I’m pretty sure this may go down as my most unpopular column to date. I’ve never been known for holding my tongue so here goes nothing... I get that people are angry that Casey Anthony was acquitted. Really, I do. What I don’t get is that decent, and in some cases god-fearing, people are calling for mob justice. Really? Cause that’s what we do? Revenge, retribution, mob rule. Sorry. That’s not how it works folks. We have a system. That system was followed. The result was acquittal. The defense is not required to prove innocence; the prosecution is required to prove guilt. According to the …

At long last, it’s summer. Warm days, sandy beaches, ice cream cones, boredom. Yes boredom. As summer settles in and the prospect of long lazy days with nothing to do stretch before them, my kids do what millions of other kids do, they look to mom. As if I have magically morphed into Julie McCoy and my only role in life is to make certain their days pass in leisure and fun. Ha! It makes me sad for my kids since clearly they have not been paying attention. My poor kids want Julie McCoy but are stuck with Carla Tortelli! Oh cruel fate! So they spend their time wishing for mini-golfing or trips …

No. I have not lost my mind. Recently, I came to the realization that my life does not adhere to the traditional calendar. You know, January to December. It adheres to the academic calendar. That means we are at the end of my year. Hence, the Happy New Year in the title. Just about everything in my world ends in June. School, of course. Dance. Sports. Committees. Seems like everything but my job closes down for summer (bummer).  So, like any good end of the year column, we’ll be engaging in some wrapping up. Freshman Year. Phew, that was close. I had my doubts that I would make it through! I …

Father’s Day is fast approaching and I thought it would be an excellent idea to write about some of the Dad’s that have had an impact on my life. This list is not exhaustive but it does cover three pretty important guys. The first dad, of course, is my dad, Big Jim. Jim was a character. He yelled and blustered. He hollered and ranted. It was his way or the highway, Charlie. That’s for sure! He loved his girls (all 5 of us). He spent much of my youth battling alcoholism. For a while, we thought it was going to win. It almost did, when he crashed his truck. Dad got sober after that, fast and …

Oh the life I planned. The parties I would host. The countries I would visit. The conversations I would have. The people I would know. I was destined to be fabulous and wealthy. I would go to the theater and the museum. I love the arts. I love wit. I love sparkle. I love refined and beautiful things. People would scheme to be in my circle. They would curry favor with expensive gifts and flattery. That life, yeah, that one is being led by someone that is not me. Not even close. I host no parties. I visit no countries. I talk to myself. The people I surround myself with, well let’s just say no …

There’s a lot of talk these days about bullies and I’m glad we’re finally having a conversation about it. Seriously, it’s about time. I believe that sunshine is the best disinfectant and the more light we can shed on outrageous behavior, the better. Honestly, I do have to say though I believe most of it is a CYA move by schools and administrators that want to absolve themselves of any financial liability. I’m ok with that as long as what they put in place works and is evenly and fairly applied. While much attention focuses on peer-to-peer bullying, I’d like to address another more insidious …

I’m going to wash my hands fastest! I bet I can pick up more stuff up off the floor first! I could turn everything into a competition. I’m sure there are parents that didn’t have to resort to tricks to get their children to behave, I, however, was not one of them. Not me, I’d use all the tricks in the book to make my day smooth and drama-free. Kids compete every day. It’s what they do. It’s what we all do. It’s how the world works. I get the everyone gets a trophy idea for T-ball. Participation at that age is a big accomplishment and it should be rewarded. However, as they get older trophies …

I’m happy at the events that unfolded and ended the life of a truly evil and odious man. Yahp, I said it. Happy. Do a jig happy. Have a beer happy. Dance in the street happy. As a person. An American. And, most importantly, as a mother. I’m also happy that initial reports make it clear that the body was handled with respect and in adherence to his purported faith. Justice, in my mind, was served; vengeance was not necessary. My kids were 5 and 3 on September 11, 2001. They’ve grown up in the decade defined as the War on Terror. Living in the shadow of evil. Living with the fact that a real …

Last summer Emma approached me and handed me a book; it was Story of a Girl by Sara Zarr. When I asked her what I was supposed to do with it she said, “Can you read it? There’s some stuff I don’t understand and I need to talk to you about it.” It’s happened several times since and I’m always happy to drop whatever I’m currently reading to honor her request. Recently, she asked me to read “Dancer” by Lorri Hewett. As I started reading, I knew almost immediately what she wanted to discuss. The story is about an African-American ballet dancer set in Denver in the early 90s. The dancer, Stephanie…

Report card day! A day known to strike fear into the hearts of less-motivated students everywhere! All kinds of superstitions abound. There’s the one my kids adhere to: don’t wear yellow on report card day! Not sure what yellow has to do with anything and, like most superstitions, it can not be readily explained. At least not by my children. Grades are important in our family. However, they are not always the most important indicator of success. We expect our kids to try hard and to excel and we strive to give them the tools they need in order to do so. In our house, report card days aren’t …

I hate to travel! Don't get me wrong, I love going places. I hate the physical act of traveling itself. The process of moving from one location to another. Over long distances. Really hate. I am cranky and miserable the day before departure. Imagining horrible things all designed to knock me off my schedule. Road work. Traffic. Weather. Random mechanical failure. Oh, wait! I forget the best part – traveling with kids. The stops, the yelling, the fighting. The stealthy administering of benadryl (not a joke). And don't forget the car-sickness. If you’re lucky like me, you get two for the price …

I love to learn. I consider a day wasted if I don’t learn at least one new thing. Even if that one thing is learning never to do something again! Experience is a great teacher and woe to those who can’t or won’t learn from their mistakes. After getting past the ick factor and the stinky, smelly, running orifice years, I was startled one day when I realized so much about who I thought I was had changed since becoming a parent. Gone was the self-absorbed party girl that lived for the weekends and a good time. (I still miss her every once in a while; she was really fun!) She’s a lifetime ago. …

I remember when I was a teen. It was hard. Really hard. I thought life was unfair and parents were lame and teachers were, well, teachers; strange beings that never left school grounds and whose only purpose in life was to suck the joy and fun from ours. Funny, I don’t think that way any longer. I like to think I’m a good parent. I don’t try to be cool or trendy; I’m just me. As the Divine Miss M says, “You’re so weird, but it’s a good weird not a creepy weird.” I’ve decided it’s a compliment. So, yeah me! Anyway, back to my point. As a teenager the one thing I did think I could do was make …

If a doctor, lawyer, or dentist had 40 people in his office at one time, all of whom had different needs, and some of whom didn't want to be there and were causing trouble, and the doctor, lawyer, or dentist, without assistance, had to treat them all with professional excellence for nine months, then he might have some conception of the classroom teacher's job.  ~ Donald D. Quinn That there sums up exactly why I am not a teacher. Me, I’d be the lady on the news; the one who duct tapes kids to chairs. Yeah, not so good with the patience. I envy those that have the skill and desire to teach …

Every family has a song. It’s own rhythm. A harmony created because it exists. The music it lives in. Our song is laughter. Happy, outrageous, ugly-face-making laughter. We laugh all the time. Even when it’s inappropriate (that’s when we laugh the most). We laugh at death. We laugh at those that take themselves too seriously. We laugh at sickness. We laugh at fat people. We laugh at skinny people. We laugh at people who stutter. We laugh. At everyone and everything. It’s what we do. Sue us. We’ll laugh at that too! Mostly though, we laugh at ourselves. Our temper tantrums, petty aggravations…

Doris Bormuth, my husband’s grandmother, died the other day. She was 95 and let me tell you, it was a feisty and spirited 95, that’s for sure! Doris was a formidable woman who overcame tremendous adversity and hardship with a will and spirit that you don’t find very often. She did it with strength. She did it with dignity. She did it with faith. Instilling these traits in each of her five daughters. Women I’m honored to call family. Recently her health had started to decline and she spent several days in the hospital. Betty (her oldest and my mother-in-law) mentioned how Doris told the doctor…

My then 13-year-old son, Dylan, asked me that question. It was March 15, 2009 and we were gathered in my room at Jordan Hospital. Me sitting up in bed – connected to various tubes and wires, the kids sat at the end of the bed, expectantly. Pat paced behind them. By this point, I had been in the hospital four days and we had been limiting the information that we gave the kids until we knew more. I was really sick, I told them. What we thought was pneumonia wasn’t. I have an illness that affects my heart. It’s something many people have. Grammy (my mom) has it. It is something the doctors …

Parenting, a definition: "You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go..."  ~ Dr. Seuss When I was a new parent, I received loads of advice and words of wisdom from well-meaning friends and family. Occasionally, I would get a look that practically screamed: “Why? Why did you do it? You have no idea what lies ahead!” These poor embattled souls, I thought, what type of hell ruled their lives? The answer: teenagers. Every single person that …

I know I’m in the minority on this but every time I see her, she breaks my heart. It doesn’t help that I have my husband in my ear, jabbering: “They should leave her alone.” “Poor kid.” See, hubby has a bit of thing for Miss Lindsay. Thinks she could be the next Ann-Margaret. If she could just pull it together. But she’s a mess! So much talent, so much promise, so much bad parenting. I remember seeing her in "The Parent Trap" and although I’m old enough to remember the real one – you know the one with Brian Keith and Hayley Mills – I thought she was cute in it and again later in the Freaky …

I have to be honest; I am not a Tiger Mom, not even close. I’m not sure I’m any type of Mom, really. Don’t get me wrong, I expect my children to excel at things; I’m just not going to hold their dinner hostage if they don’t. My general rule is if you start it, you have to finish it. One aspect of “type” parenting that bothers me is most assume that parenting is a one-size-fits-all endeavor. I have two children, a boy and a girl and I will freely admit that I parent them differently. It’s not because of gender and it’s not because of age, it’s because they are different. What works for one …