Blog

On my blog, I share honest reflections on midlife, menopause, and living in the “sandwich stage”,
balancing aging parents, adult children, and the everyday realities of womanhood.

Hello Beautiful Readers, This month feels especially significant. I'm celebrating my birthday and I'm launching two babies into the world. One is twenty-three years old. The other is 234 pages. I'm not sure what makes me feel older the gray hair I found in my eyebrow this morning, turning 53, or watching my oldest move to New York City for his first post-college job. Whatever it is, July has me feeling all the feelings. Last week, I drove my son into the city, u

Last week, I shared what a magical experience I had at the Nantucket Book Festival. Being included in the Local Author Showcase was such an honor, and I wanted to make sure the organizer knew how grateful I was. Now enters this week's Hot Mess Haller Moment. On Monday, still exhausted from the weekend but determined not to forget, I sat down to send the organizer a thank-you email. My brain was already overloaded with to-dos, so I figured I'd send it while it was fresh in

Last Thursday, I had the honor of watching my son graduate from college—a huge milestone for him and for our family. As I sat there watching him cross the stage, I found myself thinking back to a moment this past December. He was home for holiday break, and we were sitting side by side on the couch. My 6-foot, 22-year-old son leaned his head on my shoulder and asked, “Mama, am I going to be okay?” I answered without hesitation. "Of course you're going to be okay. You're going

I was reading an ARC—Loving Mr. Impossible by Anastasia Alexander—when it hit me. Not the story itself, but something it stirred loose. A memory. The kind that doesn’t knock first. Just a flash of an image that rolls into a movie picture. My great-aunt Genevieve’s house. Her living room. Plastic on the furniture. You’d hear a faint squeak when you sat down. If you wore shorts, you’d have to be careful to not lose a layer of skin when rising. Then there was the plastic runner