Courtenay Rudzinski

Houston-based freelance writer specializing in lifestyle essays. 

All articles

Grown and Flown •

10 Things I'm Teaching My Sons About Life

Late one night I went to the kitchen for a glass of water and found my teen son tipping a 2-liter bottle of Coke into his mouth from six inches away, like a caffeine waterfall. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening. 

“What are you doing?” I asked as he screwed the cap back on, placing the carton back in the fridge. 

“Getting a drink,” he said. “I didn’t want to have to wash a cup.”

This was probably because six other cups were dirty in the kids’ game room upstairs, but I admir...
Newsweek •

I saw a homeless woman struggling with 8 puppies. I had to help

(This story is an as-told-to collaboration. My name appears at the end.) Driving home from work on a sweltering day in Houston, I did a U-turn under the freeway and saw a heartbreaking sight.

"Oh my god," I said aloud, as rush-hour traffic came to a halt.

Sitting on the hot pavement in a tiny bit of shade was a homeless woman and her dog, who was nursing eight small puppies.

Traffic was at a standstill, so I rolled down my window and waved to her. Once she made eye contact, I grabbed my phone to take a picture as she picked up a puppy and kissed it.

Cars started
The Christian Science Monitor •

Empty nest, full heart: My adventures in cat-sitting

“We chose you,” the email subject line read, and I was elated. I’d recently joined an online group that matched pet-sitters with owners, and I’d been selected for my first overnight sit.

Ever since my youngest son had left for college, I’d found myself with a quiet home and too much time on my hands. My days up until now had revolved around school schedules, band practice, and mealtime. Being a full-time mom had been my whole identity for almost two decades. What would I do now that they were
Medium •

How a popular writing workshop taught me to trust my own inner voice

Never one to scroll past a workshop on how to write better personal essays, I was excited for my latest one to begin. It was online with two prominent editors, one from the New York Times and another from Condé Nast, and I had some questions about my latest pitch.

My glee didn’t last long. They ripped into it right away.

“This is a bar story,” one said, “not an essay. Why would anyone care?”

The other editor smirked and agreed. “Go put it on your blog,” he said. “It’ll never see print.”
Insider •

My name was unusual when I was a kid. Now it's more common, but the way I spell it is still rare.

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Growing up, my name — Courtenay — was usually the most difficult in my class. Teachers would pause and stumble on it, and no one knew how to pronounce it (Courtenay rhymes with Fort Lee), spell it, or how many syllables it had (two).

I longed for an easier storybook name like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm or Laura from Little House on the Prairie instead of one with almost every vowel in it.
Next Avenue •

My 'Old School' Photo Album Will Outlast All My Digital Devices

Requiring thought and effort, a photo album is the best way to compile your life's greatest hits in images and create a time capsule for future generations

I met a friend for lunch the other day and asked about her recent trip to the Galapagos Islands. She reached for her phone, opened Photos and handed it to me. "It starts here," she said, granting permission to scroll.

I think there were 300 pictures. By the seventh replica of a sunset (with no end in sight), I handed it back to her.
Grown and Flown •

Why I Don’t Wait for My Kids to Call Me on Mother’s Day

One year when my kids were little, my son asked me to drive him to the store a day before Mother’s Day. He brought his velcro SpongeBob wallet and wanted to get me a gift. I was touched.

We both loved Reese’s peanut butter cups, and I watched as he carefully counted out his money for the large orange bag of bite-sized chocolates while the cashier waited. I thought it would be the sweetest Mother’s Day gift and wondered how he’d wrap it.

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen to find a tin
Grown and Flown •

Six Ways My World Relaxed When I Became An Empty Nester

A perfect afternoon to me at 56 is sitting in my backyard with a good book, listening to the windchimes and watching the birds. I’m not expecting anyone to drive up from school or ask what’s for dinner. And dinner can be a bag of popcorn or three frozen eggrolls I pop into the microwave at 9 o’clock at night. It’s sublime.

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. I loved being a mom (still do) and seeing my kids’ faces every day. I ran a tight ship between my part-time job at the library and volu
Insider •

I read my grandparents' love letters from the 1920s. It was a gift to see how their relationship began.

• I found my grandparents' love letters when cleaning out their house.
• Reading them gave me insight into what dating was like 100 years ago.
• Some facets of life in the 1920s are still relatable today, like selfies and mail-order catalogs.

When my 89-year-old grandmother moved out of her home, I was tasked with going through her personal belongings. I didn't know where to start. Her house was small and tidy, but she had no use for minimalism like I did. She'd kept everything.
Slate •

How I Learned to Love Going Out Alone

When my friend called to say he couldn’t make the Madonna concert that night, I was devastated. He was on Nantucket island, the concert was in Boston, and the ferries had stopped running due to severe weather. I had two tickets and didn’t know anyone else to ask. For five minutes I agonized over what to do and then made a decision. I’d go alone.

Still, going alone made me nervous. It wasn’t my safety that scared me—I could arrive early, par
The Ethel •

My Mom Had the Same Hairdo for 60 Years

I was 12 when I bought my first beauty book, Cheryl Tiegs’ "The Way to Natural Beauty." It was 1980 and its glossy cover photo sold me — a close-up of Cheryl with her wavy, perfectly feathered blonde hair. That’s exactly what I needed my hair to do. I was going to study this book like a bible.


My thick, wavy hair presented a daily styling challenge, and my mom was no help in this department. She kept a perfectly coiffed, immovable hairdo with weekly appointments at the beauty shop. She’d told
Scary Mommy •

My Destination Christmas Was A Complete Disaster

Two years ago, my husband and I road-tripped to Colorado with our kids for Christmas. I’d always dreamed of a destination holiday somewhere snowy and festive, and a previous skiing trip had been a huge success with both us and the kids. So I Googled “most festive places to spend Christmas” and found the ski town of Durango was in the top 10. It looked adorable and was the polar opposite of Houston, where we live, with its year-round heat and humidity.

My mom had passed a few months earlier and
WIRED •

10 Apps That Make Traveling Solo Easier—and Fun

I was driving alone through Montana, 1,900 miles from home on a two-lane road in the sticks, when my phone lost its signal. I was near my Airbnb cabin but may as well have been in Oz, with no idea what road to look for or where my next turn was. Did I mention it was getting dark?

Luckily, I’d jotted down the directions in my spiral planner, old-school style, that lay on the seat next to me, but with a little preplanning, the right apps can make solo travel safe, enjoyable, and easy. Having driv
Scary Mommy •

Being An Empty Nester Is Great, Actually

Recently, I ran into an old girlfriend I hadn’t seen in a while at a wedding. Her youngest son had just left for college, and she tearfully told me how quiet her house was.

And all I could think was: Oh, you dear sweet flaxen-haired newb. You have no idea the glory that awaits you.

I’ll be honest. Obviously, I love my kids. But I’d been waiting for my moment of peace and quiet and rest since I realized two decades ago that I’d be responsible for three meals a day for two disinterested people f
Newsweek •

My aunt dated Elvis—they were inseparable

"Elvis just died! Elvis is dead!" my friend Robin's mother screamed out the back door as we played on the swing set in her yard. I was 10 years old and knew it was time to go home.

My mother was quiet when I told her the news—she'd been ironing and the TV wasn't on. Elvis Presley had been to her house, dated her sister, and ate dinner with her mom. It was quite a shock.

Before there was Priscilla—whose namesake movie comes out November 3—there were many other women, including a petite young br
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