Sometimes when I sit down to read the newspaper, our inside-and-outside dog, Lady, who weighs about 18 pounds, jumps right into the middle of what I am doing or reading. She looks at me, as if to say, "I need your attention. I need you to talk to me. I need you to pet me and touch me." And I respond for a bit, before she jumps off my lap.........goes on her merry way or lays back down on the floor.

I often think, "Too bad people don't do that. Then they wouldn't feel or be neglected. They would always have enough."

This is a pass along that I received a couple of weeks ago with that sort of theme:

A Hug for Your Thoughts
By Brenda Nixon

"Mom, you're always on the computer!" Laura grumbled.

"No, I'm not," I defended.

"Every day I come home from school you're working on the computer."

"Well, at least I'm here for you!"

My daughter, Laura, at twelve years old, was right. Day after day, in my home office, I would stare into space as my hands typed out the thoughts of a presentation or of research completed for an article. It seemed that my work as a writer and speaker cemented my fingers to the keyboard and my mind to valuable ideas. What Laura did not realize was that during her day away, I'd also be doing a load of laundry, answering incoming phone calls, cleaning up dirty dishes, crunching an editor's deadline, sorting the family mail, networking and marketing my speaking service. It was only around three in the afternoon that I'd finally collapse at my desk for a few precious moments of deep thought. Then she'd come in from school.

I prided myself on being available to my children. After all, I am a speaker on child behavior and parenting. But Laura's observation stung my conscience. Her perception of me must have been of a mom who was available but unapproachable. Hardly the image I wanted to project. My relationship with my children is more important than any other career.

"Laura," I called, "come here a minute."

Out of her bedroom, Laura strolled down the hall to my doorway. I had decided to have her alert me when I was obsessed with work. I wanted her to have the power to let me know when she thought I was being aloof.

"So you think I'm preoccupied?" I asked.

"Most of the time," came her honest reply.

After I explained my full schedule and the fact that I chose to office from home to be accessible to her and her sister, I offered Laura this compromise.

"Whenever you feel I'm ignoring you or you need my attention, I want you to hug me," I said. "Just come up and give me a little hug, and that'll be our signal that you need me."

Years later we still have that unspoken sign. I've become much more sensitive to my daughters' comings and goings. And on the days I'm not, Laura gives me a little squeeze to remind me of the real reason I work from home.