I guess this is a Sign of the Times. Yesterday, John and I were playing a game of Tag Team Parenting. He had taken Sarah to an appointment with her new therapist, and I was rushing James to soccer practice. I opened my cell phone to call John to say something along the lines of, “Where the heck are you guys, and please take the chicken out of the oven when the timer goes off!” He was opening his cell phone to talk to me. We passed each other on the road, staring at each other, both clutching cellphones. You gotta love the 21st century!

Sarah recently started with a new therapist, and she is starting to warm up to her. (Whew!) We’re still doing the Medication/Homeopathy Juggle (my second favorite game after Tag Team Parenting), trying to help her get on an even keel. I am remembering my mantra … DON’T PANIC … DON’T PANIC … DON’T PANIC!

After the therapy appointment, John Sarah her to a bookstore. Taking either Sarah or me to a bookstore is like letting an addict loose on a street full of savvy drug dealers. She managed to spend the $20 she earned babysitting the other night when I went to My Name is Rachel Corrie (A wonderful play, by the way. The play that was “Too Hot for New York” — and we got it in Staunton, Virginia! Who’d have thunk it? Kudos to Megan Hefner for making this happen.)

After soccer practice, James, Trishy and I darted into the house where John was practically standing in the doorway with plates, ready to serve our dinner. Then I darted back out again, this time with Sarah. Modern parenting is not just an art — it’s an Olympic sport. We went to see King Corn with my friend Courtney and her daughter A. We had a really good time. The movie was fascinating, and it prodded me to re-evaluate my non-action of issues related to responsible food purchasing and sustainable agriculture.

More later. I need to work on Trishy’s garden.