For the last month or so O has woken up every single morning with the same question:
“Is today a Mommy Daddy Day?”
What he means is, “Is this a weekend where I get the day with both of you?”
The answer, less than 2/7 of the time, is unfortunately “No.” And on some level it kills me. I don’t usually only say, “No” when he asks, I usually end up marketing the day. It goes something like, “No, but the great thing is today you get to go to school and you have swimming lessons. Or, “Today you get to go to the zoo with the nanny and make thank you cards. Or, “Today is a Daddy Day!”
It weighs on me. O is extremely attached and has been since day (before) one. I often think about how he’s as attached as I am. F on the other hand adores his independence.
I traveled all week and fortunately mid-week from Florida I face-timed with the boys. It was delicious really, and settled my aching heart in spite of the fact that the first thing O said when he saw my face was, “Come home, Mommy!”
Being a working parent tugs on us in bizarre ways. But it also elevates us. And as I spent the week crossing the country giving lectures, I was reminded of my strong sense of purpose. My need to speak up and improve the world for my children. The need to scream from the roof tops about revolutionizing health communication. I mean what I say and I believe in what I do. And while the boys thrive, this equation of clinical responsibility and working to change health care, works. The only problem is that this week O might have missed me as much as I did him. I would suggest this new reality is not entirely ideal.

It’s a snow day. Snow day is a word combination in the English language that has two meanings, divergent and separately defined only by age. To a 5 year old–”snow day” sounds a little bit like “Nir-va-na”–a day that is one of life’s greatest gifts. To a 37 year-old with a few jobs, it sounds a little bit more like “stresssssss.” Snow days, of course, often leave us without child care, without a school system, and without a back-up plan. And when our work doesn’t stop, we’re left juggling a set of very cold knives.
My
A good friend wrote a “secret, imaginary blog post” and sent it my way. I realized instantly it was a real blog post. But to protect her son and allow the imaginary (blog) to become real, she called upon her childhood and the beloved author
I’ve been traveling for a week. Please forgive the silences here. As you can imagine, I’ve been making lots of noise elsewhere. Since I left my little boys and husband early morning last Friday, I’ve been at the AAP national meeting in Boston where I met with many friends and peers, gave a talk at a big conference at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, had the honor to participate in the Mayo Clinic Center For Social Media board meeting, and today I’m speaking about immunizations at the Minnesota Dept of Health’s
After a great day in clinic yesterday, I was up until nearly 2am this morning tidying my email inbox, meeting some deadlines, and readying for a talk tonight on work and life and finding balance. The timing of this talk bleeds irony, I know. I also acknowledge I’ve already used up my one night allowance of sleeplessness this week– if you’re keeping score (see my most recent
There are 5 things I took with me from my
I’m taking an online sabbatical this month. Consider this an act of both self-reflection and self-awareness but also an act of self-preservation. As any blogger knows, blogging every few days, taking photographs daily, approving and responding to comments 24 hours a day (7 days a week), while authoring content in your head every few paces, is an entirely consuming experience. Blogging has completely changed my life. And this job is an utter privilege. I concur with a good friend from high school who has said, “I’m happy to help and thrilled to be here.”