In Memoriam: My Chanel Sunglasses

In what may be the most privileged, first-world-problem post to have ever been written since the beginning of time, I must tell you that I am in deep mourning over the recent loss of my Chanel sunglasses. Even now, my fingertips coated with dried Super Glue, I can't seem to accept the fact that they're really gone. I don't think I've ever experienced the stages of grief with a thing before. (And, truly, I know that there is a level of absolute ridiculousness here.) But, to me, they weren't just a pair of sunglasses. When I was an overwhelmed, sleep-deprived new mom with a demanding baby and clothes that I thought might never fit again, my husband asked me what I wanted for my birthday. Us

To My Friend, the New Mom

I see you. I mean, I really see you. I see you basking in that new-mother glow, holding your precious child close to you, smelling her hair. I see you nestling him into your chest and holding him like a little treasure from heaven, counting those perfect fingers and toes. I see you working to get her all swaddled like the nurses at the hospital (and not quite being able to master it). I see you, hesitant to let others hold your little bundle because, well, the bottle of hand sanitizer hasn't been touched yet. Oh, I see you. And I love you. I also see you about two weeks later when you're home and your help has gone and you're alone with a screaming baby who won't calm down. And you'r

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Allison Harvey