I've always said, "It takes a village to raise a child." Well, at least since Hillary said it. But in my 16 years of parenthood, I certainly have availed myself of that village many a time.

First of all, my husband travels a bunch. This means that if I get sick or one kid has to be one place while another has to be somewhere else, I depend on my wonderful friends. I can't remember why we did this, but I found a document on my computer called, "It Takes a Village: My Neighborhood." I think we realized that we had a variety of kids in a variety of school situations…year-round, high school, middle school, elementary school and all the different schedules those entail. I hope you will giggle as I did when I read some of them:

• Papa Jack (neighborhood grandfather) - "I'm not retired. I'm just permanently tracked out."
• Grandma Kay (neighborhood grandmother) - "Golf Cart rescues only
• Joe Black (stage name; single dad) - "Works 24/7, so let's just all try to help HIM out!"

The other day I found out that I would be going into the hospital on Monday, for about two weeks. If I had been crying because of my depression (for which I was going into the hospital), I cried harder when I saw how my village came flocking to my aid. Offers included:

• Keeping kids overnight while husband travels
• Providing meals
• Visiting me in hospital
• Driving me to hospital if husband's travel precludes him from doing so
• Prayers for Refuah Schleyma (speedy and complete healing)
• Books
• "U know I'm there for U"

And even from my wonderful editor, Teresa, "Let us know if we can do anything."

And the e-mails keep coming and the tears of joy keep coming…pushing their way through the depression and giving me hope where there was once hopelessness.