In my quest to be Every Woman, I'd lost sight of the very people I was killing myself to do it all for. Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped noticing my 8-year-old's copious kisses before school and how my older boy has my dad's soulful eyes.
I can vividly picture Michael walking toward the car. He had longish blonde hair and was wearing a green military-looking jacket. I had never seen him before but the thought flitted through my mind with absolute clarity: I'm going to marry him.
American Indian children, from the age of three on, are taught using a "talking stick" to practice the art of listening and respecting another's viewpoint. So why not try the same method in your carpool?