Yo, alien boy. What have you done with my son?

Like any good mother, I know my son. I can usually predict, with about 80 percent accuracy, his next move. And like any good mother, I want him to best me. Despite our seemingly enlightened posturing (and if we’re posturing, wherein lies the enlightenment?), we want our kids to have better than we did. Do…

Pirate Mom

I wasn’t raised to swashbuckle. When I birthed two boys, it did not take long for me to realize I was going to have to learn how to do so. As they dove off of staircases, thinking they could fly like Buzz Lightyear; received concussions trying to clamber out of their crib; and split chins…

The mommy compass

It was crystal clear to any experienced mom within shouting distance of this woman. She did not yet have a mommy compass. The mother in question was trying her best to swim in the shark-infested waters of a newly formed play group. As the other mothers peppered her with questions, I could see the look…

Mommy poker

They were gathered around a large table at our local coffee shop, babes in arms or baby carriers, while toddlers played in the toy corner. A seemingly Rockwellian scene, but these mamas were playing for keeps. “14 hours. Did you hear me? 14! While he is reading a magazine.” In case you’re unfamiliar with the…

Soft and steely: A shout-out to the mamas

Amazing the number of conversations, online or otherwise, that have occurred in response to my last blog post on independent women. The upshot is–a lot of you agree with me that even women who stay at home should know they could support their family, keeping “one oar in the water,” so to speak. And some…

I depend on me

I’m not a big American football girl. Sure, I’ll watch if the home team is playing and it’s an exciting game but I can take it or leave it. So when I tuned into the Super Bowl last Sunday, it was for the halftime show and the commercials, trust me. Beyonce did not disappoint. That…

The Fab Four

Rarely do I let my snarkier self—the one honed at an all-female, private-school–take over the keyboard but mommy politics requires a more finessed hand, a sharper tongue. I’m going to venture into the realm of the catty but true.  Oh, and maybe into a couple glasses of wine or a martini. I have learned my…

Befores and Afters: Part III

Written after my mother died, this post and the two prior are about the experience, honoring a promise I made to Mom to write abour our journey so others will know they’re not alone. You walk in just as the priest is about to give last rites. Your sister moves over to let you hold your…

Befores and Afters: Part II

As she begins to die, your mother tells you not to let them find her wandering the halls naked. This breaks your heart because she knows her doctor did find her naked, having fallen trying to get out of bed, several nights before. She’s now to the point where she knows that her lucidity sometimes fades,…

Befores and Afters

My mother died two years ago, almost to the day. It’s time to begin to tell that story, which will probably take several posts. I hope my sharing helps some of you going through similar experiences. The death of a parent changes you in a can’t-go-back kind of way. It changes you whether you let…

The girl has issues

I knew this day would come, just not so soon. My boys have fallen in love with a girl—the same girl, in fact. She is strong-willed, extremely overprotective and needs to get a grip on her separation anxiety. Bit of a whiner. The girl has issues, no doubt about it. She’s a brunette—lean and muscular….

Don’t mess with the sisterhood

It may have been the projectile vomiting that gave her away. Or perhaps the glassy eyes, flushed cheeks or green goop that constantly seemed to run from her son’s nose. Regardless, she was the bane of our existence. We called her Typhoid Mary. By “we,” I mean a gaggle of mothers, all of us shepherding…