Competitive parenting

Want to see my September column in Redbook? Say no more.

When it comes to parenting — and most everything else — I'm cursed with both a competitive streak and terminal laziness. I deeply want to excel, but I'd rather not work at it. I'd prefer that my natural skills and charm catapult me to the top. That competitive mind-set kicked into high gear when I got pregnant. I compared myself with every pregnant woman I could find. I found it difficult, however, to figure out if I was ahead. How do you measure pregnancy success? Degree of rosy glow? Lowest number of stretch marks? To the extent that I could quantify my superiority, I found that instead of winning, I seemed to not even be placing. I spied a beaming pregnant woman in the bookstore, and she didn't have any lunch-related stains on her shirt. While taking a waddling stroll, I spotted a woman with what appeared to be a third trimester belly, and she was jogging. Jogging!

The rest is here.

This is my last column for Redbook. There's a new editor-in-chief, you see, and she's shaking things up. That's what she's there to do! If you have any opinion on that, there's a comment section over there. Is all I'm saying.

Updated to add: Whoa, readers of mine! Although my column is ending, I'll still be working with Redbook in the future, and I happen to be quite fond of my editors there. I appreciate the supportive comments on their site, but there's no need to threaten or abuse them. Also, remind me to stay in your good graces. Phew.