Monday, December 12, 2011


7:00 am in the morning and the rays of the rising sun are starting to touch the edges of the windows in the living room. I am sitting on the couch when I hear the creek of the floor. The door leading to my son’s room slowly opens wide. I look up to see my son in a wobbly stand, both eyes closed and getting a jostling from the synchronized hand rubbing. The light hits his face as his eyelids struggle open and I finally see his eyes.

10:00 pm and my wife wakes up from a two hour exhausted sleep. The epidural she was given three hours ago allowed her to get some needed rest. The last twenty-two hours have been a painful hell. I get up from the bedside chair and ask my wife how she is feeling. “I just want this to be over already…” She whispers. Suddenly the doctor walks into the room. “Ok, I think we are ready to get this show started.”

3:00 pm and the phone rings. I am at my desk at work, knee deep in the usual paperwork as I reach for the phone. “Hi, honey, its me, I am at the doctors office and guess what?” I already have my suspicions but play along. “What?” I excitingly reply. “We are going to have a baby!” My wife exclaims. I am filled with joy, worry, and wonder all at once. “That is the best news, can’t wait to see you, I love you!”  We talk some more but my mind is racing around.

8:00 am and I am up to my neck in waffle mix. I am mixing and adding milk and mixing some more, testing the batter for liquidity. The waffle maker is heated to the desired temperature as I pour the batter, covering each little square. I wife appears out of our bedroom. She sees my son on the couch and goes over to give him a big hug.

12 am and my wife lets out a scream. “You are doing great, we are almost there!”  The doctor commands. I am holding my wife’s hand trying not to let the pain of her grip show on my face. My wife is huffing and puffing and then erupts. “Just one small push left.”  I look at my wife’s face and in a split second the doctor is holding my son in her hands. “Daddy do you want to cut the cord?” The doctor asks. I cannot take my eyes off the screaming baby as I take the scissors. The doctor hands the baby over to the nurse and tends to my wife. I go with the nurse as she puts my son down on a warm table to clean him up and check him out. His crying has slowed to a calm whimper. I hold his legs as the nurse checks his vitals. The light hits his face as his eyelids struggle open and I finally see his eyes.

5:00 pm I open the door to our apartment. I left work a little early to celebrate the news with my wife. I take off my jacket, and shoes and put down my bag. I do not see her at first and walk into the bedroom. She is lying in bed, eating a snack and reading. I lay down next to her and give her a hug and a kiss. “I can’t believe we are having a baby.” She says. “ I am so happy and I love you.” I reply. “Are we ready for this?”  She questions. “You are going to be a great mom and we are going to be great parents.” I assure her.

9 am, we are sitting at the table, talking and celebrating was we dig in to the huge stack of waffles. “What time was I born exactly?” My son asks. “My wife says about 12:15 am. We talk about what we did that day twelve years ago, and the memories throughout the years. After gobbling the last bite of waffle, my son puts down his fork, and wipes the syrup off his chin. “When can I open my presents?” He asks. “Wash you hands and I will go get them.” I reply. He jumps up and runs into the kitchen, as excited as any twelve-year-old boy can be.

Happy Birthday

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Seconds away

"Whoooooo!!!" My son screams while tossing the couch pillow in the air. I am standing next to him and brace myself for the oncoming landing of my son in my arms. The NY Giants have just tied the game against the undefeated Green Bay Packers on a two-point conversion. The Giants look very strong in the final minutes of the game and actually have a chance if they can just hold The Packers for the last fifty-eight seconds of regulation. But as most football fans know, eighty yards in fifty-eight seconds is an eternity for Aaron Rogers and the mighty Pack.

1st and 10- GB 20- A. Rogers to J. Finley- 24 Yards
1st and 10- GB 44- A. Rogers to J. Nelson- 27 Yards
1st and 10-NYG 29- A. Rogers to B. Saine- (-1) Yard
2nd and 11-NYG 30- A. Rogers to G. Jennings- 18 Yards
1st and 10- NYG 12- M. Crosby 30 Yard Field Goal

No Time Left

Green Bay Packers 38
New York Giants 35

My son is not whooping it up now, sad for his team but Big Blue are still in the hunt and looking forward to an epic battle next week against The Dallas Cowboys.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Party Rock Anthem

It's 8:59pm when I enter the side door to the school. I am immediately hit with the sounds of preteen commotion. "Hi, he is probably in the small gym." One of the moms working to door motions to me. I pass kids playing video games, two playing ping pong and make a right past the cafeteria. Kids are rushing by in all directions as I pass through the double doors and stop when I feel the vibration of base emanating from small gym. All of a sudden the music stops and all you hear are kids shouting and roaring. I press up against the wall and wait as the kids pour our into the corridor. Through the sea of six graders I spot my son, red faced and sweaty, and he spots me. He acknowledges my existence and I motion that I will be by the exit doors when he is ready. 

It's the "Fall into Middle School" dance tonight and its a whos who of six graders attending. I gave my son three rules to follow, have fun, be respectful of yourself, other kids and the adults; and finally, have fun. 

After a few minutes, my son breaks out of the crowd. "I'm ready to go." he says to me. We push through the doors, leaving the hot rotunda and entering the cold dark night. "AAH, that feels good!" my son says. On the way home my son fills me in on the event, a lot of dancing and hanging with friends consumed most of the evening. "I'm thirsty, clubbing is tiring.." He says. 

This is only the beginning...

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Walking and Talking

"Why don't you ride with the other walkers?" The team leader says to my son at the meet up location. After a little coaxing my son replies "Ok..." He exits the back seat of our car and enters the white mini van filled with the other walkers, all girls.

The Westchester Walk for the Cure is a 5K walk supporting the research and care for breast cancer and my son and classmates are representing his school in the walk. 

The three car caravan pulls into the massive corporate park parking lot next to Manhattanville College, the gathering area and the start of the walk. Our group consists of a teacher/team leader, eight kids and three parents. We check in, get our pink stickers and stop by the hospitality tents. Some of the kids head off to purchase t-shirts while others grab a drink and food.

"Alright everyone, we need to stay in small groups so everyone pick a partner of group to stay with..." The team leader instructs. I was nervous for my son, who is the only boy in the group but immediately one girl and my son announce they would pair up. This girl and my son are friends and apparently have been chatting it up the whole car ride up. They are the perfect fit, my son is a patient listener and this girl is a marathon talker! 

We decide to work our way towards the front so when it is time to start we are not trampled by the thousands of walkers. As soon as we got to the very front the horn blew and the walkers was off. The group loosely spread out, three girls in front to the left, three other girls falling behind in the middle, and the pair consisting of my son and the girl chatting, laughing and having a ball. "Let's catch up to them..." she would say and they would run through the crowd to meet up with another group. Sometimes the groups would reform, two girls pair off and one joins my son's group or sometimes they would all catch each other and walk as a full group. All the time gossiping, chatting, laughing having a great time. At times they forgot they were in a walk and slow to a stroll, not realizing there was about four thousand people behind them. One guy jokingly chirped "Hey kids, pay attention, you are slowing up the walk and I want to finish before dinner!" It startled the kids a bit and got a laugh from the walkers, but it was all in good fun.

During the last mile the group is spread thin, my wife and I losing sight of our son and his friend and but we knew he was ok, the girl was on top of things and my son was enjoying the day. When we cross the finish line, my son and the girl run up to us. "We were the first to finish!" They say in unison, excited and proud of their accomplishment. The rest of the group finally cross the line, tired but also proud to walk for a good cause. 

We make our way back to the cars, all the kids sharing their walk experiences and laugh about the guy who hollered at them. "Are you going to go with your parents or drive back with us?" The team leader asks? "I will ride back with you." My son responds. He gets back into the white minivan, my wife and I get in our car, and the caravan of three pulls out and drives home. New friends, lasting memories and a worthy cause, not bad for a Sunday morning...

for more information about Making Strides against Breast Cancer:

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Friday, October 7, 2011

Future Era

"Dad..." I did not answer right away as my son emerges from his room and slowly walks over to me as I type on my computer at the dining room table. "Dad?" I hear again. "What buddy?" I finally reply without looking up. "Did something happen to Steve Jobs?" My typing pauses. "People are posting a lot about him on the internet." He adds. I switch from my PC laptop I am using to remote in to my office, and turn to my white Macbook asleep to my left. I slide my fingers across the glossy touchpad, waking it up and click on a news bookmark. Steve Jobs 1956-2011 is posted in block lettering across the top of the page. 

Towards the end of the 1800's, Thomas Edison invented the incandescent light bulb and patented the first system to deliver electricity across long distances, and a global shift occurred. No one hired him to build it, he took an existing technology and manipluated it to create practical uses and endless possibilities. The world moved from people never thinking about this new energy, to a world quickly embracing it. The generation born after the shift could never imagine living without the connivence of "turning on the light".

In 1913 the first Model T rolled off the assembly line. Henry Ford did not invent the automobile, there were many pioneers  tinkering with engines and designs to come up with a self propelled vehicle. Henry Ford figured out a way to make an automobile reliable, efficient and priced for the masses. A vision incorporating engineering, industrial design and marketing is why Ford is the father of the automobile. This shift impacted the world in ways simply unimaginable before. The dawn of the industrial machine took shape and the spreading of communities away from dense cities thrusted the population upward and outward. The children of the industrial age only knew of a life of mobility, mass production and consumerism, and never once looked back. 

This spring I gave my wife an IPhone as a gift. The package it came in was a small white box with a round sticker holding it closed. When opened, there was only a tiny booklet, a thin white cable and what looked like a piece of glass with white and silver trim. She took it out and held it in her hand like an egg. My son, wide eyed and drooling at the sight of it quickly began instructing his mother how to set it up and use it. "This is how you check you messages, and this is how you get apps..." He goes on and on. I have had many cell phones since they went mainstream twenty years ago and I have had a home computer before Windows 3.1 and I have never experienced the intuitiveness of the products Apple has brought to the world. Steve Jobs, like Edison and Ford before him has used design and engineering to push vision, passion and creativity into the hands of the people and jolt the population from the modern era into the future era. 

I have grown up in the current computer age, organizing punch cards and spending a semester teaching a machine the size of a car to add three numbers together. I am a child of the modern era, and cannot imagine a life without a calculator, a VCR, or a cell phone. I have incorporated the personal computer into my everyday life and use the internet as a source of all my information and communication. When my son worked that IPhone with an effortless learning curve, I knew I am in the slow lane of what is coming. Who will be the next game changer, the next visionary to cause a shift? My son is eleven, what will be the thing he cannot imagine a world without?

I get up from the table to sit on the couch with my son. I now have my laptop resting next to me on the arm of the couch. I click on the TV to see the coverage. As the news programs goes to commercial, I open the laptop and click a few tabs to capture more information. We are glued to the computer, reading posts, tweets and comments regarding the sad news. The news program returns from commercial, graphics scroll across the bottom, theme music is playing and pundits are chattering. I lean over, grab the remote and click off the TV, and continue to react to the news in real time, on my glossy white Macbook. 

Tuesday, October 4, 2011


The dining table is littered with binders, assignment sheets, pens and pencils. Its 8:30pm and I am sitting on the longer side of the oval table, my son directly opposite me. As I work on some reports remotely, I hear faint grunts and ughs emanating from across the table. I glance over my computer and over the three inch textbook leaning against a lucite picture stand to see my son, head in hand, twirling his pencil with what seems like his last bit of energy.. "I have so many to finish..." trickles out of his mouth. "Just focus on one at a time, then the next..." I suggest. A few minutes pass and more sighs and huffs. "Why don't you just go to bed and finish in the morning." I advise. He slowly rises out of his seat and says goodnight. "Goodnight..." I reply. 

A few minutes later I get up to and pass by my son's room and notice the light still on. I turn and enter his room and see him on his computer, checking out a sports video. "Hey I thought you too tired to do your homework?" I say sternly. "I am going to bed now.." He bites back, gets up, walks over to his bed, and in one motion, pulls up the blanket and jumps in the bed before the blanket can land on him. I turn towards the door and also use a single motion to flip off the light and close the door behind me. 

I guess we are both running on fumes.

Sunday, September 25, 2011


"I need your computer." My son is anxious. It is 1:20pm, the early games have started and he needs to check his teams. He grabs my laptop, and lays on the floor in front of the TV. He logs into his Fantasy League account and studies it. His fingers are working the keyboard and the touchpad. I lay down next to him to see his stats. I notice that he has multiple tabs open. "How many teams do you have?" I ask. "I have four teams but I wanted to set up another..." He replies as he scrolls through the lineups. "Oh I am winning on this one and getting creamed with that one." He says to me. "I have five players on late games, and my opponent only has two." He murmurs to himself. "I knew I should have traded him!" He exclaims. I watch my son bounce from one tab to tab, checking stats, projecting points and forecasting lineup changes for next week and am amazed at the concentration.

Oh by the way the amount of fantasy teams I need to manage? Zero, I just want to watch the game.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

New Season

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Spin Spin Spin


I am exhausted, how does my son do it?

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

One-Eighty Plus

"Great start today" That was the whole email. Three small words. Today was the first day of school, middle school. My wife and I are hoping for a great start this year but more importantly we just want our son to have a positive beginning developing into a successful year. He deserves it. So when his teacher emailed him this afternoon, he smiled. Boom.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Summers End

"Here you go, you each can go on eight rides." I say as I tear along the perforated edges of the little green ride tickets. All three kids are excited to finally get a chance to go on a few rides at the fair. We are at the Haddam Neck Fair in Haddam Connecticut, as part of our day trip visiting friends. My son, our friends daughter (one of his oldest friends) and her cousin choose the Giant Slide as their first ride. They climb the stairs, place their potato sacks on the slide and in unison begin to race down. Next is the Gravitron, a ride the girls are thrilled to try and my son not so much. "I don't like rides that spin around fast, it makes me dizzy and makes my head hurt." My son explains while the girls race in to the dark cauldron of the ride. A few minutes pass as we watch the ride spin at top speed and screams are heard coming from the inside. The ride slows to a stop and the girls rush out."Oh you got to try that, the ride spins and then the floor drops out and you are pinned to the wall and you can't move!" The girls scream as one. 

The Fair is not your typical traveling carnival set up in some mall parking lot for the weekend. This fair was as Americana as it gets. Upon arriving at the fair our first stop was to visit the barn where the hen and rooster competition was taking place. Rows and rows of cages each one holding primed and proper chickens, ducks and even rabbits, all on their best behavior and win a blue ribbon to show off back home. After the hen pageant, we head over to the next barn, where the big boys and girls are set to show off their goods. The cows are doing whatever cows do, some are eating, some are sleeping and some are standing, not a very animated group, but all sporting their best looks, clean and groomed. Next are the goat and sheep pens, each pen occupied by the mischievous animals, climbing over each other for optimal begging angles. After viewing the show animals, we pass through the collection of food trailers, all the cheese steaks, funnel cake and bloomin' onions your digestive tract can handle and walk through a series of booths, selling stuff. The kids are zig-zagging from booth to booth, trying on sunglasses and watching girls get feathers weaved into their hair. 

The truck pull was the main event at the carnival today. A stable of hard core puckups, matte black with fat tires and engines protruding out of the hoods. The thunder escaping the exhaust pipes fills the air with the sound of a thousand horses as the truck pulls the giant sled down the dirt track for a full pull. The crowd cheers and we decide we saw enough and head back to the carnival grounds. 

The sky is now a deep blue as the kids decide on their last ride of the day, the swings. I notice I have enough tickets in my hand to take my wife on the Ferris Wheel. We sit in the rocking bench, as the wheel rotates around and stops at the very top to load on more riders. My wife and I overlook the fairgrounds, the neon glow of the rides, the flashing lights of the game booths, the smoke billowing from the food trailers, and the distant sound of monster trucks, the perfect fair to end a summer day. 

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Almost Home

After spending seven weeks in camp and one week in Florida, my son is one day away from coming home. He has had a great summer meeting new friends and amassing new experiences. He has also learned more about himself and how to take care of himself, all important things for a boy entering his teen years.

With my son being away, and not having much interaction with him for most of the summer, I have not had much to write about. 

Tomorrow we travel home and begin the push towards the beginning of fall, and the new adventures of Middle School.
My son of course, is more excited about football practice than sixth grade.

Saturday, July 30, 2011


"Ok, we will see you later..." My sister says as she closes the front door. Pressing the button for the elevator, I look down at my three year old niece, who is standing there quietly while brushing her long brown hair away from her face. When we reach the ground floor, I push open the elevator door and she skips out under my arm. I buckle her into her car seat, "How is that?" I ask her. "You did it right." she replies back. With that approval, I slide close the door of my sister's mini van, circle around to the driver's door and get in. I am taking my niece out for a children's theater group showing of Cinderella, and we are both excited and cautious. 

"I don't see any ducks, I think they are sleeping." My niece comments as she gazes out the window of the moving car. "I don't see any geese either.." I reply. "Geese are mean." She says, "They are not funny, I like ducks because they are funny.." We run through a flurry of topics, animals, food, pink shoes, shoes with lights, boots with lights, hats, funny socks, funny cousins,  funny sounds, funny songs, funny games, we basically covered everything that is funny or anything you can attach blinking lights to.

We pull up in front of the theatre and upon inquiring about parking, are told to turn left at the light and go down to the school where there is free parking. We park and are now walking the four blocks back to the theatre, my niece skipping along pointing at flowers, and I staying close, sporting her satin red Mini Mouse backpack.

We enter the theatre and secure a booster (drivers license required) and quickly find our seats. It takes a while for my niece to adjust to the booster, first setting it on the seat, then trying to climb up onto it, ending with me picking her up and placing her on the booster. A minute passes and she jumps down to adjust the booster by turning it around, another attempt to climb up, and again ending with me picking her up. This goes on two more times until she finds the perfect set up, her in the seat with her legs up, and the booster positioned on the floor. With about ten minutes until curtain goes up, I ask her is she needs to go to the bathroom, which she replies with nodding her head yes. I help her off the seat, grab the satin red Mini Mouse backpack and the booster (drivers license required) and make our way up the aisle to the back of the theatre. "Where are the restrooms?" I ask the usher. "Women's on the left and Men's on the right. I quickly turn left then stop, "Wait, I need then Mens room." I say to myself. Since I have a son, this is a new experience for me, I never had to take a little girl to the bathroom before, but I was not nervous. 

We open the door to the bathroom and we descend the five steps to the tiled floor of the big bathroom. We find a stall, put down the booster and place the red satin Mini mouse backpack on top. I unzip the bag and take out the toilet pads my sister thoughtfully packed. I unroll some toilet paper and wipe the seat down, then take the toilet pad and place it on top, where it quickly slips off and falls in. "Oops, I need another one." I say as my niece gives me a look like she is thinking, "Should I find someone else to assist me?" I quickly unfold a new pad and this time secure the corners by tucking it under the seat. I then place the booster seat in front of the toilet which allows my niece step up and go in comfort. She is quickly finished and dressed, I instruct her to stand behind me and I will flush. I press the lever and the toilet makes a faint gurgling sound and the water is just fills a little and stops. The two toilet pads are now impeding the water flow are clogging the toilet. I move the booster, the red satin Mini Mouse backpack and my niece as far away from the stall as possible and think of how I can unclog the situation. I notice a toilet brush in the corner, unroll some more toilet paper and wrap it around the brush handle. I then grab the handle, pull out the brush, and use it to remove the toilet pads. I dump them in the garbage can next to the stall and return the brush. I take out the wipes from the red satin Mini Mouse backpack and pull out two wipes and scrub my hands, then repeat the process to scrub down my niece. Mission accomplished as we exit the bathroom and go back to our seats.

After another round of booster roulette, the booster again sits on the floor and my niece curled up in the seat, I re-wipe her hands as the lights go down and the curtain opens.

I spend the first half of the show not watching the stage, but watching my niece's reactions to the costumes, the songs, the banter of dialogue, even the sounds of the audience. She claps when she is supposed to and laughs at the funny parts. When the Fairy Godmother turns the pumpkin into the carriage, my niece is motionless, eyes wide and mouth open. At intermission, I ask her if she wants to walk down to touch the stage and she smiles and nods quickly. "Ok, you walk down and I will wave to you." She takes a few steps and turns which I respond with a wave. She advances a few more rows, turns and I wave. That happens a few more times until she reaches the edge of the stage, and runs back up the aisle to our row. She repeats the walk five more times, each reaction to reaching the stage is like a first time discovery. The house lights now dim as the second half is starting. 

The Ball, Cinderella's entrance, the big dance and the bells of midnight open the second half, which causes my niece to say to me "The car is going to turn back into the pumpkin!" Upon the prince slipping the glass slipper on Cinderella, the whole audience applauds, along with my niece, excited by the happy ending to the show. A standing ovation is awarded to the child actors and the house lights go up. We return the booster (getting my license back) follow the crowd towards the theater doors and burst out into the sun. We make our way back to the car, petting a big black dog and counting animals statues sitting in front lawns. I buckle her back into the car seat, again getting approval of my knowledge and step into the drivers seat. I pull out, exit the parking and stop at the corner traffic light. "What was your favorite part?" I ask. "Cinderella, the pumpkin car and the mice." She exclaims. We drive three more lights and I say "I am glad we went to the show, it was fun spending the day with you." I turn my head to see my niece fast asleep, holding on to the red satin Mini Mouse backpack.

Monday, July 25, 2011


I start the car and slide the stick into reverse. I slowly back the car out of the spot and curve right. The car on our left does the exact same maneuver. Now the car sits inches in front of our front bumper and in unison we both place the car in drive and snake our way around the field full of cars, past the climbing wall and out onto the dirt path. The dirt path leads us to the blacktop of Route 137, we turn left and take off, leaving the camp behind and out into the world. 

"One story the counselors told us was about the Crazy Mainer..." Starts my son, sitting in the passenger seat as we wait for the light to turn green. "Who is the Crazy Mainer?" I ask. "So, along time ago, there was this kid who lost his hand in an accident. He lived near the camp but was not allowed to go because he only had one hand. He was very angry with the camp and all the fun the kids were having. When he grew up he never forgot about it and now roamed the camp at night. He would sneak into the bunks and walk around and look at each camper and if any kid has an arm or a leg sticking out, he would cut it off..." My son giggles. "Wow that is some story, were you scared?" I respond. "No, I knew it was fake." I turn left and continue to follow the car in front to our first destination, Fonzos Pizza and Seafood.

"What can I get you folks?" says the lady leaning against the counter like its the only thing keeping her from hitting the floor. About twenty minutes later the six lobster rolls, basket of fried clams, a hamburger and a Steak Bomb arrive at our table. "Does anyone want a bite of the Steak Bomb?" I manage to articulate chewing the Maine version of a cheese steak sandwich. My son finishes his hamburger and rests his head on his arm. The excitement of the morning meet-up has leveled off but stepping away from the activities of camp and being with his parents has made him a bit home sick. After our lunch we snap a few pictures of the front for proof of our visit and head to get supplies at the main destination in town, Walmart.

As we pass through the double doors of Walmart, we all take a deep breath before stepping into the belly of the beast. "I have never been inside a Walmart before..." My son exclaims, eyes widen in a hypnotic state, no doubt caused by the Walmart magnetic vortex of shiny cheap goods. "We are only here to get the things you need for camp, then we are getting out quickly, in and out..." I command as I grab a cart and descend into the aisles. We are working our way around, towels-check, tape-check, pushpins-check, "Do you know where the..." someone asks but we keep walking, do not want to be lured in. As we scurry up and down aisles, we can't help but notice other families, also in a scurry, getting similar items; batteries, sheets, towels, flashlights, each one in possession of a boy with an identical maroon t-shirt. I stop at the center aisle and look in all four directions and as far as I could see the entire store is filled with campers. As we reach the far end of the store we find the last item, fan-check. Now is the most difficult challenge, getting to the front of the store without adding anything more items to the cart. I think either the carts are programmed for the wheels to tighten and slow or the store is built on a slope because working your way to the front is like climbing a steep hill. "Oh look, we can use that.." "That is cool, can I get that." I pretend not to hear anything but it seems like the aisles are whispering to you. "Psst, hey you, don't you need a new toaster?" Psst, come down here, I'm having a sale on socks." Psst, you know you never want to be caught in the rain with old wipers, what are you driving..." I block out all sound and finally reach the registers. We place the items on a register and wait for the person in front of us to finish her transaction. All of a sudden, the customer leaves the checkout without her stuff and heads towards the exit. "Whats the matter?" I ask. "Oh she was paying with a check but left her wallet in the car, it will only take a few minutes. I look at my wife and she looks back, then we quickly place all the items back in the cart and scramble over to the open self serve register. We speed through our purchases, swipe the credit card, bag the items and quickly make our way back to the entrance to meet the rest of the family. As we wait for them to survive the ascent upward towards the registers, we are greeted by all the other families finished with their Walmart excursion. The kids are comparing supplies, as this will be their only chance to replenish so due diligence is paramount. "Oh I can use a mattress pad too, the bed is a little bumpy..." My son requests as he spots one in another cart. "We better get it now.." My wife responds as she looks in my direction. "Ok..., wait here." I reply. As I turn I take another deep breath, and start my trek back through mountains of sale displays, tree size floor stands and family friendly cardboard signage, to locate the bedding section. As I grab the twin size foam pad, a faint breeze touches the back of my neck, "Psst, I think you need a new pillow to go with that pad..." I keep my eyes forward and my legs moving fast... 

Look for part 3: Turbulence during Re-entry

Sunday, July 17, 2011


"...And now Parents, it time to see your campers!" The announcement causes a flurry of commotion inside of Alumni Hall and out onto the gravel path on the front grass. A sea of mothers in skirts and floppy hats pushing alongside husbands with khaki shorts, visors and cameras bouncing around their necks, in a battle to locate their sons. This of course is visiting day at Camp Manutou, a sleep away camp located in Maine, where boys live side by side and spend eight weeks in a sports competition frenzy. This is where my son has been for the last three weeks and after spending the last hour touring the main hall and meeting other parents, we are anxious to get our visit on. 

I get separated from my wife as the crowd is rushing down the dirt path like its a half price sale at LL Bean. I am scanning the faces of boys as they walk up the path from their bunks, one by one dismissing each unfamiliar kid. Suddenly in a cacophony of shouts, my ears perk up as the word "Dad!" is parsed out from the constant stream of "dads" and my mind locks in to the exact fingerprint of my son's voice. My eyes quickly dart slightly left and now the visual matches the audio. In a shot my son races across the path and with no regard for what is in his way, makes a bee-line towards my body. In seconds his body explodes into mine, arms wrapping my body and his head drills into my chest. After a minute of silence, he looks up at me with big red teary eyes and says, "Hi Daddy..." 

"Hi sweet boy!" is my wife's greeting as she catches up to our embrace on the grass. My son removes one arm from around me and pulls his mommy in as we stand together like three trees twisting, standing in a field while their branches wrap around each other. The field is now silent and there are many bunches of trees standing together in simultaneous embrace. 

We finally separate and get in a good look at our boy. His hair is wavy long, and his face is golden tan. His hands are a bit dirty from the mornings activities and his nails are unevenly trim. His legs are like brown logs, bumpy and filled with scraps and bug bites. His feet are roughed up and he sports a bandage on his right big toe. "What happen to your toe?" My wife asks. "Oh that, I cut it on a rock" He fires off, not wanting to get into it.  A more rapid fire question and answer session ensues, "How are, you?"-"Fine"; How has camp been?"-"Great"; "Are you loving it?"-"Yes". After catching our breath, we make our way to Bunk 20D, my son's living quarters at the camp.  

We pull open the wooden screen door of Bunk 20D and step into the porch area. Along the knotty pine wall are three shelves filled with an assortment of footwear. Basketball, baseball, football, soccer, cleats, flip-flops, sliders, boots, and water shoes of every make, model, and size are lined up ready for action. In the corner are lacrosse and hockey sticks, baseball bats, golf clubs, even a bow. We step through the inner doorway and are now standing in the main part of the room. Walls of more knotty pine and four rows of wooden bunk beds. "My bed is over here." my son points to the third set of bunk beds on the left. We walk over and my son jumps into his bed. My wife and I crouch down beside the bed and take quick account of the conditions. "Looks comfortable." I say. My wife notices that there is no pillow case on the pillow which my son responds "I did not even notice..." We unload a few items we brought up from home, magazines, a few snacks and more stationary for letters. "Where are all the letters you got, I want to see them." My wife asks as she peeks in the drawers under the bed. "Here..." my son responds by lifting up the pillow and there sits a stack of letters, postcards and papers he has received. We inventory his supplies, and note what we will pick up for him before the day ends. The list includes a new fan, D batteries, a couple of new towels, and new ear buds for his nano. We survey the bathroom situation and decide he is still well stocked. 

We meet the three counselors assigned to Bunk 20D, who all say our son is their favorite (I am sure a line each parent gets to hear) but they also say how excited they are to see him bond so quickly with the other boys, as he is the only newbie in the bunk, the other boys have two, three or even four years vested in the camp. They describe our son as mellow, funny, good natured, not bashful, and simply a great kid to have living in the bunk. Those words sound just like our son and it made us proud of him for his accomplishments in the bunk and at Manitou. 

The camp makes an announcement regarding the events of the day, instructionals, a multitude of demonstrations, lunch, then a club show. My son chooses to go to his golf instructional so we leave Bunk 20D and stroll across the camp to the golf range. As we walk he describes all the sports he has been playing, the friends he met, scary stories from his counselors, and the food situation, easing down from the emotional peak of our visit and settling into a more comfortable state. After passing the tennis courts, a baseball field, the deck hockey rink, the football field, another baseball field, the climbing wall and the mountain bike shed we finally get to the golf range. There we meet up with his cousin, already whacking golf balls with a driver. My son grabs a club and a bucket of balls from the shed and slots into a driving lane. My wife and I sit on the wooden railing, descending from the peak as well of the morning's emotional greeting and just enjoy our son getting off a couple of crack shots, watching the ball rise high and soar into the air...

Look for Part 2 of Visitors Day when we spring the boys out of camp and into civilization. 

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Say Uncle!

"Hey, how close are you?" I say into the phone. "I just turned right from Broadway onto Bleecker." The panting voice on the other end replies.  "Ok you are only a few minutes away, see you in a bit" I respond and hang up the phone. I look down the line and try to get a head count of the people in back of me and then turn to get a number of people ahead of me. I have been waiting for about forty-five minutes and have seen the line grow from about thirty (about where my place is) to about one hundred and twenty. At that moment I see my niece make her way across the street and spot me as I smile and wave my hand in the air. 

The last few days have been very busy, with my son's graduation and departure for sleep away camp. My niece has been visiting with us over the weekend and while discussing music likes and other listening favorites, we discovered that we both listen to the same podcast. The Moth podcast is a collection of unscripted real life stories people express in front of an audience. We visited the website and found out they were having a Story Slam that monday night at The Bitter End in the Village. We immediately made plans to attend. "Sorry I'm late, it took longer than I planned." My niece explains while trying to cool down from the walk in the heat. "No problem, we are in a good position and they have not started letting people in yet." We catch up on her day when the line starts to move, and we slowly make our way around the corner. We are a few feet from the door when we spot this gigantic bouncer in the doorway checking ID's when it dawns on me that the venue is a bar and my niece is only sixteen. We both look anxiously at each other as we are now next to enter. "ID's please..." The bouncer roars and startles my niece. The bouncer gazes at my niece and bellows "Hey, how old are you?" With my niece frozen in place I plead, "She is sixteen but we are just here for the stories." "It's OK, relax, I just need to see the ID, then I stamp your hand." My niece lets out a sigh of relief, we pay the cover and scurry to find two seats with optimal sight lines of the mic stand. We find two on the side and await with excitement for the start of the Slam.

The Story Slam lives up the its billing. The MC of the evening is a woman who is lively and extremely funny, filling up the time between stories with outlandish and raunchy tales of her own. The participants engage the audience with heartfelt recounts of romance, breakups, childhood angst and family dramas, all the makings of a great stories and a memorable evening. My niece and I attempt to rank our favorites between each storyteller and we always to seem to be in agreement in our rankings. 

As we hear the final story of the night, the waitress comes around with the bar tab for each table (ours consisted of a bottle of water and a diet coke). We are sad that the event is coming to a close but thankful we did get a chance to attend the event. We we make our way out of the club, we thank the bouncer and walk out onto the lively Greenwich Village streets. "Are you hungry, lets go get a falafel around the corner, I know a great place." We get matching falafel sandwiches and eat them outside on two wooden chairs. We eat, people watch, and state our final rankings of the stories of the evening. After a while we decide to get a cab to I can escort her home (she is staying with her other aunt this week). We take the cab to the east side and we get out. "Thank you for a great evening, I loved it." she says as she hugs me goodbye. "I am glad we got to do this together, and now you can tell all your friends you got to go to a iconic village club and see a show!" I stand there and watch her enter the building and then start to make my way home. I got thirty minutes to the next train.

To learn more about The Moth, visit

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Plus Minus I press down on the alarm and sit up in bed. 5:30 am on Sunday morning and I already have a full agenda. I splash some water on my face and head into the kitchen. I open the fridge and take out the white plastic mixing bowl. I peel off the plastic wrap and frown. The pancake batter I made the night before looks a bit solid. "Oh no, it's too cold." I say quietly. I take a big fork out of the drawer and proceed to whip the pasty batter back into shape. I add a little milk, a few squirts of honey, and whip it some more and soon its back to a workable liquid. The waffle maker is already warm and like a cement mixer setting its first sidewalk, I lay the foundation for waffle number one. I reach into the freezer and grab the coffee. I scoop out ten cups full into the machine, and even though I will be the only one having coffee, I make enough to fill up the pitcher for ice coffee during the week. I am on my third waffle when I hear footsteps entering the kitchen. "Morning..." I yell as I pull plates out of the cupboard. My son is groggy but all smiles as it is now mere hours before he leaves for his first adventure into sleep-away camp.

I never went to sleep-away camp as a child. I never went away to college either so I have absolutely no point of reference for his state of mind right now. I have no words of wisdom, no past "when I went to sleep-away camp..." anecdote to draw upon. This is the first of many adventures he will need to guide me through.

We finish our waffle breakfast and my wife starts to clear the table as my son gets dressed. He is sleepy and excited at the same time, a chatterbox on one hand and yawning loudly on the other, which is interesting to witness. Our teenage niece is visiting with us and decides to join us in our very early morning to see her cousin off. After some last minute gear checks we make out way out for the drive to the drop off point.

We arrive at the Raddison Hotel parking lot and settle into a spot. All around us are sleepy parents holding various brands of coffee to-go cups with anxious campers in tow. We see four buses idling on the side of the parking lot and stroll over to see whats up. I find a group of college age kids in a huddle figuring out which bus will be at their command when they all stop and turn to look at me. "Hello, are you here for the camp?" I look at them and I look at my son, all five of them wearing a similar t-shirt with the name "MANITOU" stamped across the chest. I think we found the right place. We check in and after a game of bus roulette, they finally decide which bus will take my son to Maine. 

The crowd starts to thicken around the buses as it is getting closer to departure time. Kids running and greeting others who they have not seen since camp ended last August and parents chatting about what a great day it is and what they are going to do while their kids are away. I snap a few pictures of my son with my wife, with his cousin, with me, with the bus, with a light post, with other kid's parents, what ever I can get in before the moment is gone. "You are going to have such a good time!" is echoed by us and every other parent in the vicinity. You get a sense from the campers that they just want to leave already, my son included. 

"Ok everyone on the bus, we are ready to move out!" one of the counselors hollers. In a flash, the parents get in one last hug before the boys can break away. My wife gives her boy one last hug and he turns to me. I give him a quick hug and say "Don't worry about anything here, just take care of yourself and have the greatest time." "I will..." he manages to get out while is face is buried in my shoulder. As the final kid boards the bus, the door closes and the bus driver revs the engine. Outside is a sea of waving hands from the suddenly childless parents. The parking lot is a traffic jam of anxious parents who now want to return home and go back to sleep in their now tranquil homes. As I drive I imagine my son on the bus, meeting the staff and the kids, not knowing what will take place over the next seven weeks, but will have a lifetime of memories to look back on... 

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Wave of Emotions

"Let's give a big round of applause to our 2011 graduating class!" The crowd erupts as the principal concludes his remarks during the Fifth Grade Recognition Ceremony. I look at my wife and she looks at me as we both let out a sigh of relief that the year is over.  

If I was to convey my feelings towards this past school year, I would need to be hooked up to an oscilloscope to read my emotions. Ups and downs, climbing and sliding was the norm of fifth grade. With a little fact finding, and a lot of beta testing, our eyes began to see through the thickness and uncovered a few paths out into the clearing. Some of those paths tricked us into dead ends, while others just seemed to circle back into the rough. Now with the school year ending, a breather is warranted, a pause so to speak, and further discovery in order to burst through the pandemonium called sixth grade and while there are still many paths ahead, hopefully the path with the least bumps will get us to where we need to be. 

After the accelerated ceremony (as a threat of thunder and lightning fills the area), the graduating class make their way from the outdoor lawn to the high school gym for refreshments, high fives from classmates and photo-ops for family members. "We are so proud of all your very hard work this year." I say to my son. He smiles and tilts his head downward, knowing the ride has been rocky at best and the clearing is still far away...

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Can Do Man

"Daddy, can you...

...get me a drink", ...walk me to school", ...get that down for me?", ...pick me up?", me with my math?", with me?", ...wrestle?", ...listen to me?", ...make me cereal?", ...carry this?", ...fix my computer?", to me?" ...not go to work today?", me this?", ...sit next to me?", ...stop snoring?", ...tell me how I look?", ...find the remote?" ...not be so silly?",  ...carry me?", ...turn on the water?" ...cut my food?", ...hug me?", ...wash my hands?, ...make my lunch?" ...dunk a basketball?", ...scratch my back?, ...tell me what this means?", ...move over?", me?", ...stop bothering me?", ...turn on the light?", ...tie my shoes?", ... not embarrass me?", ...record this show?", ...button my shirt?", ...wake up?" ...get me a bandaid?, serious!", ...draw me a picture?", ...make me a paper airplane?", ...stop tickling me?!", ...take my gloves off?", ...carry my bag?" catch?", ...throw this away?", ...tell me why?", ...switch seats with me?", me?

Happy Father's Day... to the can-do-man in all of us.

Friday, June 17, 2011

TV Dads- who is your match?

Which TV dad is closest to your parenting style? 

The best and worst dads on TV
There's more to being a father than just being called "dad, but since he can often be found right in front of the TV, here's a look at examples of fatherhood currently on the small screen today. 

He's the first man in your life, the guy who (often) brings home the bacon and can occasionally be found mowing the lawn without his shirt on. But there's more to being a father than just being called "dad": He's around to help with scraped knees and teach life's lessons.
Since he can often be found right in front of the TV with his feet propped up, here's a look at five of the best — and worst — examples of fatherhood currently on the small screen today.


Thursday, June 16, 2011

Lyrics Past

Last night was the Fifth Grade School Concert. The class has been practicing for months and it is finally time to show their stuff. The kids do a morning edition for the school and an evening edition for the parents. "The songs are old and boring..." My son gripes. "Eye of the Tiger" "Raiders March" "Sweet Caroline" are the band selections and the singing selection are unknown to most of the civilized world. "Why can't we sing new songs", he complains. "What do you want these teachers to teach you, "Nelly and Jay Z?" I reply. "Yes!", he yelps. Because of my class and a midterm, I can not make this performance, the first one I will miss in my son's school career. Yesterday while walking to school I tell my son I was sad to miss it. He patted me on the back and said "It's OK you have a more important thing to do". "Can you do a personal concert for me when I get get home?" I request. "No Way!" he shoots back. 


Saturday, June 11, 2011

Reception Inception

"Can I help you?" The man at the front desk asks. "Yes I am here for the party." "Just take the elevator around the lobby." The elevator door opens and I take a left and walk to the end of the hall. I knock and my nephew pulls open the door. I walk in to the room and see my father-n-law sliding up the knot of my son's orange tie. "You look great!" I say. I glance over to my nephew who is fixing his orange socks and straightening his bow-tie. Both boys are restless in anticipation of the reception scheduled to start very soon.

The party space is quickly filling up with guests, family and friends. The Bar Mitzvah Man is soaking in all the attention and accolades thrusted upon him by the guests and his handling it like a pro. The cocktail hour will action packed with music, casino tables, and hot hor d'ourves. I am standing with my wife talking to guests and I take a moment to scan the room. I see my nephew surrounded by his friends having the time of his life and then see my son, unsure of his standing, a step back off the crowd. My niece walks up to my son and they have a conversation while peeking into the crowd, feeling a bit outside. But today is the Bar Mitzvah Man's day and at this time the back seat is filled with cousins. 

The party kicks it up a notch once the DJ and the M.C. takes the mic. The dance floor is packed with girls in mix-matched socks and boys with loose ties and shirt tails half out. The entertainment staff a well oiled machine, engaging the guests and schooling the dance moves. My son is inching into the jam, following the moves, and checking in with one of his "sister" cousins, who has seemed to attract a crowd of pre-teen "followers" to her every step. Quickly the party is alive with the beats peaking, the strobes blinding, and the floor rumbling. The adults take a turn staking claim to the dance floor, as the teens take a break to eat and gather for pictures. 

After desert is served and the frenzy is winding down, I walk around the dance floor, taking a mental attendance while taking a few more pictures. Some guests are saying their goodbyes and parents are starting to arrive for extraction. The dance floor has thinned but the DJ has not let up. I stop at the far end and freeze to watch a foursome singing and dancing together and laughing like they did not have a care in the world. My nephew, my two nieces and my son all facing each other taking turns incorporating a comical move into their dance routine in an attempt to entertain the others. They radiate collectively, not only to kick off the festivities but to close them out as well.  

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Tuesday, June 7, 2011


"See ya..." "You too..." "Bye Bye..." "See you soon..." Phrases like those seemed to run in an endless loop Sunday evening. People saying goodbye, hugs all around, and teary eyes as the very festive weekend comes to a close. This past weekend was my nephew's Bar Mitzvah and the entire family was in town to celebrate this milestone.

It all started Friday, with an evening service at the Temple. My son and nephew are very close as well as being close in age (a year and a half) so when they are together, they are like brothers, in fact closer than brothers because there is no sibling squables, they just mesh into each other. My son would do anything for his cousin and he knows his cousin with do the same. Since they are both only children, their brotherly friendship will carry them into adulthood and beyond. The service was nice and after a little over an hour, we were set to head over to a great restaurant to pre-celebrate the main events taking place on Saturday. The boys celebrated along with their sister cousins, all they way in from the west coast. The girls are a few years older but all four really love and enjoy each other immensely. The dinner was a perfect venue for catching up with distant relatives, getting into the party spirit as well as letting off a little pre-torah tension for the Bar Mitzvah Boy and his parents. A Bar Mitzvah requires a lot of studying, and preparation, it's the transition from boyhood to manhood and with that comes the pressure of accomplishing the tasks at hand which builds up to the day when you read from the Torah in front of the congregation and enter "manhood". So letting off a little steam with your family is just what is needed on the Friday night.

Saturday morning the temple is full, and at ten am the service starts. My nephew is sitting right in the front with my son acting as his wing man, ready to assist if needed.  There are songs coupled with opening verses and prayers, then the Bar Mitzvah portion starts. The emotions get going right away with a few words from his grandfather, who talked about the long turbulent history of the family and presented a few heirlooms to his grandson. The next half an hour was filled with various immediate family members participating in the service which brought on more emotional moments. Then is was time for the Bar Mitzvah Boy to read his portion from the Torah. The room is silent as the words are sung aloud in a softened crackly teen voice. A sigh of relief is shown in the form of a big exhale as the long portion is concluded. He did it! A very moving speech given by both parents brings more emotions from the congregation. Finally some more gifts are presented to the now Bar Mitzvah Man from the Temple staff and the service concludes. Everyone is joyous as we surround my nephew and shower him with hugs, kisses, handshakes and pats on the back. My son finally breaks through the crowd to congratulate his "brother". After high fives and a hug, my nephew steps back, and with a big smile proclaims "Your next!" Now the pressure is on.

Next, the Party...
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Thursday, June 2, 2011

Run for Fun

"Now don't forget to stretch a little and pace yourself." I say to my son as we cross the street and enter the lush green lawn surrounding the school. The crowd is milling around, some people lined up in front of tables, waiting to sign in and get their number, some getting in some last minute stretches. My son jogs off to join a group of friends, all greeting each other and just excited about the events this Memorial Weekend. The first event of the weekend is why we gathered at 8:45am on Saturday, its the annual James E. Kearney Run for Fun, a 3K run starting in front of the school, winding up through town and concluding at the track behind the school. Its my son's first time running it and I just want him to have fun with his friends and finish the run.

I keep my distance from him and his group as we line up at the starting line. With the sound of a chirp from the police cruiser leading the pack, the run is a go. I immediately settle into a steady cadence as the pack passes the first intersection. All ages participate in the run and all I see in front of me are kids sprinting ahead, a burst of energy that will flame out before we hit the first hill. Next are the high schoolers, dressed in track uniforms, running together like a school of dolphins, graceful and competitive, passing the little runners and swiftly setting the pace. My son's friends are in an uneven line, like bees buzzing around trying to hit every flower in the field.  

The first hill is a steep and winding climb. The little runners are beginning to realize that the race is longer than advertised and are slowing, which causes their parent to ease up. I am still keeping to my pace and finally spot my son up ahead, also maintaining a steady stride, staying with his strategy. I slowly catch up to him and give him some encouragement. "Do-in - Gr-ea-t!" I manage to get out as we reach the summit of the first hill. The pace kicks up with the little runners reaching over the hill and somehow finding the energy to race each other to the bottom. My son even speeds up a bit and passes me as the downward grade is very inviting. We turn the corner and start to climb the second hill, this time the little runners are not having it. Luckily there are families parked out on their lawns, clapping and cheering the runners as they pass, some even set up cups of water and sprinklers, knowing the sun would start to bare down on the pack. We reach the one mile mark.

The next mile consists of more winding streets, uphills and downgrades as the runners spread out. The little runners are now either hand held by mom or up on dad's shoulders. I even spotted some dad still trying to run with a five year old nested upon his neck (ouch, my aching spine!). Even though we did not plan on sticking together during the run, my son and I trade leads during this section, with me in front on the uphill parts and he leading on the downhills.

After I pass the mile two marker, I was running as one, my son slowed on the last hill and I told him to grab a water on the table to refuel and push towards the end. A few low lying hills later, I can see the entrance to the track. I speed up my pace and after running half way around the track, I cross the finish line as the completed runners greet the oncoming finishers. I quickly grab two water bottles and get my camera ready (yes I carried a camera the whole time) and await my son's arrival. About three minutes later I see my son enter the track and he ramps up his gallop like a race horse on the final stretch. I hold the camera up and snap a shot just as he crosses the line. "Congratulations!, you just did your first run!" "I feel like I'm, going to die!" He huffs and puffs as he downs the water. "Don't worry, you will be fine in a few minutes." I reply and direct him to where his friends are recovering. I join the crowd to greet the other finishers, some younger than me and some older, the elderly couple running in tandem, the paunchy head band wearing middle-ager, even the dad with the five year old perched on top, bouncing around like she is riding a mechanical bull, as the dad happily stumbles over the threshold. He finally gets to lower the child onto the track and watch her run to get her medal for finishing the race. 

I scan the crowd and settle on a group of kids off the the side, shoes off, sitting on the turf. My son and his friends, talking, laughing, and comparing their experience being part of the Run for Fun.

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Friday, May 27, 2011

Circadian Skip

Frustrated with the constant yelling  "Go to Sleep!" and "Time to Wake up!"? Maybe it is not your child's fault and something else at play. I know I can be guilty of the holler....

ADHD Sleep Problems: Causes and Tips to Rest Better Tonight!

Thursday, May 26, 2011


Its dark, my laptop the only source of light. A plane in flight is heard in the distance. The sound of tired shoes making their way home from the train, working late no doubt. The voices of a couple rehashing their evening. A muffled thumping draws me to the window as I see a motorcycle impatiently revving alone on the corner and stares at the red light. As I watch it grumble away I scan up and down the humid street and see no other signs of life. I turn back into the dark apartment and listen to the quietness of the rooms. Everyone is asleep but me. 

I should be sleeping but I am not. Thinking of tasks needing to do; work, school, family, health, projects seeking closure and ideas looking for daylight. Surprising not very stressed about it. Just sitting here writing, the sounds of a siren chirping far away, and the darkness somewhat soothing... 
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Thursday, May 19, 2011

Master Work

"Today is the day!" I announce to my wife this morning. I can't help being excited for her. After three years, countless long nights, a mountainous pile of papers,a steady stream of revisions, various rant sessions, a fury of explicit words, a even a couple of good cries, my wife graduates today with her Masters in Education.

Her very hard work and dedication resulted in a huge stack of A's, and acceptance into the Kappa Delta Pi, International Honor Society in Education, overwhelming recognition from her classmates and teachers, as well as a tremendous amount of awesomeness bestowed upon her by her husband and son. 

Today is your Day, congratulations on a job well done... 

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Kids, Books and Profanity: Kids’ Book With ‘F’ Word in the Title Is No. 1 - CNBC

I just think this story is great:

Parents use all kinds of adorable language when they’re talking to their kids — “A doo doo doo! A da da da! Yes. Who’s my pretty girl?”
But at the end of a long day of work or taking care of the family, schlepping around a Winnie the Pooh bag and suppressing every profanity-laced thought, when parents find their little angels still bouncing with energy, most of them are thinking one thing: “Go the F*** to Sleep.”

To read full article:
Kids, Books and Profanity: Kids’ Book With ‘F’ Word in the Title Is No. 1 - CNBC

Go the F**k to Sleep
Go the F**k to Sleep

Friday, May 13, 2011

Tapping point

"Here, give it to me, let me show you." "When you want this to happen you need to do this...." "You tap here and drag it there." I sat wide eyed and apprehensive while my son schooled me.

I have always been at ease around a keyboard and mouse, those items have been part of using a computer for years. I am sure when the mouse was invented, it confused the people accustomed to keystroke entries. I can not imagine not using a mouse or a trackball to roam the cyber world. This week the future entered our home in the form of an IPad. Perfectly designed and visually stunning, its hard not to love the "magical" black rectangle. My son took to the machine like he was born with it, tapping, dragging, loading programs with the touch of his finger. I on the other hand, needed to rethink everything. "How do I load something?" I would ask. "Like this..." my son would smirk and quickly summon an app like he was Aladdin rubbing his magic lamp. "How do I save it?" Showing my ineptness while my eleven year old would orchestrate the screen like he was whipping up a spell. Tap, drag, touch, swipe, I was the apprentice marveled by the sorcerer.  It was then I realized the world has moved to the future and I am now the past. 

Hello past, you are a comfortable sight... at least I knew how to program a VCR....