Carnegie Hill Mom

In last night’s dream, I found myself at a rural version of our Manhattan school. Due to the coronavirus, school wasn’t in session, but children with no place to go kept wandering in and sneakily doing relay races from our canceled Field Day, hoping no authorities would notice. I was wheeling a dolly down the hall with a particularly smelly load. Turns out I was the new custodian managing pest control and porta-potties. Excellent. At least I had a job! Early the previous morning, I woke up from a nightmare in which I had forgotten to show up for my Kindergartener’s remote learning class two days in a row (first a call, then an in-person meeting) because we were at my older kids’ class meeting at a basketball court. So much for social distancing! I had somehow lost complete track of my three-year-old while chatting with another mom. And now I had a message coming through saying that I would need to make up lesson plans about “leech colors” for the Kindergarteners. I groggily googl...

Do you ever feel like you’re parenting from a crouched position? Sure, I literally crouch to talk to my kids at eye level, to pick up toys before someone trips , and to find that missing sock. But I also crouch mentally—constantly prepared to pounce on any problem that comes my way. Moms are at the ready. All. The. Time. We are ready to bear hug a child fearing a flu shot, whip up dinner in five minutes flat, sing the ABCs on repeat, and keep walking through the sleet when their toddler falls asleep in the stroller. Ready to unearth a Band-Aid from a forgotten purse pocket, change wet sheets at 2 a.m., pump if the baby won’t latch, and come up with a logical consequence for every new form of naughtiness. We relentlessly plan for the day, knowing full well that something will derail along the way. A playdate will turn sour. The milk will run out. The babysitter will get pink eye. The broccoli will (heaven forbid!) touch the mac and cheese on a dinner plate. A loving b...

“Are there any new presents under the tree?” chirped my daughter the moment she bounded through the door after school. “Are these all the presents we’re going to get?” she asked, re-inspecting the loot and grumbling, “Why does Zachary get the biggest gifts?” Fifteen minutes after school pickup—and I already needed a mommy timeout. I can’t stand seeing materialism brainwash my daughter, leaving an ungrateful heart in its wake. During gifting seasons, my daughter shows an utter lack of gratitude for the bounty before her. Even when she unwraps something on her wish list, she blurts out, “I don’t like Legos…I wish I had the purple one…Did I get any money? Can I pick out anything on the computer?” Thankfully, my daughter’s fascination with gifts isn’t limited to receiving them. Her favorite activity is wrapping up toys and odds and ends from around the apartment and presenting them to friends and siblings. Last week, my daughter gave one such gift to her classmate and then...