The first week of my first tv anchor job, my milk came in ten minutes before the start of the early morning newscast. My newborn daughter was just three months old. I recall standing in my nursing bra and skirt in the tiny station bathroom, frantically blow-drying the massive wet spots from my periwinkle Casual Corner blazer. That little girl turns 25 this Friday. One of my most vivid memories of Nicole Elizabeth’s childhood-- of which there are millions-- was her first day of 7th grade in a massive middle school outside of Dallas, Texas. We had moved mid-year from Phoenix, and her dad, little brother and I were walking Nicole to her new classroom. Her future classmates were sitting on the floor outside, lined up against the hallway, waiting to leave for P.E.. As we approached, one little blonde girl shouted, “New girl, sit here!” Another joined in, “No. Sit here!” And another, “What’s your name, new girl?” I was stunned--flab...
confessions of a news anchor mom, seeking an unscripted life
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