My son is at that point. You know. The serious one. The needs help one. THE COLLEGE ESSAY.

I worked as an editor for years, and I am comfortable editing most things. I wanted, more than anything, to go to Columbia University when I was a kid. I toured it with my beloved Uncle Erwin when I was 13. He was an adjunct professor there, and he died of AIDS three years later. I wrote a note on my bedroom wall in 9th grade: GET AN A IN MATH IF YOU WANT TO GO TO COLUMBIA.

Reader, I didn’t get in. I wrote my essay MYSELF on WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT (romance novels and how reading this underrated literature helped my vocabulary, SAT scores, and writing style) and THEY WERE LIKE, NO WAY. Or that’s how I read the no.

ANYWAY — I feel like I didn’t get into a fancy school — I didn’t apply anywhere else, and ended up going to a state school that my mom chose and applied to on my behalf. So how can I help HIM get into a fancy school?

But, I worry that is just making it all about me, so we sit down, together, and start to work on his essay. Fingers crossed!

I’ve been … not performing my most important job up to par. I’ve been whiffing a bit as a mom — not being as strict as they need me to be (to learn responsibility, etc.); not holding them all to equally accountable standards; not listening when they are in pain. I resolve to do better. Or to try.

But it reminds me of how VERY proud I was when I realized my children and husband’s names, and their last name, spelled A JOKE. (four first names, one last). I loved it! I consider myself funny, I love sarcasm, and I would proclaim to everyone, with great pride, when talking about my family — “see? I made A JOKE!” Meaning look how funny and awesome they are and because I married one and birthed the other three that is the best joke ever — not a joke at all — a loving family.

But! Finally, when my son was 16, he turned to me in anger (he is pretty rare to get angry) and said, “I know, you think we are A JOKE but we aren’t. We. Are. Not. A. Joke.”

I had almost tattooed it on my skin, my first tattoo, that’s how proud I was of this line?! And I was hurting my son, and probably my daughters too?! I’m so grateful that he raised this issue, and how he felt about it, and I am also really struck by how my humor and pride can be so .. humorless and prideful .. to the people I love most.

So, as I try to do better as a mom, I will keep in mind that my taste and humor is not theirs, and if anything needs to be my guiding light I hope it will be kindness.

I am usually in bed by 9:30 at the latest, asleep by 10. For some reason I was still up at 11 last night, and thus was available to answer my phone (silent but I could see them calling) at 10:49. My mom had fallen, and was being taken to the hospital. I live about 2 blocks from the hospital, so I hopped in the car and darted over. I found her in the emergency room — head wound from hitting the nightstand, so LOTS of blood, but it had already stopped by the time I got there. We waited (at a normally VERY prompt hospital; I guess lots of sad things happened last night) untli 2:30 when I begged to be let go to take her home. She was … well, fine overstates it, but ‘normal.’ I would say. Jumpy legs so unable to sleep, but very tired, and very glad I was there. We sang Randy Travis together for an hour, but then that was too long … so we just sat in silence.

They insisted on a CT scan before releasing us (the doctor remembered us from our last fall there two years ago, somehow) — which found, just around 3 a.m., that she was fine and there was no internal bleeding. I brought her home, talking the whole way, and then took the nightstand, which did have a sharp corner and was right next to her bed, home.

Tiring, but glad I was awake to be there with her.

I am covering the development director job for my work now; and the shop director job for my work now; and a bit of the mail person job for my work now; and still trying to do my job … can you tell this is building up to be an epic whine?! No one ever has enough time/space to do their work, no one ever is paid enough — certainly not in non-profit world — and I KNOW that. I just … two nights of work in a row makes me tired and grouchy. 100 mornings; even at 7 a.m.; I’m fine. Two nights until 7 p.m. — I’m trashed.

I don’t know what about my body chemistry/make up just REQUIRES time to read and lie on the couch at night, and time to sleep a solid 8 hours; but whatever it is — it is strongly and deeply there.

But! Work I must and work I will; I love my job and I’m glad to have it even before all of these trying times ..

Yesterday I rode home after a finance committee meeting — not great, but better than last year — but I just could not shake my funk. I just felt: Sad. Sad about kids growing up (although when they were home I was sad about how much driving I had to do to cart them all around the region …). Sad about how I am doing at my job (I was aggressive, and wrong, and had to walk back my error, AGAIN yesterday — when will I LEARN?). I know that most people feel sad some of the time, and that it is fine, but I just hate it.

My daughter was spending the night at a friend’s and I called to tell her goodnight; and she said: “Mom, are you sad?” I was impressed that she could tell, and her kindness in asking, and I just said “i’m fine.” And I always say my husband doesn’t notice, but he too was like — “hey, are you okay? You just seem really sad.” I didn’t talk to him about anything — there wasn’t anything to talk about — but I REALLY appreciated the question.

Anyway. Not as sad today, just writing about yesterday. Hope you aren’t sad.

Two of my kids are competing in the Philadelphia Youth Regatta this weekend, and all three kids and my husband will be there, either rowing or cheering. I am going away to Charlottesville, VA for the weekend — my dear friend Pam and I are sneaking away for a wonderful weekend for two with excellent food and laughter and games and conversation.

Can I be two places at once? I do SO LITTLE right as a mom, but I have been at regattas, and I have CHEERED for my children. And I will be again! They will both compete in the Canadian Henley in two weeks, and the third child and I will be there the whole week with them … but I am just so sad to miss them this weekend (and SO GLAD that Pam and I prioritize our friendship!).

We haven’t gone away since we went to Annapolis — YEARS AGO. It was supposed to be a whole dinner with our 5 friends, but it was impossible to plan so the two of us decided to sneak away. Julie and I are going to New York City in October — and we’re going to see Pam’s daughter the amazing drum major on our way!

So I get the value of friends, and I appreciate my friends so deeply … AND I am just cognizant of my time leaking away quickly with my children …

A close friend invited me to her synagogue last weekend, and I went. The rabbi leading the music did a spectacular job — and even more so when she chose to sing a song I’d never hear before — ‘May I Suggest.’

Our son is starting his senior year in the fall, and just typing that causes my throat to close up a bit. The next one is starting her sophomore year, and one in 8th grade. I wanted children SO BADLY and they have been SO DIFFICULT and EXQUISITELY WONDERFUL and I just cannot imagine this part of my life is closing.

But, it is not closed yet, and even when it is, another beautiful chapter will be opening, and I just have to, as the wondrous song suggests, sit in this moment and enjoy the best part of my life. Surrounded by love, and sullenness, and lovely charm. I love them and this part of my life.

I get on a writing phase, and then I get off of a writing phase. I do love to have this connection, though, so I keep hammering away. A high school friend (someone I competed with a lot for grades and class standing — and we ended up next to each other and BARELY squeaked into the top 10% — but we were there!) just had a HUGE sports success, so that’s fun, and taking a lot of my thought time.

Someone I 1. met, 2. recruited 3. convinced and then 4. grew frustrated with — eventually (not that long! three months tops!) quit with no notice — and said to my boss and my colleagues that it was in part because I was a bully.

No one self identifies as a bully, right? But bullies exist. And a dear friend said to me — and this is true! — I am very forthright, and, ahem, don’t suffer fools gladly. But this person was no fool — just someone who hadn’t worked in a teensy tiny non profit before.

So I am trying to temper my bulliness, and temper my frustration with, well, everything, so that I can be a kinder person. Just don’t tell my sister — who bullies me and I bully her. But I think that is kind of required in sibling relationships …

Okay, I’ll write again soon, I hope.