So, now it is time for the next confession—I support breastfeeding and attachment parenting. The flap about Time magazine’s attachment parenting cover astounds me. The cover features a mom with her toddler standing on a chair nursing, both facing the camera. The magazine fears stores will “cover” up the cover, like a recent Jessica Simpson pregnancy cover, or ban the issue entirely. And over what? No breast showing beyond her workout clothing, certainly less than many ads selling questionable products with sexual innuendo, nothing of substance showing, merely the suggestion? This is not a …

So, now it is time for the next confession—ever notice how cute truly little people are when someone else is entertaining them and chasing after them? At the airport, flying away from my little people, I found myself gravitating where the little people were. Each flight, I was in front of or behind a toddler. Sitting at the gate, I parked near the overly energetic preschooler whose parents were frantically trying to burn some of that energy off before we had to sit still for our second four-hour flight. During the flight, I played “got your finger” with the 18-month-old in front. Whenever her…

So, now it is time for the next confession—going away is hard to do. Here I sit, on the cusp of a (hopefully) wonderful 10 days away on the East Coast for a conference. I have college friends to visit, family to stay with, shopping and museums in New York City, and no one else’s schedule to accommodate or no one to travel with me. Instead of mapping out the highlights of my trip, who to visit, what to see, where to go, I am in packing panic, mom-style. Six days until blast off and I am lost in a sea of preparation. Going away feels like developing a mini-battle campaign. Anxiety rules. I feel…

So, now it is time for the next confession—I need to go back to school. Being the news junkie that I am, I was cruising my my iPad and discovered an article about having “the talk” with your teen, a talk I had never heard before and for which I was woefully unprepared. The author, Kim Komando, shamed me into admitting I know nothing. My children will be so excited over the admission that I know nothing, which they have been saying for years, that they might not squawk at all the new privacy conditions I impose on their use of technology after reading this article. Teenagers’ glee aside, this …

So, now it is time for the next confession—it’s a scary world out there as a parent. (For those of you with small children, you might want to skip this one. Sorry, graphic conversation ahead.) This week our reading group discussed Crash Into Me, an autobiographical account of a naïve college student who was assaulted her first year in college, a true story that John Grisham based his story, The Associate on. The book brought back all the naïveté of college, when people were assumed to be friends and safe until proven otherwise. The world of fraternities, drinking parties, college …

So, now it is time for the next confession—I don’t do balancing well. So why do people compliment me so much on it? I feel trapped on the roller coaster of mommy-dom, climbing arduously up the pinnacle to accomplish something, then screaming down the hill at warp speed, navigating all the whiplash turns and twists before starting the next climb. How anyone can mistake this for a balanced life and a balanced mom is beyond me. Maybe it’s the calm look on my face as panic and chaos wrestle for control of my mind that deludes them. But it’s definitely not balance, more like juggling stacks of …

So, now it is time for the next confession—I give too much, of my time, my energy, my emotions. Talking to a friend last night, we discussed loving yourself, taking time for yourself, and somehow got into that mom thing about giving and giving until you have nothing left to give (not saying dads don’t, just not a guy and don’t know about all that). The diagnosis was simple: As a mom, I find it easier to give than to get. It’s much more fun to shop for gifts for my girls, yet accepting gifts is always an awkward interlude. I am probably too appreciative of the efforts others make, yet thanks, …

So, now it is time for the next confession—why does taking time for yourself as a mom induce such guilt? Here I am, escaping to Vegas with a friend on our annual Thelma and Louise getaway, minus Brad Pitt and any hint of a cliff, and I keep calling home to see what’s going on. My little people are so close to being adults, you would think I would be able to get with the program and relax. Instead, I have morphed into compulsive check-in mom, imagining anything that could go wrong and checking in to make sure it didn’t. I hear from friends, from experts, from my husband, how important it is to…

So, now it is time for the next confession—I am one of the paranoid parents the United States overflows with these days. Reading a New York Times article this week on eco-greening parenting and the paranoia of American parents, I recognized myself. The article examined parents worried about the toxicity of the environment, the ubiquity of chemicals in our daily lives and the dearth of knowledge on the side effects of those chemicals. It revealed the depths to which some parents go to detoxify their lives when they have children and the relative ignorance in which they operate. And I do mean …

So, now it is time for the next confession—why is so much of being a parent about being mean? A friend was joking about my email address, whether it was the mean mother, the cranky mother, or the evil mother. The implication was there were all the same and ubiquitous to parenting. A child of mine labeled me a submarine parent, forcing her children to face reality, unlike the helicopter parent, who rescues her children from reality. The slams continue on a daily basis. I feel like I walk around in a perpetual bad mood just from the negativity directed my way. After a while, the label starts to…

So, now it is time for the next confession—I have lost my maternal instincts. When the second round of flu hit our household this month, I found myself floundering. The first round was fine, fever, chills, coughing, sneezing, I could handle. It surfaced during daylight hours when my brain was useful. The second round, full-on stomach flu, was beyond my rusty skills. Spring instantly to wakefulness as a sick child enters the room? I barely remember where I am when I wake up in the middle of the night these days. Comfort someone as they are sick? It took five minutes before I thought of a cool …

So, now it is time for the next confession—I am a wimp about this parent driving stuff. What happened to driver’s education being part of high school? I understand the budget issues but still, what happened to completing all of that driving with the trained driver’s ed professional? They had the right car, overriding steering wheel, their own set of brakes, and mirrors that worked for them as well as the driver in training. Plus, they were trained professionals that had chosen this career path, hopefully earning hazardous duty pay along the way. And they weren’t the parents, a win-win …

So, now it is time for the next confession—I am somewhat in awe of the Albemarle Man. You know, Facebook diatribe daughter rants how awful her parents are for requiring her to do chores, North Carolina dad dispatches the instrument of her posting with his gun. I don’t approve of his methods, but I share his frustration with his teenager and the lack of acknowledgement, much less gratitude given for all the perks our kids enjoy.  His daughter enjoys the privilege of possesing her own computer, dad spends time and money upgrading it, she has the privilege of an unmonitored Facebook account (the…

So, now it is time for the next confession, in case anyone missed it the first time —I am a feminist. And apparently, in today’s political climate, I am a raging, radical feminist. I have opinions about women and politics and men and who controls what and very strong opinions about hypocrisy. Opinions I am finally starting to share with my daughters. Before we go any further, let me clarify my position. I have several friends who let conservative talk show hosts define feminism for them. I largely ignored the talk and kept the peace. But then they started spouting those definitions around my …

So, now it is time for the next confession—I think I am too prepared. This week, I gave my fourth jump start, almost as many as weeks in the new year. Everyone seems to know I carry jumper cables, duct tape, tools, office supplies, you name it, I probably have it in the back of my car. Especially my children, probably because they help me reload it and organize it. They volunteer my assistance, my tools, my time, my supplies in the blink of an eye. Rainy day carpool, the lament that someone is cold earns them the loan of my alumni sweatshirt or one of the child sweatshirts, stashed in the …

So, now it is time for the next confession—I despise shopping. Having three daughters you would expect me to enjoy shopping, but the shopping gene apparently passed me by. Maybe growing up with brothers warped my priorities because shopping, for fun or by necessity, doesn't appeal to me. I have bribed friends to take my daughters shopping and have arranged a standing date with their godmother for her to handle prom and wedding dresses. Now, I can certainly shop 'til you drop if needed but ... it ranks alongside having blood drawn and dental procedures in my list of things I would rather be …

So, now it is time for the next confession—parenting these days feels like a roller coaster. Life with teens is a series of repeated events. Chugging along, you greet upcoming challenging hills with equal measures of dread and anticipation, enjoy thrilling microseconds of success as you reach the top of whatever peak, then plunge into fear and worry as you charge down the hill for the next part of the ride. Commiserating with another mom over a cup of coffee, I recognized (again) the roller coaster I was on as we compared notes about our daughters. Listening to her stories as she caught me up…

So, now it is time for the next confession—this drug situation in our schools and community is scaring me. I like to think my children are level-headed and reasonable little people, but I keep seeing kids that I have always sized up as being similar to my kids making bad decisions regarding this stuff. And I am just the tiniest bit terrified. It is a problem that defies logic. Drugs are bad, right?  Ask a “know everything” teenager to define bad. Understand that adolescent logic immediately downgrades most parent “serious conversation” to media-fueled hysteria. Add in the invincible teen …

So, now it is time for the next confession—I am a bad mother. Observing my children, I see a litany of my faults paraded before my eyes every day.  Procrastination, being too nice, over-scheduling, boredom, nothing finished, forgetting to pay oneself first, too many interests and not enough time … all play out with my children. Like holding a mirror to myself, I see many of the things I don’t like about myself reflected in my children’s actions. Sometimes it is worth a laugh. Watching one daughter try to schedule three radically different activities into one afternoon was worth the repeated …

So, now it is time for the next confession—my children commandeer all of their parents’ free time. Here we are, in the midst of winter break, and I somehow thought there would be free time available for me to relax and enjoy. Instead, there seems to be a green light on more extra activities … requests for shopping, movies, ice skating, adventures with friends and sleepovers abound these days.  Almost as much time is spent coordinating these plans by phone, text and email as the activities themselves take, so time spent not driving is utilized discussing the driving. Every day is a new …