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There have always been mean girls. I remember them, my mother remembers them and if my grandmothers were still alive I'm sure they would remember them too. Mean girls usually aren't your friends. As much as it hurts to be one of their targets you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that they have never been your close friends and real friends would never be mean. All of that changed for our daughter Tali on the day her best friends became the mean girls out of nowhere. They had a great time Wednesday afternoon swimming together and then on Thursday one, Andrea, said to the other, Emma,  "Let's play only with each other at recess, not Tali." And so began my daughter's nightmare. When I picked her up from school she hugged me and cried. I wanted to cry too. I approached the girls with their mothers and Emma's mom was quite upset that her daughter was being exclusive. Andrea's  mom said that you can't be forced to play with someone. That was h

   My children have the wonderful ability to be consistantly inconsistant. Charlie started a new day camp three weeks ago. For the first two and a half weeks at camp I literally had to peal him off of me in front of his counselors before I could walk out the door. Since Tali's camp starts an hour later, we'd often go play at the park on the same campus as his classroom. A few times we ran into his group coming out to sing songs. Every time he saw me he'd wave enthusiastically. I'd blow him a kiss and he'd "catch" it in his hands and put it on his cheek. He seemed so much more grown up than the boy I'd left an hour before.    A couple of weeks ago I took the kids to a BBQ at Charlie's pre-school after camp. Both he and Tali ran around with other kids until dinner was ready. When the food was done I took Charlie with me to fix his plate. He picked out what he wanted while I held it and then we went back to the seat he had chosen next to his friend.

I took the kids to ice-cream tonight after dinner. Charlie ordered his usual: one scoop of choclate on a cone. When it was handed to him he said "thank-you" and went to sit at a table and quietly ate. After a few samples Tali ordered hers and went to sit with Charlie. As the three of us sat enjoying our chosen flavors I looked around the room. There was a woman nursing a newborn while her two pre-schoolers licked their cones. Just beyond them was a family of four whose kids were running around the shop. Charlie noticed a three year old with a handful of paper cups that had been put out for water. She was crumpling them and laughing. "Mommy, why is  that little girl doing that? She's wasting those cups!" Was this really my Charlie talking? "You used to do things like that Charlie." I said. He looked at me with his big eyes, completely shocked. "I did not," he said. "Yes, you did Charlie," I said laughing. Charlie use to c

 Denial is more than just a river in Egypt. It is a lifeline. I swam in it for a long while until I was forced to climb out of that warm, comforting water.  Every time I think I'm finally dry I discover that I need another towel because I've soaked through the one I'm using. I put my feet in the "water" when Richard and I talked about having children. We knew we wanted at least two, maybe more. I had always worked with children professionally and while Richard hadn't, watching him with our nieces and nephews \ was all the evidence I needed that he'd be a phenominal father. We talked about baby names and birth order.  We discussed how we'd raise them and all the things we admired about the other parents we knew. Since we're both Jewish, we knew spirituality would be part of their lives. We'd expose them to sports,  instruments and help them with their homework. I would be the english tutor and he would handle science and history. We'd g

Last summer Tali went to sleep-away camp for the first time. I knew it would happen eventually, and I was excited about it. For her. Nothing seemed appealing about not knowing where my daughter was sleeping or what she was doing all day for eight days. A year before she went I brought up the idea of her going away and she melted into sobs saying through her tears, "You mmm-ean I www-on't see you for eee-ight days?" "Never mind sweetie, " I quickly said, "there's no rush, we'll wait until you're ready." At that point I thought we were still years away. The thought of her not ever going entered my mind, but I hoped that wouldn't happen. Richard and I both loved sleep away-camp. We still talk about our respective experiences, and it has always been our dream to send our children. Camp helped us grow up. While our moms stayed up with us the night before counting out the right amount of shirts, underwear and toiletries, once we got on that

Last month my eight year old daughter, Tali and I had "the talk." I'd been waiting for her to ask me something about the topic for at least a year. Some of her friends had already been told and I wanted to make sure she heard it from me. The opportunity presented itself in an unexpected way. We were watching the Academy Awards. Tali enjoys seeing the pretty actresses in their dresses, but at this moment a clip from the movie,   "The Kids Are Alright" was on our screen. I haven't seen the movie but the plot is about a lesbian couple raising their two children. When the children become teenagers they decide they'd like to find the man who donated his sperm to their moms. In other words, their dad . In the clip being shown the biological father and son were in a car when the son asked him why he donated sperm. He made a joke about it being more fun than donating blood and then said seriously, "I'm glad I did it." I was engrossed in the sce