I meet Pete and Teddy at the party supply store. It’s their weekend together but I have proposed that we repeat last year’s successful collaboration and select Teddy’s sixth-birthday-party schwag together. When I arrive, Teddy is gleefully fake-stabbing Pete with a variety of plastic swords, scythes, arrows and chainsaws with a gusto that reflects his complete deprivation of such (read on)

Four years

At the state-mandated parenting class that my husband and I took as a precursor to divorce, I heard a number that still rings in my ears. The therapist in front of the projector insisted that blending a family (as in, getting established with a new partner in a new home and integrating all of the kids) takes (read on)

We Are Less Alone Than We Believe

It was our final day of Disneyland, and I was feeling like a world champion. I had planned and paid for this trip, arranged for pet care with my standard multiple pages of instructions, packed for every possible mother-son contingency, spent a full day traveling in which I served as human snack vending machine and (read on)

Baby (Not) On Board

When Pete moved out, our son turned two. He was sleeping in a crib, speaking a few words, wearing diapers. Having become one with the baby monitor, I carried the sounds of him with me everywhere, listening for what he might want or need from the other side of sleep. He was the nerve center (read on)