A Mother’s Guilt, Continued

I guess it’s just one of those days when I am destined to feel guilty—guilty that I have to go to Boston for work tomorrow (even though it is for just one night); guilty that I can’t bring my daughter to her dance dress-rehearsal because of my trip to Boston; and now guilty that I …

“Let’s Go!”

Today I found myself speed-walking to the car, my six-year-old son trailing behind me, saying to him over and over again, “Come on, come on, come on. We’re late.” I obeyed all speed limits, did not run any red lights, but by the time we got to my son’s school, he was a mess. He …