A Mom's Life

"Elephant, elephant, you have a really long nose/Yes, my momma has a long nose, too/Elephant, elephant, tell me who do you love?/Oh, you know it's my momma that I love."" We went to Denny's this morning. I slammed my French Toast Slam and slugged my coffee (you really can only slug coffee) while Caroline sat next to her Daddy, drinking from a cup with a straw and shrugging her shoulders and giggling. I blew her a kiss and remembered something my brother told me last week. "My brother told me Caroline looks just like I did when I was little." This statement is a big deal to me because since the day she was born people have told us that Caroline looks like Andy. Or Andy's mom. Or Andy's brother. Or my mom. But never me. I've never been offended when people tell me she resembles anyone but me. She lived in me, I grew her and I watched and felt her come out of my body so I know she's mine. I was pretty happy when my brother told me...

This morning I woke up hopeful. I put on my best second-hand suit, added a little bit of blush to the "apples" of my cheeks and rubbed the scuffs off of my shoes. I had a big meeting at work with a group of people I'd never met and needed to impress. My stomach churned waiting for my time slot at the meeting. I was proud and confident until they started to talk. Then I was shot down. I was beaten down. I was defeated. I didn't cry because I'm over that but I did feel like sticking my head in the sand for a few hours. It quickly became one of those days where you spend the rest of your working hours mentally drafting business plans which will allow you to make tons of money, be your own boss and change the world. Wouldn't it be great if you could have a trial separation from your job? A three-month hiatus where you explore, spend some time with other jobs. Meet new people Sow your wild oats. After all, you hooked up with your job when you were naive...

Yesterday at dinner Andy and I were discussing our virtual diversion, Facebook. We've both connected with a number of old high school friends and in Andy's case, maybe even some old flames. Of course, this lead to a spirited discussion about exes and romantic behavior during our youth. While we talked, Caroline shoveled grapes and raviolis into her mouth and tried to rub her grubby hands on Andy's senior yearbook. (I had to look up the old girlfriends and comment on their tacky hair and ugly outfits.) At the end of the conversation I turned to Caroline and said, "Now, Caroline. You are never going to date in high school. Or college." She gave me a goofy smile and motioned to get down from her chair. My comment was just to be silly and to include Caroline in our fun, but really, the statement made my stomach turn. One day she isn't going to be a baby. She's going to be a teenager and she'll have a boyfriend and drive car. She'll go to coll...

Do you ever think about your legacy? As a parent, we know, or hope, we will be remembered for at least one more generation. I often wonder about two things: first, that I'm doing to make a difference and leave a lasting impression on this world and second, what I want people to know about me when I'm no longer here. I don't have one of those obvious life impacting professions. I don't help bring people into the world or help keep them here. But, I like helping people and my job lets me do that in quite a direct way. I go home happy each night, knowing maybe one less college student will enter the workforce annoying everyone around them by acting like they deserve to make $80,000 and be the boss. I hope I'm a good wife. I know I'm not a traditional spouse and my cooking is sub par. But, I'm fun and interesting, honest, loyal and supportive. I think these qualities have also made me a good friend and at least I've provided comic relief to many a du...

It is a rainy Friday night. A slight-framed 30-something woman with mousy brown hair quickly scans the sidewalk before ducking in the back door of the community church. The bright light makes her squint as she looks around the conference room. Plain white walls. Dark stained trim. A dry erase board and a circle of folding chairs. She sighs in relief when she spots the snack table across the room. Maybe a cookie and a cuppa joe will relax me, she thinks as she crosses the room. What the #$#%%! she mutters as she sees the table is not full of sweet goodies but carrot and celery sticks and a carafe of water. Reluctantly, she takes some vegetables and sits down. A woman with khakis and Birkenstocks enters the room. She's the group leader. She introduces herself and it begins. When it is her turn, the mousy brown haired woman stands up and speaks clearly. It is time to confess: Hello. My name is Alyssa *(real name withheld) and I have a sweet tooth. Fortunately ...