Excerpt from "Sometimes Never":
One of your best friends works at the preschool. Sheís the mother you wanted to be. She never says no to her two angels. You do it like this, she says: Instead of saying No standing on the furniture you say Feet on the floor please. Instead of saying No hitting you say It hurts when you hit. Your friendís biggest family issue is the fact that she has no interest in sex and as a result her husband engages in various passive-aggressive behaviors like starving the dog and using the last roll of toilet paper.
I am not the mother I wanted to be, you tell her.
She says something that at first strikes you as wise and then floods you with so much guilt that you are struck dumb with failure.
She says: He is not the child you wanted him to be.
When your ex-husband comes to pick up The Baby you tell him that the director of the preschool recommended that The Baby get tested. He snorts. Tested for what? he says. The kid is four.
You nod. You have to agree. There was a time when you, too, were a rational person. When you read and approved of articles about overly medicated children and reviews of books about how modern society pathologizes boys. Now you are one of the converted. Your boy is your religion now.
You need to relax, your ex-husband says. Get in the car, already, he says crisply to The Baby and The Baby does, just like that.
You blink. I am relaxing, you say.
You call your doctorís office. What is it regarding, the officious nurse asks.
I need to relax, you say.
Uh huh, the nurse says.
Tentatively, you say, Iím interested in medication.
What kind? she says.
Something slams into your buttocks and you wheel around. Itís The Babyís head.
Iím hungry, he growls. Iím Chewbacca, and I want some MEAT
Iíll have to call you back, you say to the nurse.