NYC Moms

Grapes of Wrath

What do you say to the mean mom at your day care?

You know the one. She makes underhanded comments about you or your kid that feel like a slap in the face.

This morning my MM struck again.

I've got ten minutes to do my day care drop off before booking it to the train. So I put my little 2-year-old-ticking-time-bomb in a chair at the table and am fetching her Tupperware of strawberries. MM's little angel (a few months younger than my tot) is also sitting nearby silently eating. Leah asks for grapes, because she's got a good vocabulary and likes to ask for things I didn't pack. Before I can sweetly respond, MM butts in and says "no grapes," very matter-of-factly. I almost think she did it out of habit. But the reply was heard and set off the morning tantrum I was trying to avoid. My kid falls into tears of rage, throws her dish across the table and screams.

While I'm trying to talk Leah back to calm, I hear MM make a snotty comment to her son like, "don't you ever push away your bowl like that." And then explain to the teacher she only said no to grapes. As if she

The Dreaded Snuggle Note

Don't let the name fool you: There are some days when I just dread the "snuggle note."

My day care calls the daily reports they send home a "snuggle note." It gives the lowdown on how many times my kid pooped, when she ate, and how long she napped. All pretty innocent, right? Keep looking.

Then there's the "Daily Remarks" box. Most days, her teacher's write about the good things: "Leah enjoyed painting with green paint." Or, "She loved pointing out the squirrels on our walk." The slide is constantly mentioned as a favored past time.

But somedays, it's like picking up a report card full of Cs. And they're as much for me as they are for her.

There's the ... "noticed her lunch bag has an oder." (I didn't wipe up what leaked.) Or "When Leah didn't

Not Recommended

There are many things I would not recommend. Like, eating Mexican just before going to bed or vacationing in Southern Mississippi in late July (where we coined the term "vomit-hot") but above all I'd say it's not a good idea to start a job and immediately get pregnant. I'm livin' it, baby.

We didn't plan for it ... ok, that's a lie. We were planning to get pregnant this winter to attain the optimal 2.5 year difference between our kids but I was unexpectedly laid off this fall and, frankly, I just wasn't willing to give up that plan. Maybe I just thought it would take more than one try to get pregnant. Boy, was I wrong.

I started my new job a week into my pregnancy, and it took me a few weeks to realize the sleepiness and mild nausea might be more than new-job jitters. It felt far to early to tell my new boss, so I showed up to work everyday hoping that I wouldn't need to puke in the bathroom. My cube felt like it was located on the hull of a mighty ship in a terrible storm. And I nodded off (for seconds!) at not one, not two but three meetings. I felt horrible. Not only because I actually did feel horrible, but I was getting all these new faces the wrong impression. I am a good worker, not someone who dozes off and takes long and frequent bathroom breaks.

Penn Station Sightings

It happened again last night. I was waiting around in the stale basement hallways of Penn Station, willing my train to be one time for once, and a mother strollered up with a little girl around my daughter's age. It felt like a hot knife went straight through my heart. And all I could do was stare at them. How lucky was this mom that she got to spend the whole day with her daughter? Did she even realize?

Don't get me wrong, they looked exhausted, but it didn't matter. I had spent the entire day missing my daughter. I don't all the time. But this morning, she was extra whiny getting dressed, needed extra attention at breakfast and hugged me a little longer when I dropped her off at day care. We've all had those kinds of mornings, when we'd like to stop time for 10 minutes so we can snuggle and read a book. Too often it's go! Go! Go!

Where Are Your Parents?

This may be a strange confession, but it's true: Sometimes, while I'm playing with my daughter, I'll subconsciously find myself wondering when her parents will come home so I can hang out with my friends. Am I the only one?

It makes sense to me. I spent my entire teen years babysitting. I worked as an aid at a child care center, so you can imagine how popular I was to watch kids that already knew me. I had so many job offers that I routinely shot people down, or passed on gigs to my sisters. I'd catch up with my friends after jobs, or take a Friday off to see a movie and hang out at Dairy Queen. I can't even remember one New Year's Eve in high school that I didn't take a high-paying gig babysitting. It's too much money to pass up!