Have a Delicious Weekend. | Cup of Jo

Have a Delicious Weekend. | Cup of Jo
Have a Delicious Weekend. | Cup of Jo

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thumbprint cookies yossy arefi

What are you up to this weekend? My dad is visiting, and we’re going to our neighborhood block party. The boys are psyched for the bouncy house, and I like seeing what everyone brings to the potluck dinner. We’re going with either thumbprint cookies or fancified Rice Krispie treats. Hope you have a good one, and here are a few links from around the web…

Today’s the last day to enter to win our Cup of Jo NYC trip!

Everyone should wear absolutely huge sunglasses. “All fashion should make you say, ‘Hmm, seems stupid. I love it.’ Sunglasses most of all.” (NYMag)

Love the idea of taking long walks and just talking to yourself.

Oooh, the perfect sweater for a hair tuck.

A conversation about household inequity. Says Anne Helen Petersen: “I know so many cis-hetero couples where guys leave for eight hours to go golfing every weekend; eight hours to go to a friend’s house or to go to an actual football game, every weekend. That is a massive amount of time that seems inconceivable to a lot of women in those hetero partnerships. I think that men are like… Why would they want to change that? Why would they want to take that away? If all they have to do is just get in a fight every once in a while about it, that seems like a small price to pay for having all of that freedom.”

Who cares what I wear to school drop off? Me.” Such a funny, playful piece. (NYTimes gift link)

Now THAT’S a green kitchen.

This short film is making fetch happen — in Yiddish.

When it comes to eating disorders, brown girls don’t measure up. “I am a South Asian woman who suffers from eating disorders. My struggle with body dysmorphia began when I was told by my doctor, at six years old, that my BMI (body mass index) was too high, and I was put on the first of many diets that would come to define my life. Ever the overachiever and eager to please my concerned parents, I threw myself into controlling my weight… What I didn’t know at that time was that those numbers were reflective of white, Eurocentric standards that never should have been applied to me… Eating disorder behavior is so closely tied with whiteness and wealth, that for many — including many women of color — the depictions of it can be unintentionally aspirational.” (Elle)

The hair trend that millennial and boomers agree on. *raises hand*

Digging this sexy underwear.

The faces that look back at us when we come out as queer.” What an amazing interactive article. (NYTimes gift link)

Plus, five reader comments:

Says Sarah on how to say goodbye at a party: “I practice the Midwestern goodbye. When sitting, slap your lap with both hands, say, ‘Welp!’, then stand up and head out the door.”

Says Tina on how to say goodbye at a party: “Ever do an Italian family goodbye? Endless hugs, kisses, questions about being hungry, being forced to take leftovers, getting sucked into having one last piece of/plate of… It’s endless! The best/worst is that we will likely see them TOMORROW!”

Says Ruth on how to say goodbye at a party: “My party vibe as a Jew is: ‘What party? We’re all living together in this tent in the desert full time. Why would you want to leave? Especially since Aunt Rachel’s cake is just coming off the fire!’ I cannot leave a party. Please don’t make me.”

Says Nigerian Girl on 10 single moms by choice share their experiences: “I just listened to the latest episode of the podcast Archetypes, where Mindy Kaling talks about becoming a single mother by choice. We live in such a judgmental world, so I salute every woman who is brave enough to make this choice.”

Says Eliz on who is your celebrity crush: “Bernie Sanders. Check him out as a young hottie, y’all…”

Bernie Sanders young

(Cookie photo and recipe by Yossy Arefi/Instagram.)

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10 Fall Things I’m Looking Forward to Wearing and Doing (Plus, a Sale!)

10 Fall Things I’m Looking Forward to Wearing and Doing (Plus, a Sale!)
10 Fall Things I’m Looking Forward to Wearing and Doing (Plus, a Sale!)

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madewell fall sale

What’s on your low-key fall checklist? I’m looking forward to cozy, relaxing weekends in soft sweaters and long dresses. Here are 10 more low-key things I’m hoping to wear and do (and I’d love to hear yours)…

plaid reversible jacket

Play with plaid. Plaid reminds me of my Michigan days, when I’d head to the cider mill and grab cinnamon donuts. For outdoor adventures, I’m digging this quilted plaid jacket. With flowers on one side and gingham on the other, it’s perfect to wear year-round. (Here’s another cute coat.)

Watch an old-school rom com. The other day, I had friends over to eat pizza and watch Green Card, and it was really fun. When the weather gets cooler, I love cuddling up and streaming schmoopy movies. On my to-rewatch list: When Harry Met Sally, Hitch, and So I Married an Ax Murderer. What would you add?

madewell fall sale

Embrace a workhorse dress. A cotton midi that looks beautiful while working from home and on romantic date nights? Sold. I’m also eyeing this one (bonus: it has pockets!).

Serve a muffin spread. For breakfasts, we’ve been baking simple muffins, like apple cinnamon and zucchini. A warm buttery treat is such a nice way to start the day.

madewell fall sale

Layer knits. V-necks. Pullovers. Cardigans. Fall is the time for all the knits and I’m here for it. (I especially love this pine green.)

Borrow a dog. I’m not a dog person (I know, heart of stone, etc.), but my friend regularly borrows her neighbor’s golden retriever. They stroll around town and chat with passersby — how sweet is that? And nine-year-old Anton has his first job (!) playing with our neighbors’ Frenchies a few afternoons a week, which is a win/win/win for everyone involved.

madewell fall sale

Wear denim on denim. My mom wore denim-on-denim in the seventies, and I’ve been sold on the effortlessly cool vibe ever since. So, let’s pull on trusty chambray shirts with vintage-style jeans. Who’s in?

Consider daytime dates. “Nothing like walking around on a Saturday to make you feel unencumbered,” my friend Pilar once said. “There’s a lot of pressure at night not to yawn.” During the day, the world is your oyster: go for a bike ride, eat a leisurely lunch, see a movie matinee, and just soak up a lazy Saturday.

madewell fall sale

Add personality to your style. The easiest way to pull together an ensemble is with accessories. (Look how cute the outfit is, above!) These days, I’m into colorblocked sneakers, gold earrings and buttery soft bags.

Sip a fall spritz. I’ve been craving spiced mocktails, and how good does this sound: a grown-up Shirley Temple made with grenadine, ginger, and cinnamon. I wish we could all beam to the same place and enjoy a batch!

madewell fall sale

Good news: Madewell is offering 25% off everything for Insider members (it’s easy and free to sign up with your email), and 30% off everything for star and icon members. Shop the full Madewell sale here.

What are you planning to wear and do this fall? We’d love to hear.

(This post is sponsored by Madewell, a brand we have worn and loved for decades. Thank you so much for supporting our beloved long-term partners.)

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The Time Traveler’s Husband | Cup of Jo

The Time Traveler’s Husband | Cup of Jo
The Time Traveler’s Husband | Cup of Jo

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The Time Traveler’s Husband

The Time Traveler’s Husband

Photo #1: At age 17, I’m sporting a layered shag, highlighted in skunky streaks. I’m wearing a Blondie T-shirt, even though I have no idea who Blondie is, and holding a portable phone against my face with one ticked-up shoulder. My hands are thrown up in surprise as my mother catches me with her camera on my way out the door.

Photo #2: At age 17, he’s wearing a starched suit and posing outdoors under a tree, on his way to a homecoming dance. With his pallor and cold-yet-striking gaze, he looks like one of those vampires from Twilight, ageless and elegant. I would have definitely given him a second glance.

These are spontaneous moments of youth, immortalized in the album I gave my husband on our first anniversary, full of scanned photos of each of us. There’s me at a beach in Vietnam, balanced on a concrete beam. Him in a jacket tapping a maple tree up north. Us at Halloween, each in our respective costumes, and later at high school graduations, arms slung around friends we no longer keep track of. All the photos lead up to the very first one we took together, smiling in the stadium at a Cubs game in 2006.

As teenagers, because of our seven-year age difference, the two of us would have never existed in the same space together. While he was 17, I was 10, still kissing my stuffed animals every night before bed. When I was 17, he was 24, about to buy a modest first home with a friend, in a town where you could do such things on two entry-level salaries. When we met — at 29 and 22, at a karaoke bar in Chicago — it was one of those meetings that could only have happened at that specific time, in that specific place. A few months earlier, and we wouldn’t have been ready. A few months later, I’d have moved to Boston, where I’d thought my career was going to take me. Instead, we met. We ended up staying in Chicago for a few years and got engaged. The end and the beginning.

***

The Time Traveler’s Wife, an HBO show based on Audrey Niffenger’s book of the same name, is also based in Chicago, near the neighborhood where we first met and later lived in a century-old apartment building by the El where the pocket doors never closed and the smell of our neighbors’ bacon wafted through the vents in our bedroom.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the novel, about a time-traveling man named Henry, who meets his future wife Clare back in time, when she is six, and he is 36. He continues to drop in on her in her family garden until finally, they meet in their “real” timeline, when Clare is 20 and Henry is 28. Clare, of course, recognizes him from those visits in the garden and is ready to start their relationship. Henry, however, is a cad at that age and nowhere ready to commence a relationship with the love of his life. It’s a problem of timing. Clare is in despair over “Young Henry,” a pale imitation of the nuanced, loving 36-year-old Future Henry she’d fallen in love with over the years. She often says that she can’t see herself with Young Henry; she tells him that she wants her Henry. And isn’t that how it so often goes? We may meet a person early in life and don’t see them with heart-eyes until much later. Or, we might look back on a person we’d been head-over-heels with once, and wonder, Why? Timing, like love, is a confounding mix of luck and will.

After my husband and I watched the show — a darker, grittier adaptation than the 2009 Eric Bana/Rachel McAdams movie — we began speculating.

“Would we have gotten together in high school?” I ask him.

“Probably not. You were too cool for me.”

“I was anything but,” I laugh. “I was in orchestra. You wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

I try to hide my hurt that he’s pegged our hypothetical high school relationship as impossible. But we did have vastly different interests. Even though I might have wished otherwise, we likely would not have noticed one another. He went to a Catholic high school and played sports. His competitive streak has become family lore; fellow parents in his hometown still comment on his epic fits during soccer games.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t kick a ball to save my life. I kept obsessive tabs on my GPA for the escape route that was out-of-state college. I read constantly and worked at chain restaurants after school. For a time, I had an unexplained interest in Irish mythology. Back then, I fell for the broody types who’d sooner quote Nietzsche than join a team sport.

Clare fell in love with Young Henry eventually, for all his youthful indiscretions, but I doubt my husband would have fallen for me had we met earlier in life. I’ll always think about the narrow gap that opened between our lives in our twenties — a gust of wind rushing through the open doors of a dive bar with sticky floors, a touch on the lower back that felt prescient. I’ll think about how we were so close to missing it altogether.

***

There’s a TikTok trend of spouses showing photos of themselves as “teenage dirtbags,” alongside photos of their current spouses. The archetypes rear up here: theater kids with dark eyeliner alongside women flipping luxurious locks over their shoulders; bespectacled bookworms side-eyeing musicians with the hair flop that would have made many a ’90s heart tumble. The caption usually reads something like, “15-year-old me would never have believed who they ended up with.”

It’s one of those cute trends that encapsulate the wonder that many feel towards their partners. How did I get picked by you?

But sometimes I think about how absolutely unlikely it is that we stay together. Given that we all evolve so much, through age and experience and trauma, isn’t it sort of magical when things do work out?

I’m a different woman than I was in my twenties. Nowadays, I’m much bolder and more blunt. Intimacy is harder won, though the tenderness that I’m able to offer seems to have been excavated from deeper inside of me, like a jagged crystal. I like to think I don’t suffer fools, even if I end up often being one myself. And my husband has grown into one of the most thoughtful, sensitive people I know. He’s become more protective of our family. He cries more readily. In short, I’ve grown harder, while he’s grown softer. Would our current versions find each other now? Or might we slide past each other with blank smiles, thinking ahead to dinner plans and vacations that don’t include each other?

***

Time is a funny, unexpected thing. It feels linear and matter-of-fact, when it isn’t at all. There are brief moments — like the instant I laid eyes on my child, or the time I got in a car-totalling accident in Tallahassee — that stretch like taffy. And some years, like the year I turned 11, contract so fully that I swear I never fully lived them at all.

I wonder what would happen if we could fold time, as in a piece of speculative fiction, inserting our present selves somewhere in the past. What would we change? Who could we transform into? It’s no coincidence that there’s been a rise in popularity for time-traveling media (like Emma Straub’s This Time Tomorrow or the Outlander TV drama). With the figurative loss of years from the pandemic, many of us are eager to think of time as elastic. As something you can win back, with just a bit of magic.

My grandmother often repeats stories. My mom calls it Old Timer’s, a twisty and adorable mispronunciation of Alzheimer’s. My grandma forgets so much, though her body is hale as ever, a sturdy shell for a mind drawn backwards. My grandfather tells her that she’s living in the past, and in the washed-out cast of her eyes, I see it’s true. She’s 16 again, holding his gaze on a dusty road in Vietnam. This year, they’ll celebrate their 67th anniversary. Then and now, for all the brutal love between them, they have chosen each other.

Would I choose my husband, if we met today for the first time? Would he choose me? I really think so. Over the years, it seems that we’ve grown towards each other, rather than apart, and now we are all tangled up — past selves wrestling with present selves in a Tasmanian whirlwind. There’s the hot rush of lust from those early days; the hope as we said our vows; the ennui from that summer we could not connect; the chaos of new parenthood; and later bliss of finding our stride together again. A decade freckled by TV shows paired with cherry ice cream, and bodies fitted together under a thick quilt, and fights over Gin Rummy, and walks along a heat-scooped arroyo, and baby toes lifted for kisses.

History is not everything; I know that. It’s often not enough. Yet, for me, love stories — no matter how long they last — are a defiance of time. Despite the knowledge that our years are numbered, and despite the inherent risk in offering ourselves to others, we persevere, out of hope or a dogged determination to flaunt our own mortality. Through our memories, we can often travel back in time together, reliving a story that feels extraordinary, if only to ourselves.


Thao Thai is a writer and editor in Ohio, where she lives with her husband and daughter. Her debut novel, Banyan Moon, is forthcoming in 2023 from HarperCollins. She has also written for Cup of Jo about books and motherhood and alternate fathers and physical affection. You can subscribe to her newsletter here.

P.S. What drives you crazy about your partner, and how did you know they were the one?

(Photo by Sidney Morgan/Stocksy.)

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How to Say Goodbye at a Party

How to Say Goodbye at a Party
How to Say Goodbye at a Party

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Odette Williams simple pasta

Odette Williams simple pasta

The other day, Jenny and I went to a cookbook launch party at our friend Odette’s apartment. (She’s the mastermind behind Simple Cake and the new Simple Pasta.)

We stood in her kitchen and drank Prosecco and ate pasta salad and chatted about babies and work and movies and traveling to Italy. After a couple hours, it was time for me to head home for the boys’ bedtime, so I turned to Jenny. “Okay, let’s slip out behind the kitchen island,” I said, noting Odette’s position on the other side of the room.

Jenny looked at me quizzically. “But we have to say goodbye.”

Oh, right, I thought, I forgot that not everyone ghosts after parties. Meanwhile, I’ve been happily ghosting for the past decade. It started 10 years ago, when Alex and I threw a big holiday party. Fifty friends squeezed into our teeny apartment, and everyone was having a great time until something started happening.

As I wrote back then: “For the entire second half of the party, friends kept coming up to say goodbye and wish us a happy rest-of-the-weekend. I turned to Alex, perplexed, and asked, ‘Why is everyone leaving?’ And he pointed out that dozens of people were still there; it just felt like a mass exodus because we were consumed with saying goodbye to every single person who was heading home. It felt like the party was already over, even though we were only halfway through. The next morning, Alex and I made a decision: We would never say goodbye to the hosts of parties. We would simply slip out the door.”

At Odette’s party, Jenny remained shocked after hearing my explanation — “this is the first time we’ve disagreed!” she laughed — and she headed over to give Odette a hug. Meanwhile, I sneaked out the door and sent Odette a glowing thank-you text on the walk home (plus a few party anecdotes, just for fun).

“Goodbyes are, by their very nature, at least a mild bummer,” wrote Seth Stevenson, who also encourages people to leave parties without saying goodbye. What if your friends wonder where you’ve gone? “This is key,” he says, “They probably won’t even notice that you’ve left.”

Would you do this? Do you already? Or do you think it’s rude? Are you team Joanna or Jenny? We are so curious to hear your thoughts!!! (This headline made me laugh.)

P.S. A fun host gift, and the restaurant surprise I’m still thinking of three decades later.

(Photos by Graydon Herriott for Simple Pasta. Ghosting illustration by Wendy MacNaughton and Caroline Paul.)

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5 No-Recipe Recipes for Fall

5 No-Recipe Recipes for Fall
5 No-Recipe Recipes for Fall

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Five No-Recipe Recipes for Fall

I love this time of year for easy cooking — we still have the last of corn and tomatoes but it comes with the advent of cooler weather, calling for cozy comfort foods. Here are five of my favorite no-recipe recipes for the season…

Polenta with Roast Tomatoes and Vegetables
Polenta is a good thing to remember on those nights when you feel yourself slipping into the I-guess-we’ll-have-pasta-again mode. Once I committed the ratio of liquid to cornmeal to memory (4:1) it became even easier than pasta. Bring your liquid (broth, water, or a combination) to a boil, then add cornmeal in a steady stream, stirring all the while, and lowering heat to a simmer. Stir until polenta is the consistency of cream of wheat and pulls away from the sides, about 12 minutes. Drizzle in cream or add butter and cheese, and top with a little cheese (ricotta or chèvre) and any roast vegetable you’d like. This time of year, I go with tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions. Bonus points for mixing a handful of raw corn kernels into the polenta.

Pizza with Butternut Squash, Arugula & Ricotta
I love this crowdpleaser so much that a version of it was in my first cookbook 10 years ago — and we’ve been making it every fall since. Heat your oven to 475°F. Top a 16-ounce store-bought pizza dough (that’s been stretched on an oil-brushed cookie sheet) with shredded mozzarella, the zest of one lemon, and thinly sliced butternut squash pieces that have been tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper. Bake for about 15 minutes, until crust is golden and cheese is bubbly. Remove from the oven and top with handfuls of arugula, dollops of ricotta, and more salt and pepper.

Quinoa Bowl with Spinach & Egg
I can’t believe how long I’ve been making this dinner, also known in my house as Old Reliable because we literally always have what we need on stand-by (including spinach in the freezer). Make quinoa according to package directions, and while it cooks, sauté spinach (a lot of it, remember how much it shrinks) in a little olive oil with garlic, and prep four of any kind of egg you’d like. Divide the quinoa between four bowls and top with spinach, egg, a drizzle of soy sauce, and minced scallions.

Salt and Pepper Eggplant
This is a Hetty McKinnon special I make all the time — a variation on classic salt-and-pepper tofu that appears in her indispensable book To Asia, With Love. Marinate eggplant slices in soy sauce for 10-20 minutes, then dredge in cornstarch, fry in a neutral oil (like vegetable, canola, or grapeseed), and remove to a paper towel to drain. Season with a dusting of Chinese five-spice, kosher salt, and freshly ground black pepper; and serve the eggplant with rice, minced scallions, and chiles. OMG I need to make this tonight.

Pan-Fried Chicken Thighs with Mushrooms
I swear by this high-heat method of cooking chicken that I learned from Bon Appetit more than a decade ago — first, because the chicken comes out delicious, but also because it’s so hands-off. Preheat oven to 475°. Season 1 1/2 pounds boneless chicken thighs with salt, pepper, and about 1 tablespoon paprika. Place a skillet over high heat, add about 2 tablespoons olive oil, then place chicken, skin side down, and cook 2 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-high and cook another 10 or so minutes not flipping, until skin is golden brown. Flip chicken, then gently toss in 1 cup mushrooms and a roughly chopped yellow onion so they are coated in oil, and transfer the skillet to oven. Cook another another 15-17 minutes, until chicken is cooked through. Let rest a few minutes, then top with fresh thyme leaves and more salt and pepper. Serve with a green salad.

P.S. Cinnamon-apple muffins and five things to do with fresh corn and tomatoes while you can still find them!

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Who Is Your Celebrity Crush?

Who Is Your Celebrity Crush?
Who Is Your Celebrity Crush?

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Daryl McCormack

Daryl McCormack

It’s that time of year again! *spins, twirls* We’re asking that age-old question: Who’s your celebrity crush? Mine is CUTE…

Daryl McCormack

Irish actor Daryl McCormack. I first saw him alongside Emma Thompson in Good Luck to You, Leo Grande, the British comedy-drama about a retired teacher who hires a sex worker. McCormack was beyond charismatic with an adorable half smile — and now says he and Thompson are “best friends.”

Daryl McCormack

Also, he’s funny! In a Vogue interview about his childhood in Ireland, McCormack reminisced about how he’d make his grandmother laugh so much she’d have to “hobble into her en suite.”

Daryl McCormack

This fall, when I flipped on Sharon Horgan’s gripping dark comedy Bad Sisters (have you seen it?), I was thrilled to see McCormack stroll onscreen as a hunky insurance agent. Actor Brian Gleeson, who plays his brother, told the New York Times that at first McCormack couldn’t keep it together through their scenes. “Daryl is a giggler all right, but obviously a consummate professional,” Gleeson said. “At one point, Daryl just kind of burst out laughing. But it had a great effect of relaxing everybody… He’s got a lovely gentle sort of disposition.”

daryl McCormack

Final confession: I am a sucker (a SUCKER!) for an Irish accent. Sometimes, on bad days, I take long walks, get fresh air, and listen to podcasts featuring Irish comedians. One of the episodes that has cheered me up over the years features a nine-minute Moth story by an up-and-coming Irish actor about his mom. An actor who is, I recently realized, none other than Daryl McCormack.

So! Who is your celebrity crush these days? Spill the beans below…

P.S. Our past celebrity crushes, and 6 outfits we’re stealing from ‘Only Murders in the Building.’

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Could I Be a Hat Person?

Could I Be a Hat Person?
Could I Be a Hat Person?

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jannelle Sanchez

The other day, I asked a question on Instagram: ‘Are you a hat person?’ Surprisingly, most people made the same confession: “I love hats,” wrote New Englander Cheryl Sparks, “But I always feel so conspicuous.”

I get it, hats are intimating. Yet I have a theory: If you want be a hat person, you can be. You don’t need a certain sized head or the ‘persona’ we sometimes assume hat people have (They’re artistic! They’re outgoing! They don’t mind standing out!). You just have to believe you’re a hat person.

After all, Cup of Jo reader Madison said she always admired hat people but then had an epiphany: “One day, I just decided to become one. Once you wear hats regularly, others start believing you’re a hat person, too.”

If you want to make the jump, here are five hats to play around with:

Baseball Cap
The baseball cap is a gateway hat. Most people start wearing it to cover untamed hair while running errands. But then they catch themselves wearing one to meet friends at the park. And soon they’re wondering how it would look with a silk slip dress, even when their hair is freshly dried. You can take the relationship to the next level with a slogan cap: I wear a similar one, and this one-liner made me laugh. Or, if you’d prefer no catchphrase, this pastel number would go with everything.

Straw Sun Hat Cup of Jo

Straw Hat
A straw hat is another excellent beginner style because it’s practical (hello, sun protection) but brings personality. Whenever I wear a floppy one, I feel like I should be cruising down Highway 1, admiring Big Sur’s cliffs and crashing waves.

Cup of Jo fisherman cap

Fisherman Cap
This fisherman cap provides face shade, but let’s be real, I don’t wear it for sun protection. I wear it because it makes me feel like a JLo backup dancer. You can pair this with a black turtleneck and houndstooth mini skirt for a Only Murders in the Building vibe. Or for a more relaxed feel, wear this olive number with a white T-shirt and jeans.

bucket hat cup of jo

Bucket Hat
The first time I wore this bucket hat, my friend Angela laughed out loud. But I understood. Bucket hats are not designed to look good. Their revival is a playful trend, and I’m going to lean in hard on this 90’s-inspired fashion moment. If you’ve been itching to experiment with a bucket, this understated version would go with any outfit, and if you prefer prints, how sweet are these?

Beret
“Why are you posing like that? You’re so goofy!” my husband Max laughed when he took the photo above. Clearly, I’m not 100% confident wearing berets, yet this winter I am determined to fake it til I make it. If you’ve already mastered wearing these cuties, 1) I am truly jealous and 2) please share your styling tips. Ideally I’ll look more Parisian than Griswold. I’d love to incorporate a beret into my everyday winter uniform. And how pretty is this color?

What about you? Do you wear hats? I’m building up the courage to wear this one in the fall!

P.S. 15 baseball caps for every personality and “how I found my personal style.”

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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10 Single Moms By Choice On What It’s Like

10 Single Moms By Choice On What It’s Like
10 Single Moms By Choice On What It’s Like

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single mother by choice

single mother by choice

I’ve always been curious about different family styles. So, I asked 10 single mothers by choice to share their experiences. They talked about making the decision, the highs and lows of solo parenting, discussing donor conception with kids, and the joys of going it alone…

On Making the Decision

“I knew I wanted to have kids, preferably through pregnancy, and that time was a factor. As I got closer to 35 and found myself still single, I decided that I didn’t want to lose my chance at being a mom. I could find a husband at any age, but that wasn’t true for getting pregnant.” — Sharon, 42, who has five-year-old twin daughters

“After a miscarriage and then a sudden divorce, I longed for the weight of my baby in my arms. I dated for a few years post-divorce and had a relationship that ended because he was on the fence about having kids. ​​My route to parenthood wasn’t the most typical, but my family and friends knew how badly I wanted to be a mom. My boomer parents were confused at first, but then were just like, ‘Give us a grandchild!’” — Tara, 35, who has a five-month-old son

“I approached it like a research project and read every article I could about being a single mom. I googled things like ‘I regret having kids.’ I talked to friends who had kids and friends who didn’t. I mapped out what my days would look like with kids versus without, and that still didn’t come close to reality, but it was a start.” — Millicent, 42, who has a two-and-a-half-year-old son

“By the time I was 30, I knew certain things about myself. I had no desire for a husband but lots of desire for a child. And I lived in a time and place where I could make that happen. Because I didn’t care about having a partner, I didn’t go through the mourning period that some other single moms by choice seem to go through. I wasn’t giving up one dream in favor of another. I was pursuing my exact dream.” — Melissa, 62, who has a 26-year-old daughter

On Choosing a Sperm Donor

“Genetic testing allowed me to pick donors who weren’t carriers for the same things as I was. I also tried to pick donors that looked similar to my family, mainly because it felt weird to try to choose what my child might look like. I had to go through several donors before I got pregnant, so I was definitely pickier on the first few. But because of the pandemic, there were fewer and fewer options as I went through the process.” — Jessica, 40, who has a seven-month-old daughter

“Choosing the donor felt like a very big decision at the time, but that’s something I rarely think of now.” — Sharon, 42, who has five-year-old twin daughters

On Not Having a Partner

“The best and hardest parts are actually the same: I get to make all the decisions. I choose where they go to school, what pediatrician they see, what religion and traditions they’ll be raised with. But sometimes you want to run things by someone who is just as invested as you are. There is a weight to making all the decisions, and you don’t have anyone to assure you that you’re making the right ones. You don’t have someone else’s strengths to complement your weaknesses.” — Sharon, 42, who has five-year-old twin daughters

“When I hear mothers complaining about how their partners don’t help out, that feels like one place where it’s easier for me. I don’t have the added stress of either disagreeing on how to do things with the baby or the unmet expectations of how someone else is going to help out.” — Jessica, 40, who has a seven-month-old daughter

“A few weeks ago, there was a tornado warning. As I ran into the bathroom with my little guy and my dog, I felt the weight of being solely responsible. That feels heavy some days.” — Tara, 35, who has a five-month-old son

“I try to be the best mom I can be, but it’s difficult that there isn’t an in-house witness to that. On Mother’s Day, seeing all of the posts from spouses about how their partner is the ‘best mom’ is hard.” — Meredith, 40, who has a four-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son

On Preparing for an Empty Nest

“My son starts college in the fall, and I expect that becoming an empty nester as a single mother by choice might be tougher than if I had a partner (or if I had other kids at home).” — Marsha, 60, who has an 18-year-old son

“I was a bit of an island before I had a child, but I think it is the job of a parent to raise a child who can leave them, and I did not want to raise one who felt like she could not leave her ‘poor lonely’ mother behind. When she was young, I worked and parented, and there was not much time for anything else. As she got older, I tried to expand my social network and engage in community activities, so that I would have an active life when she left.” — Allison, 55, who has a 22-year-old daughter

On Male Role Models

“Raising boys, I consciously tried to keep a supply of male role models around (uncles, neighbors, friends, teachers, older neighborhood kids) and encouraged those relationships. I did wonder how they would learn to shave and tie a tie, but it turned out my kids figured that stuff out with YouTube! And, later, Reddit.” — Robin, “sixty something,” who has a 26-year-old son and 23-year-old son

“Since I had pretty much always been single, other than a few short-term relationships, I wondered, How could I help my daughter navigate that part of her life? How could I model a good relationship for her when I wasn’t in one and didn’t plan to be in one? But she looked at my parents, at her friends’ parents, and at my brother and his wife. We talked a lot about relationships, especially those we saw in TV shows, movies and books. We talked about sex and sexual relationships. And we talked about who she was dating or spending time with. At 26, she’s already had some long-term relationships, so I’m no longer worried on that front.” — Melissa, 62, who has a 26-year-old daughter

“I was concerned that my daughter would grow up to either be intimidated by men or seek out their attention inappropriately. Neither of those things happened. I made sure she spent time with great men like my father, my brother and brother in law. I asked for her to be assigned to male teachers in school. I will say she has very little tolerance for men who do not respect her, largely because she has no sense that she ‘needs’ to have a man in her life.” — Allison, 55, who has a 22-year-old daughter

On Finances and Work

“My insurance did not cover fertility treatments that weren’t between a man and a woman. All of the fertility visits, drugs, and procedures cost about $50,000. I was lucky that I had a well-paying job at that point and that I had saved up a lot. ” — Sharon, 42, who has five-year-old twin daughters

“Finances were the primary reason I stopped with one child. I would always tell my son we had enough money for all we needed and some of what we wanted, and that was plenty. Flexibility at work is the most important element [in terms of making single motherhood feel easier]. I’ve had some great bosses and some horrible ones, and I was only ever anything close to being a great mom when I’ve had a great boss.” — Marsha, 60, who has an 18-year-old son

“My job was a huge reason I was able to become a single mom of choice. I work at a hospital, and after two years, you are eligible for half off fertility benefits and IVF medications through the hospital pharmacy. Still, IVF was expensive and I ended up putting some on a credit card, which I will be paying off for the next year. I upped my life insurance while I was pregnant and created a will shortly after he was born. The financial burden is something I think about a lot. ” — Tara, 35, who has a five-month-old son

On Getting Help

“One thing I realized within my online community is that many of us single mothers by choice have a personality where we like or are used to doing everything ourselves, so we have a hard time asking for help. But, as a single mom, you need to learn to ask for help. It’s easier with family, but I am always mentally trying to figure out how to do the impossible before finally realizing I can just ask someone to pick the girls up from an after-school activity. As they get older and form real friendships, I in turn become friendlier with the moms of their friends which makes it easier to ask if one of my daughters can go home with them after school or something like that.” — Sharon, 42, who has five-year-old twin daughters

“My friends have lifted us up time and again. One of my closest friends attended prenatal classes with me and kept me company while I was in labor. Later, she started hosting Sunday night dinners for us, which we’ve attended almost every week since lockdown. My childhood best friend came to stay with me the week before my due date and was with me during my unplanned C-section. Because of Covid, my daughter and I spent most of her first year in isolation, but we were supported (from six feet away) by a network that just kept showing up, even though they didn’t get to cash in on the baby snuggles I promised them while I was pregnant. They brought us groceries, flowers, fresh bread, burritos, and that all-important baby Tylenol for baby’s first teething experience.” — Austen, 44, who has a two-year-old daughter

“I remember driving my son eight hours to Santa Fe when he was seven months old. I had an arsenal of toys in the passenger seat to hand back to him. We also stopped a lot. I was so stressed but so proud that I did that all on my own. That said, one of the best things anyone can do to help a single mom friend is just show up and get to work, especially right after she has the baby. Let her sleep or shower. Do the dishes and laundry. Bring food; for god’s sake, bring food.” — Millicent, 42, who has a two-and-a-half-year-old son

“It’s incredibly helpful when someone assumes responsibility for one complete task. My dad walks my daughter to school every morning. My best friend always babysits on the night of my book club. Knowing those things are entirely off my plate is a huge lift.” — Meredith, 40, who has a four-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son

“I asked for help all the time and paid for help when I could. I took short vacations away from the kids — and always came back a better mom.” — Robin, “sixty something,” who has a 26-year-old son and 23-year-old son

On Dating

“Between working and parenting, 100% of my bandwidth is used. I fantasize about having a torrid romance in my fifties when I’m near retirement and no longer have small kids at home. Who knows what will happen?” — Meredith, 40, who has a four-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son

“I do want a long-term partnership, but the thought of paying a sitter while I go on a bad first date seems terrible right now. Once my son starts daycare, I’m thinking of starting dating during my lunch hour. Choosing to become a single mom doesn’t mean that I gave up on romantic relationships. I enjoy being single, but if someone could add to my life and my son’s life, I would be thrilled.” — Tara, 35, who has a five-month-old son

On Public Response

“I live in Oklahoma, a very conservative state, but I’ve been surprised with how many people say they know someone who is a single mom by choice or are just generally happy for me.” — Millicent, 42, who has a two-and-a-half-year-old son

“​​Around the 12-week mark, when my OB confirmed the pregnancy, I told my coworker (who was pleased), my brother (who was startled but accepting), and then my parents. My parents were very surprised. We had never talked about plans for my future, I’d never introduced them to any boyfriends, so this felt out of the blue for them. My mother had to sit down! Of course they had questions: Could I afford it? What was I going to do about childcare? My father was very concerned about the financials, but I knew that that was his way of expressing worry for me. Once they saw that I had a handle on everything, they relaxed and were very excited about becoming grandparents.

“My paternal grandmother was really shocked when I told her I was pregnant, but it was clear that her primary concern was, ‘How am I going to explain this to the people at synagogue?’ which obviously was about her rather than me, and was pretty much the reaction I’d expected from her. I told her to tell them she was going to become a great-grandmother (she did that, later, and her friends were happy for her), and after that she sort of threw me out of her apartment. We weren’t close, so her response made no difference to me. My maternal grandmother’s love and enthusiasm more than made up for my paternal grandmother’s reaction.

“I was working in commercial publishing, which is generally a liberal field, so I expected my being pregnant wouldn’t be a big deal, and it wasn’t. I was very open about how I’d conceived. My becoming a single mom by choice was completely uncontroversial in my social circle and my work life.

“When my daughter was in elementary school, there was one mother who didn’t want our daughters to be friends because my daughter was conceived out of wedlock. The reason I remember this is because she was the only person who ever reacted like that. I found it more amusing than anything else. Our daughters weren’t close friends, just classmates. My daughter was nine or ten by then and aware that some people had different attitudes about single mothers, so I flat out told her that this mom disapproved of our family. My daughter’s reaction was basically a shrug. We ignored the mother’s disapproval and went on with our lives.” — Melissa, 62, who has a 26-year-old daughter

“I got nothing but support when I shared my plans. Some of my mom’s friends actually seemed a little bit envious that this choice was an option for me, because in order to become mothers, they didn’t see any other path besides marriage.” — Marsha, 60, who has an 18-year-old son

“I thought that my conservative community was not going to approve, but I was overwhelmed with support. People I barely know were talking about how brave I was! There are some who probably don’t agree with my choices but they thankfully stay quiet.” — Sharon, 42, who has five-year-old twin daughters

On the Power of Community

“I read a few books — Choosing Single Motherhood and Going Solo, plus Liv’s Alone which is hilarious — and listened to the great podcast Not By Accident. The world we live in is very couple focused and you get a lot of questions. When I was pregnant, my neighbor yelled across the street, ‘WHO IS THE DADDY?!?’ It was like Jerry Springer, but real life. Thankfully, I was in a weekly support group on Zoom, so I had a vibrant online community of other women who understood exactly what I was going through. In hearing the experiences of others, I felt seen and validated and knew this was the path for me. These days, I follow a lot of solo moms on Instagram and I’m in a WhatsApp group of single moms by choice all over the world whose babies were born around the same time. I have also met two local single moms by choice and that has been wonderful.” — Tara, 35, who has a five-month-old son

“It was really helpful to hear from members of Jane Mattes’s Single Mothers by Choice group who had been there before me. I knew I could succeed because I had those examples. Other members were also a great resource when I had specific questions.” — Marsha, 60, who has an 18-year-old son

On Talking to Kids

“I started telling my daughter our story when she was much too young to understand. That was partly because I wanted practice and partly because I did not ever want there to be a time she ‘found out.’ She just always knew.” — Allison, 55, who has a 22-year-old daughter

“My biggest fear was that my children would resent me for not having a father. My son is too young to know; my daughter has asked questions. My narrative is that I tried to find a man worthy of being a daddy, I couldn’t find one, and so I used a donor instead. We also talk a lot about different kinds of families and that it’s okay to want a daddy (or a sister, a cousin, etc.), but also that it’s important to remember all the people we have who love us (insert long list of people who love her).” — Meredith, 40, who has a four-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son

“What I have learned over the years is that the vast majority of donor-conceived people who are unhappy about it are people who didn’t know they were donor-conceived until their teens or adulthood. Learning the truth about their origins was wrenching because it revealed that there was a huge secret in their family, and because it’s hard, I think, not to feel some kind of shame or betrayal when you learn that your parents kept such an important thing from you. The few studies that have been done seem to indicate that donor-conceived people who have always known about their conception are generally okay with it, though of course some people are going to feel more stressed about it than others. At eight, my daughter explained to her friends that her mom went to ‘a bank, like a regular bank, but for sperm, not money,’ which was hilarious.” — Melissa, 62, who has a 26-year-old daughter

On Magic Moments

“When you’re a single mom who used a donor, there’s always an element of surprise: Did she get this trait from me? From her donor? Is it her own unique inborn nature? One of my favorite things has been watching my daughter’s sense of humor develop, and it’s been a delight to see that she loves wordplay and puns as much as I do. For example, one day she ran up to me shouting, ‘Mummy, I peed in the potty!’ She took me by the hand into the bathroom to show off…a wooden snap pea that she had carefully laid in the potty. She was beside herself with glee.” — Austen, 44, who has a two-year-old daughter

“When my son started smiling, that felt like the best thing. A little over a year ago, I was injecting myself with IVF meds and feeling quite hopeless. It took years to have this little guy, and I can’t believe I’m someone’s mom!” — Tara, 35, who has a five-month-old son

“My son and I were making different faces: a silly face, a sad face, a happy face. He said ‘make a mama face.’ I asked him what a mama face looks like and he answered ‘Happy!’ I’m so proud that he sees me that way.” — Millicent, 42, who has a two-and-a-half-year-old son

Thank you so much to everyone who shared their story! And, CoJ community, please share your stories and thoughts below, if you’d like…

P.S. Being a single mom in Iceland, and our parenting motto.

(Photo by Studio Marmellata/Stocksy.)

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Have a Relaxing Weekend. | Cup of Jo

Have a Relaxing Weekend. | Cup of Jo
Have a Relaxing Weekend. | Cup of Jo

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What are you up to this weekend? I’m taking the boys to an apple orchard to ring in the fall. We’re also excited about our NYC weekend trip giveaway! You (and your friends, partners, and loved ones) can enter here anytime over the next week. Hope you have a good one, and here are a few links from around the web…

How 10 women spend their commutes. “When my radio died a while back, I panicked. But it’s actually been a godsend. I choose to sit in silence. The silence is an oasis… I’m the same way when I fly. I don’t even bring a book. Idle awareness is a skill that I recommend acquiring.”

If you’re going to wear heels, these are the best.

New love languages, including “pointing out the good dogs,” haha.

Would you paint your ceiling a color? These photos are compelling.

Powerful, nuanced thinking about Queen Elizabeth’s death.

Wow, this documentary on arranged marriage was absolutely gripping.

Do or don’t: milky nails.

Book covers reimagined with celebrity photos, including Persuasion, The Age of Innocence, Cyrano de Bergerac, The Scarlet Letter, and Little Women.

Author Emma Straub’s funny, moving remembrance of her father, who “ate like a French king,” “got immense pleasure out of children,” and “was the fucking best.”

Would you uproot your life and open an inn? This couple did. (NYTimes gift link)

Raspberry breakfast bars.

Plus, two reader comments:

Says Genevieve on an easy school lunch formula: “When I was a kid in England, every single person ate sandwiches. My parents haaaated packing lunches so much that in the end my mum would make 25 ham sandwiches on a Sunday (3 kids plus them) and freeze them and take them out in the morning. I can still recall the unpleasant feeling of slightly crunchy ham with ice still in the middle.”

Says Laura on an easy school lunch formula: “My son was a VERY fussy little guy, so I used to make dried apples to include in his lunch. It was labor intensive since my low-cost dehydrator took hours and required me to regularly rearrange the shelves. But I felt so good about sending the apples for him. One day I asked him about them, and he said, ‘They are great! I can trade two of them for a whole bag of potato chips!!!’”

(Photo by Eldad Carin/Stocksy.)

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