Carnegie Hill Mom

The sweltering summer I was pregnant with twins, I ventured into the uncharted territory of playgrounds. I had heard about a moms’ group that gathered at the park near the hospital where I would give birth.  Even though my babies were still buns in the oven, I couldn’t wait to plug into a network of ladies who knew a thing or two about raising kids in NYC. Without family nearby, that group became my lifeline. In true, pregnant-and-ready-to-burst style, I asked a gazillion questions. One mom still stands out in my memory nine years later. For one, she brought me the most delicious spaghetti and meatballs a week after my twins arrived. More vividly, though, I recall one morning in Central Park. She stationed herself in a shady area near the center of the playground, from which she could spot her toddler no matter which direction he wandered. She pointed out her son navigating a ladder. Suddenly, we noticed a wet spot appear and spread down his shorts. “We’re potty training,” she explaine