tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69185912491249104762011-11-23T07:52:04.094-06:00Finding happiness with hubby and three kids and living in the middle of a corn field.Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.comBlogger1731100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-61933128760723469522011-09-02T08:47:00.000-05:002011-09-02T09:14:10.874-05:00

This content was originally posted at my AC page.   I never use my blog to write anything remotely political.  But this situation is so outrageous, I felt compelled to speak out. This afternoon a friend of mine posted the following message on Facebook: New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg says that New York firefighters and Police officers would not be invited to tenth anniversary

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-89293347569013142722011-08-29T09:50:00.001-05:002011-08-29T12:59:10.618-05:00

This article has previously been posted to my Associated Content Page. Failing Their Way to Success: A Parent’s Guide to Helping Children Succeed through Failure. Failure, It’s as Easy as Falling off a Bike Do you remember when you learned to ride a bike without training wheels?  If you were like most kids, your Mom or Dad held your seat while you peddled.  Eventually Mom or Dad let go and you

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-42357294685295683102011-08-22T20:30:00.001-05:002011-08-22T20:30:01.246-05:00

Note: This article is also available at my Associated Content Web Site. Please click to read it and other articles by me.   Why Abercrombie and Fitch Should Ditch their Offer to the Situation and Pay Me Instead On August 12, 2011, Abercrombie & Fitch Co. issued a ground breaking press release when it announced that it had offered substantial compensation to Michael 'The Situation' Sorrentino (

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-16200459861361475472011-04-07T11:17:00.000-05:002011-04-07T11:17:35.984-05:00

I banged my fist on my desk and muttered “I haven’t got all day.”  But my computer ignored me and struggled to load the rest of my page.  I had been fidgeting in my seat for almost five minutes until my computer burped and then locked up. The screen, which displayed only half of my document, was mocking me now.  But I didn't give up.  Maybe I could fix it, I thought.  I opened the task manager

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-15513044395182846262011-03-28T12:42:00.002-05:002011-03-28T13:54:37.291-05:00

It’s been over a week since I last blogged in my blog (note how I cleverly use “blog" as both a noun and a verb).  And I know you have all been holding your breath in anticipation of my latest update.  “Where is she?” you are undoubtedly asking yourself.  “What adventures has she been undertaking?” “What austere thoughts is she thinking?” “What’s on television tonight?” Well, here’s the scoop. 

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-81462948490005503612011-03-16T11:13:00.003-05:002011-03-16T14:22:43.583-05:00

Don’t talk to me.  Don’t look at me.  If you can avoid it, don’t come within a hundred yards of me. I am in a bad mood.   It’s quarter after six and I’m trying to get out of the house in time for an early meeting.  I overslept, of course.  I couldn't find my shoes or a pair of matching socks.  And my keys have gone missing as well.  So now I am rushing around to get myself together and out the

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-19943646006274851602011-03-14T16:23:00.000-05:002011-03-14T16:23:58.361-05:00

You may know that I am a bit of a geek.  My geek-ness extends to enthusiastically reading the Jedi Apprentice series of children’s novels, watching Star Trek reruns on SciFi and wiki-stalking Apple Founder Steve Jobs.  A few years ago, as any good geek would do, I signed up for a Twitter account. You know, Twitter…..that thing Charlie Sheen is creating as exhibit A for his future commitment

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-49590414098853122372011-03-09T01:13:00.028-06:002011-03-09T06:52:54.896-06:00

“Read me a story.”  Beth (3) smiled. Beth snuggled close to Emily (5).  Emily snuggled close to Eric (8).  Eric snuggled close to Ken.  Eric was wearing his flannel Transformer PJs, which Santa had brought for Christmas.  The girls were wearing matching pink nightgowns with a decal of Minnie Mouse on the front.  Ken was wearing his nighttime t-shirt and shorts. Everyone cuddled together on Mom

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-82441249782196300942011-03-02T02:14:00.005-06:002011-03-02T02:14:00.662-06:00

Eric (8) bared his teeth and smiled at me.  “Look Mom, my tooth fell out.  Do you think the Tooth Fairy will bring me some money?”  This was Eric’s third baby tooth to pull loose from its moorings. Eric had been working his front incisor with his finger and thumb for the past few days.  Shortly after Eric had hopped out of bed in the morning, the tooth surrendered and dropped out of his mouth

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-48310881272657612092011-02-27T21:06:00.001-06:002011-02-27T21:15:31.998-06:00

The Academy Awards were tonight.  Like many American’s, I tuned in to watch celebrities and movie stars strut along the red carpet and flaunt their feathers.  My friends Erin, Katie and Kristin gabbed about each icon who trotted into view. Unfortunately, I had nothing to add to the conversation.  The only Oscar nominated movie I saw in 2010 was Toy Story 3.  For some inexplicable reason, the

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-28964609321433517962011-02-23T02:31:00.039-06:002011-02-23T02:31:00.691-06:00

Zzzzzzzztttttt.  Tug.  Zzzzzzzztttttt.  Spit.  I was standing in front of the Coca Cola machine holding a fresh, crisp one-dollar bill.  After aligning the corners of the bill to the currency slot, I gave my dollar a gentle push.  Zzzzzzzztttttt.  The machine grabbed the top edge of my bill and tugged it from my grip.  I inhaled deeply and held my breath.  “C’mon. C’mon.” Zzzzzzzztttttt.  The

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-16981312490034623512011-02-20T21:21:00.002-06:002011-02-20T21:27:08.210-06:00

Sometimes you just need a do-nothing kind of day.  Today was that day.  I had spent the day doing nothing.  And the less I did, the less I wanted to do.  And the less I wanted to do, the less I did. As the day wore on, I began to feel like an old fashioned wind up toy.  When my clock work finally ground to a halt, I climbed into my bed for an afternoon nap.  I might have stayed there all day if

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-21262631025875229922011-02-16T17:11:00.000-06:002011-02-16T17:11:15.356-06:00

Eric (8) was sitting to my right.  Emily (5) was on my left.  Beth (3) sat half on my lap and half on Eric's.  Dressed in our jammies, my babies cuddled close on my bed while I read from Chapter 5 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.  The children sat still and listened quietly as Harry and Ron hopped into a flying car because they had missed the Hogwarts Express.  Their eyes grew wide

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-23595185547991527352011-02-13T01:51:00.046-06:002011-02-13T01:51:00.072-06:00

Eric (8) hopped up and down and punched his fists in the air.  Then he turned to his pal, Jackson.   “Strike!” Eric shouted as he slapped Jackson with a high five.  As the pinsetter reset the game, the boys rushed over to the ball return and watched it spit Eric’s ball back into the hopper.  Jackson and Eric have known each other since they were four months old when they started at the same day

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-57023644774730814032011-02-09T02:49:00.008-06:002011-02-09T02:49:00.229-06:00

Recently, I was at a Training and Leadership Instituted (TLI) for my Toastmasters Club.  For those not familiar, Toastmasters is an organization that promotes development of speaking, communication and leadership skills.  During the TLI, I met a variety of people from other clubs.  One gal, S., who struck up a conversation with me during the break, told me how her club was struggling to maintain

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-14276137315093862402011-02-06T02:15:00.006-06:002011-02-06T02:15:00.260-06:00

“I could never do that.” I was talking to a friend, C., and telling her about my climb to the top of the AON building. (I know, I'm patting myself on the back again.  But, hey, someone needs to do it.) “It’s eighty floors to the top.” I boasted. “It was tough, but it was worth it.” That’s when C. cast her eyes towards the floor and said, “I could never do that.”  I talk a lot about exercising

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-51541530489360631942011-02-02T01:18:00.007-06:002011-02-02T08:34:40.127-06:00

Below me, I could see Grant Park. The trees were barren.  A thin coat of snow covered the brown grass.  At the far end Buckingham fountain, a Chicago landmark recognized throughout the world, was dry.  Tiny specks, either cars or people, scurried along pathways and roads.  I stood eighty floors above the city and soaked in the sights as if I were soaking up the sun.  It had taken me six months

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-16684953247469147952011-01-26T02:33:00.009-06:002011-01-26T02:33:00.819-06:00

Eric (8) hovered over my shoulder as I panned through last year’s Halloween photos on my computer.  It was quarter after seven on Monday morning and I had to print out ten pictures for Eric to take to school the same day.  When Eric presented me with the Spotlight Student instructions after school on Friday, I skimmed through them quickly.  Then, telling myself that I had two days to help him get

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-49517352448250394252011-01-23T20:05:00.000-06:002011-01-23T20:05:29.511-06:00

I am on the fifteenth floor – half way to the top.  I can feel my heart pounding and my breath is coming in shallow bursts.  I stop briefly to wipe a bead of sweat away from my eyes.  Then I push on, climbing the stairs.   My legs ache.  My back hurts.  I can hardly breathe. Gotta keep going.  Gotta keep going.  I tell myself. Last year at this time, I had never heard of “Tower Climbing.”   Now

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-19437322430247140002011-01-19T11:44:00.001-06:002011-01-19T11:50:03.109-06:00

Smile. That was his advice. Matt and I worked for the same company.  A few weeks before, I had met him, an up and coming, soon to be executive, at a training seminar.  He was one of the four executive facilitators.  I was there to learn. Following the session, Matt had been assigned to provide me with feedback.  That's why I was in his office. Smile? Did he say smile? He couldn’t be serious. 

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-35474577099891419952011-01-16T18:21:00.003-06:002011-01-16T20:00:37.040-06:00

It’s Friday evening and the kids are sitting at the kitchen island waiting for the kettle to whistle.  We are making Ultimate Hot Chocolates.  It’s hot chocolate and marsh mellows topped with cool whip and covered in sprinkles.  With all those sugary ingredients, you can guess why it’s a favorite in our house.  Waiting for a kettle to boil is painful for three children.  It ranks right up there

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-55006076402970366072011-01-12T01:52:00.001-06:002011-01-12T05:19:30.826-06:00

It was the first day of Boot Camp in 2011.  I looked around the room and noticed a couple of rookies fidgeting in their sneakers.  For the next hour Nancy, our drill sergeant, would put them through their paces – running, pushups, step ups, triceps dips, wall sits, lunges, squats, and more.  I wondered if they knew what they were in for. Was it only six months ago that I was in their shoes?  I

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-23685490708020238752011-01-09T03:20:00.003-06:002011-01-09T07:46:15.315-06:00

Recently, I read an Article on Yahoo News called Things Babies Born in 2011 Will Never Know.  In the article, the author made predictions about things that exist today but that will be obsolete to kids born today. Among the items she marked for obsolescence were fax machines, travel agents, newspapers, mail (aka snail mail) and wristwatches. After reading the article, I perused the comments made

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-58670534868444148542011-01-05T13:49:00.002-06:002011-01-05T13:57:09.024-06:00

Sometimes, even small changes can throw my day into a spiral.  Take parking places.  When I go to work, I always park in the same spot - every day.  Except last Tuesday when, to my dismay, someone had taken my spot.  And, as all the surrounding spots were also filled, I ended up parking in a completely different lot.  I know, it doesn’t sound like much of a problem.  Except that when I left work

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-70603704983805922862011-01-02T22:23:00.004-06:002011-01-02T22:38:49.949-06:00

Bowls and spoons had been strewn across the counter tops.  Eric’s (8) face was streaked with flour.  Emily (5) was sucking pancake batter off her hands.  Beth (3) had syrup dripping from her nose.  The kids had been “helping” me make pancakes.  It would take me all morning to clean the mess.  I sighed as I surveyed the scene.  I wasn’t sure what had possessed me to make pancakes from scratch. 

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-21909098359370734732010-12-29T02:31:00.001-06:002010-12-29T02:31:00.323-06:00

I am standing in the kitchen looking at my 2010 calendar.  I thumb through the pages.  The dates have been filled.  The events are past. In a few days, it will be a new year.  I tack up a fresh calendar for 2011.  It’s clean and bare.  It represents a new beginning. As I prepare to ring in a new year, I stop for a few minutes to reflect on what has been and what is yet to come. I’m not one for

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-62952250570071376912010-12-26T04:05:00.000-06:002010-12-26T09:26:02.710-06:00

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  I am crazy and so are you.  There is no escaping it.  It’s a fact. Crazy is all around us.  It’s in our blood.  It's in our DNA.  It's written in the book of our lives.  We can’t help it.  We are all crazy. It was almost  a year ago when I admitted my own insanity.  And since then, my life has been better because of it.  No more thinking inside the

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-52520809680432471172010-12-22T02:15:00.017-06:002010-12-22T02:15:00.292-06:00

Blobs of bright blue frosting were smeared across Beth’s (3) cheeks.  Her fingers were caked with pink and purple sprinkles.  She looked up at me and gave me her “look what I can do” smile just before she plunged her palms into the bowl of nonpareils.  She squished her hands together and then lapped the tasty embellishments off her fingers. I noticed smudges of sugar stuck to her wispy brown hair

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-42466467857225567902010-12-19T21:23:00.005-06:002010-12-19T21:38:26.909-06:00

According to Wikipedia, traditions are beliefs or customs shared by one generation to the next.  It derives from the Latin word, traditio, which means, “to hand down.”  Traditions are great.  They give us a sense of things that came before us.  They give us a sense of things that will come when we are gone. Holidays and traditions are like peanut butter and jelly, they are a natural fit.  In my

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-55524923886759199072010-12-15T14:33:00.001-06:002010-12-22T09:03:37.911-06:00

Do you remember the last time you were on an airplane?  Maybe you were on a business trip.  Or maybe you were going on vacation.  If your flight was recent, the plane was crowded and everyone was grumpy. As the plane rolled away from the gate, you may have thumbed through the in flight magazine.  Or maybe you leaned back and closed your eyes.  Or maybe you chatted with the person seated next to

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-54693231088100154902010-12-12T17:21:00.003-06:002010-12-12T19:58:33.473-06:00

“It’s called a Warrior Dash.” I was saying. “Basically, you run a 5K race that includes things like crawling through mud, climbing cargo nets and jumping over fire.” My co-worker, R., narrowed his eyes and frowned.  “Did you say, jumping over fire?” “Yea, it sounds like a lot of fun.  Um….., doesn’t it?”  By the look on R’s face, I was starting to doubt my earlier enthusiasm. “Not really.” He

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-14974783266151654332010-12-08T11:09:00.003-06:002010-12-08T11:26:36.163-06:00

“Everything is a choice.”  Several months ago, I had written the words in blue ink on a piece of white notebook paper.  The paper was tucked into a folder.  The folder was pressed into a desk drawer.  Like a long, lost scroll, the message sat dormant, waiting patiently to be rediscovered.  I found it today while I was rifling through my files, deciding which papers to keep and which to discard

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-83753785095592118242010-12-05T21:48:00.002-06:002010-12-05T22:07:22.002-06:00

My cell phone was ringing.  Well, not really ringing.  It was playing my ringtone, “The Entertainer” from the film The Sting.  I preferred the ringtone on my old phone, “I Wanna Be Sedated” by the Ramones.  But I still hadn’t figured out how to change the ring tone on my new Droid.  Bad me. I picked up the phone and stared at the key pad.  The number on my caller ID didn’t look familiar.  It

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-45823944174435717772010-12-01T15:45:00.003-06:002010-12-01T16:00:59.647-06:00

My sister Theresa loves Christmas.  She bakes mounds of cookies, cakes and pies.  She spends hours shopping to find just the right gift at just the right price. She wraps hundreds of presents in pretty paper and delicate bows.  She tramps the family miles into the woods to pick out a perfect tree. She makes apple cider and hot chocolate. She decorates her house from top to bottom, inside and

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-33766055185626871752010-11-28T14:30:00.000-06:002010-11-28T14:30:58.100-06:00

“Dad, are we going to see the delivery bell?” Emily (5) asked.  “Sure, just a few more minutes.” Ken said with a laugh.  We had been waiting in line less than ten minutes.  The weather was cool and the sun was bright.  Before long, we would be inside gazing at the historic bell. It was Saturday morning and Ken, the kids and I had hopped a train into downtown Philly to see the historic sites.  It

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-40549717703416908192010-11-24T11:23:00.004-06:002010-11-24T13:41:22.197-06:00

The question on the table was “If you could relive any moment in time, which would it be and how would you live it differently.”  I was at a Toastmaster meeting and we had reached the table topics portion of the gathering.  That’s when members are given a question to ponder and they take turns responding. But I couldn’t speak.  I could barely breath.  And my eyes were turning red.  Because I

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-19634400727536447382010-11-21T16:51:00.001-06:002010-11-21T16:57:42.828-06:00

As the year wears thin and nears its end, most folks turn and reflect on that which they have achieved in the past year.  They count the dollars they have made.  They mark the matches they have won.  They tout the triumphs they have attained. Most folks consider the power of their successes.       I am not most folks. With less than forty days until year’s end, I am not extolling my achievements.

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-50333777984848411552010-11-17T10:45:00.000-06:002010-11-17T10:45:08.623-06:00

There is a naked baby running around my bedroom.  I am not amused. I suppose I should be smiling and laughing as I watch Beth (3) giggle and scamper away from me.  But I’m not.  It’s already seven thirty, Beth isn’t dressed.  It's already seven thirty and I still have to get dressed. And if we don’t get moving now I’m going to be late for work.  It’s only seven thirty and I already have a

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-60597138183681985602010-11-14T21:07:00.003-06:002010-11-14T21:26:35.363-06:00

Beth (3) and Emily (5) are sitting on the family room floor playing with their stuffed animals.  Emily is tossing Minnie Mouse in the air and pretending Minnie can fly.  Beth is holding the pink care bear on her lap and pretending to feed her lunch. “Emily, can you be my twin.”  Beth asks. Emily pauses before answering.  “Sure.”  She smiles.  Beth hops up and rushes over to Emily to hug her. 

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-16186463604314824722010-11-10T14:05:00.004-06:002010-11-10T14:07:57.215-06:00

Authors note: Originally written for a persuasive speech assignment for my toastmaster's club. Decided to post it here since I liked the message. What do you remember most about high school?  Do you remember how to solve a differential equation?  Can you recite the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner? Or do you most remember most the hours spent in Chess Club or running with the Track Team? For many

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-32146590190536432652010-11-07T21:30:00.002-06:002010-11-07T21:39:51.575-06:00

“In eight more years, I’ll get my driver’s license.” Eric said.  Today is Eric’s eighth birthday and he’s already planning.  “You’ll need a car.” I said.  “They cost a lot of money.” “That’s OK.”  He replied.  “I have thirty dollars saved already.”   I laughed as I pictured the kind of car that money will bring. “Eric, my boy, you are a great kid.”  It’s true.  He really is a great kid.  One of

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-52210557596510581502010-11-03T22:19:00.002-05:002010-11-03T22:29:11.876-05:00

Try as I might, it will never happen.  I might as well admit it right now.  I will never, ever, ever be the PERFECT MOM.  I know, it sounds impossible.  But its time for me to face the cold, hard facts.  It doesn’t matter that I can converse about Pokémon.  It doesn’t matter that I can name several characters from My Little Pony. (There’s Sadie and Lickety Split and Buttercup.)  It doesn’t

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-37966833120125815152010-10-31T03:58:00.000-05:002010-10-31T07:39:10.978-05:00

“My balloon!” Beth wailed.  Tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her chubby red cheeks.  Beth had spent most of the afternoon playing with the plump pink balloon.  First, she had danced through the kitchen, watching the pastel orb bob and weave behind her.  After that, she sat on the dining room floor and giggled as she yanked on the string and watched the balloon jerk up and down. 

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-17996595069116853482010-10-27T09:38:00.001-05:002010-10-27T09:40:57.477-05:00

“Happy Birthday, Princess.” I whispered in Emily’s ear.  “It’s time to wake up.  Emily's eyes fluttered open.  She pushed her wispy brown hair away from her face.  She smiled.  My little girl was turning five years old, a very important birthday.  “Do you want to hear about the day you were born?” I asked.  Emily giggled and nodded.  I pulled her onto my lap. “It was early in the morning, when I

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-68952328973800294442010-10-24T03:14:00.017-05:002010-10-24T03:14:00.478-05:00

For the past ten minutes, Emily (almost 5) had been chattering endlessly about Princesses.  “Mommy, I liked Aerial best.” She chirped as she clapped her hands together.  “Who was your favorite?” Before I could answer, Emily interrupted with more chatter.  “I liked when Minnie Mouse wore the princess dress.  And when Mickey was skating.  But I didn’t like the witch.  She was evil.”  Emily’s

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-57833403115181035702010-10-20T09:33:00.001-05:002010-10-20T10:28:30.951-05:00

“Come here and see this.” Ken whispered to me from Beth’s (almost 3) room.  I had already settled into bed with my covers pulled tight around my chin; but it sounded important.  So I crawled out of my blankets and tip toed into the room next to ours. Ken smiled and then turned his head toward Beth’s bed.  My baby was lying on her back with her arms spread wide.  A dozen stuffed bunnies and

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-41529153996852867802010-10-17T02:12:00.010-05:002010-10-17T08:14:10.606-05:00

Last weekend we had a chance to visit the home of Eric’s good friend.  Sebastian’s family recently moved into a new place in a neighborhood adjacent to ours.  Because the neighborhood is a bit older, the trees are more mature.  Eric’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when we walked into Sebastian’s back yard where he saw the crown jewel – an enormous tree, bigger than our house, dripping with

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-51442452046149486092010-10-13T02:48:00.018-05:002010-10-13T09:14:13.225-05:00

“Mom, if I sell enough popcorn, I can get another Wii!”  Eric (almost 8) was hopping up and down and holding a set of fund raising order forms in his hands. The yearly Boy Scouts fundraiser was underway and Eric was excited to be a part of it.  “Let me see the forms.” I said.  I looked over the instructions that Eric’s den leader had sent home.  Before I could get too far Eric pushed the prize

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-42719686859223002212010-10-10T01:08:00.007-05:002010-10-10T06:37:48.694-05:00

"You're yelling at me isn't going to make me better."  That was a favorite line of my coworker, Michael.  He was telling me a story about a volleyball team he played on a few years back. Michael, it turns out, wasn't much of an athlete.  But when Bill asked him to join the office volleyball team, Michael thought it sounded like fun.  After all, it was a "rec" league.  That meant more focus on

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-33143030466550562212010-10-06T10:31:00.002-05:002010-10-06T10:59:53.273-05:00

A few years ago, in the time BC (before children), Ken and I visited London.  While there, we hopped a train to Liverpool.  Ken wanted to see the place where the Beatles were born.  The idea excited me, an adventure inside an adventure.  So we booked tickets on British Rail. While in Liverpool, we stumbled upon a beautiful Anglican cathedral on the top of a hill.  Naturally we went inside and

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-80999122342608971822010-10-03T21:27:00.011-05:002010-10-05T06:22:46.786-05:00

I have a rolled up scroll in one hand and a light saber in the other.  Eric is kneeling before me, ready for me to anoint him.  I touch the scroll to his right shoulder and then to his left.  “Youngling, are you ready to train to be a Jedi?” I say.  Eric glances up at me.  “Yes.” “Then I appoint you a padawan.  You may begin your training.”  I say as I hand Eric the light saber.  Eric bounces

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-88766228340590472762010-09-29T03:05:00.005-05:002010-09-29T03:05:00.369-05:00

We’re trying to relax in our hotel room after being rained out at Disney.  We have a nice suite with separate bedrooms for the kids.  But right now, Emily and Beth are jumping on their beds. I storm into their room.  Stuffed animals litter the beds.  Covers and pillows have been strewn across the floor.  The kids freeze when they see my “knock it off this instance” face. “Sit down and be

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-57828566731136283482010-09-26T02:39:00.003-05:002010-09-26T02:39:00.343-05:00

Ken and I had been awake since three o’clock in the morning. .  The kids were napping quietly in the car.  We were on our way to Disney World.  We only had eight more hours of driving before we reached our first night’s stop. “We stayed here once.”  Ken said as we passed through Nashville.  “Remember that first year that we drove to North Carolina from Illinois.” How could I forget “The

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-28715248122991523082010-09-22T03:22:00.058-05:002010-09-22T03:22:00.423-05:00

A few weeks ago my mentor at work suggested I be a bit more personable around the office.  “Stop focusing so much on the task at hand.”  M. suggested.  “Take some time and get to know the people around you.”  I resisted the urge to ask M. his thoughts on the recent Attorney General opinion on confidentiality out of Kansas and asked how his kids were doing instead.  Being personable sounded

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-20181643857768930682010-09-19T03:19:00.042-05:002010-09-19T03:19:00.853-05:00

It’s long been my opinion that everything wrong with the world today can be blamed on twenty four hour television news.  I’m not calling out any network in particular.  (cough Fox cough). They all share a part of the blame. Whether its CNN, FoxNews, Bloomberg Television or MSNBC, it’s my belief that twenty four hour news stations are conspiring to ruin life as we know it.  Five thousand years

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-44972144682403357022010-09-15T03:00:00.021-05:002010-09-15T06:27:51.610-05:00

"Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue."  No, I never sniffed glue.  It's a line from the movie Airplane.  If you don't remember, Airplane was the spoof movie to begin all spoof movies.  Throughout the show, as tough guy Steve McCroskey (Lloyd Bridges) helps to talk an impaired pilot through a landing, he continues to mutter sentences that begin with the phrase "Looks like I

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-18983331356034533612010-09-12T02:56:00.060-05:002010-09-12T10:56:02.307-05:00

Water poured over me, drenching my shirt and sweatpants.  I could feel it dripping off my hair and rolling down the back of my neck.  A few minutes later it stopped and I breathed out.  Maybe the worst is over, I thought. But it wasn't. "Here is comes again!" Ken shouted.  I braced myself for another round.  More water, as if someone had opened a fire hose and had pointed it  directly at us,

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-82100056858769804282010-09-08T03:18:00.004-05:002010-09-08T08:53:14.269-05:00

There is only one thing worse than spending a holiday weekend in the house with a sick kid.  And what would that be, you ask? Spending a holiday weekend in the house with three sick kids. One of the things you learn as a Mom is how to deal with a sick baby.  It goes something like this.  Your first baby is born.  When he is six months old, you notice he has a slight sniffle.  You can't sleep

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-10081243839185986512010-09-05T02:40:00.046-05:002010-09-05T02:40:00.413-05:00

“Come here.” Ken called. “I want to show you something.” I was upstairs helping Beth (almost 3) and Emily (almost 5) into the tub. I had already trekked downstairs twice.  The first time was to retrieve Emily’s Bubby Bear. Then, as soon as I came back upstairs, Beth realized her Piggy was on the couch and I had to go down again. I was not inclined to make a third trip. Because I am THAT lazy.

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-32043052339709077612010-09-01T02:57:00.000-05:002010-09-01T02:57:00.617-05:00

It was a cool Friday evening in August.  I should have been sitting poolside enjoying a cold beverage.  Or hanging with my kids at the park.  Or weeding the garden.  Or doing ANYTHING other than what I was doing. It was a cool Friday evening in August and I was on mile three of a seven mile run. I did not want to run seven miles.  I did not want to run five miles. I did not want to run two

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-54559281275056678752010-08-29T03:11:00.002-05:002010-08-29T13:42:54.939-05:00

"Tell me a story, Mom." Eric says.  We are in the car driving to swimming lessons. "What kind of story?" I ask the question even though I know the answer. "About when you were a kid." He says. So I start talking.  This time I tell about Sunday afternoons at Nana's house.  Last time I told the kids about sledding down the hill behind our house.  Another time I talked about building forts in

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-533803783192776052010-08-25T02:42:00.012-05:002010-08-25T02:42:00.102-05:00

A few nights ago, after the children were tucked in bed, I was watching The Daily Show.  Suddenly, John Stewart let of a string of words that resulted in a long, loud bleeeeeep courtesy of the station censors. I'm not certain exactly what John said, but the audience was howling so it must have been good.  I admit, I laughed too - probably twice as hard since I had to fill in the blanks on my own

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-24383393098748424922010-08-22T03:02:00.016-05:002010-08-22T03:02:00.296-05:00

It was just after ten o’clock. The children were bathed. Stories had been read. Everyone was tucked snugly into bed. Smokey, our fourteen-year-old cat, lay beside me purring softly. The house was peaceful. Ahhh....solitude. I was sitting in bed enjoying a few moments of television before lights out. Ken sat next to me reading a book. That’s when it hit me, the smell of rotten eggs. “Good

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-42231757450156177102010-08-18T02:29:00.002-05:002010-08-19T16:07:51.362-05:00

“Please don’t make me do this.” I was terrified. My heart was beating fast. My palms were sweaty. My knees were shaking. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. I was paralyzed with fear. What was causing you so much fear, you may ask. Were you about to give birth to your first child, three weeks early without having prepared the nursery? No, it was worse than that. Had you just walked into the

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-78531529951893856022010-08-15T02:59:00.001-05:002010-08-15T02:59:00.403-05:00

Beth (2) bounced up and down and clapped her hands.  "Mommy, I use my my magic claps!" She shouted with a smile. We were standing in the parking lot outside the grocery store.  Beth hopped on her tiptoes and clapped furiously. Emily joined in.  Finally, the back door of our minivan slid open.  Magic.  "Mommy, my magic claps worked!" Beth was thrilled to learn that she could control our car just

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-13047062038478854042010-08-11T03:18:00.003-05:002010-08-11T13:56:18.785-05:00

The airplane was packed. I had been up since 5:00 a.m. After driving an hour to the airport, waiting another thirty minutes to check in and suffering a two-hour delay before our flight boarded, I was exhausted. I wanted to lean back in my chair, close my eyes and fall asleep. But I couldn’t. Eric, who was two and a half at the time, was sitting in the seat next to me. “Mama, color with me.” He

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-21279819802248135592010-08-08T03:06:00.003-05:002010-08-08T14:41:06.549-05:00

The clock on my desk showed 8:05 in bold red letters. I had just arrived in my office. I tapped my fingers on my desk and fidgeted in my chair as my computer warmed up. Impatient to start the day, I sipped my jumbo cup of coffee and scanned my To Do list. Item 1 - return phone call from G. Item 2 - finish research for P/C. Item 3 - reschedule 10:00 for Friday. The list went on and on. And on.

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-68556275817843131372010-08-04T01:33:00.002-05:002010-08-06T15:05:27.585-05:00

I am sitting in the Detroit Airport. I have been up since 5 a.m. My flight has been delayed, again. I'm wondering if I'll ever get to Pennsylvania. The trip was unplanned. For someone who thrives on routine, a sudden flight across half the country is unnerving. Yet here I am. My ten o'clock meeting had seemed so pressing yesterday. Yet I cancelled it. My lunch appointment had to be postponed.

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-72795878171863542742010-08-01T03:06:00.001-05:002010-08-01T03:06:00.489-05:00

I am the worst mom in the world. At least that's how I felt as I hauled Emily (4) kicking and screaming out of the gym. It was an early Saturday morning in July. I had signed Emily up for gymnastics class a few weeks before. This was her second class. Emily's first class had been the previous week. I was a bit nervous. She had never been in a gym before, except at a few birthday parties. I

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-80754727568305147972010-07-28T03:01:00.035-05:002010-07-28T03:01:00.586-05:00

"When I grow up, I want to be Princess." I said. Emily (4) giggled and took a big lick from her chocolate ice cream cone. Her face was covered in chocolate. It had dripped down her chin and splattered her pink t-shirt. "But Mommy, you're already grown up." Emily said. "Then I must be a Princess." I smiled. Emily's eyes grew large and her grin widened. "Mommy, you ARE a Princess." I

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-10299701179556651862010-07-25T03:16:00.035-05:002010-07-25T03:16:00.497-05:00

Rain rain go away, Come again another day. Mommy and her kids want to play. That’s what I was thinking last Saturday as I stood by the window checking the sky. A cluster of dark clouds rolled by. Thunder storms? Or just a passing shower? It was hard to tell. “What are you doing?” Eric (7) asked. “I’m trying to decide whether we should go to the pool.” I said. “The pool?” Eric’s eyes got wider

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-29863981690005381812010-07-21T03:01:00.025-05:002010-07-21T06:07:42.890-05:00

“You’re topping it.” Ken said. I scowled at him as I watched the little white golf ball dribble off the tee and roll a few feet away. I trudged over to stand on the cart path while Ken took his shot. This wasn’t nearly as much fun as I had imagined. Ken had spent months convincing me to give golf a go. At first, I resisted.  “You’ll get some fresh air. It’s great exercise. And we can spend

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-36333364917486090622010-07-18T03:47:00.014-05:002010-07-18T07:44:46.637-05:00

Emily (4) is spinning around the room. She’s wearing her pale tomato sundress. The one with the ruffles on the skirt and the spaghetti straps. When she twirls, the air catches her skirt and it fans out like a tutu on a ballerina. It’s one of Emily’s favorite outfits. A few weeks ago, Emily wore it at the amusement park. When she climbed on the carousel, she insisted on picking a white horse

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-38070459540845123352010-07-14T04:54:00.001-05:002010-07-14T04:54:00.358-05:00

My Mom grew up in The Valley, a small coal mining village in Pennsylvania.    Mom was born the sixth girl in a family of ten.  It was back in the day when people worked very hard for very little pay. This past weekend Mom and her siblings gathered together at a party.  It was remarkable in that getting ten kids in the same place at the same time can be nearly impossible.  Yet there they were,

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-52252057405638878812010-07-11T04:59:00.033-05:002010-07-11T04:59:00.593-05:00

I had been waiting by the phone all day. My heart was racing. My palms were wet. I paced my small apartment, walking from the large picture window on the west side to the kitchen sink on the east. It was October. The leaves on the oak tree outside were turning yellow. Night came quicker and the mornings were colder. And I was in my third year of law school. Going to law school hadn't been

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-86046598304322094562010-07-07T05:02:00.000-05:002010-07-07T05:02:00.344-05:00

“Mommy, I’m going to Meeka’s birthday party.”Emily (4) is standing by the door. She is wearing a pink dress with white polka dots and her shiny black shoes. A small pink princess suitcase sits at her feet. Emily spent the morning packing it full of her favorite teddy bears and stuffed toys. Emily smiles and her eyes twinkle at me.Emily has been talking about Meeka’s party all week. She’s been

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-67248195319839888622010-07-04T04:56:00.000-05:002010-07-04T04:56:00.795-05:00

When I cam home from work on Monday, Beth’s crib was gone. Ken had taken it apart and converted it into a toddler bed. It took me by surprise when I first walked into Beth’s room, like that feeling you get when you first step off an elevator and aren’t sure if you should turn right or left.It didn’t phase Beth. “Look, Mama!” She laughed and clapped her hands. “Santa brought me a new bed!”The crib

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-62354679087900471432010-06-30T05:04:00.000-05:002010-07-03T20:49:04.848-05:00

"Ride Like the Wind Bulls Eye!"On Sunday, Ken and I took the family (Eric 7, Emily 4, Beth 2) to see "Toy Story 3". It was a bitter sweet film for me. You may recall that Woody moved out of our house just a few months ago. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel seeing him on the big screen again. But for the sake of the kids, I sucked it up and went. In the final moments of the film, as Andy

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-82899252348608653992010-06-27T05:42:00.000-05:002010-06-27T07:29:57.673-05:00

"Mommy, I want to do THAT." We are at Knoebel's Amusement Park as part of our summer vacation. The Phoenix has just rocketed past and Emily (4) is pointing at it. It's the biggest, baddest roller coaster in the park. The big hill boasts a seventy two foot drop. Ken and I exchange nervous glances. Neither of us are big coaster fans. The rattling and rumbling and twisting and turning makes my

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-48360305446897968232010-06-23T05:10:00.000-05:002010-06-23T07:21:35.312-05:00

"Mommy, why is everyone looking at me with a mad face?" Eric asked. We had been standing in the hot sun for over forty five minutes to board the Dumbo ride. We were suppose to be at the happiest place on earth. But at that moment I didn't feel very happy. That was two years ago. And though we enjoyed our visit to Florida, I didn't enjoy the long lines and high prices. Two years later, we found

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-67106132275148915862010-06-20T04:20:00.000-05:002010-06-20T10:02:05.689-05:00

“Rule number one is: Don’t sweat the small stuff. Rule number two is: it’s all small stuff.”That was what my high school economics teacher, Mr. Pavalko use to say. Mr. P. was a nutty old teacher with an unorthodox style. The kind of person who would womp a large ruler across your desk if he thought you were sleeping. The kind of person who threw erasers at kids just to test their reflexes. The

Lantenengohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14558707826497792471noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6918591249124910476.post-90994154839367600942010-06-16T05:01:00.000-05:002010-06-16T05:01:00.482-05:00

The shovel was in my hand. But only for a second. Then a wave smashed around my knees and beat it from my grip. I plunged my hands into the churning surf. But it was too late. Emily's pink shovel was lost. Forever. A few moments earlier, Emily (4) had been dashing into the waves, laughing and giggling. It was our first official day at the beach. Emily was dressed in a green and brown

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“I’m bored.” Eric moans.It’s ten after five - in the morning. The family is piled into the minivan cruising down the highway. It’s the official start of our beach vacation. But we'll need to pass through six states before we get there. So for the next nine hours we’ll have nothing to do but stare at each other and the passing landscape.I shake my head. We’re barely an hour from home and the kids

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I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office just about this time last summer. Beth had fallen and bumped her head. In an abundance of Mama Bear caution, I whisked her off to the after-hours clinic.Anyone with young kids knows that the time spent in a doctors waiting area feels twice as long with a toddler in tow. Beth, not quiet two at the time, had a vocabulary that was limited to

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“WHY ARE YOU STOPPING” Nancy bellowed. I had just finished my fourth sprint to the top of the hill in the park. At my age, and under my current state of fitness, I considered it quite a feat. Nancy didn’t agree. She wanted more. So I sucked in some air and chased to catch up with the other ladies who were making their fifth round. I had met Nancy three weeks previously when I walked into

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It was my first job after graduating college. I had packed my clothes and loaded a few pieces of used furniture into a borrowed truck and moved to the big city. Just like Marlo Thomas in “That Girl,” I was full of big dreams and big ideas.I showed up to for my first day at my first real job wearing a pressed green skirt, a floral print blouse and sensible navy blue pumps. My new boss, Mr. Dick

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It’s quarter to ten on a Saturday morning. I am lounging on the patio. A slight breeze tosses my hair across my cheek. I consider brushing it away. Instead, I close my eyes and absorb the sunshine. Over by the swings I can hear Beth scooping up rocks with her little red shovel. The rocks tinkle and clink on the blade as she ladles and digs. Though she doesn't have a plan or purpose, I can sense

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I am in the kitchen. Beth (2) rushes in. She is clasping a clump of tangerine day lilies in her hands."Mommy, I picked you flowers!" She giggles.I peek out the kitchen door into my garden. The flower bed behind the house has been trampled and all of the blooms have been plucked off the stems. I can feel my blood pressure rising as I think of all the time I spent weeding and caring for the

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Eric (7) is dressed in his black Nina Halloween costume. He jumps into the family room and kicks his right foot into the air. He pumps his fists and shouts “Ha!”“Whatcha doin bud?” I ask.“Ridding the world of evil.” He says.“Well, maybe do it with a little less jumping and shouting. I can’t hear the TV.”“Mom,” Eric sighs. “With great power comes great responsibility.”I love the fact that Eric is

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“Mom, we recycle, right?” Eric (7) asked.“Sure.” I said. “We recycle newspapers, cans, plastic and glass." Eric smiled. A few weeks ago, his class celebrated Earth Day. They talked about the three “R’s” – recycle, renew, reuse. Amongst the seven year old set, going green is all the rage.When I was a kid, there was no Earth Day. And re-cycling was when you rode your bicycle again and again. No one

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What’s Your Story?In a few days, my nephew Daniel will graduate from high school. Dan is a smart kid who works hard and who has a big heart. Instead of spending his final days of his senior year attending parties, Dan will be on his way to Haiti to help restore the lives of those impacted by the earthquake from earlier this year.In my blog today, I offer some advice to Dan as he officially enters

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Emily has a friend named Meeka. Emily tells me that Meeka lives in a large brick house that we often pass on our way home from preschool.Meeka has an older brother named Pablo. Meeka also has a baby sister and a baby brother. The baby sister is named Moon Dancer. The younger brother is also named Pablo.Meeka likes chocolate ice cream more than vanilla. She likes to wear pink dresses and ballet

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Every once in a while some thoughts pop into my head. And when they come out again, they take the form of a rhyme.I wish someone had told meThat blue birds weren’t really blue.It would have been a funny thing,Even though it isn’t true.I wish someone had told meThat bobcats were all named Steve.It would have been a silly thought,Even though it’s make believe.I wish someone had told meThat

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My face is red. I can feel the sweat rolling down my neck. My legs hurt. My breathing is heavy. “What the hell am I doing?” I ask myself. But I keep moving. My feet pound the ground in a steady rhythm.Mile one.The idea came to me last summer. Out of the blue, I decided I wanted to run a race. Not a marathon. Not a sprint. A simple 5K would do. (That's 3.5 miles for the metricly challenged).At

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Kids are smarter than you think. Here are ten creative excuses a Mom might hear when she insists on some help around the house. Appropriate responses are also included.Number 1:Child: I’m busy saving the world from alien invaders.Mom: Playing a computer game doesn't make you a freedom fighter. Get to work.Number 2:Child: My imaginary friend, Dwayne, promised he would do it.Mom: When Dwayne’s done

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Woody moved out last weekend. After living with us for four years, he packed his bags and walked out the door. He didn't even say goodbye. He just left. And he took Buzz Lightyear and Cowgirl Jessie with him.I still remember the day Woody moved in. It was Christmas morning, just after Eric's third birthday. Santa brought him during the night and he was waiting under the tree when we woke up.

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Some people play sports. Some people play cards. Some people play with their food. I like to play with words. So I hope that you will enjoy a little bit of word play with me, just for the fun of it.A Hot Cup of Metaphors for BreakfastI’m going to mix my metaphorsAnd then sit down to eatA hearty heap of synonymsA truly tasteful treat.After, I’ll check my ThesaurusJust to see about how far it isTo

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Fall down. Get Up. Repeat. Fall down. Get Up. Repeat. I’m at Eric’s hockey game looking at a poster hanging on the wall. It’s a photo of a little boy, about six years old, wearing a hockey jersey, helmet and skates. He has a hockey stick in his hand and a smile on his face. The boy is picking himself up after a fall on the ice. The caption says “Fall Down. Get Up. Repeat.” It’s one of my

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Author's Note: This was prepared for a creative writing class. I was told to "be a color." The other students picked red, black, orange, pink; the kind of colors found in a Crayola eight pack. They described the sunshine, the sky and the ocean. I picked Puce.+++++++++++++++The Problem with PuceAs colors go, I am often left out. It’s because of my name. Puce. Admit it. You thought I said puke. Or

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I won’t accept it. I don’t care what the scientists say. They’re wrong. There is no other way to explain it. Pluto is a planet. There were nine planets the day I was born. There were nine planets the day I learned to talk. There were nine planets when I started kindergarten. There were nine planets when I entered the third grade. I know because Miss Martin made us memorize all the planets for

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