Adventures In Motherhood

Ladies' night out proved rejuvenating last week. It was long overdue, and a chance to recharge before tackling a week of solo parenting with my "united front" man out of town. The Cadillac margarita on the rocks was just what the doctor ordered after a 95-degree day, and for a while I imagined we were in Tuscany, perched on an elevated terrace overlooking a tiled courtyard. Better yet, there wasn't a child in sight. "Son of a nutcracker!" Jessica's outburst jolted me to 1935. It reminded me of my late father-in-law, who favored expressions like "Jiminy Christmas." I can't remember what prompted her to blurt out such an old-fashioned phrase. I only know that, in the days that followed, it made complete sense. I'll admit I was a little spoiled last week. The following night, my husband and I headed to the new Ford Amphitheater for an O.A.R. and Gavin DeGraw concert before he caught an early-morning flight overseas for work. I wasn't t...

My kids messed with the wrong mom. Further proof that their prefrontal cortices are still under construction. I applaud them, however, for testing the boundaries as normal teens do, as well as testing my bona fides as a former trained CIA operative, because now, they've given me a chance to prove my skill set. With more eyes on the prize - empty-nesting in t-minus three years - the stakes have never been higher to prove my children can, and will, achieve their goals, if it's the last thing I guide them to do. Despite my menopausal mania, tradecraft proved effective and Operation Buzzkill a success.  "You get in less trouble if you tell the truth," has always been my mantra.  At times when they were younger, I swore by the old lie-detector test - the one where they'd place their palms down on mine and I'd ask them questions while locking their eyes. Behavior assessment and elicitation, now less effective, probably because their pupils are frozen from too much s...