How was your day?

It's a question I ask my husband every evening - as much out of habit as out of genuine curiosity. I do care (deeply) about his happiness, but I also want some connection to that full time, professional world I gave up years ago. I don't miss it. Often. And I don't regret my decision to stay home. Much. On a whole, we're a more balanced and happy family. But every once in a while...

Are there days when you miss that grueling 9-to-5 pace? Are there days when you'd love to get dressed up and go out to lunch with a client or coworkers? Are there days when you wish you had someone else's deadlines to worry about instead of your self-imposed list of chores?

Days as a mom are frequently trying (on positive days, I realize I'm learning patience). But every mother of grown children and every grandmother I talk to gets that misty look in her eye when I mention I have young kids. I know this time is precious. These fleeting moments will never be recaptured. And I cherish the chance to be here for them all. Most of the time.

Recipe for disaster

It's canning time. I've spent the last three full days in the kitchen peeling, cutting, cooking , freezing and canning peaches. I've also made a peach cobbler, a peach crisp and a peach pie. With the help of two young children.

My kitchen wasn't just sticky. The floor actually made a sucking sound when you tried to walk across it. I won't even try to describe the mess on my cooktop. Suffice it to say I spent a good hour trying to get that back to its normal pristine white.

The satisfaction comes from that first sunshine-bright bite of warm peach. I also like spending quality time with my kids, teaching them basic math and baking skills.

I love my kids and I love to cook. But the two do not always make for a fabulous combination. Next year, I may just have to wish for a late frost.

Turn out the lights

I love light. The natural kind. That's why my house has eight skylights. My youngest child still naps. But only in the dark. So we're learning to compromise. She's learning to nap in the near-dark. I'm trying not to pout at the idea of covering one of my favorite house features.

Do you have a favorite item that others don't see as so, well, great?

The morning cuppa

I haven't been sleeping well. Heat, stress, waking kids and general unrest have led to a week's worth of broken nights. Scientists have told us for years most people need eight to eight-and-a-half hours of shut-eye to keep everything functioning properly. That's great, but I also rely on my morning cup of coffee.

Each morning this week I've made the brew stronger hoping it would jump start my zeal for the day. It hasn't worked. But the coffee's been strong, black and hot. Maybe I'll just try another cup.

The other cycle

Girls = drama. At least this holds true at my house. As we prepare for another school year, my eldest child is beginning to dread that first day. Will there be a bully? Will any of her friends from last year be in her same class? Will the bigger - and better - playground really be more fun?

Simple worries to be sure. But they dominate her thoughts. And she's begun to act out. As she gets more wound up, I get more tense. This is not a good cycle. In fact, the slope goes from slippery to a plunging drop-off almost immediately. And with no childcare and lots of errands to run, this week looks bleak.

Last night, I sat down to sketch out a strategy. First, we're going to visit the school - and new class room - tomorrow. If possible, we'll get a list of classmates. We're reconnecting with school friends and spending quiet time reading together.

Like any cycle, this too shall pass.

That's mine

For the first time in my life, I live in what might be dubbed a "country setting." We have a couple of acres of land in an established neighborhood; the land and green spaces mean there are lots of critters that live near us. Some want to live with us. I'm not OK with that.

This year our peach tree went nuts. The peaches are plentiful and growing large - some bigger than my fist. But here's the problem: the birds and the field mice think this is there buffet. I disagree. We've been fighting about it for the past three months. I have to admit, I'm not winning as I'd hoped.

This morning, my husband and I awoke to a cheery chorus of birds right out our wind. You guessed it, that's where the peach tree is. The tree is netted and securely tied with no easy ways in but the birds solved this problem by standing on the netting and pecking through. I'm realizing I don't have a choice. In this case, sharing is inevitable. But I plan to get enough peaches for pies and preserves. The birds will just have to deal with it.

Dog hunt

The inevitable question, "Mom, can we have a dog?" has at last been uttered - with increasing frequency.

We had a dog. But his glaucoma and stiffness from arthritis meant he wasn't the companion for kids he used to be. Walking into a tossed aside toy led to yelps of alarm and pain. So, Jay Jay, my lovely American Eskimo who'd guarded my house while in college and laid next to me as I nursed both my children, went to grandma's house. Luckily, grandma had another dog to be his friend. And no toys to trip over.

So now in a new neighborhood known for coyotes, pack rats and hawks, we're looking for a furry family friend. I'm thinking big this time: Bernese Mountain dog or perhaps a Great Pyrenese.

But I'm the one who will have to walk the dog, clean up after the dog and buy the mountain of food such dogs require. Makes me think a toy poodle is sounding better and better. Problem is, I think a dog should be big enough for kids to flop on. That's what I loved best about our dogs growing up: wrestling on the floor.

As I watch the rescue sites and the SPCA for a good candidate, I am conflicted. What dog will be best for our family?

Tax-free shop-a-day

Today starts my state's tax-free holiday. I anticipate this event - not so much because of the lack of sales tax but for the sales that go along with it. I am a sale junkie. I make a beeline in any store for the clearance rack. I refuse to pay full price for any garment, ever.

So today, the kids and I are getting ready to head out the door; after a few hours of whining, hiding in clothes racks and endless sighs when I say, "Let's try this one on," we will come home bags of clothes richer and pockets empty. But that's OK. Kids need clothes (so do I). And we're having a clothes swap at the end of the month to get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit (or fit in the closet).

How will you spend your tax-free holiday?

I will not shave my legs

I admit it. I hate shaving. It's liking mopping the floor; within minutes dark splotches mar the pristine cleanliness (faster if I got a chill, which was pretty much as soon as I stepped out of the shower). But I'm from the South, and by the time I was four, I understood that women do not leave their home without being completely decked out. That means hair is neatly in place, makeup is perfect and legs are shaved.

Here's my secret: Epilady. When I got pregnant with my second child, I was looking for a way to remove unwanted hair that didn't involve chemicals or puncturing a lung while trying to bend over the basketball my middle had become. Epilady was my comprise. Now, nearly four year later, I get the little gizmo out about once a month. My legs simply don't need touching up more than that. For which I say Hallelujah! There are way more important things I need to do. Like mop the floor.

Dust and clean

My dirty little secret? I hire a babysitter. Three or four hours a week, in the middle of the day. It's my gotta-make-that-phone-call, serious concentration time.

What always amuses me about the experience is my need to have the house spanking clean before the babysitter arrives. I spend three or four hours sweeping, mopping, sorting, and dusting so I can get three or four hours for myself.

I can't decide what I think about that, but I will say this. It is nice to end the day with a house that just got a face lift.

No, I haven't

Been taking care of myself, that is. Got too busy, and I fell off the list.

Big no-no.

But it's a fresh month, a fresh week. And today, I'm movin on up to a deluxe spot at the top of the to-dos.

My three gifts to myself:

1. Writing time
2. Sunbathing time
3. Reading time

Success undefined

Who's the most successful person you know? My guess is this person is very busy wielding his or her power, buttoning up negotiations and bringing home a hefty pay check. But is that person happy?

As I get older, I'm realizing that happy moments are the real accomplishment. Laughter is central; I'm not sure how I'd survive without the giggly moments with my children or my husband's dry wit.

People will ultimately define my success not as a byline or publishing deal. Long after everyone's forgotten the article or book, my friends and family will support me, cheer for me and hold me as I struggle to keep my footing in this precarious world of ambition. For them, I am thankful; because of them, I have the chance to achieve on a much larger scale.

So perhaps I need to redefine success.

Just say no

I dislike saying no to a project. As a freelancer, my work comes sporadically; I can have a week or two so intense I barely sleep. These peaks are typically followed by valleys of near thumb twiddling. I so fear the slow weeks, I tend to over-commit. Oh, you've done that too?

Why do we feel like we need to take on so much? I know my limitations, but I tend to turn a blind eye to them. I always - won't I ever learn? - paint a much rosier picture than reality turns out to be. So, my goal is to be choosier. I will do less, which means I'll make less. But more importantly, I'll sleep more and spend time with my family. Hmm, maybe that's what they mean by discriminating taste.

Lunchbox losers

Did you know some lunchboxes have lead in them? Other problem toxins are phthalates and BPA. In your child's lunchbox.

So what's a parent to do? Find web sites that offer chemical-free options. Here are four options:

www.reusablebags.com
www.organize.com (type in lead free lunch box)
www.amazon.com (type in lead free lunch box)
http://www.potterybarnkids.com/shop/k/kids-gear/index.cfm?cm_type=lnav (currently offering free shipping)

It wasn't me

I have two kids. I expect them to take responsibility for their actions. This is central to my ideals both as a parent and as a responsible adult: Everyone makes mistakes but those who are willing to own up - and claim the mishap as their own - win my loyalty. It's not easy to admit failure. My Type A personality doesn't like being wrong. Ever. But I am, and I have to admit it - to myself and to whomever else is involved - if I'm going to make things right. Or at least better.

Apology Nation made me think about how few of our public figures are willing to take responsibility when they make a mistake. Can you name three? OK, how about just one person willing to say it's my fault?

No. What you hear instead is bickering, fighting not for a stand but for who to blame when something isn't going well. Take the health care "debate." There isn't any debating going on, but there sure is a lot of finger pointing.

I have one very important question: How am I supposed to teach my kids to take ownership of a situation if all they see adults doing is passing the blame?

Potting training gone awry

What to do when a child decides she's not interested in using the toilet? Did I mention she's been able to use the potty for over a year? When she wants to, of course.

Control. What's more heady to a preschooler? What can your three-your-old (or four-year-old) say no to today? It's a learning process. For both of us. Let's just hope the thrill of being a big kid soon outweighs the need to be the boss.

Queen of the house

"Who's Mess" started me thinking ... A man's house is his castle, right? So that makes his wife the ... housekeeper?

Wait, that's not how the fairytale goes. But ask yourself this: When you notice a ring around the bathtub at a friend's house, do you automatically think, 'Wow, her husband's a bad housekeeper?'

Why not?

My husband will tackle any household task, from scrubbing toilets to laundry or cooking. But sometimes life gets busy. And I admit I'm a reluctant housekeeper. I'd much rather be going to the swimming pool and the zoo, writing and editing, eating lunch with friends. But a clean space is the most zen thing. It feels great to slip between clean sheets.

Between me and my husband, we can make an agreement that sometimes the dishes will wait. And I just can't control it if company drops by and thinks, 'Wow, she must be really lazy.' But I can resolve to never be so judgmental of my own friends.

Today, I promise to:
• Fold laundry only if I feel like it
• Do dishes if it strikes my fancy
• Cook if I feel hungry

Who's mess?

Last week, we spent the entire day cleaning. The house looked worse than when we started.

My children seem most comfortable with a certain level of clothes and toys covering their floor. I never considered myself a neat freak - hey, messes happen - but I'm quickly re-evaluating that opinion. I feel like I'm constantly telling one of them to pick up. Shoes, construction paper, dishes, books, Play-Dough. It's all spread evenly throughout my house. And I have neither the time nor inclination to stand behind them, ensuring the job is done.

That's why the house looks the way it does. And I'm so tense. My long term goal hasn't changed: my kids will learn how to pick up after themselves. But when company's on the way, I may have to change tactics. Who wants to play outside?

Lap rules

I love when my husband accompanies me to the pool. I get to swim laps while he watches both kids for about 15 minutes. But today I got scolded out of the lap lane.

I was a swim instructor and coach for years - paid my way through high school and college. My point is I thought I knew something about swim etiquette. You swim in a circular pattern, starting on your right. At least that's what I thought. I was told today that there could only be two simmers at a time (read: older women who don't like to swim with splashing children) because they each had half the lane. When I suggested we could all use the space if we swam in the circular pattern, I got blank stares. Then I was told no, they couldn't possibly do that.

I wonder sometimes if this is how my kids feel. Adults barely listening because they've already made a decision. My job is to listen and process what they tell me before I blindly decree.

And if you're wondering, my pool does have a circular lap rule.

Work it out

My kids started the day as they do most every other: with a fight.

I have a sibling and we bickered. We also knew we were in charge of working through our disagreement. Being able to sort out who gets the blue-handled scissors is first - and for how long - is no small feat in this household. But my rule is if I have to intervene, the object of the fight is mine. Works pretty well to maintain squabbles.

My goal isn't to end up with 15 or 20 odd toys tucked onto the top shelf of my closet by day's end. I want my kids to understand how to work through their own problems. I'm hoping they learn to work it out before my shelf breaks.