mothers on the verge

Spanish lessons on Monday. Piano Tuesday. Tap Wednesday. Gymnastics Thursday. Acting classes Friday. Today, kids after school activities sound like a barrage of programs and classes that rival what I even did in college . Parents tell me their kids love it, ask for the sessions, even as the mom (it's almost always the mom) sits there with dark circles and a slow, drooped smile saying how much she loves it too. I always found the scheduling hilarious. But now I'm wondering if the joke is on me. The Rabbit takes tap and piano classes two days a week -- one for each. I'm the one that found the ceramic course, the karate classes and mused about starting a science club until she put a kabbash on my frantic plans. "Mama, I want some time to just play." Sigh. It's hard when your 7-year-old is more sane than you. But I do worry (I live in New York surrounded by other helicopter parents, how could I not worry?) that with every other kid in classes 4 to 5 times a

Clearly brain mites are spreading across Manhattan today because nearly unanimously I'm encountering static -- in some cases real static on my phone -- but in other cases where people are behaving as if I've thrown acid in the face of a beloved dog and then announced I planned to roast it with Sunday dinner. I suppose in polite corners we might call this "miscommunication." But where I'm sitting I just call it -- people behaving like donkeys.

So, everything is still kind of crazy Chez YLM. Tiddler is coming up to three months now and sleeping a miraculous five hour stretch every night, but somehow I'm still firmly entrenched in the baby bubble. My world has shrunk to an obsessive interest in baby poo and sleep cycles with no hope of parole. I thought I was different, that this being my third nipper I was past the baby bore stage. I was confident that giving birth would shift me effortlessly back into Me mode... I was so wrong. Why is it that when you give birth some of your brain seems to be delivered along with that 7lb-something bundle of joy?  Right now I'm operating somewhere left of Planet Idiot so fingers crossed I find my way back to Normal sometime this century. Ordinary conversation is beyond me. My mind (what's left of it) is stuffed full of fat baby thighs and the aroma of newborn poo. There isn't much room for anything else beyond remembering to buy milk and what day homework is due in. I keep

Does anyone hate exercise as much as I do? While not calling myself a couch potato, if I have to think about exercising it's not going to happen. Living in New York means that I exercise just by going outside. Picking the Rabbit up from school and walking her home is already a 20-25 minute walk. And considering I'm always late I practically run to the school -- more aerobic exercise for me! But if it means I have to go to a studio, a workout room, or please -- a class? -- it's not going to happen. I've tried yoga classes which I love. But working from a home office, when I have a hard fast stop time in the middle of my day (it's called a child) means I am very reluctant to don the workout clothes, walk to a class, come home, shower and restart. That's 2 hours out of my day -- and honestly? I don't feel I have that. Yes, I have tapes, and barbells, and those stretching bands that I'm supposed to use for resistance. And no I don't run ever since

image courtesy of Jessica Diamond. you know you are! ;)