I don’t know about you, but money has been more than a little funny lately. I joked with my husband: “This year alone has been more expensive than the last 10 years combined.”
As if having a kid in college and rising grocery and gasoline prices weren’t enough, our house decided to join the escalating expenses this year: First, the dishwasher broke, then the dryer, then the AC (during one of those unrelenting heat waves, so waiting to get it fixed was not an option), then the fairly new washing machine, making an obnoxiously loud rattling sound on its way out.
But wait — there’s more. The images on our bedroom TV started glitching green and purple, which makes me think maybe we are being invaded by aliens.
These are moments when, as an adult, you want to break down, too. To fall flat on the floor and mimic your toddler’s most memorable tantrum. Then, you remember: All of your problems will still be here when you pick yourself up. And you remember how you made it to the other side of that other seemingly impossible year. And how, in contrast to people experiencing dire consequences of war, inflation and job cuts, your setbacks are annoying at worst.
Instead of sputtering like an appliance on its way out, I’ve been digging through my family’s archives of happier times and bringing once-cherished items out into the living room or texting photos of them to my son. I dragged his dust-caked keyboard from his elementary school days out of his closet, cleaned it up and started pressing the keys. Unlike other instruments, the piano is forgiving even to the novice. Melodies floated through the house like an old friend — scattered but warm — and the sound regulated my nervous system.
“I’m going to teach myself how to play through YouTube lessons,” I told my husband.
He pointed to the TV that still works. “And you can sit there and learn how to play with YouTube on the TV right in front of you.” His optimism grew wings. “Maybe you can combine the music with your writing.”
Another relic I’ve pulled from the past is a gift my son gave me when he was in kindergarten: “A Cookbook for My Mommy.” The little booklet has flowers on its cover and is tied together with red yarn. Inside are the “recipes” from each of Mrs. Edwards’ students that year — and in their own words. My son’s recipe for pizza: “Buy the ingredients. Put the bread on a pan and put pepperoni on top. Cook in the top microwave for 14 minutes. Put it on the table and eat it.”
Sometimes, life really is that simple. Whatever you have at year’s end — whether bountiful harvest or the bare minimum — put it on the table, give thanks and eat.
Happiest of holidays to you and yours.
Cassandra Lane is Editor-in-Chief of L.A. Parent.













































































































































































































































































































































































































