Mama in the Middle

Spring Break has taken a strange and gloomy turn this year. Already our plans lacked that shimmering promise spring vacation can hold; we weren’t going anywhere, and Patrick had to…

At 11 a.m., the playground is already half full of youngsters, my barefoot and sleeveless Cleo among them. She mucks about in the sand while her big sister Zoë sits…

“I can’t wear this.” I stare at the pretty new pink and black gymnastics suit eight-year-old Zoë is holding, take a breath, and silently count to five. “I need sleeves.…

“Earthquake weather,” says an elderly woman on the bus, leaning forward to speak to the driver. Four-year-old Cleo and I have just dropped my 20-year-old Honda Civic at Art’s Automotive,…

We rent. Most of our friends own. And sometimes I think one quarter of my brain power is dedicated to agonizing over whether, when, or how to buy a house.…

It’s 6 a.m., and the fog is just lifting as I step into my Berkeley back garden. I have one hour to myself before the kids get up. Whenever I’m…

Last week, four-year-old Cleo and I encountered three large mutts outside our neighborhood café. As I stood sipping my latte and chatting with their person, Cleo respectfully held out her…

“Mama, can you tell me about God?” This has been coming up lately. Some of Zoë’s second-grade classmates go to Sunday school. She’s been wondering what it’s all about. “It’s…

I’m a good mom. People tell me so, and I think it’s true. I’m not perfect, but I love my girls. As I pile them into the car in their…

After Ma died, I held an estate sale. I stood in the front yard of the house I had grown up in and watched as strangers carried the Lockharts away,…

Have you ever stepped on an old Cheerio? Sometimes, after you crush it, it still looks like a Cheerio. It still has its perfect little round Cheerio shape. But if…