mothers on the verge

Today I am instituting a new task. When confronted with something or with (borrowing reader Sarah's fab phrase) "The Crazy" I am going to do a small positive. At the least it might dispel some of that itch to rant insanely to others. At the best it might actually dispel some of that itch to think about it all day long. 11:26 am and already needed a fix. So I sent a thank you email, made a donation, and have managed to avoid the jelly beans and the urge to call The Prince and have him tell me how right I am. (He never does though....anyone else have significant others who just won't tell you what you're begging to hear?? Infuriating.) Back to the mill.

I hate conflict. Odd that I would then choose journalism as a profession, yes? But truthfully where I come into most conflict? As a mother. Before The Kid was born I had learned to navigate potential minefields by spotting them miles ahead. I had a conflict radar eons wide and if I so much smelled a problem, I would dart the other way. I perfected a wide smile, a small laugh, was expert at changing subjects in group environments, and surgical with quips designed to deflect tension. Then The Kid was born and I discovered that her very existence attracted conflict like shark to chum. Having a child means engaging with other parents. And get a group of parents together and the needs that radiate from them are vibrant: Is my son reading level lower than his best friend? Will her teacher like her? How did their daughter get into that college? Do her parents like me ? These are often not topics that are dispelled with "Can you believe what Snooki did?" I find all of it dram...