Last weekend I was in Scotland, at a conference on the "global crossroads of Arabic literature." Oh, it's all so global. The conference was great, with lots of smart people and a few really good friends; Ann and Jean drove out from Wisconsin for the occasion to help Ken and spend some time with the kids. Among other things Ann brought Esti a couple of dolls and a dolly car seat and dolly stroller handed down from one of her neighbors. Apparently Esti wouldn't part with them; even fell asleep at naptime still cradling the toy stroller in her arms. She is a very good, even irrationally good mommy to her dolls.
I am feeling mightily puzzled by this whole maternal instinct business. At home I'm a pretty ferocious tiger mom (on which more later). But I seem to have no problem going away at every invitation, saddling everyone else (my parents, Ken's mom, Ken's dad, but mainly of course Ken) with housekeeping and child care and coordination of the various lessons etc., then of course collapsing exhausted for a day or so when I get home, then running to teach.
So basically I just have to be the center of the universe all the time.
What the hell?
