A Tall Girl's Adventures in a Tiny World

I'm thinking about the moms in my life on this Mother's Day. First, of course, I remember the mom who raised me to be the person I am today, the one I look and sound more like with each passing day. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could call her on the phone. I imagine today what she would be like as a grandmother, and I smile. I think, too, of her mom, my own grandmother, the woman who spoiled me with frilly dresses and girlie gifts as a child, who traveled the country ringing a bell in the stands at my basketball games. She has stood tall by my side through happy and sad times as an adult and I'm so blessed to be standing by her side through next chapter of her fabulous life. I think of my husband's mom, as well, the woman who raised the most amazing man I've ever known. She has taken me into her family without hesitation, with an open heart, and loves me as her own daughter. I think of the moms who have filled in the gaps for me, the women who have lift...

Once upon a time, Big Daddy and I lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a large apartment complex. A quiet building full of retirees who looked after us and doted on us like their grandchildren. We would call maintenance when the washing machine overflowed and flooded the kitchen, or when the window leaked and stained the wall, or when the air conditioner unit froze up, or even when we locked ourselves out. They would come within 24 hours, fix the problem, accept a cold beer as a thank-you tip, and be on their way. We lived there for four years. Yet I complained about it every week -- hated that we had nothing to call our own, longed for a backyard and garden, felt sad that we didn't have enough space to store the bread machine we received as a wedding gift. Then we moved to a condo, a nice little place with three bedrooms and three levels, a pretty little balcony on the living room level and a patio through French sliders on the ground level. Nice big rooms, but...

I often joke about being the recipient of the Mother of the Year Award -- usually when I've done something horrible or neglectful or stupid as a mother. So imagine my delight to learn with this breaking news story that I am, in fact, this year's recipient of the coveted award! One of the funniest e-mails I've received in a long time -- I'm just replaying and replaying and replaying it. In other news, I read today that if stay-at-home moms were actually paid for the work they do on a daily basis, they'd be earning over $122,000 annually. Not bad. And working moms would be earning over $76,000 in addition to their at-work salary. (With that kind of cash, I could actually hire the nanny, personal trainer, and chef that I long for!) I happen to think what we do is priceless, but this gives it interesting perspective. I suppose, too, we're paid in other ways...snuggles, kisses, tiny hands holding ours, sweet voices singing made-up songs. It's nice work if you ca...

"Grow old along with me / the best is yet to be." These lyrics from our wedding song seem especially poignant to me today, after visiting with my grandparents this weekend. " We met at my church, you know. " Out of the blue, my grandmother (the original Tall Girl who still has show-stopping legs) will start her tale of her first encounter with my grandfather: "My mother always invited the young servicemen at church home for dinner, because my brother was in the service, you see. As we walked to the church door, I noticed that it was raining. I was upset about this, you see, because I had on my brand new shoes (in those days you had to have a coupon for new shoes, so these were very special to me) and I knew I had to cross the street to get to the car. I stood and watched the water rush down the street, and I tried to decide if I should just take my shoes off and run in my hose. That's when he stepped up beside me. He asked why I fretted, and I giggled about...

I hold in my hand the statement of charges for last month's trip to the ER. Here is the breakdown of what my insurance paid: Ultrasound $2565 Emergency room $2646 Blood admin $458 Laboratory $1958 Laboratory $1813 Total payments $8640 A few things run through my mind as I examine this: (1) For this much money, couldn't they have provided me with a long enough bed, an actual blanket, and perhaps a pillow? And is that $2646 "emergency room" charge so high because of the 4 hours I waited in the triage area, for the 4 hours I waited for lab results (even though we all knew what the hell was actually happening)? Or is this charge simply for the remarkably bad bedside manner of the napoleonic attending doc, who couldn't even bother to look at me when asking about my bleeding vadge and who seemed pissed off at me for wasting his time by miscarrying a 10-week-old fetus on his lunch break? (2) Had I known the u/s was going to cost $2565, I would have asked her to check out...

Travel with me, for a moment, into my subconscious and take a listen to this fabulous dream I had the other night: I'm in a Presidential press conference, standing against the wall at the side of the room where all the really important people stand, right next to my BFF, Michelle Obama. Barack (and I can call him Barack now because my status as a press conference wall-stander indicates that we're tight) is standing at the podium talking about the latest jobless figures, the mounting Taliban threat in Pakistan, our over-dependence on foreign oil, yadda yadda yadda. A reporter stands up and asks "But Mr. President, what are you going to do about the pirates?" With that question, Barack pauses, looks down at his hands, then looks straight at me and says, "Pirates? Pirates?! That's it. I'm done." And he storms out of the room. But wait -- it gets better: A number of people race after him, shouting "Mr. President! Mr. President! Come back! We're...

My belly is too big, and I'm sick of it. So I bought running sneakers this weekend. Mind you, I haven't really run since I stopped playing basketball. That was 1995. There was a brief period just before I found out I was pregnant with Sweet Boy that I jogged often. It was a stressful time -- Chris had been in the hospital for almost a month, and I found the only way I could deal with it was to just go outside and run. I've had some stress in the last few months, one could say, so lately I've been feeling that same urge. To just be outside, pounding my angst out on the pavement. My BFF said to me, when I'd told her I bought running sneakers, "Um, did you forget that you hate to run?" It's true. While I'm running, I really hate it. My knees hurt, I cough like a chain smoker, I am keenly aware of all the flabby parts of my body. I don't know if you could even call it running; what I do is more like lumbering, trodding, ka-thumping. More elephant t...