I read Anna Quindlen’s back page column in Newsweek the other night and, upon finishing it, burst into tears.

I think there’s a chance I’m suffering from pre-separation anxiety.

I have to know, you moms and dads of older kids, how on earth have you coped with kids leaving home? I know, I know — he’ll be back for holidays and such, but I’m just going to miss him so very much.

Have you ever been dissed by a mom who stays at home, or who works part-time, based on her assumption that you put work first?

This happened to me a few weeks ago, and I’ve been stewing about it ever since. The mom in question has stayed at home and worked part-time at different times, depending on her family’s needs. She was talking about an upcoming field trip and said that she goes on all of the kids’ field trips. She pointedly looked in my direction and said, “Because I’m a mom first, and a worker second.”

Now, I could be overly sensitive to this. I could have imagined that she focused on me because she knows my work schedule. But I’m pretty sure I was dissed. It felt terrible.

It’s outrageous to me that any mom thinks that because a mom works full-time that her kids come second. Would you tell a single mom who works three jobs to support her kids that she’s putting her work before her children? Would you tell a mom who is a soldier, fighting for her country that she’s not a mom, first? Now, what I do is not that important in the grand scheme of things, but it’s important to me and my children are proud of what I do. They’re interested in my work. I like to think I’ve given them confidence in their abilities to find and earn great careers. I like to think that they understand that I’ve worked hard, not just for myself, but for them as well.

I think I’m also offended because this mom has only known me in the time I’ve worked from home. What on earth would she have thought when I dropped my daughter at 6:30 in the morning at before-care and picked her up just shy of 6:00pm every weekday? What would she have said if she knew me when I was juggling three jobs and taking care of my kids?

I remember a few months after my daughter was born, taking her for one of her well-checkups at the pediatrician. I was dressed for work and the doctor, who I loved, said something about my returning to work then commented, “Try not to feel too guilty. ” At first I was hurt, thinking he meant I SHOULD feel guilty, but over time, I came to understand what he meant. The working mom cannot escape the guilt; it comes no matter what and it’s something we have to live with, adjust to and at times, take in stride and deal with on the weekend. You would think after 18 years of being a working mom, I would have let it go, but just when I least expect it, someone decides to make me feel like less of a mother, just because I work.

Has this ever happened to you?

Did you hear me on WINA this morning? (Thanks to Rick, Jane and John Peterson for the plugs!) I invited everyone in radioland to come to Food for Thought!

I’ve invited all my friends in C’ville, my book club, Leadership Charlottesville, my husband’s work friends, the Charlottesville Working Moms, the C’ville bloggers including those wily cVillians, and YOU.

Don’t forget, tomorrow night only, show your support for Charlottesville students and the Charlottesville Community Scholarship Program by having dinner at one of these fine Charlottesville restaurants:

• C & O
• Fellini’s #9
• The Shebeen
• Zinc
• ZydeCo

A portion of your check will be donated to the Program, providing scholarships to area students. Learn more here.

I will be at The Shebeen from 6pm-9pm and hope to see you there!

Calling all Charlottesville bloggers!

This Tuesday, Feb. 26, join me at The Shebeen for a dinner with a cause. The Charlottesville Community Scholarship Program is hosting Food for Thought — a dining out event that will help provide funding for eligible Charlottesville students to go to college this fall. (Disclaimer: I am a board member; I’m chairing this event.)

I’m hoping for a dining blogger meetup — who knows, maybe we’ll see Jen and Pete, and one of my first C’ville blogger friends, Jennifer. Maybe Anoop will join us, and then write about it next week. I’ve always wanted to meet Stanley (dude, you can come if you get that drooling thing under control). I’m hoping some of the Cvillians show up, to contribute to stimulating conversation. There are plenty of Charlottesville real estate bloggers looking to meet new clients. Perhaps this will be a good venue for you?

It would be really nice to see Patience, whose kids go to C’ville schools, and whose blog I enjoy ever so much.

And I hope YOU come, too, all you glorious Charlottesville readers. You’ve gotta eat, right? Let me know in the comments or via e-mail if you think you can make it — between 6pm and 9pm Tuesday night.

If you’re not in the mood for The Shebeen and don’t care about meeting me or other bloggers, head out to one of the other four participating restaurants Tuesday night. You can choose from C & O, Fellini’s #9, Zinc and ZydeCo. All five restaurants will be contributing a percentage of the night’s take to the Program.

About Charlottesville Community Scholarship Program
The Charlottesville Community Scholarship Program is a unique public-private partnership established by the Charlottesville City Council in 2001. The Program provides assistance to low- and middle-income Charlottesville High School graduates and City and school division employees who wish to continue their education after high school.
The Program is open to candidates young and old. Scholarships follow students through their undergraduate education, and amounts can be adjusted each year — an important fact given that many colleges front-load first-year financial aid to students. We look forward to seeing you there!

Once there was a girl named Margaret. Margaret was halfway through her eleventh year and was the tallest of her friends. Margaret’s mother traveled a bit for work and so was wary of her daughter’s age. As Margaret embarked upon her eleventh year, Margaret’s mother made sure her daughter was prepared. She bought her a book, talked to her at length and, perhaps most importantly, Margaret’s mother bought her daughter supplies.

Margaret’s mother was convinced that Margaret would get “it” while she was away on a business trip. Margaret’s father was also wary of his daughter’s age, however, not so eager to replace Margaret’s mother when it came to these matters.

Margaret’s mother went out of town on a Wednesday, the day before Valentine’s Day. When she returned from her business trip on Saturday, Margaret said, “Guess what I got while you were gone?”

Without even guessing, Margaret’s mother knew the answer was not a puppy, or a present. “Oh, wow,” Margaret’s mother said. “Is everything OK? When did it happen?” and, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“It’s fine. Thursday. I’m sorry when I talked to you on the phone that I didn’t tell you. It just didn’t even occur to me,” Margaret said.

“Did you tell Dad?” Margaret’s mother left her father in charge when Margaret’s mother left town.

“It really didn’t concern him,” Margaret said. “I didn’t feel it was necessary.”

“All right then,” said Margaret’s mother. “Let’s go shopping!” Margaret’s mother loved to shop.

While Margaret’s mother at first felt terrible that she was not immediately available for her daughter on a pretty significant day, she quickly realized that wasn’t the point at all. She’d prepared her daughter for the future and really, that was all she could do. Margaret was just as grateful to her mother for providing information and above all, supplies, as she would have been had her mother been at home that day. Margaret’s mother stood in awe (and maybe a little bit of jealousy, remembering her awkward, embarrassed pre-teen self) at her confident, self-assured daughter.

Margaret will always remember the year she received a very different kind of Valentine. Margaret’s mother will always remember the time she left her little girl to go on a business trip, and came home to a young woman.

And that is the end of the story.

*With thanks to Judy Blume.

In all of my focus and travel between St. Louis and Charlottesville, I’ve completely forgotten about the readers in my hometown. Hello Springfield!

I have posted a bit of Springfield-related content lately, in anticipation of my high school reunion this fall. Some people from Springfield or with connections to that capital city have stopped by this space lately and I’m happy to have you!

For Springfield moms, let me draw your attention to a Springfield-area blogging mom: 411 Mommy provides, as the name implies, information for moms. Enjoy!

I’m flying today from Charlottesville to St. Louis. In the security line in front of me there was an older lady in a full length fur coat and a stylish fedora. She looked as if she’d had more plastic surgery than a burn victim. She struck up a conversation with a young, hip looking African American guy in front of her. They chatted about the usual airport topics; where are you going, what’s the weather like, etc.

In chatting, they discovered they’re both big fans of Barack Obama. An unlikely pair; politically aligned. They both said how excited they are about change.

It struck me as a snapshot, as an interesting moment in time that brought together two demographically very different people and demonstrated to them that politcially, they have the same hopes and dreams.

/political statement.

The dining room has a strange effect on the girl. She giggles. She explodes. She nearly chokes to death trying not to laugh. Once, all-too-memorably, during a dining room dinner, she spit milk all over the boy’s then-girlfriend. We cleaned milk splatter from the distant corners of the room, finding additional random splats in hidden places weeks later. I will never, as long as I live, forget the look on the girlfriend’s face.

We ate in the dining room last night because the girl’s Valentines were spread all over the kitchen table as she was mid-addressing when dinner was ready. I made polenta as a side dish with our chicken and green beans, just for something new and different.

The boy was in rare form. “Would you like some more polenta?” I asked.

“No, I would not like more placenta,” he said, glaring at me with a twinkle in his eye. “You are a sick, sick woman.”

The girl almost lost it and had to get up from the table about three times so as not to shower us with milk or bits of food. If we laugh, she laughs. If we tell her to stop laughing, she dissolves into a shivering pool of giggly Jell-o.

For some reason, “You are not allowed to laugh in the dining room,” does not do the trick.

From the big hair archives of 1988 . . . as a special treat, how would you all like to see what I looked like as a senior in high school?

In the middle of the sixth page so scroll down. Hint: I used to be Marijean Heroux.

Are you as amazed as I am at the gravity-defying hairdos of the era?

A thousand STLWorkingMom cred points to anyone who can point out the boy responsible for my first kiss.

Come back for a post that will have you rolling on the floor laughing. At me. I promise.