).

It’s strange when your mother becomes your friend because she becomes human. She’s no longer the person behind a curtain who you fear but can’t really see. This new person makes mistakes and bad decisions (not you, Mymom – I’m just trying to describe most mothers). She goes from telling you what to do, to what she did and how she learned. This women asks you for advice and helps you without needing to take over. I loved when our relationship switched, but I was an adult when my mother’s curtain fell. My curtain seemed to fall off without me even noticing.

Anna learned early in life that I am human. I blame ALD for the weakened grip on my motherhood curtain. ALD has a way of stripping down resilience. Too much energy is taken with worry and late nights. It been quite a while since I was careful with my answers to even the most “adult” questions and I’m certainly not great at hiding four-letter words or less-than-perfect mother behavior. Fortunately, Anna has always loved me unconditionally and she seems to know which of her mother’s characteristics to emulate and which to stay away from . . . She has grown into a remarkable young woman. Anna’s not just a good student, but she’s smart – not always the same thing. And, she’s funny and kind. I’ve known all this for a while, but in Paris while sitting at the dinner table covered with a thin white tablecloth, I gained an appreciation that she has also become incredibly self-assured and well-spoken. Watching her with my mother, debating rather inappropriate topics for a sixteen-year-old and her grandmother, I thought WOW I want to be just like Anna when I grow up.

Anna and I have talked about going to Paris since she was a little girl – a girl’s trip to celebrate her sweet-sixteen. We invited all the women in the family to join us, but life is complicated for everyone and Mymom was the only taker. As disappointed as we were not to have the whole crew, it was lovely to have just the three of us on this adventure. Museums, long walks through the city, elegant meals, even a Segway tour (don’t ask Mymom about it – she’s still recovering). It was all perfection, but my favorite part was watching these two people that I adore debating each night at dinner. I came from one and created the other. Nothing is more amazing than that.



This week has been busy with Smiles and Duct Tape getting out there. I’ve been distracted with marketing strategies and thank yous and begging for reviews on Amazon (not that I am doing that here), but I keep thinking about our magical weekend in Paris. I have two such strong, impressive (opinionated) women in my life. Lucky me.

Love, Jess

PS Anna still has a curfew. She might be mature and amazing, but she’s still only sixteen.

I’m gonna say it. It’s not appropriate or good parenting by any stretch. I can’t believe I am going to put this in writing, but her it goes — my daughter is my best friend.


How to raise a great kid – HANDS OFF!

I had a super stressful dream last night. Not my typical, “I forgot to wear pants to the grocery store” dream. This was new and I woke up sweating.

I dreamt that I was having trouble with my college essays and not sure if I would get my applications done on time. I could read into it, but I think it’s pretty clear what my subconscious was trying to tell me — it’s time to relax and go back to HANDS OFF parenting Anna.

The truth is I’m usually a pretty hands off parent with Anna. Not to say that I don’t grill her after every party and open her report cards, but both Dan and I generally allow Anna to make most of her choices without too much guidance. Safety is (of course) important, but other than a curfew, she has very few rules (and even that is pretty negotiable).

It started when Jack got sick. Anna was only six years old and her family scattered. She went from having a father who was available every day to toss a ball with her after dinner and a mother who was always finding random excuses to show up at her school, to not knowing who would be home to tuck her in bed each night. She knew her family loved her, but she also knew that if she needed something, sometimes it was just easier to make it happen herself. Siblings of special needs kids have a perspective that their “typical” peers don’t.

Although I appreciate how fun it would be to helicopter around and watch everything Anna does while adding my two-cents, I just don’t have the time or the energy. If Jack needs me, it means he needs assistance with eating or needs his diaper changed. I can’t NOT do it. If Anna has a question about her homework, Google is faster than waiting outside of the bathroom door.

As IF I could help with her homework.

Don’t think that Anna’s not getting any attention from me. We talk and text throughout the day about everything from clothes to friends to our relationships with God. We have breakfast and dinner together (“breakfast” is her eating an Eggo waffle and me drinking coffee, but dinner is an actual meal that I have prepared). We are so close that we are starting to look like each other. When people see us together they call her “Mini-Me” and it’s not just that we look alike, our mannerisms and senses of humor are the same – it’s almost creepy.

We’re close – what I mean by HANDS OFF parenting is that I don’t micromanage her. I don’t watch over her constantly to make sure she is doing things just so. She needed to get her driving permit a couple of weeks ago and all I said was, “Great. Just ask around and tell me who to hire. I will make the first phone call, then it’s all you.”

When she was planning her course-load for junior year, instead of digging through all the choices, Dan and I just sat back and watched her come up with her perfect schedule. My only input was “I think I would prefer AP Art to AP Calculus, but if that’s your thing – have at it!”

We trust Anna because she has proven that she can be trusted. She is a great student and has a wonderful circle of friends. She makes good choices (mostly – she IS a teenager). She is kind to her brother and when I watch her interact with other people I am proud of who she is.

We’ve been so relaxed with Anna that I was surprised that Dan and I climbed on board the “college train” with such intensity. Looking through college books, long talks around the dinner table, planning trips to see schools. Perhaps it’s a distraction from NOT working on the project with Jack or maybe it’s just super fun because Anna has an impressive transcript —  And, maybe part of it is that Dan and I really, really, really want to go back to college ourselves;). But, I need to be careful. I’ve found myself checking Powerschool daily and questioning grades, looking at that giant book of colleges even when Anna isn’t home, thinking about essay topics and waiting anxiously for the next round of ACT scores. I’m getting dizzy with all the information and Anna is not appreciating the frantic input.

“Mom, you know I have this covered, right?”

Yes, I know you do baby girl. You have turned into a remarkable young woman and I know you will do amazing things. Mom will go back to HANDS OFF parenting. Just let me know when you need me.

And, when can we plan that trip to Virginia and North Carolina . . . and Boston – we need to go to Boston!dsc00726

Love, Jess


A Birthday for Bananz!



There are no parenting books that recommend being friends with your teenager. We are always told that our responsibility as parents is to parent.

My problem is that I do so much parenting with Jack. I need to be ON all the time. Missing the medication or hydration could be disastrous, and when he needs a diaper change, he needs a diaper change. I can’t slack – not even for a minute (this is not completely true. I do slack, thanks to a wonderful team of people, but I need to arrange so that I can slack).

When it comes to parenting Anna, she tends to direct. She tells me when to call the SAT/ACT tutor and when I need to drive her to school. She announces when it’s time for a new curfew (THAT we did need to negotiate), but also knows when she needs to call it a night so that she has time to work on her summer assignments. And, although we spend many dinner conversations discussing Anna’s schoolwork, we are rarely asked to help or edit. It’s not just because she has surpassed our expertise in many subjects, it’s because she has always had to be independent.

This is not to say that we do not spend quality time together. Anna and I spend hours watching and discussing groundbreaking television (i.e. The Challenge on MTV) and pouring through high school gossip. Anna and Dan also have a close relationship. He isn’t as fond of the rumor talk as I am, but he and Anna can discuss history or lacrosse stats all day long. And, watching Anna snuggle with her brother is one of the most magical things on the planet.

Anna has turned out to be a remarkable human and I love being her mother/friend. I just look at her, and I am in awe. Brilliant, beautiful, patient, compassionate, kind and happy. Everything I ever hoped my daughter would be.

Dan and I get all sorts of credit for raising this unbelievable child, when the truth is that Anna really deserves most of the credit.

Happy Birthday Bananz!! Sweet 16!!!

Love, Mom


The mischievous grin



I sometimes forget that Jack can’t speak. He’s very much part of the conversation here on Clinton Avenue with his bright eyes and broad smile. Days can go by without so much as a thought about his lack of words. Then, something happens that has me desperate to climb into that brain of his and get some information.

Usually, the need for intel is surrounded with worry, especially when there’s a something brewing in his health. Fevers, pain, lethargy – not knowing the source of the problem can be both frustrating and potentially dangerous. And, sometimes it’s that I know something has happened, but I can’t figure out how. Like the mysterious bite marks that Jack came home with a few years ago. I kept showing him pictures of potential culprits, as though they were mugshots and not pictures of his classmates. All I got from him was either a blank stare or a giggle (there was finally a confession and his bus assignment was switched).

Now, thanks to Jack’s whiteboard and pointing power, we are able to get many questions answered without too much trouble. He can answer “yes” or “no” and even “ears” or “throat” when he’s not feeling well. It’s making life much easier, but still the answers that require broader explanations are hard to obtain.

The last couple of days I have been curious about what’s going on in Jack’s mind. He’s had the most mischievous grin planted on his face from the time he wakes up in the morning until he goes to bed. Last night I checked on him in the middle of the night, and there it was. The grin. Even while Jack was sound asleep, it was shinning up at me.

Every time I mention the grin to Jack, it grows even bigger. I’ve asked him about school and girls and funny jokes. I’ve racked my brain and nearly worn out the whiteboard with all my questions, but Jack’s refusing to share any news. He’s such a teenager.

I was thinking about how unfair it is that he’s not able to share what’s sparked this glittery mood, when it occurred to me that Anna doesn’t always share her life with me either. I swear some days Anna seems to avoid even glancing at me, as though she’s worried she might accidentally let something slip. She’s a great girl, and I trust any secrets are of the pure/legal/good-kid variety, but still I’d love to get some nitty gritty details out of her. Getting information out of teenagers can be a challenge, and now both my kids seem to have secrets.

I’m sure my friends with teenagers can relate. Us moms aren’t always advisors, counselors, friends. We’re sometimes just the cooks, chauffeurs, and wallets as our kids tackle (or enjoy) their lives without asking us for any input. It’s natures way, I just thought that my complicated boy would not follow this path. I though he would always be willing to share whatever he could, but this week I think he’s enjoying having a little secret. He seems to love all my eager questions and watching me suffer from ignorance.

Not fair — I share all my secrets with him. Oh well, at least I get to spend time with the grin.


Love, Jess