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I will never get tired of the online responses to the question, “What level of adulting have you reached?” They’re funny, wildly accurate, and sometimes hit a little too close to home. Some days I genuinely feel like I’ve arrived at peak responsible human mode—bills paid, dinner cooked, emotional stability intact. On other days, I wonder how I managed to rub my two remaining brain cells together long enough to survive. And still, here I am: responsible for two little ones who think their mom is the biggest clown in the world—and love me even more for it. There was a time I believed adulthood would simply happen , as if it were a magical level unlocked just by piling on the years. But with time (and a healthy dose of reality), I realized this is not how any of it works. A seventeen-year-and-364-day-old doesn’t transform into a full-blown adult the moment the clock strikes midnight on their eighteenth birthday. And yet, it’s surprising how often that exact expectation is projected onto young people. “You’re 18 now, you should know better.” Should they? Really? Adulthood is not a line you cross. It’s an ongoing, full-time, no-days-off apprenticeship. It’s a skillset built by doing life, sometimes well, often messily. The learning doesn’t truly begin until you’re out in the world without the built-in safety net of school, family, and routines that guide you. And even then, it’s a lot of trial and error. So where do you stand in the hierarchy of grown-up life? Let’s take a look at the unofficial (but emotionally accurate) stages of adulting. Level 1: Barely Functioning, But Trying . This is where many of us start, and let’s be honest, sometimes return to. It’s the “Wait... I have to cook? Every. Day?”  phase. You forget to defrost the chicken, cereal is dinner (again), and the thought of opening that mail pile by the door feels like a Herculean task. You’re holding on by the grace of your phone calendar and sheer willpower. Laundry only gets done when you’ve completely run out of socks, and budgeting? That’s just hoping your card doesn’t decline. Taxes and health insurance paperwork get stuffed in a drawer, only to be rediscovered in a future archaeological dig of your own home. For those of us with kids : This level hits differently. You spend 45 minutes making a healthy dinner just for your child to look at it like you’ve served them poison. You’re tired before you even open your eyes in the morning. Most days, you're just trying to keep the household running without completely unraveling. If Little Timmy has to make friends with the stuffed animals because Mom is on the brink—so be it. Level 2: Basic Survival Mode . At this stage, you’ve figured out the bare bones of functioning. You pay your bills—maybe even on time! You’ve graduated from cereal for dinner to a rotation of three go-to meals. Cleaning happens inconsistently, but it happens. You buy toilet paper before  you run out, and maybe—just maybe—you even separate your laundry sometimes. Burnout is a real part of this level. Adulting doesn’t pause just because you're exhausted. Some days, putting on pants and showing up is the win. And that deserves celebration. Parents in this zone : You are constantly on the verge of being overwhelmed. A quiet moment for yourself is like spotting a rare bird—fleeting and unbelievable. But no matter how depleted you feel, your kids still need water, snacks, and endless attention. You can't break down because someone always needs something from you. So you push forward, even if you’re running on fumes. Level 3: Functional Adult With Glimpses of Maturity . This level feels like finding a rhythm, even if you're still missing the beat occasionally. You begin choosing to go to bed at a reasonable hour, not because someone told you to, but because you feel  the difference the next morning. You know that hydration helps and keeps water within reach. There’s a loose budget in place, and while you may stray from it now and then, you understand the importance of keeping one. Meal planning, once an overwhelming task, now feels doable, even enjoyable on a good week. You know where important documents are (or at least where to start looking), and you’re no longer startled by adult things like tax forms and appointment reminders. And when you’re a parent at this level : You’ve figured out a few parenting tricks—like how to throw together a lunchbox in under five minutes or how to keep the kids entertained during errands. You may not have it all together, but you have a routine that mostly works, and you’ve learned to forgive yourself on the days it doesn’t. You recognize when you're nearing burnout and have started building little systems to keep it at bay, whether it’s a chore chart for the kids or a 10-minute breather while hiding in the bathroom. Level 4: Full-Blown Responsible Human . This is the point where adulting begins to feel less like treading water and more like swimming laps—maybe not perfectly, but with some grace. You have a real savings account and you contribute to it. You floss regularly (even if only because you’re tired of the dentist guilt-tripping you). You know how to manage a schedule, negotiate bills, and make your own doctor appointments. Surprises like a flat tire or an unexpected bill are met with mild annoyance rather than a full mental breakdown. You’ve accepted that this is your life now—and you’re doing your best to make it a good one. Parenting from this place : It is still hard, but it comes with a clearer sense of confidence. You plan meals that (sometimes) your kids actually eat. You’ve learned how to co-manage your own needs with those of your children, even if it's not perfectly balanced. The calendar is full of school events and sports practices, and somehow, you remember most of them. You’ve gotten good at multitasking, prioritizing, and adjusting when things don’t go according to plan, which, let’s be honest, is most of the time. Level 5: Ultimate Adult Mastery (AKA Mythical Unicorn Status) . This level is rarely seen in the wild—and even when it is, those who’ve reached it tend to remind the rest of us that it’s not all that glamorous. You make dentist appointments before  you need them. You know your credit score and understand your insurance policies. You file your taxes early, and you do it with a spreadsheet and color-coded folder system. Meal planning has become your domain of creative expression, and grocery shopping feels less like a chore and more like a curated experience. You’ve stopped reacting in crisis—started anticipating and handling life with a calm, strategic approach. And as a parent in this magical land : You’ve reached the “systems” stage of parenting. You’ve probably got a command center in your kitchen, or at the very least a working routine for school drop-offs, meal prep, and weekend plans. You’ve figured out how to maintain boundaries, enforce screen time rules without constant power struggles, and carve out space for yourself without guilt. You parent with intention, not just a reaction, and your kids are learning from your example even if they still leave their socks everywhere. But Here’s the Secret… Even if you hit Level 5, you’ll still have Level 1 days. You’ll forget to reply to emails. You’ll eat popcorn for dinner. You’ll avoid your to-do list and binge-watch a show while ignoring the growing pile of laundry. That’s life. Adulting isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress. It’s about showing up, day after day, in whatever way you can manage. You don’t have to reach Level 5 to be doing okay. You just have to keep going. So… what level are you  at today? And more importantly, where would you like to be? Let’s talk about it in the comments. No judgment here, just a bunch of us figuring it out, one level at a time. (Photo by Anthony Fomin/Unsplash)

It's been a while since I have had a dream that has left me in a place of deep contemplation and lingers quietly in the background as I go through my day. As far back as I can remember, I have always had dreams of either being naked in public or free-falling in complete darkness. I know these are two of the most common dreams. But I am talking about the more distinct dreams and personal dreams that are directly related to an ongoing situation or even something from the past. These are the ones I wake up and quickly write down, to prevent them from becoming hazy fragments of my imagination. To some, dreams are a mere function of the brain consolidating memories and to others, dreams provide answers to very difficult situations. Have you ever woken up crying out of intense grief or sadness? I have on multiple occasions experienced these intense emotions that blur the lines between being asleep and being awake. These episodes have been described as being quite normal when they do not happen frequently, and they tend to be related to unresolved trauma and grief—I suspect the latter may be true for me. The most significant happened when I had to confront the truth that I was emotionally abandoned by a partner. In the olden days, people believed that our dreams were full of clues about the future. - Alain de Botton explained to a child Dreams are not just the consolidation of experiences, thoughts, emotions, places   and people we have already encountered in our lives. They may or may not provide clues into the future, but they allow the mind to roam wildly and unrestricted in a way that would not be possible in the real world. About a year ago, I dreamt that I walked into my kitchen and there was a cockroach infestation. I loathe cockroaches and even worse, they were in my kitchen making my skin crawl in the dream. I remember screaming to my partner and asking him to get rid of them. We both grabbed kitchen towels and began chasing them out, but it almost seemed that they just kept multiplying. No matter how many we chased out or killed, more kept showing up. That morning, I woke up confused about what this meant. As a believer that dreams sometimes carry deep meaning, I did some research into what a cockroach infestation meant, and boy, was my mind blown. It was spot on about all the contributing emotions and I was able to expand on how some experiences from my past were manifesting in my dreams. It was shocking that so many revelations were being made while I slept. I even discussed this with my therapist. I was able to find my answers, but let's explore the meanings behind three of the most common dreams. Dreaming About Being Pregnant : Dreams of pregnancy often symbolize growth, transformation, and new beginnings. It doesn’t necessarily mean literal pregnancy but rather the birth of new ideas, projects, or phases in life. It can reflect: Creativity – You might be nurturing a new idea, goal, or personal transformation. Anxiety or anticipation – If the dream feels stressful, it could represent fear of change or responsibility. Personal growth – This may signal emotional or psychological development, especially if you’re evolving in a significant area of life. Dreaming About Falling : Falling dreams are typically linked to loss of control, insecurity, or fear of failure . They can indicate: Stress and instability – You might feel overwhelmed in some aspect of your life. Fear of failure – Falling can symbolize worries about not meeting expectations or losing something important. Letting go – Sometimes, it suggests that you need to release control and trust the process. Dreaming About Being Naked in Public : This dream is often associated with vulnerability, exposure, and self-consciousness . It can reflect: Fear of judgment – You may be worried about how others perceive you. Imposter syndrome – Feeling like you’re being “exposed” for not being as competent as you’d like to appear. Liberation – In some cases, it can symbolize a desire to be more authentic and free from societal expectations. Making Space for Your Dreams : It’s easy to get caught up in routines, responsibilities, and the endless to-do lists that make up adult life. There’s always something urgent pulling our focus, always a reason to push our dreams aside. But what if we started making space for them now, even in the smallest ways? Maybe it’s writing it down. Maybe it’s speaking it into existence, even if just to yourself. Maybe it’s taking one small step toward it, however uncertain it may feel. The truth is, dreams don’t just happen all at once. They unfold in moments, in choices, in tiny acts of courage. And sometimes, simply acknowledging them is the first step in bringing them to life. So, What Are You Dreaming About Right Now? What’s been tugging at the edges of your mind, waiting for you to notice? What would you do if there were no obstacles, no doubts, no fears holding you back? Maybe it’s time to listen. Maybe it’s time to give your dream permission to exist. I’d love to hear—what’s on your heart right now? What are you dreaming about? Let’s talk about it in the comments. (Photos: Top by Tran Phu/Unspash and second by Jr Korpa)

My wedding day was a rainy December morning. For me, rain has always been a symbol of blessings and favor, and it made the day we chose each other even more meaningful. In honor of that moment, we later named one of our daughters Raine . With my mother and his best friend as our witnesses, we stood together, ready to say our I Do’s . I remember feeling a deep sense of hopefulness, excitement, and joy about embarking on what I thought would be a lifelong journey. Just a few days before the wedding, I found myself having a mini-meltdown in the dressing room of the Diane Von Furstenberg store in Soho. Finding my wedding dress was a story in itself that required more effort than I anticipated. We planned a city hall wedding , so it wasn't an elaborate celebration—just exactly what we wanted. But as the day approached, the excitement and nerves started crashing down all at once. After the tears in that fitting room, I found the most beautiful dress with the help of a really special store employee. It was perfect—simple, elegant, and a reflection of me. I couldn't help but think that one day, maybe one of my future daughters might want to wear or incorporate it into their own special day if they choose to get married. I was beyond happy, standing next to the person I believed I would spend the rest of my life with. The Slow Crumbling of a Marriage . The signs were already there long before we got married, but I believed that his positive traits far outweighed the negatives. I never turned a blind eye to our issues and would address them as I saw fit, but my concerns were sometimes ignored or met with resistance. He would sometimes acknowledge them, make adjustments, but then regress into old patterns. Like most marriages that end in divorce, our marriage fell apart gradually. It wasn't one catastrophic event, but rather a series of ever-increasing missteps that piled up brick by brick, until it became too high to climb. At the core of it was neglect—emotional and physical neglect that crept in both before and during our marriage. We were two imperfect humans trying to navigate life together, and at the time, my imperfect partner was worth it to me. I married a provider, but he willfully marched into workaholic territory ignoring his responsibility to me as his wife. It led to countless arguments, full of words neither of us could take back. I watched as work became his shield—a coping mechanism to avoid our problems—his own, mine, and ours as a couple. Resentment began to fester inside me like an untreated wound, slowly infecting everything around us. I felt unseen, unheard, and deeply alone in my own marriage. I couldn’t function in that space, let alone offer him or myself any grace. It was a painful, suffocating experience— one that slowly dismantled what we were trying to build , piece by fragile piece. Accepting the End . Most people get married with the intention of staying married—certainly, that was my plan. We go into marriage with the hope that our love will withstand whatever life throws at us. I wanted that for us. I wanted our relationship to work and our family to stay whole. But eventually, I had to face the truth that my marriage had reached the end of the road . Before asking for a divorce, I tried. I asked for therapy, I suggested living apart for a while to give us both some space to gain perspective. But he was staunchly opposed to every option I put on the table. Divorce was never my first choice, but it became my only choice when nothing else worked. I had to put myself first and prioritize my well-being. Absent of abuse, infidelity, or severe addiction, I always encourage anyone contemplating divorce to make every effort to salvage their relationship. Divorce is costly—financially and emotionally—and often consumes more energy than the time and effort put into building the marriage in the first place. I didn’t rush into it. I exhausted every option I could think of before I finally decided to call it quits. Choosing divorce wasn’t about giving up—it was about saving myself from a relationship that had become more harmful than healing. I had to make peace with the reality that loving someone sometimes means letting go. The Aftermath: What Divorce Brought to the Surface . There were other issues, of course, because relationships don’t crumble over one thing; they unravel because of everything. The act of getting divorced brought up so many unexpected emotions, fears, and realizations that I had never considered before. For Me Becoming a Black Single Mother. I went through a period of mourning—not just for my marriage but for the life I had envisioned for my family. I had to grapple with what it meant to be not just a single mother, but a single black mother , who shoulders these responsibilities while navigating societal perceptions. Black single motherhood comes with unique challenges that are deeply rooted in both misogyny and harmful stereotypes. No one other than a Black woman truly understands what it’s like to be villainized for being the one who stayed, who tried, and who ultimately made the painful decision to leave. That awareness terrified me. For a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to stop wearing my wedding band. I feared the judgment of being labeled “ another single Black mother .” As the daughter of a single mother myself, someone I am immensely proud of, my fear wasn’t rooted in disdain for women who had children out of wedlock. Instead, it was about the harsh, nefarious words of people who demonized Black mothers, treating them as symbols of failure rather than women navigating complex lives. I had to process these feelings and come to the realization that the thoughts of others, no matter how loud or judgmental, do not define me. My responsibility is to myself and to the children I share with my ex-husband. Living Alone for the First Time. Before my divorce, I had never lived alone. My journey began in the Caribbean, surrounded by an extended family, and when I moved to the United States, I continued living with my mother and her sister's family. Later, my mother and I moved in together, and about a year later, I moved in with my ex-husband. I had never inhabited a space where the four walls were mine and mine alone, and the thought of doing so terrified me. Despite my fears, I knew moving forward with my decision was the right thing to do. I wasn’t alone—I had my girls, who needed me to create an environment where their mother was happy and at peace. That mattered more than anything else, because I wanted to stop that feeling of wanting to run away from my own life. Eventually, I realized that simply removing what was unbearable at the time was a better solution than running away. Once I made that decision, I felt that I could breathe again. The tension that had suffocated our home slowly dissipated, and I found a sense of calm I hadn’t felt in years. Starting Therapy. Therapy became a crucial part of my growth. As soon as he moved out, I started therapy. We were in the throes of COVID-19 and I was working from home in a job that was coming to an end.  Grief and loss loomed over me—my partner, family members lost to the pandemic, and the shattering of the life I had imagined. In the beginning, I wasn’t entirely honest with my therapist—I know, who pays for help and decides to hide pertinent information from the person assigned to listen. I had convinced myself that I was managing just fine and didn't realize what I was doing. I was able to keep up the facade for a few months, because my girls needed me and my job kept me distracted. It wasn't until the job ended that reality came crashing down. I described it to my therapist as "... feeling like Superman ascending at the highest speed into the atmosphere, then suddenly feeling the effects of the loss of oxygen, and spiraling into a free fall. " I crashed so hard. Every day felt like my own personal nightmare as every suppressed emotion surfaced, demanding my attenion. It was a breaking point, but also a turning point. When I finally stopped pretending and let the pain flow, the healing began. I allowed myself to be honest about everything that had accumulated over the years, and it was only then that I started to reclaim myself . My Health Improved . The stress of my marriage had taken a physical toll on me, manifesting as frequent health flares that made waking up some days feel almost impossible. My body bore the weight of being in constant survival mode—always stuck between fight or flight. Being a single-married mother did that to me. Even though I technically had a partner, I was navigating life alone. I had been functioning like a single parent for so long that admitting it aloud wasn’t the shock I thought it would be. It took time to embrace my new reality, but once I did, I noticed my health improving slowly but significantly. The absence of constant tension brought a lightness back into my life. I slept better. I had more energy. I recognized myself again, feeling more present and capable of caring for my girls without the lingering stress that had once dominated our lives. I knew I made the right choice. The Thought of Dating Again . The idea of dating again felt daunting, almost unimaginable. I even considered not dating until my daughters were in high school, mostly out of fear. Even a year later, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the concept of opening myself up to someone new. Dating required a level of vulnerability I wasn’t ready to give. It felt like I’d have to vet any potential partner like the FBI and CIA combined, yet still find a way to let them in. That was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take with two little girls in the picture. I went on just a handful of dates before I realized that I wasn’t ready. My focus needed to stay on myself and my daughters, on rebuilding my life and finding stability before even considering inviting someone else into our world. I chose to embrace the peace that comes with being single. I learned that there is no rush, because love would find its way to me when I’m truly ready. For Us Gaining a New Perspective . A separation could have potentially been able to help resolve the issues in our marriage because the time apart gave us both a different perspective. Distance revealed things we couldn’t see when we were in the thick of it. Moving straight into a divorce shocked my system in some unexpected ways. During that time, I found myself replaying memories and reflecting on the choices we made. I couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if we had just taken a step back and given ourselves room to breathe and think separately. Sometimes, space allows you to see your partner differently—to understand their struggles from a distance, to feel empathy instead of frustration. I came to realize that our problems weren’t always about what he did or didn’t do, but rather how we both struggled to navigate life together.  In that quiet, reflective time, I started to see both of our flaws more clearly and learned to let go of some of the resentment I’d been holding onto. It wasn’t an easy process, but it was necessary for me to gain clarity and ultimately find a sense of peace . Co-Parenting Challenges and Successes . Navigating co-parenting was another hurdle, but we continued to put our children first. In the beginning, it felt almost impossible—figuring out schedules, communicating about the kids without falling into old arguments, and trying to present a united front despite our differences. I worried about how our daughters would adjust to living between two households. We eventually found our rhythm and established routines that kept the girls feeling grounded and secure, even when they struggled to adjust. There were moments when frustration crept in, but I learned to set my feelings aside when it came to co-parenting decisions. As time passed, I was so happy to see him grow as a parent, even though our partnership as spouses didn’t work out. The girls still had both of us, just in a different way. Acknowledging Our Growth . Even in the pain of divorce, we both grew. We learned and we found ways to move forward separately, still bound by the family we had created. We both had to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves and how we contributed to the breakdown of our relationship. There were moments of guilt and regret on both sides, but also moments of understanding and acceptance. In the end, it wasn’t just about letting go of each other, but letting go of the expectations we had carried throughout our marriage. Though the path was painful, we emerged from it with a deeper sense of who we are—both as individuals and as co-parents. The family we built remains intact, just in a new form, and we continue to support each other when it comes to raising our daughters. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and we’ve made peace with that. Moving Forward With Grace . Divorce is not just an ending; it’s a beginning. It’s a chance to rebuild, to redefine love and partnership, to rediscover yourself. My story is not just about the loss of a marriage—it’s about resilience, transformation, and the unexpected blessings that come from life’s storms. After two years of being apart, we decided to give our relationship another chance, and it has been the best decision of our lives. I still look back on my wedding day as a beautiful moment. It was a day of love, of hope, of promises made with the best intentions. And while my marriage didn’t last, I carry forward the lessons, the growth, and the understanding that sometimes, the greatest gift we can give ourselves is the freedom to start anew. (Photos by Erneil Johnny)

Your entryway sets the tone for your entire home. It’s the first impression guests have, and it’s the space where you transition from the outside world to the comfort of your own space. One of the most effective ways to enhance your entryway is through carefully chosen decor, and two popular options are mirrors and artwork. So let’s explore the merits of each to help decide which is best. Mirrors are timeless pieces of decor that offer both aesthetic appeal and practical benefits. Here are a few reasons why a mirror might be the perfect addition to your entryway: Create the Illusion of Space . Entryways are often smaller areas, and mirrors are excellent for making them appear larger and more spacious. A well-placed mirror can open up the area and create the illusion of depth. Maximize Light . Mirrors can also enhance natural light by reflecting it throughout the space. This can make your entryway feel brighter and more welcoming. Functional Style . Mirrors serve a practical purpose as well. They provide a quick spot to check your appearance before heading out the door, making them both stylish and functional. Mirrors placed at right angles to the door are considered good in feng shui for your entryway. Versatility . Mirrors come in a wide variety of shapes, sizes, and frames, allowing you to choose one that fits your entryway’s style perfectly. If you’re looking to infuse your entryway with personality and visual interest, artwork might be the way to go. Here’s why artwork could be the ideal choice for your entry: Express Your Style. Artwork is a fantastic way to showcase your personality and style right from the moment someone walks through your door. Whether you prefer bold and vibrant pieces or serene and calming ones, artwork allows you to express yourself. Add Color and Texture. Artwork can introduce color and texture to your entryway, making it more visually dynamic. A carefully chosen piece of art can tie together the entire space and serve as a focal point. Conversation Starter . A striking piece of artwork can be an excellent conversation starter for guests. Whether it’s a thought-provoking painting or a quirky sculpture, artwork can spark interesting discussions and leave a lasting impression. Customization . Artwork is highly customizable, allowing you to choose pieces that resonate with you and complement your home’s decor. Making Your Decision. Ultimately, whether you choose a mirror or artwork for your entryway depends on your personal preferences, the size and layout of your space, and the overall aesthetic you’re aiming for. Some homeowners even opt for a combination of both, using a mirror to maximize light and space and artwork to add personality and flair. When selecting either a mirror or artwork, consider the scale of your entryway, the existing decor in your home, and how you want the space to feel. Whether you go for the reflective charm of a mirror or the artistic allure of artwork, investing in your entryway decor is sure to make a lasting impact on both you and your guests. (Photo: Allisa Jacob’s , Blain Moats from Better Homes and Gardens)

There’s something magical about how the simplest things in life can bring people together. A slice of pizza, a shared passion for art and literature, children, and the warmth of a growing friendship. A few months ago, my girls and I met up with my new acquaintance and her middle school-aged daughter at a local family-owned pizza shop near one of our favorite parks in our neighborhood. We got to indulge in some good pizza and conversation. The girls and I came prepared with our art supplies in tow because, after all, we are serious painters at home. The kids gravitated to each other with such ease and chatted about school and the difficulties of navigating friendships in the way only children can. Meanwhile, the adults navigated the same subject with a little more humor and pessimism. While I sat at that table, I asked myself, " At what point do adults lose their ability to form new friendships as easily as children do? " There’s a bittersweet magic to childhood friendships—the way they form effortlessly over shared art, a love for the same cartoon, or simply sitting next to each other at lunch. Somewhere along the way, though, this natural ease fades. Making new friends as an adult isn’t impossible, but it feels less like a spontaneous spark and more like an awkward slow burn. But at what point does this shift happen? When do we go from forming friendships as easily as breathing to realizing that, suddenly, making new connections requires deliberate effort? By the time we reach our 30s and beyond, friendships require much more intention. The Friendship Curve: A Gradual Shift. Friendship researchers (yes, that’s a real thing!) suggest that our ability to make friends doesn’t disappear entirely—it simply evolves with life circumstances. In our late teens and early 20s, we experience a friendship era  where college, first jobs, roommates, and frequent social events create an environment where friendships form naturally, largely due to constant proximity. By our mid-to-late 20s, however, a slow decline begins as people move for jobs, relationships become more serious, and social circles tighten. The idea of “going out just to meet new people” sounds appealing in theory but often loses to the comfort of Netflix and pajamas. By the time we reach our 30s and beyond, friendships require much more intention. With careers, families, and endless responsibilities in the mix, the effortless connections of youth are replaced by meticulously scheduled meetups, where making plans often means finding a rare free weekend six weeks in advance. Deep friendships require openness, but adults tend to build walls. Why does Making Friends get Harder? As children, friendships form naturally through forced proximity—school, sports teams, and neighborhood playdates provide endless opportunities to bond, but as adults, however, there’s no built-in playground for making new connections. Our workplaces can be hit or miss for friendships, and hobbies require time that many don’t have. Even when the opportunity arises, the “effort vs. energy” dilemma comes into play—forming a friendship as an adult often feels like dating without the romance. It requires putting ourselves out there, finding common ground, and nurturing the relationship, but after long days of work, parenting, or managing a household, so many of us simply don’t have the energy to start fresh. Over time, our priorities shift, and friendships that were once central to our lives gradually take a backseat to careers, family, and personal responsibilities. Many of us also experience the social circle lock-in, where we feel our friendship slots are already filled, or at least, our emotional bandwidth is stretched too thin to maintain new connections. Instead of expanding our circles, we focus on maintaining the friendships we already have. Vulnerability becomes even harder—deep friendships require openness, but many adults tend to build walls. There's such irony in the fact that while we tend to gain more confidence in ourselves as we age, we can become more socially self-conscious, causing fear of rejection, and a tendency to stick to small talk rather than sharing dreams and struggles. This makes it difficult to form the deep bonds that once came so easily. How do Adults Actually Make New Friends? Despite these challenges, making new friends as an adult is still possible—it just requires more effort and intention. Here are some ways adults successfully form friendships: One way to maintain connections is by embracing the “scheduled friendship”—spontaneous hangouts may be rare, but prioritizing friendships by planning regular meet-ups, even if it’s just a monthly coffee date, helps keep bonds strong. Another key approach is saying “yes” more often ; while declining invitations is easy, accepting them—whether it’s a coworker’s happy hour, a community event, or a group outing—creates opportunities for new connections. Since childhood friendships often formed through shared environments, adults can find their modern-day playground by joining book clubs, fitness classes, parent groups, or online communities where natural connections can develop. However, building new friendships isn’t always necessary—sometimes, reconnecting with old friends can be just as fulfilling. A simple message like “Hey, I was thinking about you—how have you been?” can reopen meaningful relationships. Most importantly, being open and vulnerable is key to forming deeper bonds. True friendships don’t thrive on small talk alone but on shared experiences, genuine curiosity, and a willingness to be authentic. Taking small risks—whether it’s sharing something personal, offering help, or simply making the effort to connect—can turn acquaintances into lasting friends. The Truth About Adult Friendships . There’s no exact age when forming new friendships becomes “hard,” but the shift is real. It happens gradually, as life fills with responsibilities and our social circles stabilize. But while it may not be effortless  anymore, friendship remains just as essential to our well-being as ever. The key isn’t to lament the loss of easy friendships—it’s to embrace the new way they form. With a little intention, a bit of bravery, and a few more scheduled coffee dates, deep and meaningful friendships are still within reach. What about you? Have you found it harder to make friends as you’ve gotten older? Let’s talk in the comments.  😊 (Photo by @loseyourself /Freepik)

Originally published: 10/14/2024 When I say I'm an only child, most people quickly assume the picture of a nuclear family and that I was quite possibly spoiled. On the contrary, I grew up in an extended-matrifocal family where my grandmother was the head of the household. Within that structure were my mother and I, part of three generations of family living under one tin roof. This family structure is very common where I grew up and is a remnant of a rich African history that highly regards community and interconnectedness within the family unit. Being the first and only child to my mother within our extended family came with a unique set of experiences and challenges. One of the pivotal ones is, you are never the center of attention quite like you assumed you would be in a nuclear family, something I sometimes wished for. I am the product of a relationship that never saw its full potential. My mother had me in her latter teenage years and ended the relationship with my biological father when I was still a toddler. When I think of how young she was when she became a parent, it is unimaginable to me how she made it through. I did not become a mother until I was in my early thirties, and even then, I felt somewhat unprepared for the challenges of motherhood. I admire her ability to choose her parental obligations to ensure that she gave me the best life possible. She was lucky in so many ways to have my grandmother—the matriarch—who was very involved in raising not only her children but their children. One time, during my mid teens, my mother and I were having an intense conversation, while sitting on the east-facing porch of my grandmother's home under a moonlit sky. I questioned why she didn’t follow her sisters’ path and decided to stay with me. Her simple answer She said to me, "I never left, because your father is already not part of your life. I didn't want you to have two parents who weren't there." I was one of the lucky few. While some of my cousin's mothers migrated to the United States of America, my mother stayed. Her words meant so much to me then as it does now, because she at a young age saw the importance of staying. Two of her siblings made the very difficult decision to leave with the hopes of creating a better life and eventually reunifying with their children. The decision she made when I was younger is responsible in so many ways for the kind of relationship that we have today. It is one of love, care, and respect. I was her responsibility and her priority. I was also a priority to the members of my extended family. Growing up with a large family meant those moments when I felt like the luckiest kid in the world always included my grandmother, uncles, and cousins. My cousins replaced brothers and sisters, and my uncles took on a fatherly role all under one roof. My big family felt safe and my small family—my mother and I—felt like what I needed to become the woman I am today. *** It was my grandmother who ensured that my cousins and I made it to school on time every morning. My mother usually worked an early shift at a hotel in the north. It was my mother who brought me a Cadbury chocolate whenever she went out at night and left it on my pillow as a surprise for when I woke up. I cannot tell the story of being the first and only without telling you about the relationships with these two amazing mothers, my mother and my grandmother, who fulfilled their responsibility to me. To my grandmother, I was one of many, but to my mother, I was one of one. During one of our many conversations, my mother revealed that after having me, she made a promise to herself. She would not have any more children unless she got married. Well, she got married, but it was well after her child-bearing years, so she was stuck with just me. I did not have to compete for love and attention. My mother is mine and I am hers, but there is the unspoken reality that every adult only child must face. We will someday become the primary and possibly the only caretaker of our aging parent(s). That thought has lurked in the back of my mind, but it has become even more prominent now that I’m a parent and whenever I see more visible signs of aging in my mother’s face. Knowing that one day, I will be solely responsible for my mother is a reality that I look forward to sharing with her, yet scares me at the same time. *** I am your quintessential firstborn child. I possess the characteristics that birth theory attributes to us: leaders, organized, high achieving and/or overachievers, structured, and mature. I am not sure how much my absent father contributed to this, but I developed people-pleasing and perfectionist behaviors as a way to navigate the world. I realized from a young age that being the smart one was my golden ticket and the way to be noticed by both my maternal and paternal families. I went to an amazing high school and to show my gratitude I worked hard, even though I didn't always hit the mark. My mother was there to finance the additional support when I wasn’t doing so great at math with tutoring lessons. Being an only child meant that my mother’s hopes and dreams were concentrated on me. Every achievement felt momentous because it was not just my success—it was hers too. But with that shared pride comes a weighty sense of responsibility. There’s pressure to be the best, because unlike kids with siblings, there was no one else to share the burden of living up to my mother’s expectations. I do not recall what happened on that particular day. It may have involved me wanting to see my then-boyfriend or quite possibly not wanting to go to school, but I remember telling my mother, "You need to have another kid so you can focus on them." Here I am alive to tell the story tells you my mother is a gracious woman. Unlike some friends who were getting spanked for even the slightest indiscretion, my mother sometimes took a gentler approach. She was quite honestly an anomaly for a Gen X mother, making some of my friends envious of me. As I got older, we developed a very open relationship, one where I could talk to her about almost anything. When I began dating in my twenties after moving to New York City, she was the person I would provide information to about anyone I was seeing. I would text her the name and the license plate number that I would quickly memorize as I walked past either the front or back of the car of anyone who came to pick me up. When I finally moved out and got married, we would talk almost every day and it has been that way for as long as I can remember. We are joint to the hip like best friends, but with the respect given to elders. *** Now that I am in my early forties, the weight of responsibility has shifted from succeeding as an adult to possibly caregiving somewhere down the line. So many times I look at her and see a glimpse of the future. The realization that I will someday be the only person responsible for my mother's well-being is overwhelming. There will be no sibling to share decisions with, no one to balance financial burdens, no one else to sit by their bedside during hospital stays. It will be just me. That future looms larger as my mother ages. She is beautiful, young, and vibrant now and we only have a little less than a twenty-year age difference, but I see her getting older with each passing year, and I feel a subtle but ever-present sense of urgency. I need to and want to prepare—financially, emotionally, and logistically—for the day when I’ll take on the role of a caregiver. The idea is daunting. There’s fear of inadequacy: What if I can’t balance my own life with hers? Will I ever have to make the decision to send her into assisted living? And then there’s the fear of loss: What will happen when she's gone, leaving me without the one person who shaped my entire world? *** I am watching the way my mother loves and cares for her mother, who is about to be an octogenarian. Even though they are separated by distance, my mother makes it a priority to talk to my grandmother every Sunday and in between. She is the example of a great daughter and has shown herself to be nothing less than amazing. There has always been respect from my mother to my grandmother. As one of seven with five still alive, she can find comfort in knowing that there are others to share that responsibility. I on the other hand will have to experience this alone. The thought overwhelms me, but there is strength in recognizing and accepting the magnitude of the responsibility that is coming my way rather than denying it. Over the years, I’ve found comfort in talking about my fears with close friends who understand. I will also find support groups for caregivers who are or will be in a similar situation. I know I am not alone in feeling this way. Amid the anxiety, there is a deep sense of gratitude. The fact that I will someday be the one to care for my mother is a privilege—a chance to give her more love and show her appreciation for the sacrifices she made for me. I know there will be hard days, but there will also be moments of connection and gratitude. In the dual reality of immense love and intense pressure, it will be a profound opportunity to pour into and receive from the person who loved and cared for me the most.

Originally published: 12/06/2020 I was about to head to bed when I realized that this was the last Sunday I wouldn't be doing homework for a while unless I decided to torture myself by returning to school. I will finally finish that bachelor's degree. Then, I will be able to get back to what Sundays are meant for—rest and relaxation. Growing up in a small fishing village meant knowing that the shops were closed on Sunday. Everything was quiet. This was the day people chose to visit family members they hadn’t seen all week. It involved either the ritual of church, Sunday lunch and visits to see cousins, aunts and grandparents, or joining family gatherings to relax with well-fed, heavy bellies. That to me is what Sundays are meant for: connecting and creating relational bonds in relaxed settings. With more time on my hands coming up, I am looking forward to doing these things: Self-care Sunday . I am terrible at caring for myself more than what is necessary. That means I sometimes neglect making the time for a nice long shower along with my weekly skincare routine. I look forward to shaving my legs more than once every 2 months (I barely get hair on my legs and it’s fall, so hopefully you don’t think I’m a complete savage), doing more stretching, and working out in my living room. I don't do gyms. Not before the quarantine and most definitely not now. At home, self-care is in full effect.   Walks . I love being outdoors with my girls. I love nature and so do they. The only time we’re not outside is during storms, and if the temperature dips below 25 degrees. Even though all we get is twenty minutes of outdoor time, it is important to make that time to breathe in some air other than what’s in our home. I can’t wait to get back to that. Sunday dinners . Before going back to school, I had Sunday dinner more frequently. I enjoyed cooking and baking and having the girls in the kitchen more often with me. It’s science they can eat! I miss that terribly, so I look forward to us making dishes that take more than thirty minutes and delicious desserts for our tea parties. Detach + Nap . I am looking forward to strictly implementing a no electronic devices for several hours day and spend that time reading and/or napping. Recreational reading never got completed while I was in school, so I am looking forward to starting and finishing many books. I will also make naps a real priority to refresh us. Party . We love tea parties and dance parties at my house. I want us to tea party it up, and dance like no one is watching, because no one will be. I therefore declare Sundays as dance like it’s 1999 day. I want to increase the joy, laughter, and happiness in my home. So Sunday, here we come. Share some of your Sunday rituals. Photo by Alexandra Fuller/Unsplash

Lately in our household, the topic of puberty has come up more often than I’d like to admit. My daughter, who has just turned 10, is experiencing a whirlwind of changes, both physical and emotional. As if that wasn’t enough, her younger sister, who is 8, is thoroughly fascinated by what’s going on with her big sis and especially curious about why there’s so much talk about “boobs” and “periods.” Oh, and let’s not forget that these little minds want answers… right now. It’s like I’m running a mini-informational Ask Me Anything on all things bodily functions, hormones, and personal growth. So, how are we navigating this delicate minefield of puberty? Let me tell you, it’s like trying to dance through a cloud of awkwardness while wearing a full suit of armor. But in all honesty, I wouldn’t want it any other way. We’re a “no topic is off the table” household, and I absolutely take pride in being the one to answer all of their questions. Why? Because I’d rather have my girls informed by me, their well-meaning and slightly exhausted mom, than some uninformed peer or, heaven forbid, random internet searches that might lead them to less-than-reliable sources (Google, we need to talk). Plus, there’s a certain sense of satisfaction in watching my 10-year-old look at me and say, “Oh, that’s how periods work? Cool.” Let’s backtrack for a second: I’ve been preparing for this moment since before my kids could even speak. Oh yes, before they even had full sentences, I was already laying the groundwork. I didn’t pull any punches with the anatomical terms. No “tummy” for the stomach. No “down there” for the private parts. Nope. We use exactly what the human body is supposed to be called: vulva, penis, vagina, breasts. You name it, they know it. And you know what? It’s made our “body talk” way easier. Not only are we minimizing any confusion, but it also means they can identify inappropriate touch or behavior if ever necessary. Knowing the right words is empowering, not uncomfortable. Fast-forward to the present, and now puberty is in full swing. As we tackle topics like body hair (spoiler: it’s coming, kiddo, and it’s not just on your head), periods, and the ever-important “what exactly is happening with my emotions right now?” (answer: nothing makes sense), I find that keeping the discussions light, factual, and relatable helps avoid the "Oh god, I’m dying" vibe that some puberty talks have. And yes , there’s a lot of giggling. Oh, the giggling. We had one of those conversations that went from curiosity, discomfort and then to informational. My 8 year old had a question that piggybacked on me saying that a girl is capable of becoming pregnant and having a baby when she starts her period. She asked, “Mommy, when you and daddy decided to have a baby, did you have sex? What is sex?” I told her that these are both great questions. “It’s when two adults who love each other consent or agree to let each other kiss, and touch private areas like the breasts and vulva. What is most important is that they both have to agree to it.” My older daughter went, “Ewwww! Gross!” I quickly reminded her that there is nothing gross about it, but it is something that only adults should engage in when they love each other. Sex is what helps create life and bring babies into the world. I do my best to make sure to keep things from feeling awkward or overly “parental,” so I try to make the conversation less of a lecture and more of a dialogue. This way, they can ask questions as they come up, without feeling like they’ve interrupted some emotional presentation on "How To Become a Woman." It’s less about me sharing my wisdom and more about their curiosity being addressed in real time. Because honestly? They’re going to have more questions than I have answers for, and I’m trying to keep up. Now, as for how to avoid making it cringe ? Well, that's a whole other skill set. First off, I don't over-explain. I give them what they need, when they need it. No lengthy “life lessons” about the emotional rollercoaster that is puberty (unless they ask, of course). If my daughter asks, “Why do I have hair in places I didn’t have hair before?” I respond with, “Well, your body is getting ready to go through some changes, and that’s one of them.” If she wants more detail, I give it. I just try to remember that I’m not talking to my grown-up friends, I’m talking to a 10-year-old. We stay on their level, not mine. Also, the humor. Oh the humor. Puberty is awkward for everyone involved, so why not embrace it? We’ve had whole conversations where I, as a joke, throw in something ridiculous like, “And don’t forget, when you start wearing bras, it’s not just for support… it’s a secret weapon against all those people who might ask, ‘Are you cold?’” (Oh, you know the ones). Does it lighten the mood? Absolutely. Does it make my daughters feel comfortable asking follow-up questions? You bet. I also make sure to follow up often. I have a new family tradition where, every couple of weeks, I ask my 10 year old if she’s heard any new interesting things about puberty or bodies from school. This way, they know I’m always open to more questions. Sometimes, it’s just an offhand “Hey, is there anything weird you’re hearing at school that doesn’t make sense to you?” and she’ll open up. And let me tell you, the things they hear from other kids, but hey, it’s all part of the process. At the end of the day, I’m just trying to keep it real—an open, honest, and (mostly) comfortable environment where no question is too awkward or off-limits. Because I know that one day, I’ll look back at this stage and laugh… and probably cry a little bit too. Puberty is the ultimate rollercoaster. And I’m just trying to keep my arms and legs inside the ride at all times. (Feature photo from © fizkes - stock.adobe.com and

Nothing beats a warm slice of cake, especially one with citrus notes. It has been raining cats and dogs in NY state for months now, so for many weekends, we have been stuck indoors. I feel like the best thing to do in these situations is to bake, and that is exactly what I did this past weekend. Let's get into this recipe. Orange Cake You’ll need: 1 1/4 sticks of unsalted butter (10 tbsps), room temperature 3/4 cups of granulated sugar 2 eggs, room temperature 1 tsp vanilla extract 1 1/2 cups of all purpose flour 1 3/4 tsps baking powder 3/4 cups of milk 1 orange zested, leave 1 tsp out for topping 2 tbsps of orange juice Topping 1 tbsp confectioner's sugar 1 tsp lemon zest Preheat the oven to 350°F and grease or line with parchment paper and 8 inch pan. In a large bowl, cream the butter, sugar and lemon zest by hand or a mixer for about 2 mins or until well combined. Add in eggs one at a time, mixing well between addition. Follow with milk, vanilla extract and orange juice. Add flour and baking powder to the wet ingredients. Fold the mixture if by hand and if using a mixture, be sure to mix mix just enough for the flour particles to dissolve. Do not over mix. Pour the batter into your pan and bake for 30-35 minutes. Once baked, allow to cool for 10-15 mins in the pan and place on a cooling rack. Sprinkle with confectioners sugar and orange zest. Add halved orange slice to the edge of the serving dish (optional). Enjoy!

This morning, I decided to take the kids on a short hike at a nature preserve. As much as we enjoy walks in our neighborhood where there are lots of trees, I need to be surrounded by them to the point that I feel fully enveloped. That is my happy place . With my many years of experience as a nanny/babysitter and mother, I have spent a lot of time outdoors daily in the jungle of NYC schlepping kids all over the city, through endless noise pollution to the few genuinely green spaces that exist. Prospect Park, Highland Park, Battery Park, Lincoln Terrace/Arthur S. Somers Park, Central Park and Fort Tyron Park among others remain top tier, providing sweet relief from the chaos of the city I once lived in. Growing up in a fishing village on a small Caribbean island during the 80s, means spending a lot of time outdoors. There were no conveniences in the sense of an American upbringing. There were no movie theaters, no roller skating rinks, restaurants or malls to hang out in. Things were rugged at the time, but what we did have was access to a beautiful island with amazing terrain, and that was our playground. For that reason, I naturally gravitate to outdoor activities for my children, not because I have to, but because I absolutely enjoy it. This love of being outdoors and in nature set the foundation for me ensuring that my children spend at least 30 minutes outside daily, weather permitting of course. It also Inspired my move from NYC to Upstate New York, where access to state nature is in abundance with many state parks and nature preserves. I love waking up to rustling leaves swaying in the wind in the peak of summer and driving all of twenty minutes to a state park. Being in nature is truly the best medicine, teaching us all to appreciate the stillness and solitude of it all, while creating beautiful memories. This morning turned to be a fun time at our favorite nature preserve : Taking a seat/Albany Pine Bush Preserve 2025 As we started our walk, one of my littles complained of a headache. I treated her and we continued walking on the trail that we all picked together. They were excited and ready to make the best of this morning walk. Reading a story while walking/Renata Poleon 2025 As we walked, we came across the pages of a story book every couple of feet. It kept the girls engaged and excited to see what was next. We enjoyed the different types of flora native to the Capital Region and the deep remnants of history and the landscape. Pitch pine of the Albany Pine Bush Preserve/Renata Poleon, 2025 Pitch pine of the Albany Pine Bush Preserve/Renata Poleon, 2025 Flora of the Albany Pine Bush Preserve, 2025 While walking one of the girls observed the blackened bottoms of the trees. I was able to explain the process of prescribed fires, an important tool for the long-term management of the inland pine barrens communities and the species that depend on them in my own words. They continue to have a better understanding of ecological communities, ecosystems, and how they are sustained just by exploring earth’s playground. Evidence of prescribed burns at the blackened base of the trees/Renata Poleon, 2025 By the end, they were racing each other and my youngest said she enjoyed today’s hike. Whether you’re in the city and can find a small green space or have access to nature all around you, get outside and get moving. This is truly medicine for your soul.