Yesterday afternoon, Olivia and Caramia were playing in the backyard with a few friends. Tiny was wearing one of her usual sparkly pink costumes, this time with a giant floppy hat. Olivia was wearing Hello Kitty pajamas and knee-high rubber rain boots. The kids were all laughing, taking turns on the swings, and pushing each other down the sliding board. Watching them from the window, I suddenly thought, "Oops! Bad mother! Standing here staring when you should be out there paying attention to your kids, playing with them, and having quality time." I was halfway through the back door before I came to my senses and realized that it's okay to let my children play without me. I sometimes feel this weird guilt -- am I ignoring them? And what's the difference between ignoring them and expecting them to amuse themselves? Allowing them to amuse themselves?

My mother had no problem at all when it came to pushing my brothers and me out the door to play. I don't think she ever felt a moment's guilt about it. Not that she should have. We became independent little kids who grew up to be independent adults. If the three of us have one thing in common now, it's this: we don't expect to be entertained. We figured out early that when it comes to fun, it's best to make your own.

I'm working on finding the playmate/parent balance. It's tricky, because I really like drawing on our driveway with chalk, and playing with clay, and coloring. Which means that every day now brings a fresh dilemma. For example, my friend Barbi just brought Caramia a Dora coloring book. That thing is calling my name. Should I unload the dishwasher or should I use our cool new markers to color in the fiesta trio? Check my voicemail, or draw a moustache on Swiper?