Wildflower Page 18
Of course, we told Arie and Coco first. I was so excited to be having a child in these people’s world that I knew I was off to the right start to do everything different. This safe, unbreakable family was getting a new member and I just felt so lucky. We all decided to have the wedding in June, when I would be six months pregnant. I loved the idea that our child would be able to attend!
And as we were planning the wedding, I called Arie. “Hello, Arie,” I said. “Oh, Drew,” and he yelled for Coco to get on the line. This is what they always do when one of their kids calls. I pictured Coco picking up the 1980s cordless to join the call. “Hi, guys,” I said. “We have been planning along, and I wanted to ask you both a question.” They said of course. “Coco, I was wondering if you wanted to walk down the aisle with Will so that we could all walk together? And Arie, I was wondering if you would give me away?” He took a second. “Oh wow,” he said. “Are you sure?” “Of course! There isn’t any other way I can picture it.” He said yes, and we did.
On the day, when the four of us were getting ready to walk down the aisle together, I looked around. Sadie, Ivy, and Fletcher were flower girls and boy, Jill was getting ready to read a passage from The Velveteen Rabbit, and I looked over and saw Coco. I saw that she was truly happy. She was wiping a tear as she was kissing Will, and all I could think was that I have to always make her feel that he is happy too. I love her and respect her to no end. I thought, I hope to be a mother in any way like Coco. She is my idol as a woman. She took Will’s arm. We walked down the aisle, and when I reached the chuppah, Arie lifted my veil and kissed my cheek. Little-girl fantasy check! My dream had come true.
My husband that night made a great speech, and all the Kopelmans’ lifelong friends were there, which I felt was important, and all my friends, who were my original family, were there. Jill made the best speech ever and had everyone howling of course, and most important, Olive was there. Our daughter, who we hadn’t met yet but who was about to be the apple of her grandparents’ eye.
When Olive was born, Arie turned to me and said with his classic Arie whole-face smile, “There’s nothing overrated about being a grandparent,” and he means it. Olive and her cousins have the best grandparents one could ever imagine. He said the same thing when Frankie, our second daughter, was born. They were there for both births, and held each girl hours after they were born.
And when I would watch them holding their granddaughters, all bundled up, fresh and new after their long journey in my body, I would thank God for Will’s parents. I couldn’t love them more. And for the first time, I am part of a family. In the lottery of life, I hit the in-law jackpot. The really big one.
Four years old or young
ALL-AGES PARTY
I never know anyone’s age. I cannot tell if someone is thirty or fifty. I can’t tell if you are twenty-three or thirty-three. And I have no idea with kids. Babies I can now nail because I am a mom who has gone through three years of stages, so I can tell in a second how old your little one is to the week.
But the reason I don’t know age is because one valuable lesson my mother taught me was that age didn’t matter. And therefore I was taught not to pay attention. She would speak emphatically about people being mature or immature, but it never had anything to do with a number. She said that young people might be beyond their years and someone older might be childlike.
She never asked anyone his or her age, and she lied about hers. I had to sneak in once when she was showering and go into her purse and pull out her driver’s license like a thief and look at the age. Then, when I confronted her, she told me that it wasn’t true because they had to make up a birth certificate for her because she was born in a displaced persons camp in Germany and thus she had no real birth certificate. Therefore the driver’s license wasn’t accurate. Then I would press her again for her real birth date, and she would just look at me with a sly smile as if I was foiled again and saunter out of the room, leaving me confused and not knowing what to believe.
Was she lying? And if so, which part was she lying about? The age? The certificate? I would start to look up German camp years in history, but with no Internet and no encyclopedias at my disposal, I would forget by the time I got to school, and my schools were always hippie messes with no real library.
I guess I could have asked someone, but a seven-year-old asking about a displaced persons camp seemed odd, and I felt vulnerable asking anyone. Who was she? How old was she? How old was I? I didn’t feel seven. I felt older. And she was always hanging out with younger people, so maybe age wasn’t what it seemed to be anyway. Maybe she was right. In fact all my friends were older because that’s where I was in life. When I was a kid, I didn’t connect with kids.
Now I love hanging with the kids and I find them so very fascinating. The things my daughter says to me at three are so charming I can’t take it. I would much rather talk to her. And I for sure know people who are wise for their age and I know adults who are proverbial children and are totally stifled in life.
So hell. Maybe she’s right. Age doesn’t matter. I have always celebrated an all-ages party in my work. I want it to be inclusive to all. I have never been concerned with trying to land a certain crowd; I want everyone to feel invited. So come on. Come one, come all. Even if you are one or one hundred. It doesn’t matter. In fact it all begins and ends in diapers. If you’re lucky.
And for the record, I still don’t know my mother’s age. I guess it will have to remain a mystery. But age is never my concern. It never will be. It’s the person inside the shell that draws me in or doesn’t. When all my different employers for all my different endeavors ask me the question “What ages is this for?” I always say the same thing: “Everyone, hopefully,” because I want an all-ages party. It’s so much more fun!
This year, at my fortieth birthday party, I had a dinner with all my lifelong friends. Some were friends from school, some were mentors, in-laws, and it was a mixed bag of ages for sure, and yet all these people mean so much to me. But one of the most compelling aspects of the night was the fact that for the first time in my life, I finally felt my age. When I was young, I never got to be a kid. Then, when I was in my teens and twenties, I was aggressively trying to recapture my childhood and finally be carefree the way that I thought kids got to be because I never got that chapter.
Now I feel like a woman. A mom. I own a cheese board! The truth is I still feel like a kid in moments, but I actually feel like I have truly intersected with my number. I am forty. I am really happy. And I am lucky to say that it feels really great!
Acknowledgments
To my Olive, Frankie, and Will Kopelman; Arie and Coco Kopelman; Jill, Harry, Ivy, Sadie, and Fletcher Kargman. The best family in the world. Thank you for letting me crash the party! Thank you for having me at all. I love you so very much. Just read the book and you’ll see.
To the Flower team, and my first family, Nancy Juvonen, Chris Miller, and the great Mason Hughes, who is my rock in every way. You all are what I wish to be like when I grow up. And thank you for never giving up on me as I get there.
Simon Green (literary agent extraordinaire): You were the person I showed almost seven years of writing to, and you kindly made me wait until I was ready. And then you introduced me to Jill Schwartzman.
And Jill Schwartzman (editor extraordinaire): If you are reading this, thank you for allowing me to have my writing read by anyone. You are the maker of my dreams and a dream come true all at the same time.
Steven Spielberg and Kate Capshaw . . . love you both, and I admire you and learn from you always.
Bryan Lourd, Peter Levine, and Steve Warren. You are the lions that I follow.
A special thank-you to Robin Fredriksz, who always said to me in a playful yet forceful tone that I should write about my stories.
And in no particular order, girls who make me swoon. I am proud and honored to be your friend
. . .
Cameron Diaz, Gucci Westman, Aliza Waksal, Lona Vigi, Jesse Lutz, Lorene Scafaria, Melissa Bochco, Crystal Meers, Justine Baddeley, Kim Davis-Wagner and Tamra Davis, Juliet Casablancas, Toni Collette, and Liza Chasin.
Brittany Baird and Jessica Sodd. My partners in helping raise great girls who will one day be great women. Like you two!
Bill and Karen Juvonen. Thank you for making me feel like a daughter! I love you both.
And to Jimmy Fallon. You are the greatest. Go Sox!
To Diego Uchitel for taking the picture on this book’s jacket as I jumped up and down like a happy nut. To Ally for helping me with the pictures. You are the keeper of the castle. And thank you to Deb Ferullo and Mr. Daniel for making me presentable always. I love you both.
To Francesca Fuente, whose taste I trust and love. Howard Altman and Gretchen Rush, thank you as well!!!
And to my mother, Ildiko Jaid Barrymore. Thank you. I am ever so pleased to be on this planet!
And to my father, John Drew Barrymore. See you again someday.
Looking for more?
Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!