Meg Masters

This week on @podcastlikeits The 1990s Patreon I wrap up our Tom Hanks 90s miniseries by talking You’ve Got Mail with @itslizhannah & @_megmasters ! We discuss Tom’s career, Nora Ephron, bookstores, 90s internet and The Cranberries.

Four beautiful years with this kind, brilliant, joyful, imaginative, bright light of a soul. Love you so and more and most, sweet girl.

Normalize posting snippets from the sweetest summer in November! There were day trips and Disney adventures; swim lessons and water slides; concerts and recitals; bowling and baking and more “big girl” firsts than we can count; ice cream and secret handshakes; and a sad goodbye to our best boy. And then there was Hawaii, which we loved the most. Summer was magical and wonderful — and now, Christmas!

Sweet P. Noodle. Peester Meester. Scruffs McGuffs. Park City. Our precious Parker was a man of many names — 79 to be exact — but Parkie Boy is who he became late in his wonderfully long life. It’s a name Poppy clung to after we used it once and now, after 14 years together sharing the deepest love, it’s how he leaves us. I thought soulmates were silly until Parker came along. Because that’s exactly what he was for me. Our connection was instantaneous. I’d never seen such a glorious underbite. He waltzed into a green room at Burbank Studios, leash dragging behind him like he owned the place, and found me sitting there alone and anxious, both of us preparing for our big TV debuts. I still can’t believe we left that shoot together but I do know that it was meant to be. He was ours. We were his. Forevers had been found. I could talk endlessly about every little thing that made Parker Parker because he was truly one of one. But it was his love for and patience with Poppy late in his super senior life that leaves one of the biggest marks. She was a disruption and we all knew it, but still he showed her such grace as she grew and navigated her new (and his long established) surroundings. There was a lot of tenderness there, on both sides, and I’d argue that no one misses Parkie Boy now more than our girl. So, we’re navigating this grief together and still holding tight to the memories of “the whole family: Mommy, Daddy, Poppy, Parkie Boy and Humphrey, of course.” Getting to love you for 14 of your almost 20 years here was the greatest gift, Park. We miss you now. We’ll miss you always. We’ll love you forever.

The girl of our dreams just finished her first year of school and what beautiful blur of a year it’s been. Time is a thief and all of that, always, but watching her grow into her own miraculous, big-hearted little human, with some help from new friends, chosen family and the incredible teachers who truly see her, has just been the joy of our lives so far. Cheers to her and the devastatingly fleeting moments that make this life together so magical.

You’re every make believe character she can conjure up. You’re her “beard-o weirdo.” You’re her safest space, her biggest champion and she’s just the luckiest. We love you most, @matthew_carney .

Wrote this on my first Mother’s Day with her, for her, and found it again yesterday. Seeing it now, three years in with the lifeline that is my daughter, the words resonated even more than before. She continues to heal so much in me and this day is no exception. It’s a gift I never anticipated and one I was convinced I really just didn’t deserve. But my girl has other plans, I guess, so finally sharing this with the deepest gratitude for her and this life we’re building together… Reclaiming this day. No longer one grounded in fear or anger. The weight of decades of accrued apathy finally lifted. This day, as it always should have been, now revolving around love. Love for a child. My child. Without bound or condition. Selflessly and completely. And to celebrate that love together. Knowing there is no “this day” without her. So, it is ours. Special by design but also just another in an endless run of blissfully ordinary days in which we rely on each other to make it through. Every moment rolling breathlessly into the next. But still ensuring that this day, our day, imprints itself, even in the smallest ways. The love that permeates. The joy that radiates. The memories bright, bold and belonging to us.

We love you, we love you, we love you, sweets. You’re everything good and bright and wonderful in this world. Endlessly curious, wildly thoughtful, the strongest of willed with the softest of hearts. You leap fearlessly into all that you do — quite literally, most days. Your big feelings are the biggest — but so are mine so keep them coming. We live for every moment spent together and hope you’re onboard with a lifetime of couch cuddles, movie mornings, “family hands,” ice cream dates, Kelly Clarkson Christmas music (still on repeat over here), dance parties, Disneyland, impromptu singalongs and every adventure in between. Happiest third birthday to you, our girl. The road ahead feels a lot less daunting with you lighting the way.

Voting with her, for her, meant everything. We’ll never forget this moment and all of the quieter ones sprinkled throughout the months leading up to it. From neighborhood walks chatting through what’s on the line — and why the candidate that showcases kindness, compassion, competence and humanity is the one we support — to questions about the meaning of my 1973 shirt and her “Future Voter” tee; from cozying up on the couch together during convention speeches and rallies to cheer on “Kah-Mee-Lah” to chatting about why we vote at all and how hard-fought that right was — and still remains today; to this morning, making our own Election Day ballot at home so that she could cast her vote, as requested… Each moment meant more than the last and got us here today. Together, “we” voted for her future. For her right to control her body. For her right to choose. For her right to comprehensive and inclusive healthcare. For her right to safely attend school thanks to common sense gun control. We voted for all marginalized communities, for LGBTQ rights, for those who can’t use their voices today but still face unthinkable oppression. We voted against racial injustice and inequality. We voted for this planet. We voted so that we still have a chance to dissent moving forward and can continue to make our voices heard when our elected leaders fall short. We voted for hope. We voted because, no matter what, we’re not going back.

Happy happy Father’s Day, @matthew_carney . We’re just the luckiest and love you most.🤍

She is pure magic and I’m the luckiest to be her mama.

Sweet Humphrey. Mister H. H-er Facer. The best guy. The most handsome man. (Ask anyone who ever encountered him, however briefly — he was it.) Our photoshopped king with the greatest little grinch feet. Wild, goofy, unwaveringly loyal and endlessly affectionate. My other half’s other half. The center of our world for nearly fifteen years. Would have taken a million more together but man are we grateful for all the time we did have. It’s taken awhile to talk about saying goodbye to our best guy. It just makes his absence that much more real, I guess. Plus, nothing we say here could possibly do him or the love we shared justice. But in telling a friend recently about losing him, a few thoughts kind of poured out of me in an unexpected moment of catharsis… Humphrey was our first love. Our first baby. Matt and I have really never known our life together without him so the weeks since he left us have been quite the transition. There’s inevitable sadness and a lingering void but also just the deepest gratitude. We’re so grateful he chose us to adopt him that late 2009 day and that he stayed with us for as long as he did. We’re grateful for the immeasurable mark he left on our hearts. He made us a family. Maybe most of all, we’re endlessly grateful our Poppy got to love him, and him her — and wow did they love each other. I sincerely believe he stuck around just long enough to teach her the power of being gentle and kind with all living things. “Soft hands" is all she knows because she's never been able to "roughhouse" with her two super-senior brothers around. At just 22 months old, there's really no reason she should remember Humphrey well at all, yet every single day, unprompted, she asks about him. When talking about the family, he’s never not included; it’s “Mommy, Daddy, Poppy, Parkie and Humpie” forever. The core crew. We find comfort in that. His memory shines bright, his impact even brighter, and I like to believe it always will. For her and all of us. 🤍