Hershey · slice of life

Fully Present at the Park

Stacey Shubitz17 Comments

I returned to Hersheypark for the first time since my cancer diagnosis, which felt bittersweet. Isabelle really wanted me to come with Ari so she and Marc could ride the roller coasters together. Even though I wasn’t feeling my best—another surgery loomed next week to address a lingering abdominal complication from last year’s DIEP surgery—I agreed. After all, Ari, my low-thrill ride kid, would be happy sticking to the attractions at the front of the park.

A snapshot of two people in a racecar. Created with the Waterlogue app.
Marc snapped a photo of Ari and me in a race car later that day. (Painted with Waterlogue.)

Ari and I ping-ponged between the race car track and the Kissing Tower for nearly an hour on Sunday. The Kissing Tower’s slow, gentle rise gave us a stunning 360-degree view of Hershey’s rooftops, landmarks, and roads. On our second Kissing Tower ride, Ari turned to me. “Give me your phone,” he said, eyes wide with excitement.

“No,” I said firmly.

“Please! I want to take a video.”

“Of what?”

“Of the ride.”

“You don’t need my phone.”

“Here’s a deal. You give me your phone, and I’ll take a video of Hershey. Then, the next time, we just look through our eyes.”

That made me stop and think. Lately, our family has been wrestling with the issue of screentime. On May 3, we had a family tech talk, which led us to limit the kids’ screen time to thirty minutes on weekdays and an hour on weekends. Marc and I also made a pact with them to help our “popcorn brains,” that restless, scattered feeling I especially noticed in myself, by:

  • Limit ourselves to scrolling on our phones, 20 minutes twice a day.
  • Use our phone only for essential calls, texts, and emails.
  • Keep our phones off our nightstand.
  • Put our phones on the kitchen island during family meals. (We used to keep checking them to look up things we didn’t know, which started to feel silly.)

“What do you mean by ‘just look through our eyes?’” I asked Ari.

“We don’t take out our phones. We only use our eyes to look at the view.”

“You’ve got a deal,” I said immediately.

Last night, I went to Ari’s baseball playoff game. When Ari came up to bat, I asked Marc, “Are you on video or am I?”

“I’ll take it,” he replied.

“Good,” I said. Ari hit the ball right into the pitcher’s glove. But the next time he was up, he hit a solid grounder, made it to first, and got an RBI. He stole second and third, then ran home. As the sun set over the baseball diamond that sits in a nearby park, I realized the best part. I watched it all—not through a screen, but with my own eyes, fully present in the moment.

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slice of life · swimming

Passing the Buggy

Stacey Shubitz11 Comments

Ari came to the pool with me yesterday afternoon. I like taking him with me, but I have to adjust my expectations of how much I’ll be able to swim while he’s there. Despite finally reaching one mile again late last week, I knew there’d be no way I could do more than a half mile. And that was okay.

Ari started in the warming pool, just tossing a ball into the air. He wanted me to come in there with him, but there would be no way I’d be able to immerse myself in an 82-degree swimming pool if I went into a 92-degree warming pool first.

After I completed nine laps, I spied the top of his head from afar. I called, “Ari!”

He immediately looked up and locked eyes with me. 

Aerial view of a swimming pool showing a man and woman swimming side by side in the same lane, with empty adjacent lanes on either side separated by lane dividers in the clear blue water
I never bring my phone into the pool area with me. It always stays in my locker. Therefore, this image was created with Canva AI.

“When are you coming in and swimming laps with me?” I asked.

“Right now,” he said.

I didn’t believe him, but by the time I finished my tenth lap, he was in my lane.

“Why don’t you swim over there?” I said, pointing to the lane beside me.

“I want to swim with you,” he replied.

“But there’s an entire lane that’s empty. Wouldn’t you rather have more space?”

“No,” he said.

“Which side of the black stripe do you want?”

He looked at me quizzically.

“Left or right of the line?” I asked.

“Neither, let’s swim in a circle,” he said.

“But I swim faster than you,” I retorted.

“Then just pass me,” Ari insisted.

“Or you can swim in the next lane.” 

Ari shook his head.

“So you’re saying that you want me to pass you the way that we might pass one of the buggies on the side of the road?”

“Yes!” he said with his face lighting up.

“So I’m the car, and you’re the buggy?” I asked.

He nodded.

“This is the most Lancaster conversation I think I’ve ever had about swimming,” I said.

He smiled. Moments later, we secured our goggles and began swimming in the same lane.

I took care to pass him quickly enough to overtake him, but not with speed or spray from kicking that would overwhelm him. And like a good buggy driver, he stayed as close to the right as possible so that I had enough room to pass.

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reading · slice of life · writing

Proof of Literacy Activity

Stacey Shubitz6 Comments

I dictated an entire post using Speechify today. I thought it would be fun to try out since my wrist was aching. I attempted to edit it by hand after all of the text appeared on the screen. I couldn’t click my cursor anywhere in the document. I clicked in a bunch of places, and the next thing I knew, my writing disappeared! I was left with no slice-of-life story.

Because I am spinning a dozen other plates right now, I’ll share two photos that were the result of us limiting our kids’ screen time, as well as our own, over the past few days. Here is my son, voluntarily writing a baseball story before dinner and reading a book before bedtime. I’ll write more about our screentime reset another day!

a boy sitting at a table typing a story on an ipad using google docs
a boy reading a diary of a wimpy kid book snuggled in bed
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slice of life · sports

Golden Hour Baseball

Stacey Shubitz14 Comments
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Gone was the sun that shone
Over our heads. I
Looked at the Apple Weather map
Determining sunset—
End of the game. Last light: 8:30.
Never did I think they’d start another inning, but they


Hustled the boys back
Onto the field. Ari’s team was
Undeterred by the setting sun or the
Reality of an 11–9 game.


Breezes picked up
As the sun dipped lower.
Sky dimming, one out—Ari at the plate.
Eager, Marc and I stood
By the fence. After a couple pitches,
Ari singled.
Later, he stole second, then third, came home—
Last spark—two outs more, final score 11–10.

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family · fashion · slice of life

A Series of Fashion Emergencies

Stacey Shubitz15 Comments

It’s been five and a half years since our last family photo session. Instead of waiting for my hair to grow back in, I decided spring would be the perfect time for new pictures. Last year, I booked a date in April, picturing us in a park surrounded by blooms. But when the day came, a rainy Saturday threatened to ruin everything. Thankfully, our resourceful photographer suggested a private greenhouse she knew. Problem solved—at least, until my fashion emergencies began to unfold.

Fashion Emergency #1: My navy slacks were too snug.

  • Time: 12:30 p.m.
  • Fix: Since Athleta’s clothes usually fit me, I rushed into the store. When the salesperson asked if she could help, I said, “I’m having a fashion emergency! We have family photos at 5 p.m. and my pants don’t fit.” I couldn’t believe I actually said that out loud! Amazingly, she found some dressy navy pants in my size. I bought them and hurried home.

Fashion Emergency #2: The elastic that holds the cuff button in place was broken.

  • Time: 4:10 p.m.
  • Fix: I reluctantly put on an alternate outfit I didn’t like as much, which meant scrambling for different jewelry and shoes. Marc, already ready, stepped in during my moment of desperation. He grabbed a sewing kit and my reading glasses, tossed them in the car, and helped wrangle the kids out the door.

In the car, I managed to crudely sew the elastic back into place—just enough to fasten the button and keep the sleeve closed.

Fashion Emergency #3: I packed two different shoes.

Two Naot sandals: one in black and one in navy.
I meant to pack the navy sandals. I couldn’t even make this work since I packed TWO RIGHT SHOES!
  • Time: 4:59 p.m.
  • Fix: I wore rainboots to the greenhouse so my ballet flats would stay clean. Once we got inside, Marc and I started unpacking our clothes and accessories. That’s when I realized, to my horror, that I had packed two different shoes to go with my dress. WHAAAAT?!
    • I quickly changed plans and asked the photographer to take some headshots of me in my dress, making sure my mismatched feet were out of the frame. She agreed. When she finished, she took photos of the kids. Meanwhile, Marc helped me out of the dress and into my new slacks and the blouse I had just fixed. I changed my jewelry, put on the ballet flats, and finally took a deep breath.

Even though my hair is short, and honestly, I don’t love it, I knew it was important to capture us as we are right now. My body and hair aren’t what they used to be, but I love my husband and kids deeply. I want these photos to show that, despite everything, I’m still here. We’re still here.

outdoors · slice of life

Savoring a Simple Day

Stacey Shubitz14 Comments

Last year went from surgery to chemo, and then, just as I was on the mend, I broke my foot. After all that, I found myself wishing for nothing more than simple days outdoors. Yesterday, I finally got one, which felt like a small but meaningful victory.

Feeling stronger, the four of us set out for Shenks Ferry Wildflower Preserve in southern Lancaster. My kids aren’t exactly hiking enthusiasts, so I’ve learned to choose easy trails and pack snacks. We wandered along the paths, letting the morning sun and cool shade work their quiet magic. Every now and then, I’d stop to snap a photo of a patch of wildflowers, which earned a chorus of groans and exaggerated sighs from the kids. Though sometimes I’d catch them peeking at the trail guide, which contained images and names of flowers. Sometime before we finished, I turned to Marc and said I wanted to make these easy nature walks a regular weekend thing.

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Common blue violets
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Virginia bluebells
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Bloodroot
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Susquehanna trillium
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Ahead of Me on the Trail
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Dutchmen’s Breeches

The kids hardly complained—a minor miracle, considering past hikes have sometimes required ice cream bribes. Ari, ever the opportunist, must have remembered this precedent. Before I knew it, he had cleverly negotiated a post-hike stop at Pine View Dairy. I had to laugh, because he’s gotten very good at seizing his moments (Case in point: the way he turned our family NCAA basketball brackets into a trip to the Hershey Lodge). In the end, we all enjoyed our treats, which was a sweet finish to a day I’d been waiting for.

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While my family ate ice cream, I opted for a pint of chocolate milk.
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Pine View Dairy allows you to meet their cows. Isabelle, who has a lovely way with animals, petted several of them.
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gratitude · slice of life · writing

I’m Here for the Humans

Stacey Shubitz18 Comments
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My parents headed back to New Jersey this morning after spending three weeks here helping me recover from surgery. I wished they could stay longer, but they had their own lives and appointments to get back to.

As my dad was packing, he mentioned that I had jumped back into the Slice of Life Story Challenge for the last few days. He was a bit surprised that I decided to return at the end.

I told him I had thought about skipping the rest of the challenge, but something kept pulling me back.

Maybe it’s because, in a world that feels increasingly artificial, I find myself craving something real. Lately, it feels like AI is everywhere. No matter where I go, I keep running into it.

I could keep going, but you probably get the idea.

Even today, after my haircut with my hair still cropped short, my stylist had some extra time to try out different blow-drying techniques. She took a few photos so I could show my parents the new look. Later, I used the FaceTune app to fix a few blemishes I missed with makeup. Suddenly, the app suggested AI-generated versions with different angles, lighting, and styles. I tried them out for fun, but in the end, I sent the original photos to my parents—blemishes and all.

The first two photos are real; the rest were generated by AI—some eerily lifelike, others unmistakably artificial.

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Real
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Real
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AI-generated
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AI-generated
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AI-generated
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AI-generated
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AI-generated
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AI-generated
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AI-generated

The whole experience left me craving something real, a connection not filtered by algorithms or curated by artificial intelligence. That’s what brought me back to the Slicer community. Even separated by miles or oceans, we know one another. We celebrate victories, support each other in tough times, and forge genuine connections—sometimes without ever meeting in person.

The generous comments so many of you have left, both this year and in the past, have been a real comfort as I figure out my next steps after cancer. Your kind words and steady encouragement have truly made a difference as I move into this new chapter. I’m grateful to be part of a place where real support and connection still exist.

Finally, I want to thank the amazing TWTBlog co-author team: Melanie Meehan, Lainie Levin, Leah Thomas, Sarah Valter, and Jessica Carey. Their dedication made this year’s Slice of Life Story Challenge possible. It’s a privilege to co-host with such thoughtful and passionate educators. Their hard work has helped create the welcoming, inspiring space that keeps our community coming back every year.

See you on Tuesdays throughout the year, and next year for the 20th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!

fashion · high school · slice of life

The Black Shirt Scramble

Stacey Shubitz33 Comments

Isabelle has a choral concert tomorrow night—a fact that’s been hovering over us since the very first week of school. We’ve had a paper taped to the inside of our pantry for months, chronicling every concert call time and what to wear. Now that she’s a high school freshman, I figure my only job is to make sure the date and time are on our family calendar and the concert attire is packed away somewhere accessible. Beyond that, I’m off the hook, right?

So you can imagine my surprise (and, let’s be honest, mild panic) this evening when Isabelle called downstairs: “I don’t think I have a dressy black top for tomorrow night’s concert.”

She’s got black dress pants. She’s got a black skirt. Black shoes? Check. But not a single black dress shirt in sight.

“What did you wear the last time you had to wear black to a concert?” I asked.

“We had special t-shirts for that one,” she replied.

“Mmm-hmm,” I said, giving my best parental poker face.

“I could wear this black dress,” she offered, scanning her closet for alternatives.

Technically, she could. But that particular dress is the one I bought her for the bimah at Rosh Hashanah, when she stood and read from the Torah. “I think that’s a little too dressy,” I replied.

“I could wear…” flip-flip-flip through the closet.

“None of these are completely black,” I said.

“Didn’t you know I had to wear black to my concert?” she asked.

“Didn’t you know you had to wear black to the concert? You need to come to me more than 24 hours before a concert if you need something.”

At this point, anything she said back sounded like the teacher in “Peanuts.” I waved her upstairs to my closet—clearly, it was time to raid my own archives.

First up: a black velvet blazer I can barely squeeze into these days. Isabelle tried it on, glanced in the mirror, and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t really like it,” she declared.

A closet full of clothes, with a lot of black.
This is what part of my closet looked like after I got through pulling out sweaters and grabbing items off the hangers.

“Okay, get me a stool, and I’ll reach up top.”

Flip-flip-flip through the closet. I handed her a sleeveless black Banana Republic sweater I bought a month before I met Marc. (“I’ll try that,” she said.) Next, a black cashmere turtleneck from a Bloomingdale’s sale on 59th. (“I don’t like turtlenecks.”) Then, a long-sleeve, V-neck Club Monaco sweater from my teaching days in Manhattan. (“That’s fine.”) And finally, a ruffled tank I got at Ann Taylor for a conference a year before she was born. (“What would I wear with that?”)

After exhausting all of the black clothes I wore before my kids were born, I sent her to try on the Banana Republic and Club Monaco sweaters.

“Try them on and show them to me,” I said as I walked downstairs.

“But you’re going downstairs!” she replied.

“I have to finish the green beans for dinner,” I called back, trying to sound more energetic than I felt.

“But why do I have to come all the way downstairs to show you?” she protested.

“Because I cannot cook dinner in your bedroom, that’s why,” I said.

“Fine!” she replied.

Several minutes later, Isabelle walked downstairs in all black, wearing a bolero jacket I didn’t give her tonight.

“I put this on top because the sleeveless sweater felt a little too bare,” she said matter-of-factly.

Ahhh, yes, I gave her the bolero jacket to wear on the bimah at Rosh Hashanah since it was a chilly morning.

“How does it look?” she asked.

“Ask Bubbe,” I said, not sure of how it really looked.

My mom looked up and gave Isabelle a thumbs-up. Sold!

Isabelle went back upstairs to change out of the concert attire and into comfy clothes. After she did, I opened the pantry door and checked the spring concert attire. Thank goodness it read:

Concert attire: robe/uniforms — Note: only a white colored shirt may be showing above the robe. Anything that you choose below your robe should be dressy and black, including shoes.

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slice of life · sports

Hoops, Hopes, and Hershey

Stacey Shubitz40 Comments

March Madness always stirs excitement in our house. Earlier this month, Marc, Ari, and I filled out our brackets (Isabelle, as usual, paid no attention). Normally, I’d obsess over stats and predictions before picking my teams. But this year, post-surgery, I just guessed my way through, too tired to care about odds or upsets.

Today, the tension peaked. Marc, raised in Connecticut, was glued to the screen as UConn reached the Elite Eight. He and Ari, both diehard UConn fans, were desperate for a win against Duke. Usually, I’d be right there with them—my cousin even played for the UConn women’s team back in the ’80s—but my bracket depended on Duke. I needed them to win, at least until they lost to Michigan in the finals.

While making dinner, I glanced at the score. Duke was up by nearly 20. I mentally started planning our glamping trip, convinced my bracket lead was safe.

“What happens to your bracket if you get the most points in our family?” I asked Marc.

“We go to Top Golf,” he replied.

Honestly, anything sounded better than Ari’s idea of a prize.

Ari’s dream? A family night at the Hershey Lodge so he could spend hours at their new indoor waterpark, Waterworks.

But UConn surged back late in the game. Then, freshman Braylon Mullins nailed a jaw-dropping three-pointer!

Man's hand with three NCAA March Madness Brackets.

Marc whooped so loudly when Mullins’ shot swished through that I’m sure the neighbors heard. Even as my bracket hopes crashed, I had to admit—it was an unforgettable finish.

Ari immediately declared, “I won! We’re going to the Hershey Lodge!”

After the celebrations died down, Marc tallied our brackets; Ari was the clear winner. This evening, before bed, Ari hovered over my shoulder as I booked our Hershey Lodge getaway for later this spring, making sure he got his victory prize before the tourist rush.

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medical · routines · slice of life

Before Dawn: A Quiet Act of Concern

Stacey Shubitz29 Comments

Ari paused while reading The Year of the Rat and asked, “What time is your surgery tomorrow?”

“7:30 a.m.”

“What time do you have to get there?”

“5:30,” I said.

“What time are you leaving the house?”

“Probably a little after 4:30,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll set my alarm to get up at 4:15,” Ari declared.

“Honey, I’ll be home by the time you get back from school. You don’t have to wake up that early to see me off.”

“I’m going to set my alarm for 4:15,” Ari repeated.

“You’ll need to turn the lights out at 8:00 tonight. No staying up late. If you’re waking up two and a half hours earlier than usual, you should get at least eight hours of sleep.”

“Fine,” Ari said, turning back to the book.

“Wait,” I said, covering the book. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

“No,” he replied.

“It’s okay if you’re worried. I’m sure everything will go well, and I’ll be home in the afternoon. I’ll be in pain for a few days, but I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Ari said, gently moving my hand off the book and going back to reading.

After Ari went upstairs to get ready for school, I heard him set his alarm for the next morning. While he was brushing his teeth, I checked it. Here’s what it was set for:

A black alarm clock with red numbers that announce 4:00 AM.
Ari set his alarm even earlier than he said he would! I guess he wants to watch me drink apple juice and take my morning pills. That’s pretty much all I can do before heading into the hospital.

Ari is going to have a long day. I considered setting his alarm for half an hour later so he could see me just as I left for the hospital, but I know he’d be upset if I changed it. I get that he wants to see me before I go, probably because he’s a little nervous about my surgery.

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Since my surgery is coming up, this will probably be my last slice-of-life story for March. If I recover well, I’ll be back for the last few days of the challenge. For now, I need to give myself time to heal, which means staying off my computer.

I hope you have a productive and fulfilling month of writing! See you on SOL Tuesdays soon.