A Mom's Life

I work with college students every day. Walking around campus, seeing posters about safe sex comic acts, music concerts and reading student senate meetings brings me back in time every day. In many ways, it's really nice because for so many of us, our late teens and early twenties is a blur, maybe from partying too hard or just from trying to block out a period of time filled with confusion, soul searching, self angst and worry about the future. After leaving college, I didn't step on a campus for many years. During that time, I lost my self angst, figured out who I was, and paved the way for my future. I still have to admit that when I took the job five years ago, I felt really weird coming to work each day. I felt like an impostor walking around campus; that rather than being an adult, a mentor, an advisor to the students, I was actually one of them. I was afraid that they'd see right through me and be able to tell how nervous I was about being outside my comfort zone...

I have a ceramic Christmas tree in my bedroom. It's from the 70's, or maybe even earlier, and has some black electrical tape holding the base together. It's missing a few of the lights and certainly has years of dirt, or as I'd like to call it, patina, giving it the perfect amount of character. I used to keep the tree in bubble wrap in the basement, only to take out once a year to place in the bay window in the living room. I love how Christmas decorations make the house feel and the memories some tinsel and lights can evoke. Perhaps it is the warm feeling the tree gave me, or my connection to its previous owner that prevented me from packing it away last year. Every night, at least those that I don't fall asleep on the couch,I turn off the lights, sit in my bed, and look at the tree and the way, when lit-up, it makes the bedroom glow. Tiny flecks of red and yellow and green sparkle on the walls and ceiling and it makes the room feel magical. Since I was a kid...

Ever since I've known him, Andy and I have been in competition. As a matter of fact, we've been competing before we ever met. We applied to the same summer fellowship program, (I got in; he didn't) and many of the same graduate schools (he got into GW; I didn't). We have the same academic interests and for many years, similar professional goals. During the early years of our relationship we were living the same life with the exact same goals- we took the same classes with the same professors; worked for the same museums and local organizations and shared a group of friends. We both felt as though we'd fought for, and earned, our spots at one of the best and most well-known museum studies graduate programs in the country, and for that, we had slight chips on our shoulders- and the urge to knock those chips from the egos of others, one another included. I once joked about dancing to "Anything you can do, I can do better" at our wedding because the lyrics sum...

The New Year looms around the corner and it's at this time that I look back at the past 12 months to reflect on my life, and ahead, to decide what to improve in the future. I do this every year, and while I have good intentions, I pretty much break every New Year's resolution. I have to ask myself why I set resolutions and why I then proceed to break them. I'm a reflective perfectionist so it is my nature to obsess about what I did wrong and how to fix it. I recently read in (the scholarly journal) Real Simple about rumination- when one fixates on something very small, stresses out about it and makes it a bigger deal than it really is. Well, my middle name might as well be Ruminate. I am so good at it! Since I'm also very moody and sensitive, I strive to make every interaction, with every person I encounter, perfect. To err is human, and I'm often a big mouth fool so 2/3 of the time, I screw up and then I feel terrible for like, um, a year, or longer. Setting goals ...

Caroline's teacher is awesome and I'm not just saying that because some of my friends who read this happen to work at Caroline's school. My sweet Caroline, my beautiful little girl, can be a very stubborn diva. A very exhausting, stubborn diva. I'm at my wits end after spending the weekend with Caroline, I can only imagine what it is like for her teacher to deal with her day after day, along with 19other five year olds. Oh, yeah and try to provide them with the academic foundation needed to succeed for the next decade of schooling, too! Sending your baby off to a bunch of strangers each day can be difficult. It's not like Caroline gives us a blow-by-blow of her day to provide us with insight into her daily activities, the friendships she's forging, the accomplishments she's making and the growth she's experiencing. Instead, our dinner conversations go a lot like this: Andy: Hey, Caroline, so tell us, how was your day? Silence Andy: What did you do today,...

Ever heard the story about the boy who cried wolf? You know the lesson then: the more we blow things out of proportion or call a false alarm, the less likely it is that others will help us when we really need it. Well, this is the story of a girl who cried poop. Teaching a child to use the toilet is a giant undertaking and there are many approaches to making it happen. Some parents bring a few books and games into the bathroom, camp out, and play the waiting game, praying that eventually the child will feel the need to go and -voila- she'll conveniently already be sitting on the potty when the big moment arrives. Others place plastic or towels over every surface in their house and look for signs. Is she antsily grabbing herself? Is she crouching under the table? Is she looking at you and saying, "I have to go to the potty!" The potty training process requires lots of communication between parent and child. It also requires trust. The child must trust that the parent will ...

During a visit to our house a few weeks ago, my mom delivered several boxes of my '80's and '90's toys that my dad had extracted from the attic. We found Pound Puppies, My Little Ponies, a Simon Says and lots of music boxes that my grandmother sent me over the years. Caroline and Andy gathered up most of the goods before I was able to hold them and think about all the wonderful times spent playing with these items. Since the arrival of the old toys, I have been playing one of the music boxes for Caroline after reading her bedtime stories. I remember my mom doing the same for me, each night, year after year. Last night Caroline was a little less tired and a little more rambunctious than usual. Andy read to her and then she called for me. After a story, I turned out her light, turned on her night light and twisted the ballerina music box a few times. I hummed the tune I know so well as I wished her a final good night and left the room. I spent the next few hours scrap boo...