Because I was running late for work this morning, I saw an interview with a mother, her pseudonym is Jennifer Rabiner, on the "Today'' show. The piece described this mother's profound feelings of disappointment in her older daughter, from infancy, which was chronicled in an essay for Redbook magazine (redbookmag.com -- search for Jennifer Rabiner).

Before learning more about her story, I realized that I was immediately hostile toward this woman, but as I learned more I felt more empathy for her -- and, especially for her daughter. It was a struggle to get this child to eat, to sleep, to take an interest in the world around her, to engage with other children. She was a crier, who needed to be rescued. And through it all, her mother seized every opportunity to let her daughter know what a disappointment she was.

Her shocking admission: "As you can imagine,'' this mother wrote, "I felt guilty that I was basically repelled by my own child. But  honestly, the guilt was overshadowed by a colossal sense of disappointment.''

"Sophie'' even began tearing out clumps of her own hair, and later started scratching herself.

It was not until this little one was 7 that she was diagnosed with a growth hormone deficiency.

I'd encourage you to read this mom's story, and, if you're so moved, to share your thoughts here. This is an extreme case, but it also brings up questions about the rest of us: Do we always like the children we love? And perhaps the same question could be asked of them. Is this mom someone to be chastised for the treatment of her daughter, or applauded for seeking help and sharing her story with a wider audience -- where there may be others who feel the same way, and can benefit from her confessions. I don't have the answer.

When I picked up my daughter at dance tonight, her greeting left a little to be desired. Mom, why are you wearing THAT shrug with THAT dress? It's black on black, my 11-year-old Chanel wannabe told me, and the textures are all wrong when worn together. A few moments later she corrected my grammar by pointing out that an intended adverb was missing the "ly.'' She was, indeed, right. But that didn't make me less annoyed. Then, when I asked about her day, she responded with shock that I'd think she would know everything that happened in her Lancaster County school  -- you would have thought she was touring Paris all afternoon and that I made the ridiculous assumption that she would have a clue as to what was happening in North America.

At that point, I demanded quiet in the car. Complete and uninterrupted silence. I like to think of myself as fairly intelligent, and somewhat insightful. But now that my daughter is 11 -- soon to turn 12 -- I'm not so sure. All of sudden, I don't seem to have much on the ball. My sister has a 13-year-old girl. My sister-in-law has two daughters, one who just finished her freshman year of college and another in her late 20s who's about to be a mom herself. My sister and sister-in-law, by their daughters standards, are also significantly flawed.

We enjoy wonderful relationships with our daughters. But what's with the nitpicking?

Perhaps it's a painful rite of passage. Maybe daughters can be occasionally super-critical because when they look at their moms they see themselves. And how about this for a revelation: My mother has noted that all three of us mothers -- my sister, sister-in-law and I -- are too critical of her at times. Ouch!

"A mom forgives us all our faults, not to mention one or two we don't even have,'' wrote freelander Robert Brault.

Maybe that needs to work from a daughter's direction, as well. Meanwhile, I'm thinking about pairing cotton and taffeta tomorrow. Wonder what the resident fashion critic will say about that?

It is Mother's Day, and I am childless -- my daughter is at a sleepover at a dear friend's home and most assuredly having the time of her life. But we'll be together later this afternoon with grandparents, and an aunt, uncle and cousin. My daughter will spend the remainder of the day finishing a school project on Egypt. And I'll be nearby, offering the encouragement and glue, staples, magic markers and scissors. But that's OK. That's what we moms do.

I hope I'll remember to thank my own mom today, now 79 years old, for all that she's done for me -- and, even now, still does. I hope I'll also remember all of the women in my life who, though perhaps they do not have children of their own, have always been at the ready to nurture and love our kids. Teachers. Neighbors. Aunts or cousins. I don't know where my daughter and I would be without them.

Wishing you all a glorious May 8. To all women, whether moms by birth, adoption, happy circumstance or a nurturing countenance, Happy Mother's Day!

Don't know how I missed this, but just came across some kid trends for 2011 that were identified earlier this year by Parents magazine on the fourth hour of the "Today'' show. See what you think:

1. Look for little birds, perhaps inspired by the Twitter craze, to adorn nursery decor, toys and children's clothes.

2. Jeggings, which cross a jean look with a legging fit, are hot, hot, hot.

3D. No longer limited to the movie theater, the magazine notes that 3D images are everywhere: latptops, cameras, video games and more. However, this comes with a word of caution. Nintendo has noted that too much 3D viewing can be harmful to the eyes, particularly for children under age 6.

4. Video chatting. Skype, Parents notes, is great for moms and dads who travel and want to keep in touch with their kids. And it's a godsend for families with military parents serving far from their homes. Wonderful, too, for grandparents and other relatives who lives states away.

5. Add to the list spooky toys, perhaps inspired by the "Twilight'' fervor. For little kids, there are stuffed animals like cute bats -- I know, those two words are a weird combo -- and picture books.

6. Movie remakes of the classics: Think "Gnomeo & Juliet."

7. Finally, what Parents call "Mommy and Me Beauty,'' which are lines of lotions and other skin-care products for mom and baby. Some are organic. One among them, California Baby.

What would you add to the list?

Still having a bit of insomnia trouble. I've been awake for hours -- it's just after 5:30 a.m. now -- and the time change hasn't helped. Nor did the early morning rain. It's too darn dark and wet to get up, but no use wasting waking hours. So here I am and working to put the time to its best use. I have a couple of thank-you notes to write. One to a dear friend who so kindly made dinner for my daughter and me last week. No reason to do it. Just because she was thinking of us. And another to a cousin, who is a treasured friend, for a lovely lunch on Monday. In this case, I arrived at the restaurant -- it was my day off so maybe the head was somewhere else -- without my purse. That's right, no cell phone, no makeup, and worse, no wallet. Thus, no money or card to cover the lunch, which she so graciously took care of. (I can tell you exactly why I forgot the purse -- I was busy loading bag after bag of kid stuff in the car, so my stuff never made it off the kitchen counter.)

Anyway, my lack of sleep is probably for the best. PSSAs start today, so this means a good breakfast for my daughter. And perhaps even getting our lunches made without running around the kitchen like I'm in some kind of timed relay, which of course, I always am. And if I play my cards right, I might even get a few more pages of "The Help'' read. It took me a few dozen pages to get into the rhythm of the writing, but now the book by Kathryn Stockett has my full attention. (Anybody out there read it? What did you think?) I could always do some dusting ... no, no use getting overzealous about my insomnia.

So enough of the pre-dawn ramblings. I'm off and into the day. May you have a good one.

It found us: The sickness that's had people dropping like flies finally invaded our home, even though we did everything we could to elude its grasp. So, at about 10 o'clock, last night, after a happy weekend of  dinner with friends, a party with more friends, my daughter's sleepover followed by a restful holiday topped by an evening of ballet class, she was stricken with a stomach bug and fever. (I know, busy weekend ... maybe too busy, and a lot of exposure to every illness making its rounds.)

Is there a more helpless feeling, than when your child is sick? I can't think of one that surpasses it. And doesn't it always seem like the worst hits at about 3 o'clock in the morning ... when the world is at its darkest, and oh-so quiet? And doctors' offices are closed? That's about the time foreheads are hottest with fever, the thermometer passing 100 and ever-edging upward. It makes the world an incredibly lonely place. As it was for me last night, as I took my daughter from her room into mine so I could check her through the night. She was so sick, and so uncomfortable. It seemed the new day would never dawn.

But it did, and with it her fever broke.  So the day, for my daughter, will be one of rest and hot tea. For me, it will be work at home mixed in with laundry and snow shoveling. But all is well, or getting there, as I proceed with a sense of relief mixed with equal parts exhaustion and accomplishment. May your days be healthy ones!

The flu and other late-winter maladies seem to have a tight grip on Lancaster County. My daughter, who's managed to remain healthy though started coughing a bit last night, said out of the two sixth-grade classrooms at her Penn Manor school, 18 students were absent yesterday. And that's just sixth grade. The illnesses seem to be: upper respiratory ailments (and sinus infections); strep throat; and of course, my favorite, stomach bugs.

And it's crossing the country: My fourth-grade nephew in Chicago called his grandparents last week to announce that he had strep throat. He was actually quite proud of his achievement.

We're pushing Vitamin C, and lots of sleep. Hand washing. Other parent friends are taking preventive measures with Airborne. Hopefully it will work, though right now these illnesses seem to be ganging up on adults and kids alike. Even our dog has been listless.

Stay well, and if you have secrets to keeping the flu, and the doctor away, pass them along.

We cheer our kids as they grow, learn and reach milestones, but for many of us parents, the latter can be bittersweet celebrations. We understand that our children are growing up and older and, if we're doing our jobs right, becoming increasingly independent. Well, allow me to confide, all is extraordinarily bittersweet for me this year as my daughter enters into the final months of sixth grade and, alas, elementary school. She enjoys being at the top of the heap, so to speak, and is increasingly looking ahead to middle school. I, on the other hand, find myself doing a lot of glancing back, thinking about the special moments of first grade, second and third grades ... throughout it all, holding on to each day of sixth grade with a white-knuckled grip.

And so it was yesterday that I assisted with her classmates' final grade-school Valentine's Day party. I made brownies. I helped the teacher ready the room with treats. I filled paper cups with orangeade. I took pictures. But, for the most part, my daughter and her friends didn't need a lot of attending to. Far different from the Valentine's Day party I helped with when my daughter was a little kindergartener. Back then, these same kids, now on the verge of teenhood, delighted at serving as little postmasters and postmistresses at a valentine-filled post office in the corner of their first classroom. The mind plays tricks, because I remember it vividly ... so it must have been only yesterday.

So it is that we move on. And, on this post-Valentine's Day, my heart breaks as it rejoices.  

My daughter was born in China. For us, the Chinese New Year is a big deal, one we've celebrated with gusto all of her life. The New Year began this week and, appropriately for us, it is the Year of the Rabbit -- the year she was born. (I still remember buying a stamp, carved in the shape of a rabbit, for my daughter when we were in Hong Kong more than a decade ago. And receiving another as a gift while in mainland China.) We've marked the holiday at huge parties in Philadelphia. At smaller dinners in our dining room. And with thousands in NewYork's Chinatown. We've hosted celebrations for family. And have attended many more festivities with friends over the years. What great memories!

We've also made a big deal out of the celebration at school. In my daughter's early elementary years, for example, we gave gift bags, adorned with Chinese characters, to each one of her classmates. They were filled with coloring papers, trinkets and other items related to the new year. We'd share the traditions through music and lanterns and picture books. We'd bring in treats -- traditional Chinese fare complemented by brownies and fruit-juice boxes. And of course, for years, even when the bags went by the wayside as she grew older, she continued to distribute "hung bao'' or red envelopes to all of her classmates. Tradition calls for lucky money, usually given to Chinese children, to be place inside. Chocolate "gold'' coins seemed more appropriate for school. All of our efforts were a hit with teachers and my daughter's classmates. Most importantly, my daughter could share her heritage in a positive way, and it made her feel proud!

This year, for the first time, my daughter elected to forgo the Chinese celebration at school. I've coaxed, oh-so-gently. But no, Mom, not this year. Not even the hung bao. I'm chalking this up to the fact that she's in sixth grade now and perhaps what she did as a second-grader no longer holds the same appeal. We'll still be celebrating with dear friends on Sunday. The red envelopes are on the kitchen countertop, waiting for me to fill them with lucky money. It is my hope that she has outgrown only the traditions of how we mark the day at school, but not her heritage itself. For all of us, I tell her, the past, traditions, heritage and family hold a special place. I hope it's one we'll still be able to find.

It is, indeed, the safety of our children that is paramount on these icy, cold, snowy days, not to mention that of the folks who need to get to school to make their education happen. So I understand the reason for snow days, or should I say snow "daze.'' But, truly, this is one incredible winter. AND I'VE HAD IT! And I'm even a lover of the season.

The school delays, school closings, delays that morph into closings have finally won. I dream about shoveling; I rarely know what day of the week it is. School cancellation lists scroll endlessly through my head, much like the commercial jingles you can't stop humming. A seven-day forecast suggesting a storm of any sort puts me into a panic. I no longer have the stamina to adjust and readjust and readjust school days and activity schedules and doctors' appointments. And trying to do it all while getting to work is pushing me to the edge of the snow drift. Even I have my limits, and they've cracked beneath my snow-filled pumps.

So I am flying the white snowy flag of surrender and most parents I know -- many complaining of fighting kids and lack of regimen -- will happily help to hoist it up the pole.

Still, there is hope in the day: Prognosticator Punxsutawney Phil predicts an early spring! No, I don't typically get my weather reports from a woodchuck but I'll make an exception in this case. And I'll do it with the same fervor with which I'll ignore the prediction of our more local Octorara Orphie, who says winter's going to stick around for six more weeks. Give me the good-news groundhog!