Now that the kids are in school and I have a manuscript due like, yesterday, and work piling up left and right, I decided to sit down and catch up on the new Fall TV lineup that I have recorded with my DVR. No, it is not a TiVo. I got the one that came with my satellite. And let me tell you one thing about it that I never knew before: this thing is snobby and not even a little bit kind in its opinions on what I record.

As I pull up the menu of hours upon hours of shows, I decide on Survivor. Midway through the show, my DVR freezes. Then it turns itself off. Totally off.

I admit: in our household, when it comes to homework I have always been the go-to parent. It’s just the way it happened once the kids started school. With the confidence – and a touch of arrogance – of one who has been to college, I had no shame in amazing my children that I could do math. In my head! I could whip off the 9's times table and the 5’s with nary a blink or hesitation. Oh, I was just that smart (to them).

And then came the day they stumped me. I want to tell you that it was a calculus problem that had me struggling, but I can’t.

When I was pregnant with my oldest son, I had those magical illusions that most first time moms have of maternal bliss. I knew that once he was born we would spend our days snuggling, bonding, and enjoying those diaper-commercial moments where the mom gazes lovingly at the small bundle cooing at her.

Reality? Well, it didn’t quite fit that maternal bliss image I had in my head. While pregnant with Brandon, he was quite ferocious with his kicks. I knew he was destined for soccer greatness. My kidneys agreed. After a high-risk and complicated pregnancy, he was finally born and placed gently in my arms. We had that moment of gazing into each others eyes before he let out a scream so loud I was certain he had to have burst his own eardrums.

And the crying didn’t stop for three months.

This weekend I was grounded. By a seven year old. It is amazing, the power your children can have to ground you. It is swift. It hits you in the gut. And you remember your lesson well.

Oh, I don’t mean “grounding” as in “stay in the naughty chair and be quiet.” (Though that would be blissful!) No, my children have an altogether different way of grounding me.

Before school started I began dreaming about how wonderful it will be to have all day to myself. I have time to work on my writing! I have time to accomplish those tasks that went unfinished all summer! I can go to a movie! During the day! That is not rated G! Though, that idea of what it would be like after school started does not match the reality that has occurred. I seem to have contracted a disease: Volunteer-a-holic. I am hoping it is not fatal.

I caught it from the PTA.