I Gave Up Starbucks for Lent!!!

No, that wasn't a typo. I am totally doing this.

I'm sure I will regret this decision. In fact, it was a rather impulsive one, but quite honestly, I couldn't think of anything else meaningful to give up. Last year, I gave up Diet Coke last year and never went back. One thing is for sure. I'll be going back to Starbucks.

I have Starbucks on a daily basis. Sometimes, I even have it more than once a day. Giving up Starbucks is the ultimate sacrifice for me.

Starbucks was on my mind all day today. I couldn't stop thinking about my trente unsweetened iced green tea and how good it would taste at that very moment.

Instagram photos

I can make the Tazo green tea here at home, but it isn't the same. Plus, I love the cup with the green straw. Love holding it in my hands. Love the way it looks perched on my desk as I work. Just love it.

I wake up in the morning and plan my day around my trip to Starbucks. Not even kidding. Now what will I do?

Despite all the negative that I am focused on, there are some upsides to giving up Starbucks for Lent.

• I'll save TONS of money. I already have a few items earmarked to purchase with my savings.
• My kids will be happier. I'm always dragging them to Starbucks with me, often against their will.
• I'll sleep better at night without all that caffeine coursing through my veins.

So, there are some positives. However, it's hard to keep those in sight.

I can tell you this. When the Lenten season is over, I am heading straight to Starbucks. And I'm plopping down in a big comfy chair and spending the whole day there drinking drink after drink after drink. I'll probably be awake for days.

Do you give anything up for Lent? What did you give up this season?

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Random Ramblings: An Update on the Broken Arm and More!

It's been almost 4 weeks since Harper broke her arm. Looking back, the time has gone fast, but at the time, it seemed to move at a snail's pace.

She has adjusted well over the past month. She's been flexible despite the fact that she hasn't had mobility in her left arm. She hasn't missed a beat, and she's counting the days until she returns to gymnastics in January.

We've traveled to Maine and attended a wedding. Of course, the dress HAD to match the cast!

Today, the original cast came off and was replaced with a short cast. We weren't sure exactly what was going to happen at today's visit with the orthopedic surgeon.

She had the cast removed.

Someone was happy to let her arm breathe! That was short-lived.

And then x-rays were taken to determine if her new cast would be a short one (below the elbow) or a cast like the above one.

Annnnnd..... we got the good news! Harper's new cast would be a short one!! She is healing very well. New bone is forming and fusing together the broken fragments. In another 4 weeks, the short cast will be off, and she'll be in removable brace.

It was a happy day!

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A Broken Arm and Other Random Ramblings

When I first started blogging, I would write posts that I called "Random Ramblings". I'd dish about a pet peeve or something that was bothering me.

After the week that I have had, I thought it was time to sit down and write a random ramblings post.

Go grab a cup of coffee and join me as I recount the events of the past week. The good. The bad. The ugly.

Big Plans
Have you ever started your week at the top of your game? Monday morning started out with a to-do list and tons of motivation. I was ready to conquer the world.

By noon, I had knocked off 2 posts for a client, sent out a few emails, tackled my 2 Inboxes, and ran to the grocery store to quickly pick up a few ingredients for dinner that night.

By 4 pm, I had written 2 posts for my personal blog, edited photos from a friend's surprise 50th birthday party, completed 2 loads of laundry, and started dinner. That evening continued in much of the same way.

I was productive, and I was on a roll.

Tuesday was pretty much more of the same, except that I also squeezed in a trip to the gym for an hour. I know! I was on fire.

On Wednesday, I met a friend at Starbucks for about an hour or so, then I came home to work until I picked Emma up at the bus stop at 2:30. She quickly changed, ate a snack, and I drove her to the gymnastics facility for her 3:30 lesson. I turned right around and came home to get Harper off the bus to have her at the same facility for a 4:30 lesson.

Harper's lesson started promptly at 4:30. They both look forward to their weekly lessons and have developed a fondness for gymnastics. Of course, as a former gymnast, I am filled with motherly pride.

Normally, I stay at the facility and watch Harper's lesson. But on this particular day, I had to run to the grocery store, which is a 1/4 mile down the road, to pick up 3 items that the girls wanted for their school lunches.

I hurried in and hurried out. And then I got THE CALL.

If you are the parent of a child who plays sports, you know what call I am talking about. The dreaded "your child has been injured" call.

My heart sank when I saw the phone number. Immediately I knew. You just know.

I was told that my daughter "hurt" her arm. I told them I was on my way back. I'd be there in a few minutes.

As I was approaching the facility, the ambulance was in front of me. THE AMUBULANCE!! Oh God. I couldn't think. I couldn't see. Everything went blurry.

The time from my car to the gym seemed like an eternity. I would soon come to discover that much of the evening would pass in this vein.

I was escorted to where she sat inside. There she was, my sweet baby sitting calmly on the floor holding her forearm. I had to sit down. Otherwise I would have fallen down. I sat next to her. Medics were tending to her arm.

It was an incident on the trampoline. She had bounced too high and panicked, landing on her arm and face.

A Broken Arm
"It's broken. We'll need to take her to the hospital. What hospital would you like her transported to? May we administer pain medication?"

Huh? This was really happening.

Within 10 minutes, we were on our way to the hospital. Harper was in the ambulance, and I was following closely behind in my car. The Hubs had come to the gym to pick up Emma.

I don't remember driving to the hospital. I do remember running through the revolving door to the pediatric ER and seeing her on the gurney with people huddled around her.

20 minutes later, we were in pediatric radiology and she was having her arm and nose x-rayed. Moments later, the attending physician gave us the news. Harper had suffered a compound fracture. Both her radius and ulna (2 bones in the forearm) were broken and had punctured the skin. Surgery would be likely, but the films would need to be analyzed by an orthopedic surgeon.

So, we waited. Not a peep out of my sweet baby girl. Not a single tear shed. Not a single whine muttered.

An orthopedic resident came in to examine Harper. He informed us that she'd need surgery to flush out the open wounds, but we'd have to wait 6 hours from her last meal to administer the anesthesia. Which meant that she couldn't have surgery until 10 pm that night. It was currently 7:00 pm.

My little patient managed to get some sleep.

The next several hours passed at a snail's pace. Finally at 9, we were taken to the surgical unit, where Harper was prepped for surgery. At exactly, 10 she was given her first dosage of anesthesia. I was led to the waiting room.

For an hour and a half, I tried to keep my wits about me. I did manage to read a fascinating interview with Michael Pollan in an old New York magazine. Otherwise, I paced. And paced. And paced.

Finally at 11:30, the surgeon came out to the waiting room to let me know that the surgery had gone well and as expected. She was in recovery, and I'd be taken to see her in 20 minutes.

I think the people on the ground floor could hear my enormous sigh of relief and joy. (I was on the fourth floor). Surgery was over, but the road to recovery would be a long one.

In the recovery room, you can get a glimpse of her bright pink cast.

By 12:15 we were settled in her hospital room, and both of us were ready for some sleep. As if that comes easily in a hospital. She slept well. I was up every hour.

On Thursday morning, the surgeon came in at 9:00 am to check Harper's arm and the swelling. He said she'd need a round of antibiotics at 12 and at 6, and we'd be on our way! That brought a smile to her face.

At 7 pm Thursday night, we were happily discharged.

The previous 30 hours seemed like 30 days. I saw my child's life flash before my eyes, and it was scary.

And here's what I learned as a parent:

You have to learn to appreciate when times are good and know that all the bad stuff will pass.

It's the only way we'll get through it.

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Talking To Your Kids: When Good Celebrities Go Bad

Unless you've been living under a rock, you've most likely heard about or even seen Miley Cyrus' performance on the Video Music Awards a few weeks ago. While I'm not so sure that was fit for adult audiences, I can't even imagine my daughter witnessing Cyrus' gyrating and twerking all over Robin Thicke.

Thankfully, my 11-year old didn't see the debacle, but she did hear about it. All about it.

So you know what that means...I had the distinct pleasure of having the whole "good celebs gone bad" talk with her.

I was pretty certain that I wasn't the only parent having this chat with her daughter. So, I put together a few tips to make that talk go a bit smoother. You can find the full article over at Meridian Momtourage.

Just in case you missed it, you can see Miley in all her gory glory here.

Get More: 2013 VMA, Artists.MTV, Music, Miley Cyrus

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I Feel Like I'm Forgetting Something and other End Of School Year Ramblings

Not only are my kids eagerly counting down until the last day of school, but I am as well.

The past few weeks have been a flurry of school activities. Some during the day. And some in the evenings. Some have been canceled due to weather and never rescheduled. Field day was canceled twice due to rain and finally happened yesterday.

The 5th grade talent show was canceled due to flooding near the school and has yet to be rescheduled, and at this point probably won't be, leaving a slew of disappointed girls who have worked so hard.

All of these schedule changes are not only impacting other events, but they are difficult to keep track of. It's total upheaval.

I have this constant nagging feeling that I need to be somewhere. That I committed to something but forget to put it in my calendar. It doesn't matter that I have iCal and a huge printed calendar in the kitchen. The thing is you MUST actually record appointments on these things to be reminded of them. Something I forget to do sometimes.

I have had more papers cross my desk in the past month than I have all year long. From end of year letters for gift contributions to end of year classroom celebrations to middle school forms (which are aplenty, let me tell you.)

The fact that I work from home doesn't help matters at all. There is no clean line of demarcation here. It's called "home office" because home bleeds into office. School papers get mixed in with work papers. When I am looking for a work-related email that I printed, I am instead greeted by the sign-up sheet for treats for a class party. Yeah, that's how things are going down here.

I know I am not alone. And that's why I am writing about this. I don't normally rant and ramble here, but I know so many of us are in the same boat. How are you handling it? How do you manage to keep everything straight? Thank goodness the school year ends next Tuesday.

So far, so good. I have managed to remember everything I have committed myself to. But I am waiting for the day when one of my girls comes home with a big ol' "Mom, you said you would...." "Mom, you forgot to...." or "Mom, I can't believe you never..."

If it doesn't happen, I'll be surprised.

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My Big Girl is Going To Middle School

Monday was middle school orientation for Emma and the rest of the 5th graders. She was excited. She has spent the past 2 months being extremely nervous about the middle school. Fear of the unknown you could say.

I was glad for her to be able to use orientation as a chance to put some of her fears to rest.

And later that evening there was a meeting for the parents of incoming students. It was my turn to put some of my fears to rest.

The middle school principal dove right in. He warned us that it would be quite a transitional period for most of the incoming students. Middle school is very different from elementary school. Big changes. More independence. More choices. More opportunities to make decisions. More homework. More conflict.

My head was spinning.

It was all too much for me. How will my Emma ever acclimate?

This image of Emma as a little fish being eaten up by a much bigger fish has taken permanent residence in my mind. I can't shake the mental image.

But she's excited. Of course, she has no idea how overwhelming it will be. Or maybe it won't. Maybe I just see it that way.

Because for me, it's overwhelming. For me it's a roller coaster of emotions. One minute I'm happy for her. The next minute I'm frightened for her. Will she know where to go? Will she know what to do? Will she find her way from one classroom to the next? (Again, I have a mental image of her cowering in the corner of the bathroom stall).

Her life is shifting, and I know she's ready for the change.

The question is am I? In 75 days, I'll let you know the answer to that question.

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The Joy...and Heartbreak of Motherhood

Everyone always tells you how much joy you'll get from being a mother. "Oh, it's so great. Having kids is awesome. It's so rewarding."

I don't dispute any of it. It's all true. 

When your children experience joy, you are joyful. It's an unbelievable high.

When your children experience heartbreak, your heart breaks. It's an unbelievable low.

No one ever tells you about that.

As resilient as children can be, they can get knocked down pretty hard too. 

I watched as one of my own got knocked down recently, and to say that my heart was broken is a gross understatement.

It all started last Tuesday when I struggled to get Emma out of bed in the morning for school. She whined and complained and cried. Cried. I haven't had crying since the preschool days. She complained of a stomachache. So, I let her stay home, and I carefully watched what she ate. She seemed fine after an hour or so, and she was even eating normally. I coughed it up to "just one of those days".

The following day was more of the same just less intense. And this time she went to school and went to early morning band practice. Those were good signs. But when Thursday morning rolled around, she complained of a headache this time. I told her if her headache persisted, she should go to the nurse. She got on the bus on the verge of tears.

Since it was a four-day weekend, I decided to watch her behavior and her pattern of headaches and stomachaches. None.

Until Tuesday morning. There was nausea and tears. Tears flowing from her eyes and from mine. Why was my child so sad? Why did my child have an all-of-a-sudden aversion to school? I put her on the bus...she walking on in tears, and I walking away in tears.

This wasn't about headaches. This wasn't about stomachaches. This was about school. Something happened at school.

That evening after Emma finished her homework, I asked her to tell me what was going on. I pleaded with her to be honest with me, to tell me what was bothering her.

After much prodding she finally told me. "During a small group activity, I answered a question incorrectly, and a someone in my group said I was dumb".

My heart sank.

"Am I dumb, mommy?" She asked. This time my heart broke.

"Of course, you're not dumb, sweetheart. You are a bright, intelligent young lady. Who said that to you?" I asked.

Suddenly, an IMAX movie I had seen recently about a mother polar bear came to mind. She was fiercely protective of her cub. Stopping at nothing to maintain its safety.

As upset as she was, she wouldn't tell me the name of her classmate. I was at a loss.

I am certain we both cried ourselves to sleep that night.

The next morning was, again, another struggle to get out the door. As soon as everyone was on the bus, I rushed inside, promptly sat at my laptop and began typing an email to her teacher.

I explained the situation. I tried to be as diplomatic as I could. I didn't want to be judgmental. I didn't want to jump to conclusions.

A few hours later, her teacher responded and asked me if she had my permission to speak with Emma about this situation. I gave her my full permission. As parents, we must have full trust in our teachers. We need to know that they are the protectors of our children while they are away from us during the day.

The next day she spoke with Emma and found out the name of the student. Not only was he her classmate, he sat directly beside her in class and rides the bus with her every morning and every afternoon. Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. Her hesitancy to ride the bus and go to school all made sense.

Emma's teacher reassured her that she is a wonderful student with a heart of gold. She made every attempt to help restore her self-confidence. And she promised to speak with the student and his parents, and move Emma's seat in class. The next day when she walked into the classroom, her desk was in a new spot.

She's on the mend. I am on the mend. We are mending together.

For nearly 8 days, I watched as my daughter was a shell of herself because of a comment from a classmate. I am trying not to judge this boy, but it's very hard. The years and years of hard work that I have put into building the self-esteem of my daughter were nearly destroyed because of an unnecessary comment by an insecure child.

Sad, detached, uninterested only begin to describe my daughter during those 8 days.

Maybe one day when that boy is a father himself he'll understand how the smallest of cruel words can be so damaging and hurtful to an impressionable child. Maybe he'll feel helpless just as I did on those mornings. Maybe he'll feel sad just as I did as I tucked my child into bed each night amid a sea of tears.

I am done wasting time on that boy.

My focus is on my daughters.

I saw this on Facebook tonight, and I thought it was appropriate for this post.

If there is one lesson I hope to pass on to my daughters, it is to be a good friend. You'll make a lot more friends being nice to people than you will being mean.

Actually, there is another lesson I'd pass on. Don't be afraid to be a polar bear. 

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{Republished} Remember 9/11: Where Were You?

**This post is an adaptation of one that I originally published on 9/11/2011**

It's hard to talk about 9/11 without telling our own story. Recalling where we were when we heard and remembering our initial reaction and the minutes, hours, days, months and years that followed.

We'll never forget the events of that horrific day, and we'll never forget our own story. Still, 11 years later, the events that unfolded that morning and the weeks following are as fresh in my mind as they were 2 days after 9/11/2001.

It was a stereotypical day in southern California. The bright September sun was coming up, and I had a full day of sightseeing planned. I had just flown into Orange County the day before, Monday, September 10, 2001. I had spent so much time in southern California as a software consultant but never had time to truly enjoy free time there. I absolutely adored the area and always wanted to explore it, but by the time I had gotten out of the office at the end of the day, it was just too late, too dark.

About a month prior, I decided to head to Cali for a little R&R for a few days while the Hubs would be in Orlando for a corporate meeting/event. We agreed to meet up in Las Vegas after our respective trips for a few days of fun together. We had no idea how much our travel plans would change...

As I always did, I woke and looked out the window of my hotel in Newport Beach, California. Yep. Another fabulous day was dawning, and I was ready for it. I turned on the TV and immediately tuned in to Good Morning America, my favorite morning show. It was 7:10 am, local time. It was 10:10 NY time. The image on the television screen was horrifying, terrifying. The image was of smoke billowing from the Twin Towers. I collapsed on the bed and listened intently to get the story. I was immediately filled with fear.

I was travelling alone. Alone. Diane Sawyer had just told viewers that all air travel was being suspended indefinitely. I was stuck. In California. Alone. I had always wanted to be stuck in California, but not under these circumstances. I was scared. I was shaking. I was crying. I tried to call the Hubs, but couldn't get through to his cell phone. I called my mom on her land line. She answered. I cried to her for 15 minutes. I don't remember what I said to her. I don't remember what she said to me. But she calmed me down and helped me get my wits about me. We hung up and promised to talk in a few hours.

Finally, after trying relentlessly for 45 minutes to reach the Hubs, the call finally went through. He answered amidst complete chaos in Orlando. As I was sitting in a quiet hotel room, he was dealing with a polar opposite situation. Employees were in a panic and going completely crazy. He had a huge situation on his hands. We talked briefly. He assured me that I'd be OK. It was just too soon to know how it would play out.

Over the course of the next day, I walked around in a haze. Everything was closed. I made the best of my situation. I hopped in my rental car and drove. And drove. And drove. I drove north. I drove south. I had to revise my entire sightseeing itinerary. All the places I had planned to visit were on lock down. So, I did the next best thing: I took in all the beautiful California scenery. I drove up and down Pacific Coast Highway, visiting the gorgeous beach downs the dot the coast of California. But it just wasn't the same. I was surrounded by such natural beauty but struggling with the cruel and ugly events of the day.

I worried. How would I get back to New Jersey? Would I get back to New Jersey? Would LA be the next city to suffer an attack? Days passed in this vein. Slowly businesses opened and I was beginning to see some semblance of normalcy, whatever that was. Would anything ever be normal again?

On Thursday, September 13, I was on the first post-9/11 flight out of John Wayne airport. My short, 45-minute flight, would land in Vegas at about 10 pm. As excited as I was to fly to Vegas to be reunited with the Hubs, I worried about flying. It was hard not to be worried about it. I landed in Vegas, took a cab to the hotel, and waited for the Hubs to arrive. Finally, he walked into the hotel room at about 2 am. We clutched each other for 20 minutes, refusing to let go.

During that weekend in Vegas, we learned that we were pregnant with our first child. It was a blessing in the midst of sadness and madness.

We returned to New Jersey six days after the attack. We learned of victims in our town, in surrounding towns. We were shielded from the personal stories while out west, but now that we were back home, a mere 50 miles from Lower Manhattan, it was hitting home. Every day brought another story of a neighbor, or a friend, or an acquaintance, who lost a husband, wife, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, child in the senseless attacks.

So, it is with a heavy heart that today I reflect on the events of that day. I pay tribute to all the service men and women who have sacrificed to keep this country safe. I grieve for those who lost their lives and for the families left behind.

May you be blessed to be surrounded by your family today and everyday.

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Where's my mojo???

Ever have one of those weeks where your motivation totally ditches you? Just takes an unexpected hike, and you have no idea how to track it down?

Yep. It's been one of those weeks.

It started on Monday. Waking up to some pretty crappy weather didn't lend itself to starting the week off with a jump start.

I had a pretty great week last week. I had 2 fabulous Paint The Town Pink events including meeting Bill Rancic. My oldest turned 10! I spent Saturday with my girls at an Angelina Ballerina performance and a nice lunch. And Sunday was Mother's Day. It was such a wonderful week filled with lots of fun events and activities.

Of course, this week paled in comparison.

I haven't been to they gym all week - not because I've been busy, but because I've been a little less than motivated.

I've barely posted on my blog all week.

My presence on Facebook and Twitter has been fair at best. I've almost completely forgotten about Foursquare.

I did crank out an article for Meridian Momtourage on avoiding distractions during family vacations. You can read it here. Plus, I've been volunteering at the Scholastic book fair at the girls' elementary school and helping to plan the 4th grade breakfast. I like to think that those count for something.

But still...I can count the number of productive things I've done this week on one hand. Now that the week is winding down, I have this overwhelming feeling that I've wasted most of it.

Even as I write this, I struggle to get out of my funk. I am scrambling to turn things around this week. Better late than never, right?

This weekend is Bloggy Bootcamp in Philadelphia. I'll be there Friday night and all day Saturday. I am seriously hoping for some major inspiration to strike as a result of the weekend's social media activities. I am in dire need of recharging and refreshing. The Girls' Lunch Out cocktail party on Friday night and Saturday's conference should be just the things I need.

Do you ever have days or weeks like this? I never do, and this is a rare and unwelcome feeling for me. What do you do to get your mojo back?

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Dying Eggs = Express Train to Stressville

Just the thought of dying Easter eggs fills me with dread. The nasty smell of the eggs, the dye, the vinegar, the water, the practically overflowing cups. It's a huge mess waiting to happen, and I don't do messes well.

Today, I sucked it up and dyed eggs with Emma and Harper. Weeks ago, we bought the dye kit, and ever since, Harper has been begging to dye the eggs. I was able to put her off for weeks, saying that the eggs would spoil before Easter. But I promised that today would be the day, and sure enough, she held me to that promise.

From the moment I laid the first piece of newspaper until the moment I washed the last cup, I was a bundle of nerves. Surely, it's for times like these that Xanax was created. Too bad I didn't have any.

Before we started, I ran out to Starbucks to get a drink. I needed something to get me through this. Wine would have been my first choice, but it was 3:30 in the afternoon.

The anxiety-inducing eggs...

Why do they insist on playing with the eggs? Really? Why can't they just let them be?

That drink that was supposed to help calm my nerves? Yeah, I didn't get to drink much of it.

But then, I see the smiling face of a happy little girl, and all the anxieties melt away. And I know that it's worth all the stress.

So, tell me. Is egg dying stressful or a walk in the park for you?

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If I Had A "Real" Job...

I awoke in the middle of the night to a child with seething ear pain. For 2 hours, I consoled her by rubbing her back, kissing her head, and tolerating the whining and piercing screams until the Advil kicked in. Eventually, she fell asleep. But I stayed awake, worrying as parents often do. Eventually, I, too, succumbed to heavy eyelids.

When daylight came, I knew I'd have a sick child home from school today. I called the school to report her absence. It's her 10th sick day of the school year (yikes!). I called the pediatrician. I made the appointment. I went to the appointment. I went to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription. And I returned home.

When I got home, I looked at my desk. A slew of unread email messages. The voice mail light on my land line was blinking frantically. A handful of un-retrieved and even more unanswered text messages. A pile of papers haphazardly arranged on my desk.

I stopped short of my desk and wondered, "What if I had a real job?"

The kind of job where I am required to be at the office by a certain time each morning and required to stay until a certain time each evening. The kind of job where deadlines are anything but flexible. The kind of job where I am an essential part of the process and success. I used to have a job like that. And then I had kids.

When Harper started kindergarten in September, I planned to get back to work part-time. I took a month off to get my act together around the house knowing that having a job outside the home wouldn't be conducive to accomplishing ANYTHING inside the home. And then I started taking on some freelance writing and social media gigs. It was supplemental income until I went back to work. The work kept me busy and satisfied. But I still yearned to be a major contributor to the household GNP.

And then sickness hit our house. Harper was out for almost 2 weeks. Surely, that alone would have gotten me a pink slip. Although the Hubs telecommutes, he also travels quite a bit. I cannot rely on him to stay home with sick children due to his travel schedule. We don't have family to help us out. Local relatives work full-time. I bear the burden.

So, every time I sit down to so some job searching, I think of my children in times of sickness, and I wonder just how understanding an employer could be. Because everyone has a breaking point...


If you are a parent who works outside the home, how do you handle your child's sick days? How do you determine who stays home from work? Please weigh in here or head over to Facebook to join the discussion.

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A Messed Up Week & Mom Guilt

Little Harper has been home sick since last Thursday. You read that right. Since December 8, I've had a 5 year old following me all over the house when her big sissy isn't home. I haven't known what that was like since she started kindergarten in September.

I've had the freedom and ability to work part-time from home. I've been able to schedule my day around their school day. But the past week has been anything but normal. Or easy.

First, she's not sick anymore. However, per the pediatrician's orders, she is not permitted to return to school until December 19 for fear of being further infected by a sick child at school. Soooo, I've got a perfectly well (but coughing) 5 year old at home. Bored. Out. Of. Her. Mind. She asks me to play all the time and doesn't understand that I cannot always play with her. I had the flexibility last year. But this year my situation has changed. I have commitments that are beyond her grasp.

It's difficult to get a child to understand that I have an email inbox overflowing with opportunities for sponsored posts. You know, the kind that pay me money!!!! The money that will, in turn, pay for some of her Christmas gifts. But try explaining that to a 5 year old. Yeah, impossible.

And then there's Mom Guilt. The monkey on my back. That nagging voice in my head saying, "When she's leaving for college, you'll remember this day and wish that you had played with her." Gee, thanks. And so, I cave to Mom Guilt in an attempt to stifle that monkey. I played Fisher-Price people ("People House", as she calls it) for 2 hours. I sat on the floor of her bedroom, occasionally checking my email and Twitter stream. Oh, shoot me, OK? When I picked myself off her floor, my lower back was killing me. I'm too old for this, but how do I tell her that I'd rather sit on an inflatable donut than on her hardwood floor?

All week I looked forward to yesterday when the Hubs and I took the kids into Manhattan for the day. No "People House"! No "Hello Kitty hide and seek". Don't ask.

I am so ready to put this week behind me. How did I get through it? Well, the support of a great husband and wine. Don't judge.

Hoping your week was better than mine...

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Remembering 9/11: Where Were You?

It's hard to talk about 9/11 without telling our own story. Recalling where we were when we heard and remembering our initial reaction and the minutes, hours, days, months and years that followed.

We'll never forget the events of that horrific day, and we'll never forget our own story. Still, 10 years later, the events that unfolded that morning and the weeks following are as fresh in my mind as they were 2 days after 9/11/2001.

It was a stereotypical day in southern California. The bright September sun was coming up, and I had a full day of sightseeing planned. I had just flown into Orange County the day before, Monday, September 10, 2001. I had spent so much time in southern California as a software consultant but never had time to truly enjoy free time there. I absolutely adored the area and always wanted to explore it, but by the time I had gotten out of the office at the end of the day, it was just too late, too dark.

About a month prior, I decided to head to Cali for a little R&R for a few days while the Hubs would be in Orlando for a corporate meeting/event. We agreed to meet up in Las Vegas after our respective trips for a few days of fun together. We had no idea how much our travel plans would change...

As I always did, I woke and looked out the window of my hotel in Newport Beach, California. Yep. Another fabulous day was dawning, and I was ready for it. I turned on the TV and immediately tuned in to Good Morning America, my fave morning show. It was 7:10 am, local time. It was 10:10 NY time. The image on the television screen was horrifying, terrifying. The image was of smoke billowing from the Twin Towers. I collapsed on the bed and listened intently to get the story. I was immediately filled with fear.

I was travelling alone. Alone. Diane Sawyer had just told viewers that all air travel was being suspended indefinitely. I was stuck. In California. Alone. I had always wanted to be stuck in California, but not under these circumstances. I was scared. I was shaking. I was crying. I tried to call the Hubs, but couldn't get through to his cell phone. I called my mom on her land line. She answered. I cried to her for 15 minutes. I don't remember what I said to her. I don't remember what she said to me. But she calmed me down and helped me get my wits about me. We hung up and promised to talk in a few hours.

Finally, after trying relentlessly for 45 minutes to reach the Hubs, the call finally went through. He answered amidst complete chaos in Orlando. As I was sitting in a quiet hotel room, he was dealing with a polar opposite situation. Employees were in a panic and going completely crazy. He had a huge situation on his hands. We talked briefly. He assured me that I'd be OK. It was just too soon to know how it would play out.

Over the course of the next day, I walked around in a haze. Everything was closed. I made the best of my situation. I hopped in my rental car and drove. And drove. And drove. I drove north. I drove south. I had to revise my entire sightseeing itinerary. All the places I had planned to visit were on lock down. So, I did the next best thing: I took in all the beautiful California scenery. I drove up and down Pacific Coast Highway, visiting the gorgeous beach downs the dot the coast of California. But it just wasn't the same. I was surrounded by such natural beauty but struggling with the cruel and ugly events of the day.

I worried. How would I get back to New Jersey? Would I get back to New Jersey? Would LA be the next city to suffer an attack? Days passed in this vain. Slowly businesses opened and I was beginning to see some semblance of normalcy, whatever that was. Would anything ever be normal again?

On Thursday, September 13, I was on the first post-9/11 flight out of John Wayne airport. My short, 45-minute flight, would land in Vegas at about 10 pm. As excited as I was to fly to Vegas to be reunited with the Hubs, I worried about flying. It was hard not to be worried about it. I landed in Vegas, took a cab to the hotel, and waited for the Hubs to arrive. Finally, he walked into the hotel room at about 2 am. We clutched each other for 20 minutes, refusing to let go.

During that weekend in Vegas, we learned that we were pregnant with our first child. It was a blessing in the midst of madness.

We returned to New Jersey six days after the attack. We learned of victims in our town, in surrounding towns. We were shielded from the personal stories while out west, but now that we were back home, a mere 50 miles from Lower Manhattan, it was hitting home. Every day brought another story of a neighbor, or a friend, or an acquaintance, who lost a husband, wife, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, child in the senseless attacks.

So, it is with a heavy heart that today I reflect on the events of that day. I pay tribute to all the service men and women who have sacrificed to keep this country safe. I grieve for those who lost their lives and for the families left behind.

May you be blessed to be surrounded by your family today and everyday.

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When Devastation Hits Your Hometown

I was born and raised just minutes from picturesque Hershey, Pennsylvania. I'd wake to the rich smell of chocolate, and I'd fall asleep under a sky filled with stars so bright that you'd swear they were close enough to touch.

Summers were spent at Hershey Park riding roller coasters again and again until we couldn't see straight. We'd take country drives that ended in visits to a creamery that sold ice cream produced with milk from local dairy farms. They were the best of times.

But yesterday, my hometown fell upon the worst of times. The beautiful countryside of central Pennsylvania was ravaged by torrential downpours which resulted in massive flooding when Mother Nature unleashed her fury in the form of Tropical Storm Lee.

Devastation. Destruction. Despair.

People who have spent their entire lives in the small towns surrounding Hershey admitted to having never seen anything like it. It was an horrific storm of monumental proportions. It will take weeks to assess the damage. The full extent won't be known until the water recedes.

Roads were impassable. People reported being completely surrounded by water as if on an island.

The house in the foreground used to belong to my sister and brother-in-law. They moved into a bigger home 2 years ago. They spoke with the current owners who informed them that water filled the entire basement and half of the first floor. Can you imagine?

Rescues were happening everywhere. Here a boat easily clears the second story of a home.

This is the main entrance to Hershey Park. Two bison from Hershey Park's Zoo America had to be euthanized when they were spotted drowning in rushing waters.

As waters begin to recede, buckled roads are becoming a familiar scene.

*all photos are from the Inside Hershey Facebook page

I feel so helpless knowing that friends and family are suffering the devastating effects of the flooding, and I can do nothing to help. As upsetting as these pictures are to me, I can stop looking at them. I've been checking Facebook all day today and yesterday for pictures.

I haven't lived permanently in central PA for over 20 years, but so much of my life's memories are there. When such a storm hits so close to "home", it becomes personal. Even being hundreds of miles away, I can't help but to feel affected by the flooding. To see these familiar places and landmarks covered in water is utterly upsetting.

Mother Nature has not been kind. Here's to hoping she snaps out of her funk.

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Vacation Interrupted

You know that feeling you get when you are weeks away from a vacation? Excitement, and anticipation. You start a countdown weeks before, and you totally look forward to Day 0. Well, I've had the excitement and anticipation for weeks. Every year, my sisters and I and our respective families head to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware for a family vacation.

We grew up vacationing in Rehoboth Beach. We've made lots of memories here, and now we are making more with our own families. We literally look forward to this vacation from the moment it ends the previous year. It's just that good. You can imagine our sheer excitement days before our vacation. But this year, our bubble was popped when Hurricane Irene decided to grace the east coast with her not-so-welcomed presence.

Our vacation was to begin on Saturday the 27th. On Friday, my sister received an email that vacationers were strongly being urged to postpone their vacations until Monday, August 29. Wha???? Monday? That's 2 days. I can't wait to days. I've waited for this vacation for 365 days. I cannot possibly wait another 2 days.

But Irene was not going to cooperate. It was Irene's way or the highway. And so, we hunkered down in New Jersey. We rode out the storm. We expected the worst and were pleasantly surprised when we woke on Sunday morning with full power and a few branches and a bunch of leaves all over the driveway and our street.

We started out the day lazily. Lingering over breakfast. Doing last minute laundry. Slowly finishing our packing. And then, my sister came bounding into the room with some news: the realtor emailed. We could check in as early as Sunday!!!! For reals!!!!

We furiously started packing. It was mass hysteria. A mad dash for suitcases, tote bags, beach bags. It was a frenzy. We loaded the cars. And soon we were on our way. The roads were deserted. No traffic. It was fantastic!

And by 6:30 pm, we pulled into the driveway of our rental house.

Let the vacation begin!

 

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It's Official: My Baby is going to Kindergarten

I've been in denial. I've spent my summer avoiding any thoughts of Harper's going to Kindergarten. I had almost completely forgotten about it. Until...

Until the teacher assignment letter arrived in the mail today. Bam! It was like a smack in the face. A blatant reminder that my baby is growing up.

She, on the other hand, is over the moon. We are waiting on the letter from her teacher detailing the supplies that she needs. There's no doubt in my mind that the very second that letter comes, we will be out the door and on our way to Target or WalMart.

I've put my sadness aside. How can I not share in her excitement? She is bursting at the seams, and that kind of excitement is infectious.

But just wait. When the bus shows up on the first day, that sadness will quickly return. Until then, I'm going to have fun shopping for Kindergarten school supplies!

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Play dates do not equal babysitting services

A few weeks ago on a late Tuesday afternoon, Emma received a phone call from one of her closest friends. She was calling to invite Emma to play at her house for a few hours that evening.We had just walked in the door from the beach, and it was chaotic. I told Emma to tell her friend that that time wasn't going to work, but suggested that Emma invite her to play at our house on Thursday. Two seconds later Emma hands me the phone and says that the friend's mom wants to talk to me.

Here we go.

"Hello. Oh. Ok. Well, I suppose that would work. Ok. Well....uh...Ok. Sure. That's fine. See you then. Bye."

As it turned out, Thursday didn't work for them. Actually, it did work for them, but the mother had a class reunion of sorts on Saturday and was hoping that we could arrange the play date around her plans.

Hello? I'm not your babysitter. Not your free one anyway. But what was I to say? The girls hadn't seen each other since school ended and were anxious to play together. It wasn't the child's fault, after all. Her mom just has a hell of a lot of nerve or is completely clueless.

On Friday, she calls to confirm change the play date and dropoff/pickup times. She needs to dropoff earlier (12:20) so that she can make her appointment for a blowout. WHAT? Are you kidding me? Take the kid with you, for crying out loud. And she needs to pick her daughter up a little later as it is her brother's birthday, and he's planning to make a stop at the venue where the reunion is being held but can't get there until 5.

OK, I was getting close to my breaking point. I don't mind hosting play dates. In fact, they usually benefit me because they keep the kids out of my hair. And if any of my friends ever needed me to babysit, I would do so in a heart beat. But this wasn't a friend. She was an acquaintance of mine whose child is a friend of my child's. Totally different. Just feeling the need to point that out. I know many friends read this blog, so it's important that they know they can ask me ANYTIME to watch their children. And I'd gladly do it.

So, as it turns out, the friend's mom needed to drop off at 12:20 and pick up at 6:30. Huh? Are you kidding me? What was initially a 2 or 3 hour playdate had turned into a 6 hour stint.

But wait. There's more.

About 2 weeks prior to the playdate phone call, the mom left a message on my cell phone informing me that her older daughter (who's 13) is available to babysit my girls anytime. She continued to say that she's reliable and readily available, responsible, and conscientious. So, I had to wonder...where exactly was this older daughter on this particular Saturday. If she's readily available, why was she not around? And 13? Isn't that a bit young to be babysitting?

In the end, the friend came over at 12:20 and went home at 6:20. I took the girls to my sister-in-law's house to swim, and the they had a lovely time. But I was still bothered by the situation and the sheer audacity of the mother long after the girl had left our home. At the pickup, the mother kept saying "I owe you one. I really owe you. I wouldn't have been able to go if it weren't for you".

But seriously. It's not like I am going to call her and say, "Hey, remember that favor that you owe me? When can I drop off my kids?" Who does that? Certainly not I. I'm not that bold, and I cannot believe that there are people out there who are.

As is the case with many posts, as I was typing this and replaying it, I wondered if I were somehow wrong. Was it wrong of me to be annoyed by the mother's actions? What would you have done? Has something similar to this ever happened to you?

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Making You and Your Health a Priority

As busy mothers, we often place the needs of our family before our own. It's not uncommon to schedule well visits and regular dental visits for our little ones but lose sight of making those appointments for ourselves. We become mothers, and our priorities are put on the back burner.

I learned a tough life lesson a few years ago when my lack of attention to my health landed me in the hospital.

This topic is the focus of my latest contribution on Meridian Momtourage. Click HERE to read how I had the scare of a lifetime and how it forced me to make myself a priority.

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Like a Hamster on a Wheel

Yea, you know what I'm talking about.

More and more, I end my day feeling like I've just stepped off the wheel and crawled into my bed.

Ever since school has ended, I swear I spend my days doing the same tasks over and over again. The laundry never ends. C'mon, there are 2 adults and 2 kids in this house and enough laundry for 10 people.

I have spent at least 15 minutes per day lecturing the girls on the importance of picking up after themselves so that I don't have to waste MY time doing it. And you know what happens in the minutes before I go upstairs for the night? Yep, you got it. I end up scouring the downstairs for the kids' clutter and removing it from the floors, sofa, chairs, tables, kitchen island.

I kicked off summer vacation by having a meeting where I laid the "ground rules" for summer break. In addition to the task of cleaning up after themselves, the girls were instructed to keep their rooms straightened up so that we didn't need to spend time each morning doing so. Surprise! We are into our 3rd week of summer vacay, and this ground rule has been broken more than once. :(

I'm guessing that most moms feel the way I do. We take 2 steps forward and one step back. But I'm also guessing that there are moms who take 3 steps forward and 3 more steps forward. How do I get to be one of those moms? At what point will I know that my kids are listening and following my directions? Hello?? Is there anyone in there???

Right now, I'm spending 30 minutes in the morning on the treadmill and the remainder of the day spinning on the hamster wheel, and I'm not seeing any results.

Can someone please come take this hamster wheel out of my house? Please? I'll pay you...

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What age is appropriate for a cell phone?

I've grappled with this issue for weeks. I've made lists of pros, of cons, of costs. And still, I am questioning my decision.

Tomorrow, Emma turns 9. For the past year, all she has wanted for her birthday is a cell phone. Why? I can't answer this. All that I know is that she has wanted a cell phone. To say that she has one? Yes, probably. To text and call friends? Probably not. Yes, cell phones have become a status symbol amongst the elementary school set.

The Hubs and I have exhausted the subject. We've consulted with friends, family, people we sit next to on the train, plane. You name it. We've asked them. We've labored over glasses of wine discussing until we are blue in the face.

And what have we learned? That 9 is too young for a cell phone. But we already knew that.

We do understand that every situation and circumstance is different. If I worked out of the home, she'd probably have a cell phone. However, I work from home. I am at the bus stop every morning to put her on the bus and every afternoon to get her off the bus. I take her to every after-school activity. When she's not with me and the Hubs, she's with other family and friends who have cell phones.

So, why, I ask, does she need a cell phone?

Call me a prude. Call me old-fashioned. But I just can't justify it.

At what age did you/would you buy your child a cell phone? Please share. This subject has piqued my curiosity.

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