It starts. Only the fourth day of school, and my sixth-grade daughter calls me to tell me an eighth grader whistled at her in the hallway today. She mimics the sound over the phone, then pauses. "It made me feel so weird!" she says. "What do I do?" Oh, lord. I wish I had better advice to offer her in this moment than I do, knowing too well the full extent of how she's feeling now, how she felt in that moment. The weird knot in her stomach. The increase in her heart r

My daughter started middle school today. Yesterday, over an endless game of War, she confessed her fear: "What if I can't open the door?" she asked, trumping my 10 with a Jack. "I'm not sure I can walk inside. It's so big!" I nodded, thinking back to my own school days. Then, taking her 7 with a queen, said, "You'd be surprised how far a deep breath can take you." Today, I remind myself of this, and remember to breathe. Unlike many mothers, my daughter's first foray in

I’ve finally done it, that thing I kept talking about, over and over, for the past nine months. And guess what? It feels great! I’m more productive, less anxious about deadlines, and more at peace with myself. In fact, it’s been going so great, I can’t believe I didn’t start sooner! No, I’m not talking about a new diet or workout routine. No, it isn’t a re-energized sex life. I’m talking about something much, much simpler. A thing we’ve all heard about, and yet rarely find th

My son turned one this month. He is walking, running, pointing, gesturing, saying words like “come” and “sister,” laughing, playing jokes, and learning about boundaries – his own and those of other people. He is not, however, sleeping through the night. In fact, after 40 weeks of pregnancy and 12 months of baby, a “good night’s sleep” for me is still a three-hour chunk of uninterrupted slumber followed (or preceded) by a couple of 90-minute chunks. I’m exhausted, and the get-

My life revolves around a schedule. It isn’t because I want one. (I’m not a natural planner, and I chafe under rigidity and obligation.) It’s because I need one. With an unpredictable chronic illness, an ever-changing infant on the cusp of toddlerhood, and a sweet-but-sometimes-explosive adolescent girl, my schedule keeps me sane. It helps me pencil in time to work, read, and relax. It ensures I get a shower or bath more often than every 72 hours, and it reminds me that (even