This Piece of Time

On the way home from soccer, the girls and I were talking about school and when they would go to college.  The conversation ended something like this: Paige: So you went to college to be a mom? Me: Well, they don't really teach how to be a mom in college? Paige: So they just didn't teach you anything? Not exactly, but some day's it sure feels that way!  Take today for example.  The morning started with Paige refusing to get in the van because she didn't feel well.  By the time I convinced her to move, Emerson had not only stepped in dog poop but had smeared it all over his socks and jeans.  After a quick cleaning of the shoes and grabbing extra clothes to clean the boy up, we left for school only to realize that I had failed to feed anyone breakfast.  Lovely.  Paige hates breakfast, so she was not disappointed to be missing a meal, but my Brooklyn is a Farmers Platter kind of girl and Emerson was already begging for a drink.  Starbucks to the rescue!  Fast forwa

You know him as Adam.  I call him Neil.  He calls me Liz, which is better than Taco.  Trust me.  We've been there. Our story goes back 20 years.  Two thirds of my life.  I did the math.  It blew my mind.  I was the mother in our 4th grade play of Peter Pan and he was my youngest son, wearing red long john pjs with a butt flap.  The following year, I crossed him out of my year book and wrote "emenies" next to his picture.  He was excellent at spelling.  Me, not so much.  This may have fueled my hatred. I have no memory of this boy through middle school, but in high school he caught my eye.  Or should I say, someone guessed that I liked him and after a few seconds of consideration I decided to go with it.  Before that moment, the thought had never crossed my mind.  I was 15.  My reasoning skills hadn't exactly matured. Little did I know that one moment in a chemistry class would impact my life forever.  In the next few years, I would fall in love with a boy and

If you know my children, you know that movies are an issue in our house.  Convincing our girls to watch a movie can take weeks and more often than not brings them to tears.  The reason: Paige can not handle suspense and Brooklyn wants to be like Paige.  We once made her watch Toy Story and she sobbed through the second half.  (That may qualify as faulty parenting.)  I can count on one hand the number of full length movies she will sit through and most of those were discovered in the last six months.  So tonight when they both agreed to rent Hotel for Dogs at the Redbox, I was impressed.  Five minutes into the movie Paige was freaking out, but that passed. Towards the end of the movie the dogs are taken away by dog catchers to the pound and I began to hear a whimpering.  As I looked down, I noticed that Brooklyn is shaking and when she turns her little face is wet with alligator tears, lip quivering.  "Why are they going to kill the puppies?" she cries.  In that moment, I co