As a child my answer would have been that a friend is someone you can run around with. For example, everyone is Little Girl’s friend. If you’re willing to look at her shoes and listen to her tell you that they are the same as her friend’s, then you’re her friend. It doesn’t take much. Big Girl’s definition is someone who will play pretend with her. Are you willing to make the front half of my house a hotel, complete with a front desk and a concierge stand? Okay, you’re her friend now. I was the same way as a child. The kids on my block — including my sister — who would have tasting parties under the trees and play Stop the Pigeon (a game we created after watching reruns of Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines) all fell into the friend category. They were all the people who would play on the swings and get dirty with me.

In my teens the definition of a friend changed, though. A friend was someone who wouldn’t poke fun at me. Someone who I could write notes to and sit with at lunch. A friend was someone I could talk about boys with and discuss who we might want to kiss. It was someone who was willing to talk about all those taboo topics that you wonder about and agonize over. But because of my background — the whole losing a parent at six — I never took friendship much further. I watched the girls around me doing things like having sleepovers, hugging each other, going away. Nah, it wasn’t for me. Surface friends only, please.

Once I hit my 20s, the definition changed again. I got some therapy. Okay, I got a LOT of therapy. I wasn’t as afraid to get hurt. Still, back then you were my friend if you were willing to go clubbing with me. You liked to dance and hang out? We could become great friends. (And I was an awesome friend, IMHO, because I’m not really a drinker so I was a built-in designated driver.) I also liked going shopping with friends. Going to the city. Going to TGIFridays in between classes. Meeting guys. Hearing about what you might do with a guy. Being there when the guy things blew up. The surface thing was still there, though. Don’t ask me too many questions. Don’t look too closely at who I really was. I was sure you wouldn’t like what you saw. And then I hit my mid-20s.

I got even more therapy. Already married, I met a great group of girls and started hanging out with them. We started sharing things. Our shortcomings. Our fears. Our mistakes. I started giving kisses on the cheek. I started baring my soul. I got hurt sometimes. I made a lot of mistakes. It was all so new to me. I over-committed myself. A lot. I wanted to make everyone happy and make sure everyone still liked me. I got asked to be a bridesmaid. Twice. The friendships became couple friendships. Many of those amazing people are still in my life.

Then I hit my 30s and had kids. Well, Big Girl. Friendship changed again. Yes, I wanted someone to listen and to be there for me and someone I could be there for, but kid compatibility became even more important. Work connections took on more importance, too. Writers who were living the same life — pitching stories, working until all hours, agonizing when their story queries went unanswered. Again, my world expanded. My life changed. (My one regret during this time: the loss of a friend who introduced me to many of the people I met in my 20s.)

And that’s sort of where I am today. It’s a funny time. I want to belong and be liked, but have far less time to revel in the easiness that comes from sitting with a good friend. Don’t get me wrong! I have plenty of friend time. About 15 emails have gone back and forth this morning as we — three of my favorite mommy friends — try to pick a night to go out for Greek food and conversation. But I am far less patient when it comes to new people.

I’m writing about friendship because I am thinking about something that happened this week. Can’t really write that much about it other than to say there’s a whole lot of high school garbage going on right now. Cliques and cattiness. Silly behavior that I just don’t have time for. Bottom line: I don’t have the time or inclination to deal with drama.

I wonder if this is the start of my next friendship chapter: The drama-free years. I’ll keep you informed…

She was clammy and grimy and grainy. A mixture of dirt and sweat and grass and humidity that you can only build up over a long day with friends. The kids had played chase, climbed stuff, spent time on the swings, rode their bikes, eaten candy and ice cream and slid down slides. I smiled at her as I remembered all the summer nights I ended up looking and feeling the way she looked and felt, but then I told her the first thing she was going to do when we got home was take a shower. Could it wait until tomorrow, she wanted to know? Nope, I told her. She needed a shower and it was happening tonight.

We left soon after giving our friends with hugs and kisses. (And I’m not a huggy or kissy person but I make exceptions for this group.) We all agreed we had a great time. The kids, especially had a truly, truly amazing time. How do I know that? I’ll tell you. In the car we asked my big girl what her favorite part of the day was — the bike riding, the ice cream sundaes, the show they put on? Her answer: “The best part of today was seeing all my friends.” And the best part of my day? Hearing my daughter say that.

Can’t believe the long weekend is almost over. What are you up to?

Last night’s get-together was a fluke. Usually it takes us a full week to pick a night where we are all free. This time we pulled it all together in an hour and only about 20 or so emails back and forth. (Sometimes it takes many, many more.) We went to a local Mexican place, ate appetizers and fajitas and laughed. We always laugh while we’re picking on each other and debating current events.

We were brought together by the kids. I met one of the couples when Katelyn was three-months-old. My Gymboree friend. She and her husband became our close friends. The second couple also came from Gymboree, but my husband and my oldest Gymboree friend’s husband met the wife at a Saturday class while I was at the gym and my friend was at work. The guys came home and told us we needed to meet this really nice person and her fate was sealed. She became our friend. The third couple came in a tiny bit later. I met the wife at dance class when Katelyn was a month shy of three. We would sit outside the dance class and chat, and soon after we started doing playdates. And one day, thinking it would be great to get all these wonderful people together, game night was born. Amazingly, all the husbands really like each other. They’ve actually gone out together alone — without us! Can you imagine?

Every day I thank God that I have these two kids and for all the joy they bring. And last night, as I was looking down the table and waving to my husband seated at the other end (it’s a long story) I added another blessing: My babies brought six more people who I genuinely love, respect and have fun with into my life. They brought me my Game Night crew. I’ll keep ‘em, I think…

How important are your adult friends? What are some of the ways you keep in touch with them? And more important: Do you have any great games you’d like to suggest for our next get-together?

Perfect example: This week my close friend, the one who holds the Seders every year, got some terrible news. Her mother has ovarian cancer. This terrible diagnosis comes on top of the already-heavy load she’s carried for the past five years. You see my friend’s husband has multiple myeloma, a serious blood cancer. He’s been in remission but his numbers are going up, which means the cancer might be coming back. Tomorrow she’ll spend the entire day at Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York. Her mom’s appointment — where she’ll find out a treatment path — is at 9:45. Her husband will get the results of his blood tests in the early afternoon. It sucks.

We spent an hour on the phone last night. I tried to keep her from going to the Bad Place. My friend has an amazing and enviable relationship with her mom. Her mom is her rock. When she is nervous about her husband she can always turn to her mom. Now both of her rocks are ill. How can she make it through with both of them sick, she wanted to know. I didn’t know what to say. It’s just not fair. (And it makes my husband’s intestinal issues seem like a splinter, right?)

During our chat I tried to tell her to remain calm. Not to think the worst. The reporter in me had to look up and report back on all the amazing trials that are going on for those suffering with multiple myeloma. (There are more than 180 in New York State; 61 of them are still actively recruiting.) Then I told her about some of the excellent work that’s being done for ovarian cancer. Intra-abdominal chemotherapy, where they bathe the stomach cavity with chemo while blasting more chemo into your blood stream is getting good results, for example. And the five-year survival rate for ovarian cancer is no longer as dire as it once was. Almost half of the women diagnosed today will live for more than five years. And as a woman, you can do things to boost your own survival rate. A study that came out earlier this month links diet with long-term outcome. Women who ate well had a “survival advantage” over those who didn’t. My friend’s mom is a fighter. She’s going to do everything she can. She’s going to eat right. She’s going to have the best doctors. I don’t even have to think about which side of that 50 percent she’s going to fall into.

Anyway, as you go about your day today, please think good thoughts for my friend and her family. And while you’re at it, send a little love my husband’s way, too. He’s going for a test to see if he’s got long-term damage in his intestines as well as check to see if that fourth surgery he had in February actually worked. In fact, if you pray, say a prayer for everyone. I don’t think God has any pull when it comes to who gets sick or who gets better, but I do think that the power of our minds and our energies combine and can elicit change. Let’s make a little change for my friend’s mom Mrs. S., her husband Mr. B., and Mr. S, my hubby.

p.s. For the portion of my readers who are, at this minute, saying, ‘What the heck!?! This blog is supposed to be about food and health and chemicals and high fructose corn syrup. What’s with two blogs in a row related to religion?’ I say this: This blog is not turning into a religious blog. I promise. Again, I’m not even that religious. Religion and sex are the two things you’re not supposed to talk about and I keep doing both. Sorry, and tomorrow we’ll get back to our regularly scheduled complaints and gripes.

Get with a group. Having friends is fun, but it can also help you stave off the common cold, according to a study published in Scientific American Mind. When you spend time with good friends your immune system gets a boost, a good excuse to go out for a drink or spend a little time gabbing, no?

Wash your hands. Almost seems stupid to call this one out, but boatloads of researchers agree: Washing your hands is one of the best ways to prevent illness. Make it a habit to wash your hands as soon as you come home, and wash after shaking hands or before touching your eyes, nose, or mouth.

Eat your veggies. Lots of them. A summer 2009 study found that pregnant women who ate at least seven servings of fruits and vegetables daily seemed to moderately reduce their risk of catching an upper respiratory tract infection (better known as a cold).

Drink your milk. Milk is one of the best sources of vitamin D. A February 2009 study found that those people who were deficient in this vitamin were 40 percent more likely to report being recently sick. “People with the lowest blood vitamin D levels reported having significantly more recent colds or cases of the flu,” according to the study. While more work needs to be done to make a direct correlation between vitamin D and wellness, getting your recommended daily allowance of the stuff certainly can’t hurt, right? Here’s a good chart to see how much you need every day. (Scroll down a bit to Table 2.)

Do you have a cold? If so, drinking tea — but not too hot since it can increase the risk of throat cancer — can help you feel better. Tea — green tea in particular — contains antioxidants, seems to reduce the risk of diabetes, improves bone health, helps reduce the risk of periodontal disease, and just plain feels good.

Want to win a big basket of Celestial Seasonings teas? Please leave me a comment telling me what symptoms you usually get with a cold along with your name and email address. One reader will win the following:

• Four wellness teas to ease symptoms associated with the cold and flu – Sleepytime Extra, Echinacea Complete Care, Tummy Mint.
• Two green teas to support a healthy immune system year round – Authentic Green Tea and Honey Lemon Ginseng Green Tea
• A mug, soothing lip balm, honey sticks and Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime Bear
• The book “Herbs for Health and Happiness” by Mo Siegel and Nancy Burke

This gift is coming to one of my readers courtesy of Celestial Seasonings — I am not being paid for this. It was just a cool offer so I thought I’d pass it along.

So…tell me about your worst cold. What was it like? How do you usually deal with a cold? How do you avoid them? FYI about the giveaway:
Contest ends at noon pacific time on 3/17/10. Winner will be determined by random.org. Winner will be notified by email and has 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be drawn.

Tonight, however, it struck me how disconnected I feel having all this technology at my fingertips. (And I say this as a person who makes my living writing about technology and other subjects using technology.) Emails don’t have a cadence and a tone. You can’t hear what they person is leaving off the page — the important stuff. You can’t read between the lines. And it makes it really easy to hide if you’re feeling bad. Add a few exclamation points and a smiley or two and no one knows you’re wallowing.

Facebook is Facebook. Great for looking at people’s photos and hearing about their latest diet success/job gripe/cute kid story, but terrible when it comes to being able to hear how someone is getting on in life. (Yes, there are serial sharers out there, but the majority of people keep it light.) And Twitter. Ahh, Twitter. Despite the fact that I’ve seen plenty of amazing sharing and interaction, you’re never going to learn about someone’s inner dreams and heartaches from a quick sentence and a link to another blog. Oh, yes, and I forgot the blogging thing. Sure, you’re reading this, but unless you’re writing a really long comment, I don’t really know how you’re feeling, do I? Blogging is just a long form email making everyone one of us who writes an exhibitionist and those of us who read voyeurs.

Of course, it’s not all technology’s fault. Many of my long nights on the phone were facilitated by the fact that none of us had any kids back then. Plus, everyone in my social circle seemed to stay up all night just like I do. Now people get up by 6:30, and we’re all too tired to chat on the phone from 11 p.m. until 1 a.m. We’re all lazy, too. What’s easier? Watching Survivor or talking about why I want to be numbed by Survivor?

I do blame technology for letting lazy translate as connected. My friends might actually call me on my lack of response if they didn’t get an email or post from me. But they do, and because so many of us think of email and social media as the equivalent of personal contact it’s easy to get social points for a quick text-based check-in.

This is why, starting now, I am going to make a huge effort to reach out and touch everyone the old fashioned way. Editors, friends, family members, acquaintances: You’re all forewarned. I’m going to put you back on speed dial. But don’t worry, thank goodnesss there’s always voice mail if you’re too busy to talk.

The location of my pay-it-forward revelation.

On Saturday my husband and I took our family to the Long Island Children’s Museum to see The Bari Koral Family Band. We knew of the band because — two years ago — we purchased tickets to a family music concert series at the museum. As part of that series we received a CD that featured four or five songs from each of the six concerts. We’ve been singing along to that CD since the day we picked it up. Now all three of us (the baby gets a pass for a little while) know all the words to Gustafer Yellowgold‘s I Jump on Cake (adorable song!), as well as Louie Miranda‘s Mama Juana and Bari Koral’s Backpack Song. The Bari Koral Family Band, along with the other musicians on the CD, plays music that an adult can listen to and actually enjoy. Which is why I was thrilled to see Bari coming back our way.

We arrived at the theater extra early so we could sit in the front row. (LICM is first come, first served seating.) And there we sat for the entire show, singing every song we knew, and beaming that Keira, our 17-month-old, not only loved it, but sat there clapping and beaming, too, while Katelyn, our big girl, went up on stage for a dance contest. The best moment, however, was when, during the concert, Keira reached over all on her own and took her big sister’s hand. And held it. Then Katelyn curled her fingers around her sister’s little hand, and they sat there like that. After months of sibling rivalry, they were one. No, it wasn’t the first beautiful moment they’ve had — there have been plenty — but it was the first one that happened without any input from us. I probably don’t have to explain how I felt at that exact moment.

Wanting to capture more of that good feeling, once the show ended I figured I would go buy the new CD for the girls. Besides, as members, we only paid $3 per ticket, and I wanted to support the arts. But it didn’t work out that way.

As people filed out, I went up to the CD table with both kids. We were both completely tapped out of cash. I literally had $.05 in my pocketbook. Chris had even less. But I was hoping they took credit cards. They didn’t. We were disappointed when we saw it was cash only. (Bari would have taken a check, too, but I never carry a checkbook, either.) We walked away, but then I had another idea. I walked back and asked if Santa could buy the CD via e-mail or the band’s Web site. Bari, who was standing there signing CDs and chatting with the other families looked over, took one of her CDs off the stack, and handed it to me. “Go ahead, enjoy. Thanks for coming to the show.” I was embarrassed, but also really touched. She cared enough about my girls to just give me her latest CD. For free. And it isn’t even out yet! And she had already done so much for me. I thanked her profusely, and walked away feeling really, really good. It wasn’t just the CD, of course. I was still on a high from watching my girls interact at the show.

Later that day I was still thinking about that concert and the CD. It was then that I realized that Bari gave me more than just a CD. By bringing my girls together, she inadvertently gave me an edict to do something nice for someone else. I could use the kind gesture as the impetus to pay it forward. Which is why somewhere, somehow this week I am going to make sure I make someone else feel as good as her impromptu gift — and her show — made me feel.

It’s Monday. Just think how amazing this week would be if everyone reading this blog did one random act of kindness for someone. And then that someone they touched did something for someone else, too. And, as the Breck girl said, it would keep going; And so on and so on and so on. It doesn’t have to cost anything. You don’t have to identify yourself. You can do something simple and small.

I know, you might be thinking this is a very self-absorbent blog post. Maybe. And maybe you might think this is a stupid, dated idea. I’d stop you there, though. Yes, there have been movies inspired by this idea. And books and bumper stickers and Reader’s Digest magazine stories. But I think kindness is something that we really can’t have enough of in our world. And it often starts with one hand reaching out to another.

Have you ever been the happy recipient of someone paying it forward? Have you ever been the payer? I’d love to hear your stories.

Blogging is a lot like being on a merry-go-round: It's fun, but you feel a litle dizzy sometimes.

This is my 42nd blog post. (I had planned on writing about this topic as my 40th post, but I misread the WordPress dashboard. Sigh.) Those who have followed my musings from the beginning have read about my klutzy mistakes, my abusive ex, my friend issues. I’ve shared stories about my urinary incontinence, how I feel about playdates, and how I feel about the environment. With these disclosures, I’ve joined the ranks of fellow bloggers who talk about dealing with their own cancer, their mother’s cancer, their failed marriages, their use of sex toys. In retrospect, I can’t think of a single topic that hasn’t been covered in the blogosphere. We bloggers seem to have little or no filter when it comes to normally off-topic topics.

You, as a reader, may enjoy the voyeurism, but it’s a little weird for us on the writing end. It’s very strange, as a writer, to put these types of things out there. Things that most people reserve for close friends. At least it is for me. Sure, I’ve written a story for Redbook about growing up with a mother who yelled. A story I wrote for Parents — in excruciating detail, I might add — about my miscarriage was one of the most commented stories I’ve ever had the privilege to work on. But only a handful of the people in my real life ever cracked open those magazines. I could hide behind the relative anonymity of the newsstand.

On the flip side, as a blogger, it’s also weird knowing that my friends, family, and acquaintances are right here reading every word. Words that I might not say out loud to people I care about. And while I love that they are reading my stuff — please, please keep reading, everyone — it often has an impact on the way we interact offline.

Take my husband. Last night he commented that he loved my blog, but he thought I wrote a lot like a single mother. “There’s not a lot in there about me,” he complained. Another example: On Sunday night I had dinner with two girlfriends. Amy was in my Friday Favorites about friends; Lori, who is one of my oldest and dearest of friends, was not. She joked around about it, but I think inside the jokes was a little bit of truth. It hurt her feelings that she was omitted.

Other friends have reacted to blog posts, too. On Monday I had a playdate. Precisely ten minutes before Keira’s naptime everyone picked up and rushed out of here. They had all read my post about Playdate Dos and Don’ts, I’m convinced, and they didn’t want to hang around past what they thought was my limit. They didn’t want to be pegged “unsupportive.” That’s not the first time I felt uncomfortable because of my playdate post. A few weeks ago we were having a playdate with a new friend. While the girls were standing next to each other her daughter tapped my daughter’s chest ever so lightly. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. And yet the woman picked up her child like she had stabbed Keira with a Mr. Potato Head arm, hustling her onto a time-out before I could say a word. I actually felt ashamed. Here, this nice woman was afraid of offending me because of something I had written.

Of course, there’s nothing I can do about how people react to what I write. I can’t edit or censor myself. One of the cardinal rules of blogging is that you have to put your heart and soul on the screen or your readers are going to smell fakery and fear and leave. But not before they flame you for your insincerity. So I guess I’m going to keep putting it all out there. And my friends? I hope they will understand that, as my friends, they shouldn’t take my blog so literally. Still, just in case: Have I mentioned how much I love my husband, Chris and my friend Lori?!?

Do you blog? If so, what’s been the most difficult part for you? As a blog reader, how do you feel about reading such personal commentary? Does it ever change the way you feel about what goes on in your own life? Please share your thoughts below.

Whoa! Something is very wrong with this kind of search.

Friends. They can be so important to our well-being, keeping us sane, healthy, and happy, and changing our lives for better or for worse. I thought I’d shake Favorite Things Friday up yet again, so — although I still selected several found-on-the-Web favorites for inclusion in this week’s list — I’m dedicating the first few faves to some “friendly” surprises. I hope you’ll help me help others smile by leaving your own friend stories at the end of this post.

(My one disclaimer: This list is in no order; don’t take it personally if you’re my friend and you’re not on this list. I hope to be blogging for a long time. I’ll get to your story eventually. I don’t want to blow my wad in one shot, as my husband said I should avoid doing. Hmmm. Is that obscene? I don’t know…oh, and I’m not including my family because they have an unfair advantage.)

• A Loving Surprise: Amy G. I was pregnant with Katelyn the same time another friend was pregnant with her son. My friend Amy had promised me her bassinet when she found out I was pregnant, but she knew our other friend, who announced her pregnancy after mine, much, much longer. Of course she should get it, she said. I was hurt, but knew it was the right thing to do. I’d get one at my shower, I assumed. But before I got the chance to register for one, Amy beat me to it. As I was leaving her house one day, she walked out and handed me a brand new, gorgeous bassinet. I was touched beyond belief. I have always had a hard time accepting help from people. The fact that Amy went out and did something so thoughtful and kind has stuck with me all these years.
• A Sweet Surprise: Shari. I miscarried a few years ago. I did it the hard way, sitting in my bathroom bleeding for 12 hours until the baby passed. (Sorry, TMI.) I was so hollow and sad afterward. That night my friend Shari showed up at my door with a large cup of Ralph’s jelly ring ices. She handed it to me, saying she didn’t want to bother me, but she wanted to know she cared. I already did, but that simple gesture meant a lot.
• An Awkward Surprise: Judy.  Judy and I were not just friends, we were couple friends. The four of us had more laughs than I can count. Through half our 20s and our early 30s until we had a falling out. We’re both have/had sensitivity issues. We both used to get hurt and jump to protect ourselves. She expected a lot. I over-promised a lot. I never wanted to disappoint, but managed to do that often by overextending myself. We had a falling out. A  big one. After some time, I wrote Judy a note. She replied with a handwritten three-page letter that she poured her heart into. She started an honest dialog that helped us reconcile. We’ve re-started our friendship from scratch. Even though she lives in another state, we can pick up the phone and talk for two hours like we did last weekend. What a wonderful gift.
• An Old Surprise: K. Sometimes, the people who do the most for us don’t stay in our lives, but that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate them. Not only was high school horrific, but, when I was 19, I got engaged to a real psycho. It was so hard. Part of the reason I stayed as long as I did was the fact that I was happy when he wasn’t being abusive. We had couple friends. A full life. But there was always that beat-you-up underlying psycho thing I had to deal with. When we finally broke up, the sociopath kept all the friends. Of course, it didn’t help that I didn’t really know how to be a great friend back then. So I went to college knowing nobody. I had very few social ties. Then I met K., who introduced me to everyone she knew, and taught me how to have fun again. We had a falling out a few years ago. We both said terrible things to each other. (She said I was dead to her; I said she was a selfish, self-centered bitch who always has to be angry at someone. Not my best moment.) Still, I appreciate her for the person she helped me to become. Losing her friendship changed my life, and that’s what a good friend does: Helps you to be the best person you can be.

OK, a few lighthearted links to get your weekend started right:

Experience Project. Experience is everything, which is why I love this site. You can go and read about millions of different experiences — wacky, profound, funny, sad, exciting. You can also challenge yourself to do something new, and get support along the way.

BabyBox.com Cute site, but there are plenty of cute sites out there. The thing I like about this one is its service that lets you take your kid’s art work, and make it wearable, turning it into a shirt, pillowcase, or blanket. At $125 it’s expensive, but I still love the concept.

The Failblog. Am I the only one who hasn’t already seen this site? A collection of mostly really funny videos and photos that show people doing stupid things along side snarky commentary. I laugh every time I check it out. It’s probably on par with People of Wal-Mart, another place I go for a quick chuckle.

The New Blog. Looking for something new? Well, this site lists a bunch of them. (Loved being pointed towards the new FunnyorDie.com Ed HardyBoys — get it, Hardy Boys — video!)

I Am Bored site. Bored? There’s something on this site to un-bore you. Bare-bones but so worth the read, there’s something here for everyone, whether you want to laugh, think, smile, or cry.

I sat there listening as the classmate’s mom told me how, on the field trip, Katelyn had tried sitting down next to R., who promptly snapped, “I don’t want you sitting next to me!” (Oh, did I mention that R. likes to manipulate my daughter? Being nice sometimes, mean others?) We finished our conversation, the classmate’s mom telling me how, when she saw it happening, she went over and stuck up for Katelyn, telling R. that she wasn’t being nice. I listened but all the while I was distracted. Why didn’t Katelyn tell me about the issue? Why didn’t she trust me? When I thought about it, I figured out why. I’m so sensitized to bullying and people being unkind that I want to jump up and slay every R. who says boo to my daughter.

When I was in grade school and junior high I got picked on. A lot. I used to come home with stories. How this one said that to me, and that one called me something else. How a few of the teachers were even unkind to me. I would come home looking for help, but my mother always told me I needed to deal with what was going on myself. That I needed to stick up for myself. (I can’t blame her. A widow at 35, she had three kids and two jobs. She needed someone to stick up for her, too, but no one was around.) And so I grew to hate school more and more. It got so bad that –because my mom left for work around 7, so we had to get ourselves to school — some days I simply stayed home. I rationalized that it was easier dealing with the yelling at home than dealing with the teasing in school.

But Katelyn isn’t going through what I went through. Not by a long shot. She’s in a great school, and she has plenty of friends. That’s why I know the protecto-mode strategy I’ve had all along isn’t the right one. I know it in my head anyway. Any therapist would say the only way Katelyn is going to learn how to be strong against an obvious bully like R. is to be hurt by her. You can’t learn to avoid pain if you never feel it. And by rescuing Katelyn whenever she’s about to be hurt, I’m preventing good-for-her pain. I am the person I am today not in spite of, but because of those mean kids who tortured me in school. I have a lot of great friends now because I know what a good friend looks like. And trust me, it took me a while to learn. Heck, it even took me a while to learn how to be a good friend because I was so used to being hurt, I often sabotaged relationships.

Unfortunately, knowing all this doesn’t stop me from wanting to gather Katelyn into my arms every morning, and put her into a special bubble. A bubble that protects her against barbs and criticisms, against I-don’t-want-you-to-sit-heres and wow-your-glasses-are-funny-looking. And the many, many worse things, that as a little girl growing up in today’s world, she is going to hear. So I have to find a happy medium. I have to find a way to help her without smothering her. I have to give her advice without telling her what to do. I have to let her get hurt so she can figure out which girls are the ones she should be friends with, and which ones are the bitches. (Sorry R.’s parents: Your daughter is a bitch. And yes, I am aware how mean it is to call a 6-year-old a bitch.)

That’s why, last night as I tucked her into bed, I told her that I was going to butt out from now on unless she wanted my help. I told her that I wanted to hear about when she got hurt, but I also promised that if she did confide in me, I wouldn’t say anything. I’d just listen. She could trust me and let me be there for her, I said. And then I explained why I was so quick to dismiss people who were unkind to her: Because I love her so much my heart feels like it’s going to explode when I think about her getting hurt. She put her arms around my neck, pulled me close, and kissed my nose. Five times. And then she snuggled down and closed her eyes. And so I am here putting my vows in writing so I have to keep my own promises. As much as it hurts me. I’m going to let her get hurt. (But I don’t promise I’m going to like it.)

Were you ever bullied as a child? Were you a bully? How has it affected who you are as an adult? How has it affected the way you parent? I’d love to hear about your experiences.