It's bedtime, and Emi's asking for a drink before she goes to sleep. But tonight her usual request is accompanied by a more ominous directive. "Mommy," she says, her face solemn, "when you come back, we have to talk."

Piano teacher with one room to rent, Steinway B to share for practicing, Sunset District. It couldn't have been more perfect if I had written out my ideal scenario and tacked it to the conservatory's "Housing to Share" rental notice board.

The moments of our daily lives are the best therapist we could have if we pay attention. Motherhood provides an extraordinary opportunity because it triggers so many emotions that lay buried.

What is it these days with the Oblivious Factor? Whether we're driving, shopping or walking down the street, we are so wrapped up in something else other than looking to see if we're blocking someone's way or slowing down traffic, that we pretty much become a nuisance not only to others, but a hazard to ourselves.

No one ever told me that when I became a mom, that I'd also have the dubious distinction of becoming a human coat rack.