Rox and Roll

Pirates, WTF?

It was a privilege to grow up in the greater Pittsburgh area in the 70s-80s.  These were the years of the Steelers' strength (Greene, Swann, Bradshaw, Harris), the Pirates' predominance (Clemente, Stargell) and the Penguins' greatness (Lemieux, Coffey).  It was especially my love of ice hockey, Lemieux-style, that led to my directiing WESU Sports radio in college.  While my play-by-play probably left a lot to be desired, the camaraderie (and the Div 3 status) made my years with WESU a total blast.

I eventually married a Yankees fan, and who wouldn't be a Yankees fan in the late-90s/early part of this century?  I always kept an eye on my Pittsburgh teams, though, and watched as their light flashed and faded in recent years...

Today, though, I think I have to formally terminate my affinity for the Pirates.  Today, they signed two athletes from India who have never played baseball in their lives.  Seriously -- they signed two dudes based on the outcome of a reality TV contest in India.  I'm thinking of returning to the work force myself, and I've never played baseball either... so perhaps I, too, can become a Pirate!  I can hit a mean tennis ball after all -- there must be some relevance in that. 

I'll hold on to my Terrible Towel, since the Steelers still bring it periodically, but, from now on, my pinstripes will be blue and white, thanks.  Pittsburgh... WTF?

P.S. The Guv's comment on this story?  Imagine the merchandising revenue they'll make in a country of a billion people.  If anyone in India buys a baseball jersey, it'll be a Pirates one.  Wow... I didn't even think of that, but I have to think that's about as far from "for the love of the game" as it gets.

Dash creates his own bedtime... sort-of

I've spent the past few days trolling Etsy for a new bag -- a large purse/tote bag that's not quite a diaper bag but big enough to hold a preschooler's necessities along with mine.  My friend "P" is an Etsy addict, and now I see why -- there are about 49,000 of everything, and 80% of it is awesome and not findable in a traditional store.  I love supporting Indie merchants (so does P) -- so I've been glued to my laptop.  So glued, in fact, that this is what happened at 2 pm today when I heard Dash thumping around across the room from me and looked up:

Mama: Dash, why are you naked?

Dash: Because I am.

Mama: Dash, you cannot be butt naked in the house, at least not until you're potty trained.  Put your pull-up back on.

Dash: Mama, I am.  I am putting a clean pull-up on, and I am changing into my pajamas.

(Insert brief moment of panic in which Mama thinks she may have been on the computer so long that night has actually fallen.  Phew, only 2 pm.)

Mama: Why are you changing into your pajamas?

Dash: Because I feel like wearing my pajamas.

Mama: Okay then.  (And I watch while he dresses himself fully and correctly for perhaps the first time ever.)  All better now?

Dash: Now I need my bedtime snack.  An Almond Joy, please.

Mama: Dude, it's not actually bedtime.

Dash: Yes it is.  I have my pajamas on.

Mama: So let me get this straight... if I give you an Almond Joy, you'll go to bed?

Dash, laughing: No, Mama, if you give me an Almond Joy, I'll eat it!

Mama: And then you'll go to bed?

Dash: No, Mama, it's not my bedtime until later.

Mama: Then you don't need your bedtime snack, right?

Dash (blank stare...): I need my Almond Joy.  And milk.  And a movie.

And Mama caves, so that she can go back to Etsy...

Excuses, excuses

I haven't posted for a while, and this isn't going to be a post either.  It's been around 80 degrees and gorgeous for about a week now, and, quite frankly, I don't want to be anywhere near inside or a computer!  I did spend some time inside on Sunday at San Francisco's Green Festival, and I'll be writing a post on that within the next few days.

Until then... party on, dudes.

Love comes in many forms

Dash and I have been playing intensely all morning.  We've built with blocks, played doctor, attempted Wii Golf, made PlayDoh taquitos, read with My First Leap Pad, praticed writing his name... I'm pooped already, and it's only 10:30 am!  Dash just decided he'd like a cereal and TV break, which I obliged.  But first:

Dash: "Mama, I want some cerealealealealeal... and some movie?"

Mama: "I think you can have a little TV, sure."

Dash: "Mama, I love you, fool."

Mama: "I love you, too, but please don't call me fool.  Fool isn't a nice word.  You could say, Mama, I love you so much for giving me life, catering to my every need and whim, taking such good care of me..."

Dash: "How about: Mama, I love you, butt-butt?"

Mama, trying not to laugh: "Do you think butt-butt's nice?"

Dash, giggling: "No.  Okay, Mama, okay.  I LOVE YOU, NOW TURN ON THE TV!  PLEEEEEASE!"

And with that phrase, I realized how fine a line there is between boys and men... I'm fairly sure that the Guv has given me that same line about 93 times in the past.  Oh well... I guess it's better than "I love you butt-butt!"

Three months!

I just realized that today marks our three-monthiversary in California.  Aside from missing friends in NJ, especially my former neighbor "June Cleaver," I don't remember ever living anyplace else.  We're all so happy to be here!  I think I'm here to stay, at least until the Big One sends us all into the sea...

Srsly, though, you know the two best things about being here in California?  The people and the weather... the weather and the people.  Both, so good... we are so lucky.

Mom, Two Kids, and the City

Seagull eating dinner

Before we moved, on a few occasions, I took Petunia into New York City on my own.  At first, the trips were out of necessity; I attended graduate school in the City, and, if my sitter cancelled, Petunia would accompany me to school.  Later, the trips became for fun, to see the Rockettes at Christmastime or to visit American Girl Place.

I was never brave enough to venture alone into the City with Dash on my own, or with both Petunia and him, because... well, because he's Dash, and he gives "fussy" an all new meaning.  I feared that if someone looked at him funny, our day would be ruined.  Somehow this never happened when Daddy was with us, but I still never braved the City with two kids against one me.

Recently, though, Dash's behavior is improving (knock wood!).  Facing Veteran's Day off from school and two kids that weren't getting along in the house over the last couple of days, we needed to get out.  San Francisco is closer to us than NYC was to our NJ home, and the kids had been clamoring to spend more time at Pier 39, aka Fisherman's Wharf, aka A Huge Tourist Trap.  Before we left for the day, I sat the kids down side by side, for a heart-to-heart.

"Kids, I have some big plans for today," I started.  "We're going to Fisherman's Wharf and Ghiradelli Square."

"COOL!" exclaimed Petunia.  "Yeah, COOL!" repeated Dash.

"But here's the deal.  I will not -- I WILL NOT -- put up with any misbehavior from either one of you," I said sternly.

"We'll be good, Mama, I promise!" Petunia replied.  "And me too!  And me too!" echoed Dash.

"What that means is that if you whine or complain at any point, we are coming home, even if we just got there," I explained.

"But what if Dash whines and I don't?" Petunia sagely asked.

"We come home," I replied, watching her look become crestfallen, "but here's a hint: he usually starts whining because of something you do to him.  So maybe, just maybe, if you're really good to him today, our day won't be ruined."

"What if he bothers me?" she whined.

"And now, we're not going.  Never mind." I turned around and left.

There was silence, and then whispers, in the living room.  Soon, the siblings came into my bedroom, where I was checking e-mail, hand-in-hand.

"Mama, we'd really like to go to San Francisco today," Petunia offered.  "And we are going to get along.  We're not going to whine, and we're not to ask you for stuff.  Except to go to the Hard Rock Cafe.  And I have $20, and I'll even pay for it if I have to."

"You don't have to pay for lunch, Petunia, and I guess I'll give you another shot -- but you do understand that I'm not going to tolerate any unpleasantry between you and Dash, right?" I asked.

"I'll be a good boy!" Dash replied.

"And I'll be good, too," Petunia added.

And we left.  And they were good, extremely good.  Petunia did buy a few things with her $20, and her allowance -- but she didn't push when I said "no more."  Dash nearly whined for a couple of new cable car things until Petunia told him to "quash it, remember?" and he did!  When he found a propeller beanie in a hat shop and very nicely asked "Please can I have the flying hat for my allowance this year?" -- how could I say no (especially since he doesn't even have any allowance)?  We saw the barking sea lions, marvelled at how we could see Alcatraz so clearly in the daylight with little fog (a rarity for us), ate an awesome lunch at the HRC, and trekked to Ghiradelli square for some chocolate dessert.  They were total angels almost the whole day...

... until the car ride home, when Petunia had the genius idea to play "how hard can you scratch my finger?" with Dash.  She wanted him to get in trouble for scratching her and learned that you can, in fact, get in trouble for something that your little brother does, even if it is hurting you!  Next time she teaches him a wrong lesson, I'll remind her of the band-aid gracing her finger tonight.   She's learning that being a big sister means being a role model for good behavior -- not a warning regarding how not to act.  It's a tough lesson, but I don't think it's one that she'll soon forget.

And I learned a lesson, too, today: I can handle the two of them on my own just fine.  I'm not sure how my friends with four and five kids do it; then again, I'm not sure they ever had a Dash.  But this feeling of a fait accompli?  It's liberating.  I'm picturing more Treks With Mom in their future.  Maybe next time we'll try a museum...

The force, it was not with me today

Today, the Siblings were at each other's throats, which is a real rarity.  Usually they're loving each other to death, but today... sigh.  When I suggested that they call it a day and watch a movie, they agreed on the new Tinkerbell one.  When Dash tired of the movie, he ejected the DVD, threw it across the room and would've jumped on it had I not stopped him.  These actions precipitated a torrent of whining from Petunia -- and if there is one thing that makes me lose my cool altogether, it is whining.  When order was restored, despite the pounding in my head, Dash decided that if he was going to have to let Petunia finish watching Tinkerbell, he would make her suffer.  He drug the very large Millenium Falcon -- the one that makes a lot of cool Star Wars noises -- up from the basement and ran circles around her, mock firing at her.  This lead to more whining, especially after the Falcon likely met an untimely end as it flew to the basement out of my own hands, and...

...I have been trying hard this year to yell less, but my voice is gone today.

The kids don't know, but I've been planning a trip into San Francisco tomorrow, driving solo into that big city with them for the first time.  I'm planning to take them to Fisherman's Wharf to see the sea lions by daylight, have a little lunch at their favorite Hard Rock Cafe, maybe even make it over to Ghiradelli Square, a place I've never been... Part of me wants to call it off because they're being so awful to each other, but, at the same time, I know that they'll be on Best Behavior tomorrow if they know it'll get them a trip to the HRC. 

Yet at the same time, part of me also fears that when I say "If you don't stop it right now, I will turn this car around!" I will actually have to do it, and then, after preparing for the day in the city, I'll be sitting in my house for another day. 

It could be worse; I could be the Guv and be working on Veteran's Day.  Oh, wait: I will be working on Veteran's Day.  I'll be the one in the striped shirt with the whistle around my neck, trying to call only the most flagrant fouls, and trying to remember that I'm Californian now, therefore I am zen.  I will use the force for good and not for evil...

A hoppin' good time

Within the last week, I've had two meetings about toys, books and music with very different bents, one with our local co-op preschool and another with the Leap Frog company.

First came our co-op preschool weekly meeting.  It was a terrific meeting in which we discussed scripted and unscripted toys as well as our kids' own favorite toys, books and music.  A "scripted" toy is one that the child plays with as though following a script.  For example, a child might make a Bionicle toy act out scenes from a Bionicle book or movie, rarely deviating from the language and actions that action figure has been assigned through a script.  An "unscripted" toy is something like wooden blocks for which a child has to use his imagination in play.  We talked about striking the balance between offering scripted and unscripted toys, and there are a handful of parents in our school who feel strongly about only offering unscripted toys to their kids.  These are the same kids who don't watch TV and who don't have books based on commercial characters like Barbie or Bionicle.  (In other words, while I like some of these families a whole lot, I don't really understand them at all.)  But the when I looked at my kids' toys, I was surprised that except for the gazillion Barbies and Thomas trains, we don't have a ton of toys based on TV characters, even though I don't limit TV much.  And even with the Barbies and Thomas trains, I haven't ever heard my kids use them in a scripted fashion.  Maybe they inherited my rich imagination, or maybe it's because I play with them and invent stories much more exciting than the televised ones -- who knows.  In any event, the lively discussion gave me lots of great ideas for new books and music -- and the joy of freaking out the Waldorf crowd by sharing how much my kids love to watch and dance along with Michael Jackson videos.  Oh, the horror!  How will they escape their childhood unscathed???

A few days after the co-op meeting, I attended an evening gathering with fellow Silicon Valley Moms Blog writers and the Leap Frog company.  Talk about going from one side of the coin to the other!  Leap Frog brought along a host of their tech toys to demonstrate and sent us home with very generous swag bags so that our own kids can experiment.  In other words, Dash will be getting a Tag Reading System for Christmas, and Petunia will enjoy a Crammer (and "enjoy" is the right word -- the girl LOVES quizzes and flashcards, making me pretty sure of her future admission to Andover and Yale).  Dr. Anne Cunningham of UC Berkeley, who serves as a consultant to Leap Frog, spoke with us all about the development of reading in our children.  At the end of the day, when it came to me, Leap Frog was preaching to the choir; we have a host of their toys in our home already, including the first two versions of the Leap Pad that has been replaced by this Tag system -- and thank goodness for that!  The Tag system is basically a pen used to touch a book -- so no more cartridges to lose, no more books that won't flip right or sit right on their dock... I think the Tag will work much better.  It will be interesting to test it out with Dash at holiday-time, as he's very interested in being read to but has not yet expressed much interest in sounding out letters, whereas Petunia knew all letters and their sounds by his same age.  The coolest thing about these new Leap Frog systems is that they sync with an on-line "learning path" so that we can track what our kids are doing with their toys and how well they're doing in various subject areas.   We'll probably be with Dash when he uses his Tag, but Petunia likely will use her Crammer on her own -- so this syncing mechanism will give us some ideas of where she might need our support.  We can also input challenges, like her own spelling words, into the Crammer.  So, in the end, Leap Frog gets two thumbs-up from me for showing us a nice, informative evening and for sharing some fantastic toys with us.  Since the economy's tough, they'll have to wait until after the holidays for my formal review -- but chances are, I'll be as impressed with these toys (or more so) than I have been with Leap Frog in the past.  Hats off to this company that makes learning fun for kids! 

I have my Christmas list ready to go -- some more Tag books for Dash, American Girl stuff for Petunia -- but perhaps you haven't done your shopping yet. Leap Frog gave us the go-ahead to share a coupon code with readers who might be interested in checking out some of their cool toys for themselves.  The code is HY8BHPR and can be used in their on-line store through November 15.

P.S. The Leap Frog company neither requested nor required me to write about our meeting.  I am doing so of my own free will, as I really do believe in their toys -- which is why I went to the meeting eager to see their new stuff!  And they delivered in spades.  No matter how any of us choose to go about it, reading ought to be a life-long love, in my humble opinion, and the company (in part through consultants like Dr. Cunningham) really thinks about how to inspire and foster that love of reading.  And I think that's pretty darned cool!

Pride and Prejudice

Pride

Not a day passes by when I'm not proud of my children.  They amaze me in so many ways that no explanation I could offer could be understood adequately.  But over the last few days, I have, more than ever before, been filled with so much pride and love for my firstborn child that sometimes, all I can do is cry tears of joy.  Petunia has always been the single most empathetic, kind person I have ever known.  She is filled with such patience and such love that I don't know how her head and heart contains these things.  I fear that she will end up a pediatrician with nine children of her own because she is especially so very good to her brother Dash.  I also fear that because she wears her heart on her sleeve, it will be trampled.  It will be a challenge to teach her to love with some limits -- as in, that boy who tells you "you suck" is not worth your tears.  I will have many years to teach her strength, though.  It is a blessing that I will not have to teach her fundamental kindness.  I will not have to teach her what good citizenship means.  I will not have to teach her fairness, and equality, and the difference between right and wrong because she gets it already.

Last night, when Barack Obama was elected President, Petunia's eyes were glued to the TV screen.  She got a little hung up on the "Wait... they get a new puppy because they're moving into the White House?!" thing (because she -- and I -- and Dash -- want a dog so badly)... But she got past that in time to hear President-elect Obama's tribute to a woman named Anne who lived through a time when neither woman nor blacks could vote.  She heard his references to Dr. Martin Luther King, and she understood those references because we've studied MLK together.  And at the end of the speech, Petunia turned to me and commented, "Can you believe that in Grammy's time, they would've made Obama sit in the back of the bus?"

Petunia is living proof that one can teach your kids how to think about the world instead of what to think -- and the kids will make the right connections anyway.

While my heart burst with pride for Petunia's excitement over demonstrating for No on 8 earlier in the day, that excitement lessened this morning with Prop 8's passage; it will now be in the California constitution that marriage is exclusively for men and women.  When Petunia asked me what this means for her friend's same-sex parents, I had to tell her that, in the eyes of the state of California, they probably were no longer married.  She asked if they were still married in God's eyes; I told her that only God could answer that. 

Her response was: "Well, Mama, I kept my sign, and I guess I'll have to carry it some more then."  She understands already that when you really believe in something, it might not come to pass without a lot of hard work.  She is willing to do that work, and I will be honored to have her at my side while we carry signs and work toward marriage equality for all.  (And, as I noted to friends earlier, I am confident that we will carry those signs for as long as it takes; we will not let you down.)

*****

Prejudice

On a personal note, I am a former member of the Af-Lat-Am society at my boarding school, though I am neither black nor Latina.  I joined Af-Lat-Am because when I showed up at my elite boarding school, the rich white kids from Greenwich wanted nothing to do with a poor (compared to them) kid from rural West Virginia.  The kids from the Bronx, and Queens, and North Carolina, and Tennessee?  The kids that didn't look like me at all?  They befriended me, and they supported me, and they are the reason that I acclimated to and graduated from one of the very best schools in the world.  I did not vote for Obama because he was black.  I voted for Obama for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was his understanding that poverty comes in many forms, and that hope is not owned only by the most privileged in our society. 

It is not lost on me, though, that my native West Virginia -- a traditionally blue state -- voted for McCain.  I felt it coming -- it is a predominately white state, and, having grown up there, I know that prejudice not only exists but thrives there.  But even though I saw the Red vote coming, it hit me like a train, and I cried for my former home like a lost friend.  I know that a host of my kin voted for McCain, and I pray that it's because they felt he would lead best -- and not because he wasn't black.  I'll never know for sure, but I'll suspect forever (well, actually, I won't suspect my kin, but I will suspect a lot of my childhood "friends").  At the end of the day, the joke's on them (except it's not a joke to me, but justice): they now have a black President for at least four years.  But that part of the victory is not sweet to me -- it's a rather bitter pill to swallow.  There is a lot of prejudice in this world still, and it should not have a home in any one of our fifty states, no matter how black or white, gay or straight.  I hope my children live to see less unkindness that I have -- and that if they do see it, they don't become as jaded as me.  I'll work on becoming less so over the next four years -- because, after all, I do believe that Hope applies to me, and to us all.

Because teaching social justice is important

Pnoon8

I took my kids to Town & Country Village in Palo Alto today to hold up "No on 8" signs.  We stood among friends, and the response truly amazed me.

Unsurprisingly, almost every singe Prius honked in support.  My parents (Prius owners) are in a cool club.

The diversity of people who honked, cheered and waved in support shocked me.  A cement mixer driver, a public bus driver, the UPS man, a carload of Mexican painters... They all honked, waved and threw up peace signs.

The resilience of my children, who seemed to understand that they were part of something bigger than themselves, made me so proud.  Petunia sharing a sign with her friend, the daughter of a same-sex couple, especially brought me near tears.  We've talked a lot about how Prop 8 passing might affect this friend and her family, and Petunia has been outraged.  Kids are so innocent that their outrage seems so moral.  Adults could learn a lot from spending five minutes with my eloquent 8 year old, who can tell you exactly why she finds Prop 8 offensive: because all people in this great country should be treated equally... Because my friend deserves to have married parents like I do... Because loving each other "without rules" is the right way to love each other... Because it's what's fair... Because God says to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Those are all HER words, not mine.  Petunia, she is a wise, wise child

She was also right not to take on the elderly lady who pulled up as we were preparing to leave, saying she voted Yes on 8 and suggesting that marriage is only for men and women.  When Petunia asked her why, she said "because marriage is necessary for procreation."  Our friend David came back at her with, "That's not how my wife says babies are made!"  It was funny, and it's so true.  Not only for same-sex couples but also for all the single moms (by choice or not) out there, I wanted to tell this lady to stuff it -- but I didn't.  On the way home, I told Petunia "that's what makes our country so great -- everyone can have their own opinion.  But that's also why we held up signs.  Someone will go to the polls and remember your smiling face, and see a group of friends standing up for something we believe in, and they might not have decided how to vote on 8 yet.  And they might just vote 'no' because they'll remember our group and our enthusiasm and our words: No on 8 because it is unfair and wrong."

"But what if they don't, Mama?  What if they're all like that lady, and they vote Yes on 8 anyway?" Petunia asked.

"Petunia, there was a time when women couldn't vote.  There was a time when blacks and whites couldn't marry.  Times change," I suggested, whispering so that she couldn't hear, "at least, I hope they have."

Tomorrow, or soon thereafter, we'll know about Prop 8 once and for all.  The lesson my kids learned today about standing up for their beliefs will hopefully stay with them for their lifetime.  I didn't learn that until way too late, but, as we suggested to the lady in the car, it's never to late to change -- and today, that change began with my kids.  I am so very proud.

Today, I cried; today, I laughed

Today was All Saints' Day in our church, and it is quick becoming one of my favorite church celebrations.  The lesson each year is the same: we are all called to be saints.  There are known saints (e.g. Saint Christopher, the patron saint of safe travel), but there are also unknown saints walking among us.  The priest pointed out a woman in the congregation and indicated that he feels she's a saint because she is 103 years old (!!!) and never misses a Sunday.  (So what's my excuse for missing church so often?!)   Two years ago, my daughter was asked to draw a picture of an everyday saint.  She drew the nurse at our local doctor's office, who is, indeed, a saint!

All Saints is also a day to remember those who have died in the prior year.  Our church reads the names of the departed aloud.  When it came time for announcements, a man approached the microphone.  He had been with a recently departed church member near her death, and she had told this man that she felt that she lived so long because of the grace of her church.  Now, the concept of grace is much more complex than any Wikipedia entry or I could explain, but it was an interesting concept: grace extending from a community instead of only from God.  The concept of being "graceful" is akin to that idea, I suppose.  In any event, this man said that he wanted to stand in front of the congregation to thank them for the grace they extended him in enabling him to marry his same-sex partner that spring.  My tears came unexpectedly.  Here stood a man who was basically saying: Hey, there's about to be a vote on my right to marry, and, no matter how that vote comes out, the grace extended to him by our community meant something to him.  That something cannot be taken away by a vote.  Relaying the story to my husband this afternoon, I couldn't help but be tearful again.  (This must be how my parents felt years ago when Civil Rights was on the ballot.)  One of our daughter's closest friends has two moms, and for something -- a court, a legislature, even the "popular" vote -- to be on the cusp of possibly telling that family that they are somehow less worthy of standing than my own family is unconscionable to me.  The man that stood before our church today -- I don't even know his name, but he taught me something about grace.  This year, he is my saint, and I aspire to be as grace-full as he.

*****

Meanwhile, the kids and I read "I Am America" (not the Colbert one, the kids one) as part of our nighttime reading, and I explained to Petunia how Tuesday is a big, important day.  I'm hoping that she'll stay up and watch the election returns with me for a while.  I want her to see democracy in action, to feel the buzz and excitement of it all.   But I didn't know that she had already voted...

Petunia: I know, Mama, I know that voting's important.

Mama: Great!  Are you talking about it at school?

Petunia: No, I could vote on the Nick Jr web site! 

Mama: Wow, that's cool!  For whom did you vote?

Petunia: I voted for Obama... THREE TIMES!

(Uh-oh...)

A Must-Read for all Moms -- and Dads

My husband often brings me Philadelphia Magazine from his road trips.  As far as city magazines go, I think it might be the best; the writing is edgy, and it speaks to my generation.  In the recent issue is the most poignant article I've read in a long time: The Existential Crisis of the Wait-at-Home-Mom by Vicki Glembocki.  While I don't agree with every little thing in the article (because what article could speak to all at-home moms, really, as we're all so different), I'm finding myself nodding my head again and again as I read and re-read the article.  I think this piece should be required reading for moms making the decision about whether or not to stay home and for how long -- as well as for the husbands who, like mine, wants to support the decisions I make about my own career and worries with me over whether or not I've made the right call to "stop out" for a while.

You see, I've stepped out of my career in graduate school administration for five and a half years at this point, and, for a long time, it was clear that taking a break was the only choice for our family's needs.   (I'll spare repeating the story of Dash's high needs and the Guv's never-ending travel for the umpteenth time.)  But now, I'm not so sure I need to still be at home, especially while the economy is bad and our family could use a little extra cushion.  To boot, Dash is more manageable, and I think I actually could work part-time.  I'm also always in tune with the example I'm setting for my kids.  I'm not talking about the example I set for my daughter OR my son; their live paths are their choice, and I will never encourage them to either work or to stay-at-home if and when they have kids.  That's their business.  What I'm saying is that I want my kids to know that they are my highest priority, but I also want them to know that I have other things going on in my life, too.  That's part of the reason for my blogging here and for the Silicon Valley Moms Group.  And while I don't yet have "mommy angst," I struggle with the decision of what's right for me versus what's right for my family; the two aren't always the same thing.  To that end, I wrote a post called "I want a divorce!" for the Silicon Valley Moms Blog, and the reception to that post was mixed -- though the Guv supported it, proudly (so I'll stay married to him, I guess).  It was supposed to be a social commentary on how hard it is to be a mom who wonders, "Where am I in this?"

And then I read the article in Philly magazine and realize that someone else got paid to say a lot of what I said a lot better.  Please,  click here to read it