Category: Lifestyle

What are you up to this weekend? We are driving up to Vermont to see the fall leaves. They might still be pretty green, but either way, we’re excited for cider donuts and these alpine slides. Shana Tovah to our readers who are celebrating the Jewish holidays! Hope you have a good one, and here are a few links from around the web…

Our girl Stella Blackmon was featured in the NYTimes! Her short films about teenage life are amazing. (NYTimes gift link)

These thank you cards made me laugh.

“Should I bring anything to the dinner tonight or just my crippling anxiety?”

Very, very chocolate-y brownies.

Is there anything cozier than an oversized turtleneck you can play hide-and-seek in? Striped, mustard, green.

This Goodnight Moon essay brought me to my knees. “Our son arrived in the world like a comet breaking the sound barrier, or Kramer skidding into Jerry’s apartment… He was bewitching, sweet, playful and wildly entertaining, the kind of baby strangers admired in the grocery store. But his evening routine almost broke me,” writes Elizabeth Egan, who tried everything to help her son sleep. Nothing worked, until one night, when she read Goodnight Moon. “A warm, doughy starfish hand came to rest on my wrist and remained there as I turned the pages. A fragrant, damp head plunked onto my shoulder. At the end of the book, my son took a finger out of his mouth and said quietly, ‘Again.’” (NYTimes gift link)

Small bedroom ideas. (Drooling over #2.)

Loving this flirty text exchange.

The sexual assault activist who finds joy in fashion. At NYFW, “a commonly asked question is, ‘What are you wearing?,’ and as I was talking about what I chose to wear that day, I had this remarkable moment where I was like, I’ve been asked this exact question, but it was the complete opposite experience. It was after my rape. That time, that sentence was shaming me and presuming guilt for the violence that happened to me. It was very full circle. I then created the Survivor Fashion Show so that survivors can take back this question.” (NYMag)

Funny clouds, of all things.

Plus, three reader comments:

Says Jen on what’s made you laugh lately: “This made me laugh today!”

Says Lauren O. on a trick to staying present: “I deleted Pokémon GO from my phone a couple of years ago because I realized I hadn’t called my mom on one of my daily walks in months, and the first time I went, without I saw A LIVE EEL SLITHERING ACROSS THE SIDEWALK! (I was walking through Chinatown and it had sloshed out of a tank at one of the fish markets.) I sprang into action to rescue it and friends, ‘slippery as an eel’ is no joke.”

Says Maeve on let’s find this reader a back-to-law-school outfit: “Anne, as the daughter of a mom who went to law school while my sister and I were little (I was starting kindergarten), I want you to know what an incredible example you are setting for your little ones. I am immensely proud of my mom for a million reasons but one of them is the bravery she displayed in that decision (and each of her decisions to keep learning — she is 62 and just took up rollerblading and German classes!). She had always wanted to be a criminal prosecutor, but her father told her to ‘accept her lot in life and find contentedness in it’ (he is a product of his context, as we all are). My memories of her time in school largely consist of special moments with my dad. He was a lawyer already, but he took a step back from his career in many ways so that my mom could take a step forward in hers. And when my mom did the opening of her first murder trial before a jury several years later, my dad took my sister and me to see it. We had front row seats to the proof that it is never too late to start a new chapter. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, I became a prosecutor, too. I just wanted to be my mom. Still do. Whatever you wear, Anne, you are so brave and alongside your kids and husband, this whole community is rooting for you.”

(Photo by Laura Austin/Stocksy.)

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Recently, a Cup of Jo reader reached out for help finding a first-day-of-school outfit…

“This year, I’m turning 40 and making a career shift,” wrote Anne. “I start law school in the fall, just as my oldest child starts kindergarten (we get to buy school supplies together!). I’m excited but nervous about being pegged as ‘the old lady,’ so on the first day, I want to appear confident and interesting to eat lunch with. Please share advice!”

First, congratulations! We’re rooting for you. Second, 40 is young and cool! Remember this comment from a reader named Libby? “The most amazing woman I have ever known retired from a journalism career at 62 and promptly enrolled in law school. She practiced law until she was 94. It is NEVER too late.” For first-day-of-school outfits, here are eight great pieces (that would also work well for the office)…

The oversized blazer: An academic setting begs for a blazer, so give the people what they want! This modern version is polished enough for visiting professor office hours, but casual enough for grabbing drinks with classmates.

The denim shirt: If you’re looking for a fresher take on the white-shirt-with-slacks uniform, swap in a fitted denim shirt. With a dark wash and crisp feel, this top is the cool cousin of button-down shirts. I’d tuck it into these drapey pants.

Wide-legged trousers: I wish everyone could own a pair of wide-legged trousers. They instantly elevate any outfit and have character without looking costume-y. (Plus, they create the ultimate weekend look with white sneakers.)

The statement sweater: When you’re heading to the law library (quiet, please!), add a pop of color to liven things up. This red polo sweater gives a cheery impression and would pair beautifully with a favorite pair of jeans. This other red sweater is just as fun and only $22.

The slip skirt: This midi is a closet staple. The sheen and subtle flip make it both elegant and playful, which are two attitudes we could all channel more of in our lives.

The sweater dress: To feel confident, comfort is key. This calf-skimming sweater dress strikes the perfect balance between flattering and cozy. It’s giving “look gorgeous while wearing a blanket” vibes. This size-inclusive line also has the dreamiest jewel tones.

The low-heeled bootie: The last thing you need to deal with after a day of lectures, commuting and parenting are pinched feet. So, keep the feeling in your toes with low-heeled booties (they also come in warm brown).

The sturdy tote: Law school requires walking from class to class with heavy books. To save yourself from a Home Alone situation, invest in a sturdy bag. These nylon totes have a cult following for a reason: they’re sleek, durable, and have enough room for a laptop, books and snacks.

Thoughts? What would you wear on your first-day-of law school? Or when returning to office?

P.S. Pants we wear to work and a criminal defense attorney’s week of outfits.

(Graphic layout by Miss Moss. Photo by Simone Anne/Stocksy.)

Note: If you buy something through our links, we may earn an affiliate commission, at no cost to you. We recommend only products we genuinely like. Thank you so much.

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The first time my friend Ann invited me over to her house, I had to pretend I was a spy. As I spotted her front door, up a staircase partially without rails, I knew I couldn’t get to it without a little ingenuity.

I took a deep breath and looked around. Were there any sticks I could lean on for balance? I once found a sturdy one at the edge of a yard that I used to climb up a sloping lawn, arriving at an entryway as if I were sticking a flag into a peak. There was the time I took off my cardigan to cover my hand so I could gingerly fling myself from the side of a cactus toward the landing of another address. And in the “great greenery incident of 2007,” I leaned on a line of cascading potted plants to get me down to the street.

In the case of Ann’s home, I climbed the flight as if I were scaling a boulder, humming the Mission Impossible theme song to make myself smile and hoping that no one was around to watch.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve let my imagination shield me from the challenges of living with a disability. I was born with cerebral palsy three years before the Americans With Disabilities Act was passed, so I had to learn to walk on rolling ankles and inward-facing knees around the same time public spaces were required to become accessible to me. But the law is spotty in practice, and it’s not unusual for ramps to jut into back alleys or elevators to open down long corridors. As soon as it’s clear that my body isn’t as welcome in a place I’d like it to be, I picture myself putting on a black men’s suit, smirking, and saying, “We’ll just see about that.” (I should probably mention here that my dad raised me on James Bond movies.)

As a child, I interpreted these workarounds as an operation into a non-disabled world, a task that was best accomplished if I remained calm and focused, constantly looking for clear pathways into a subway station, sports stadium, or high-rise building without causing too much of a disturbance. The fact that I could walk for about 30 minutes before needing to rest only gave me a countdown of adrenaline-pumping proportions. Eventually, to blend in even further, I learned how to move without any aides at all.

Homes, on the other hand, are an entirely separate obstacle. There aren’t federal regulations for bungalows or brownstones to follow for accommodations, and wide-set doorways and textured flooring haven’t had quite the same design impact as, say, shiplap and fiddle leaf figs. So, every home I visit is unpredictable — from the hardscapes leading to the front door, to the amount of stairs separating rooms, to the presence of a high-edge bathtub rather than a walk-in shower. And unlike public spaces, where I can feel more anonymous, creating access in private is often done in front of a select audience.

Family members and childhood friends already know that I appreciate their carrying my plate to the table or offering an arm up the steps from a sunken living room, but acquaintances usually have to be asked. In college and into my twenties, I struggled with how to disclose that I might need help. What’s the best way to find out if a third-floor apartment is a walk-up? How should I say that it’s impossible for me to stand for hours on end? I was routinely stressed about the closest available parking, the nearest open seat, and how much to fill my glass so I could still carry it on my own. I tried not to let these considerations show, as I laughed at a joke or told a story, scared that the intricacies of my disability would cast an intimidating shadow on budding friendships and meet-cutes. So, most of the time, I said nothing.

My understanding of my disability in public was also how I learned to internalize it in private. All of those out-of-the-way elevators and ramps, all of the sideways glances and detached formalities that come with finding a way in, was only the outsized version of what I can encounter within the intimacy of a home. When I called myself a secret agent, it was because I felt my disability was something to shroud.

After I met Ann for the first time, she introduced me to a group of women who’ve become a support system for careers, relationships, and where to find the best pizza. As we got to know each other, and I became more comfortable in my skin, I began to talk about my disability over our monthly restaurant dinners — and with their encouragement, publicly with strangers. That’s when Laura sent me a text I had never received before. “Hey! I wanted to let you know before coming to my apartment that there’s one flight of stairs, with rails, leading up to it. Do you need help getting upstairs from your car?”

I know it sounds silly, but I looked at those words for a long time. I was used to solving the puzzle of access on my own, diminishing it into the background of a gathering. This text was Laura telling me to retire from my work as a secret spy, because the act was up: She was on to me. As a friend and host, she wanted to make sure that I would have as much fun as the next guest, whether they had dietary restrictions, pet allergies, or a reluctance to hear spoilers about a new show.

When I told her how much that check-in meant to me, she shrugged and said, “I just wanted to make sure you could be here.” Since then, Ann and others have sent similar texts letting me know where to park, how many stairs I might expect, and to call them if I need backup.

My disability was never something to be ashamed of, even though it took time for me to recognize that. It’s the part of my life that fosters creativity, builds empathy, and allows me to experience the world through a hard-won lens of unfair truths and casual inclusivity. I’m grateful for my cerebral palsy, as complicated as that gratitude may be. When someone invites me into their home with a kind acknowledgement of my disability, including any potential hazards and how they might be able to assist, it’s clear that they want me to show up as my full self once I get through the door. And as soon as I’m there, I can exhale.

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Kelly Dawson is a writer, editor, and media consultant. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter. She has also written about making friends and disabled motherhood.

P.S. “Four things I wish people knew about disability,” and what’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to you?

(Photo from Kelly’s Instagram.)

5 COMMENTS

On this hump day, let’s chat about something fun: What has made you laugh lately?

First up, Matt Buechele, every mom’s secret Instagram crush, recently posted a hilarious reel about Airbnbs, including how elaborate the check-out chores are becoming. (“What is our arrangement? Do I work for you?”)

Also, all of Hunter Harris’s hilarious newsletter, especially this cultural observation: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the vibes are… sincerely off lately. Everything feels very Annette Bening staring in to space in the bathtub in 20th Century Women. Very much Meryl Streep screaming at the dinner table in Big Little Lies. I would even go so far as to say Natalie Portman asking Barbara Hershey ‘What career?’ in Black Swan.”

Seeing this photo, which we took earlier this summer. Parenting! Just like I pictured!

Finally, my cousin recently asked my sweet grandmother how old she was. “I’m 42,” she answered, confidently. “No, Mummy, you’re 92,” my aunt corrected. My grandmother laughed: “Oh, gosh, am I really?!” The best, always young at heart.

What has made you smile lately? Movies? Friends? Kids? Share below…

P.S. Funny comedy scenes in movies, and what makes your children laugh?

(Matt photo by Troy Hallahan.)

5 COMMENTS

Alex is the chef in our family (he kills at broccoli quesadillas and chicken parm meatballs), but last week, he was out of town, so the boys and I were on our own. Unfortunately, I am — how should I put this — not a great cook. So, I figured we’d just shop the fridge:

But then I started brainstorming:

And came up with a weeknight meal plan:

Monday: Rice and beans with toppings, including avocado, tomato, cheddar cheese and sour cream
Tuesday: Pesto pasta (using excellent store-bought pesto) with sautéed zucchini
Wednesday: Sausages with corn and tomatoes
Thursday: Mushroom and egg toast. (Sauté a bunch of mushrooms with salt and pepper. Poach four eggs. Toast four slices of country bread and top with the mushrooms, eggs, and grated Parmesan.)
Friday: Pizza delivery from our favorite neighborhood spot!

The Thursday night dinner — mushroom and egg toast — reminded me of the power of putting an egg on top. Eggs can jazz up so many things — cheesy noodles, green salads, a piece of toast, don’t you think? Here are nine more ideas…

Angel hair pasta with a fried egg and parmesan.

Eggs and tomato sauce over polenta. “I’ve been making this dish for over 10 years,” says Deanna, a pediatric intensive care nurse practitioner. “I work crazy hours and having a back–pocket dish is great.”

White pizza with cheese, scallions and eggs.

Lentil salad with bell peppers and a seven-minute egg.

Avocado toast, three ways.

Egg tacos, Austin-style.

Egg roll in a bowl.

An egg-in-a-hole, toast-in-a-hole, egg-in-a-basket.

Classic fried eggs.

Thoughts? What would you add? What else do you top eggs with? Here are 9 easy family meals we’ve loved to death.

P.S. How to get kids to talk at dinner, and what are five things in your kitchen you’d never be caught without?

(Top photo by Romulo Yanes for Real Simple.)

1 COMMENT

Last Sunday was one of those perfect fall days in New York City that make you forget all the reasons this city drives you nuts and fall in love with it all over again. So, I left my phone at home, and nine-year-old Anton and I took off on a bike ride. We bump-bump-bumped over cobblestone streets and passed couples playing cards on picnic blankets. We stopped at a market for lemonade, then drank it on a bench facing the water.

It was pretty magical. But a weird thing kept happening.

Now and again, my hand would absentmindedly reach into my bag and fumble for my phone, before I’d remember it wasn’t there. I didn’t even want my phone, my hand was just accustomed to that periodic grab. How often do I pull out this thing? I began to wonder. And what am I missing when I do?

From our park bench, I looked around us: Anton’s blonde hair ruffled in the wind. A toddler stood, belly forward, watching her mom blow bubbles. Two guys rode by on their bikes, one without using his hands! A blue ferry chugged down the East River, and the sunshine made the waves sparkle.

My navigator tying his shoe.

I remembered a NYTimes interview with cartoonist Lynda Barry — have you read it? — in which she told this story:

“I have a friend who’s a writer. No matter what we’re doing or whom he’s around, he’s on his phone. We were sitting out in a parking lot, and there was a guy who came out who was in this full orc costume with a shield. I thought, I’m not going to say anything. Let’s see if my friend looks up. The guy passed right by him and — it was outside a hotel — tried to get through a revolving door. There’s all this bump ba bump ba bump, and if my friend would have looked up, he would have seen an orc go by! But he never looked up! Then later I told him, and he’s like, ‘That didn’t happen!’ It totally did happen! So something that closes you off to the world that you’re in — I mean, I could be on TikTok all night long. I keep deleting that app because I love it so much. But something that takes you out of your environment, you pay a high price. You miss the orc.”

This fall, as much as possible, I’m inspired to turn off my phone, put in a drawer, and just soak up the world. Maybe I’ll read poetry and books (this one looks great). I’ll admire my sweet children puttering around. And find the freckles on my leg that Alex says look like the Big Dipper. And maybe stare into space?

Because, honestly, seeing the world is just nice. “I do get a deep pleasure from looking,” says artist David Hockney. “I mean, I can look at a little puddle on a road in Yorkshire and just have the rain falling on it and think it’s marvelous.”

Don’t be these dudes!

P.S. Trying out slow parenting, ups and downs of living in NYC, and do you worry too much?

(Comic by Liam Walsh/The New Yorker, via this post.)

8 COMMENTS

“My husband teases me that I’m terrified of looking ‘schlumpy,’” my friend Alison Piepmeyer told me, which is funny because she always looks so polished and bright. Here, the marketing exec and mother of two shares her secrets, including the best balloon pants, thrifting hacks and her beautiful advice on grieving…

Dress: SZ Blockprints. Mary Janes: Amazon. Clutch: Clare V., available second-hand. Earrings: Mejuri, similar. Heart necklace: Catbird. Nail color: Big Apple Red by Opi. Lipstick: NARS Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in Lilac Rose (“I get breakouts, so it’s the only lipstick I can use because it doesn’t have wax”).

“I work at Color Factory, and I feel like part of my job as CMO is to look the part. For that reason, a section of my wardrobe is very bright and happy. I love a maxi dress, and I love stripes, so when I saw this dress, it was a fit. I’ll wear when I’m giving a tour at work or meeting with investors, and I’ll wear it on date nights with my husband.”

“Honestly, I’m a very phase-y person with my wardrobe. When we lived in San Francisco, I called my style ‘French Fisherman’ and wore beanies and canvas pants. Then there was a season when I traveled to Tokyo, got into Japanese style and bought all my clothes from Muji. Nowadays, I’m inspired by Sienna Miller‘s minimal style and Meg Ryan’s ’90s looks.”

Blouse: Mille, sold out, similar. Overalls: Levi’s. Sandals: Birkenstocks. Hoops: Mejuri. Nail color: Big Apple Red by Opi. Lipstick: NARS Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in Lilac Rose.

“When I was pregnant with my daughter, who’s now eight months old, I wore overalls all the time. If you’re running errands but want to feel interesting, here’s your outfit. And I always wear ruffled shirts underneath; I like that contrast between delicate things and workhorse denim.”

“With my hair, I’ve experimented with every color and length — when I got married, it was down to my waist; right after our wedding, I got a pixie. But five years ago, I finally found a cut that feels like me. When I go to a new stylist, I’ll show them a Pinterest board with a bunch of photos of the same haircut. When I showed my new Brooklyn stylist, he was like, yeah, I got it, you crazy nutso lady!”

Shirt: vintage, similar. T-shirt: Uniqlo. Jeans: COS. Sneakers: Veja. Baseball cap: Amazon. Necklace: Catbird. Bracelet: Banana Republic. Nail color: Big Apple Red by Opi. Lipstick: NARS Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in Lilac Rose.

“Seventy-five percent of my clothes are from stores, and 25% are thrifted. At thrift stores, I’ll look only for denim or cotton or linen, versus synthetic fibers. Otherwise you can get stuck in the store forever. I also like the men’s sections because they’re less picked over — I found this oversized men’s chambray shirt for like $4.”

“For regular stores, Alex Mill makes cute classics. I turn to COS for sculptural shapes, like the balloon-y pants I’m wearing here. And all my basics are from Uniqlo because their stuff lasts forever.”

Blazer: Everlane, sold out, similar. Shirt: Uniqlo. Pants: Uniqlo. Shoes: Sézane, similar. Bag: Clare V. Lipstick: NARS Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in Lilac Rose.

“My dad died suddenly this past June. That night is seared into my memory because I was excited — my brother had just come over, and we were going to celebrate his birthday with burgers and a big bottle of Champagne. The sky was a vivid blue. My husband had the stereo outside playing this French radio station he’s obsessed with called FIP. Our kids were sitting on a playmat. Then I got a call from my mom, and she said, it’s not looking good. In that moment, so many weird things go through your mind. I was supposed to leave on a business trip the next day, and I immediately was like, who is going to run that business trip?”

“I became the defacto person who was connecting all the family members. I was very calm. Nothing felt real, it felt like I was in a movie. The first time I cried was a few hours later when my mom went to the hospital and they pronounced him dead. Then I was like, wait, what? Since then, it’s been this surreal summer. Small things will set me off and I’ll cry. And other times life feels totally normal. And then I hate that it’s normal. His death still doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve talked to other people who’ve lost their parents and they said they felt numb. I have two little kids who need my attention all the time and a demanding job, so I compartmentalize. And now that it’s fall, my son is going back to school, and work is calming down, and in some ways I’m worried — what will that mean when I can come up for air? Will I lose it?”

“My four-year-old son Linus tells EVERYONE. His conversation starter at the playground is, ‘My grandpa died!’ But I get it. When someone asks me how my summer was, I can’t help saying, ‘Well, my dad died in June.’ It makes me feel better getting it out there. It’s like a mosquito bite that you want to scratch — it hurts but it feels good. It’s a pain that I want. It hurts so good, is that the phrase?”

Shirt: Alex Mill (“I fold the cuffs the way Jenna Lyons does in this YouTube video“). Pants: Muji, sold out, similar. Loafers: Intentionally Blank. Hoops: Mejuri. Sunglasses: Warby Parker. Nail color: Big Apple Red by Opi. Lipstick: NARS Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in Lilac Rose.

“Things that make me feel better: Abbott Elementary is so cute and well done. My son loves Harry Styles, so we listen to his songs mixed with spooky Halloween music. And you just have to wake up and get dressed and go outside. Then I like when people give me a big hug and say, ‘I’m so sorry, this sucks, I love you, and I’m here.’”

P.S. More women share their weeks of outfits, including a bike-riding dietician and a color-loving architect.

(Photos by Christine Han for Cup of Jo.)

Note: If you buy something through our links, we may earn an affiliate commission, at no cost to you. We recommend only products we genuinely like. Thank you so much.

2 COMMENTS

When my kids were 3 and 6 and I was slouched over Chutes and Ladders, dying inside and wishing the fire alarm would go off to break up the afternoon, I couldn’t picture this: those same kids, 19 and 22 now, clearing away the dinner dishes, turning off their phones, and laying out the Settlers of Catan tiles, before trash-talking my old-lady self about how badly they’re planning to beat me. Let the trading of wool and brick commence!

The good news is, there are way better games now than there were when my kids were little. The early investment in gaming is so, so worth it. Besides, games are so deliciously pointless that when you play with your child you give them the message that spending time together is worthwhile enough. Which is an incredibly lovely message, isn’t it?

I’ve narrowed this list down to games for kids who are a little older and can start to think strategically. (So, no party games or word games or dexterity games.) I’m also not including our current favorite game, Viticulture, because it takes four hours to play, and that’s after the month you spent trying to parse the rules. But rest assured that the following games have all been exhaustively vetted over multiple years by one very particular family. We hope you like them.

Rivers, Roads, & Rails (5-12 players, ages 5+)
When they were young, my children played with this transportation-themed tile-laying game like it was a low-rent 2D train set, creating various grids of highways and byways and occasionally zooming around a Matchbox car. Then, at some point, we saw that there were actual rules, and we got many more years out of playing it as the mildly competitive matching game it was made to be.
Also try:
Waterworks (2-4 players, ages 8+)
Carcassonne Hunters and Gatherers (2-5 players, ages 8+)

Gobblet, Quarto, and Cathedral (2 players, ages 7+)
We call these “the wood games,” and they’re all two-person logic games with nice pieces and simple rules — but with an incredibly brainy depth of play. Think: chess, but not as long or boring. I usually lose because the children are accustomed to using the mathy left sides of their growing brains, and my left brain is now more of a confused and shrunken appendage to the overdeveloped right brain where all of my many menopause-y feelings live expansively. Anyhoo, they’re great games and lovely to boot.
Also try:
Blokus Duo (2 players, 7+)
Patchwork Express (2 players, 6+)

Dutch Blitz (2-4 players, ages 8+)
This is a surprisingly delightful game (“vonderful goot,” as the box itself boasts), even though the colors aren’t great, and the Amish boy-girl thematic is, as my daughter puts it, “weirdly heteronormative.” Nonetheless, we’ve played it, oh, a gazillion times, give or take a billion. It’s all about consecutive card-stacking (think: Spit or Solitaire) and stressful speed (think: Perfection), so don’t play it with anyone inclined to argue or hurt their own feelings. A sold-separately expansion deck enables you to increase the players to 8 and makes for absolute CHAOS.
Also try:
Spot It(2-8 players, ages 6+)
Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza (3-8 players, ages 8+)

Qwixx (2-5 players, ages 8+)
We’ve played this game in airports, at the laundromat while our bedding dried after a camping rainstorm, and at home when everyone has just a minute for gaming before getting back to whatever it is we should be doing. It’s a predictive dice-rolling game, like a cross between Shut the Box, Yahtzee, and something you’d lose in a casino. Easy to learn, quick to play, but never dull.
Also try:
Yahtzee (2+ players, ages 8+)
Welcome to Your Perfect Home (1+ players, ages 10+)

Sushi Go! (2-8 players, ages 8+)
If the only good thing about this card game were the adorable illustrations — all those grinning, winking maki rolls and dumplings and shrimp — you’d still want it. But it is, in fact, a great game, and one with more depth than the appetizing cuteness might lead you to imagine. It’s also another excellent, undaunting introduction to the world of strategy games. Full disclosure: the expanded party version might be our favorite, but it’s more expensive.
Also try:
Point Salad (2-6 players, ages 8+)
Wingspan (1-5 players, ages 14+)

Splendor (2-4 players, ages 10+)
Because it doesn’t take long to learn or play, this engaging game makes a great introduction to other resource-gathering games that are harder and longer — Settlers of Catan, for instance, or the nearly unsurvivably complex and heart-pounding (but fantastic) Agricola. Plus, everybody loves a jewel theme, and the jewel chips are nice and heavy.
Also try:
Rummikub (2-4 players, ages 8+)
Azul (2-4 players, ages 8+)

Ticket to Ride (2-5 players, 8+)
I’m bookending this guide with rail-themed games, and this one is a doozy. The goal feels simple enough — complete various route objectives by laying out trains on a map — but the game designer describes it as an intense balance between greed and fear (hello, worst self!). We’ve had this game in regular rotation for over 10 years, and still whenever we play I announce that it’s my favorite game. And train enthusiasts (aka kids) will be naturally drawn to it, too.
Also try:
Chinese Checkers (2-6 players, ages 6+)
Power Grid (2-5 players, ages 13+)

The games shelf in Catherine’s house tour

Thoughts? What games would you add? Please share below…

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Catherine Newman is the author of the social skills book for kids, What Can I Say? and the forthcoming funny grief novel for grown-ups, We All Want Impossible Things (Harper, November 2022). She has written for Cup of Jo about raising teenage boys and being an empty nester, and her house tour made people cry (in a good way).

P.S. Toby and Anton’s favorite game, and three words that changed how we parent.

(Photo by Guille Faingold/Stocksy.)

17 COMMENTS

A couple weeks ago, I asked for help preparing for a parenting milestone: my first trip without my baby. And the CoJ community delivered! You reminded me that it was normal to feel both excited and terrified, and like everyone predicted, both Ella and I were 100% fine during our time apart. During any homesick periods, nine things helped me stay present and enjoy my time away…

1) To prepare our hearts for three days apart, I decided to make Ella’s and my last day together extra fun. So, we dressed in coordinating outfits, ate Philly cheesesteaks for dinner at the farmers’ market with Max, and stayed up late watching Bluey. It was pure bliss.

2) The next morning, I had one goal: execute a quick and painless goodbye. The thought of her crying while I peeled out of the driveway hurt my stomach. So I made our goodbye similar to when I leave for the grocery store. Just a couple smooches on the face, a cheek pinch and a warm ‘I love you.’ But I did insist on carrying her from the house to the car, instead of saying bye on the doorstep. Holding her for those few extra steps was the gentle send off I needed.

3) I kid you not when I say that this Cup of Jo comment section was my personal talisman against mom guilt. Anytime I started thinking, “Should I even be here right now?”, “Am I a bad mom?”, “I should FaceTime…”, I’d whip out my phone and read all of the wisdom you lovely humans left. After a couple minutes, my worries died down and I’d remember that I deserve to have parenting breaks and it’s good to have fun without my child!

4) “I don’t have to share this popcorn with anybody!” was one of the first of many thoughts I had during my trip when I realized I was free to do whatever I wanted. I could stay up until 2 a.m. without worrying about waking up four hours later to take care of a baby. I could wait in lines for popular rides without fear of dealing with a meltdown. Shoot, I could even RIDE all the popular rides. And I could say all the jokes I wanted without making any words or stories ‘kid-friendly.’ Ecstasy!

5) There were four other moms on the trip, which was a game changer. I turned to them when I needed to talk about baby things, because that’s what they wanted to talk about, too. On the plane ride, I sat next to my pregnant friend, Kayla, and another mom, Silvia. For the entire flight, we shared baby gear, birth stories and milestones. Those conversations grounded me.

6) There was one piece of advice that everybody agreed on: No FaceTime! So, instead of video calls, my husband Max and my mother-in-law texted me daily Ella updates. Each morning, I’d wake up to a text sharing how she slept and her itinerary for the day. Every night I’d receive a flood of videos and photos, which always boosted my serotonin levels.

7) Guilt is ridiculous. Because — get this — when I finally stopped feeling mom-guilt, I felt guilty about feeling guilty in the first place. I know. So, when that happened, I turned to another piece of advice from the comment section; “Let yourself feel ALL the feels.” Every time I’d feel bad about feeling bad at my bff’s bachelorette party, I’d offer myself grace. I’d remember that what I was feeling was natural; I’m a human and my feelings are valid.

8) When I was a little girl, I’d feel excited and special when my grandpa returned home from business trips with a small souvenir for me. I wanted to recreate that experience with Ella, so I scouted out the park for the perfect gift. At the end of the day, my friend Kayla tipped me off to this baby Moana set. Ella loves the movie, and I even think she looks like baby Moana. It was meant to be.

9) One of the best moments of the trip was running into my CoJ guardian angel. On the first morning, I was at the airport, waiting for my friends to arrive. I had just taken a selfie in the bathroom and sat down at the gate to eat a bagel. All of a sudden, I hear a woman’s voice: “Hi! Are you Jannelle from Cup of Jo?” I look up to see a kind face. “I read your post about leaving Ella, and I want you to know that she is going to be okay,” she told me. “She’s going to have a great time, and you have nothing to worry about. Enjoy your trip, you deserve this!” After that encounter, I knew everything was going to be fine.

Thoughts? What was your first trip after kids like?

P.S. A snapshot of parenting, and would you ever take a vacation from motherhood?

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