Eliana Osborn

My husband is worried about stigma, about Owen feeling different, about epilepsy being part of his identity. Those are sweet concerns, really. And I get it — I love the kid too. I’d never want to make his life harder in any way.

Now that I’m a mother, I’m much more sympathetic to a woman who just couldn’t take it anymore. Not saying I’d leave my kids in a parking lot and hope for the best . . . just saying that I can understand the impulse.

I’m full of emotions: pride, awe, fear, nerves. The spelling bee first, then the piano recital. Two different kids, same mom. Same me, wanting to prevent my boys from pain and discomfort. Same me, biting my tongue and smiling broadly in support.

If he were an a--hole to my kids, things would be easier. But he’s not. He’s good with them. He’s his best self. It makes me alternately happy and heartbroken.

Your partner will make you want to throw up at some point. Pure, unadulterated disgust.

We take weekend turns. He does vacations and summers. Literally. He takes them away. It is great.

I’m not there yet. But I need to be honest—I’m closer to 40 than any other multiple of five.

I look tired when I stay up too late. I also look tired if I get eight hours of sleep.

Help.

Ray Nagin. Yes, the former New Orleans mayor who now has a criminal record. Let me explain.