First Day of Camp 

Was my son going to get cheated out of his summer vacation because I'm a working mom? This was the question that kept racing through my mind mid-way through my son's first year of elementary school.  When he leaves Kindergarten in June, would he feel like less fortunate than his peers who "got to" stay home all summer?  It's never simple balancing work and family as a working mom, but this particular dilemma was new to me.  You see, during the daycare years, the transition to summertime was seamless and frankly unnoticeable. Why was that? Well, all of his friends were in the exact same boat. Not so with elementary school. In fact, several of my son's closest friends have moms who are teachers or freelance or don't work.  How was I going to ensure that my son had a great summer? Or better yet, was that even possible?

Back in February, my fellow working mom friends and I were frantically signing our kids up for camp, or more accurately camps. I registered my son for six-weeks at the local golf and tennis club, followed by two weeks of day camp at the YMCA, and added one additional week of
Art Camp (there is no camp the last week of summer, but that's a topic for another day).  As you can imagine, there are numerous logistics associated with singing up for multiple camps and then there's tuition, something we hoped not to see after years of daycare payments.  In fact, camp does not come cheap.  Honesty, though, the looming sign up deadlines and credit card charges were nothing compared to the unknown: would my son feel like he got robbed of his summer vacation?

To my surprise (and delight!) my son loves camp and has said multiple times that he's a very lucky kid because he gets to go to the "Best Camp Ever!" Phew, what a relief.  The kid can't wait to go each morning and is having the time of his life - playing sports, making new friends, eating chocolate cake for snack - and he can't wait to tell me about the games he plays and crafts he's made when I fetch him in the afternoon.

Sure, we still need to transition to camp #2 and #3, but I can honestly say that the first several weeks of summer have been a joy for our family and a big relief for me.  My son has his cake and is eating it, too.

This morning, our five year old son asked to go outside at 7:00 am.  As my husband and I sipped our coffee, we looked at each other, nodded, and off he went with his new red ball.

He's pretty obsessed with the new red ball and just can't help but bounce it EVERYWHERE.  We could tell where he was in our front yard by the different sounds the ball would make. Ping on the pavement. Thud on the grass. Then, we heard a bang on the house. Bang. Bang. Bang.  I put my coffee down and went to the door. "Please don't throw the ball at the house", I said.

Then, we heard it again.  Bang!

Suddenly, the front door flew open and in he ran. "I lost my first tooth! I lost my first tooth!".  It had been wiggling around in his mouth for over a month and I'd simply forgotten about it.  "The ball bounced off the house and knocked it right out!" he said.  He couldn't have been more excited and, to our dismay, not at all upset that after I told him not to bounce the ball on the house he did it anyway.  We couldn't help but laugh out loud as he told us over and over exactly how it happened. He thought the whole thing was "really cool".

The loss of his first tooth brings with it another "first" in our household: a visit from the Tooth Fairy.  I've thankfully been collecting brand-spanking-new gold dollar coins for this very occasion (I think I have seven in total).  They put a brand new vending machine in at our office complex and it dispenses the gold coins as change.  Since I don't use the vending machines personally, I "buy" the coins from my coworkers.

Tonight, we'll pack up the tooth in the little bag he decorated himself (a Christmas gift from his Aunt Glitter Pie - Art in a Box), place it under his pillow, and the tooth fairy will bring him something special. Let's just say, he's beyond excited!

We'll have to wait and see, though, if the fact that the Tooth Fairy comes INTO his room (and will not simply lurk around downstairs like Santa or the Easter Bunny) will keep him in his own bed all night long. That's a blog post for another day.

It's not bragging to say that I do the lion's share of the daily preparation and household chores for our family. Like many moms, I suppose the same might be said if my husband didn't travel for work, but he does.

When he's not spending a week in China or Europe or South America, my husband's jetting off to Pennsylvania, or Texas or Atlanta. This level of travel is partly why I adopted a friendlier work schedule late this summer. With my son heading to Kindergarten and my husband's travel heating up, it became obvious that something had to change.

Because I'm around a bit more these days for things like leisurely weekday breakfasts and putting my son on the bus, which I love, I've become acutely aware of my husband's 'Superhero' status.

Wikipedia refers to superheros as "mystery men", which I suppose is what has ultimately elevated my husband to this status. On top of being away quite a bit, his job requires him to help others, which he's very good at, and he's 'saved the day' on more than one occasion. Although he doesn't wear a cape, his business suit is equally impressive to a five year old.

I might be the one serving up breakfast, lunch and dinner for my son, bathing him, reading him books, playing with him, carting him to sports, tending to bumps and bruises while working (nearly) full time, but my husband's grand entrance after a week away - gift in hand - is what really makes our son light up and smile ear to ear. In my son's eyes, his dad is most definitely a Superhero. I figure that being the Superhero's wife is pretty cool, too.

My five year old son is writing his very first letter to Santa on a notepad he got from the nice folks at Adirondack Trust at last year's Rotary Home show. He worked The Saratogian's booth with me and was a big hit as our official "newspaper hander-outer".

His eyes light up as he considers the important task at hand. With his toungue out (he does this when he's concentrating really hard) he picks up his pencil and asks "What do I write first, mom?" I tell him it's completely up to him so he gets right to work with my husband and I there only to help him spell his words and wishes. He doesn't ask for world peace but takes great care writing each item and wants to be sure he uses "good manners". When he's finished, he puts it in an envelope, licks it shut and writes 'Santa' on the front. The look on his face is priceless.

Of all the things I'm thankful for, watching him grow and change and become this little person that's uniquely him is my absolute favorite.

Happy Holidays!

Dear Santa,

Merry Christmas to you. I've been very good. Please bring me:

1. Suitcase (like Dad's)
2. Electric Pencil Sharpener
3. Cool Sneakers
4. Erasers
5. Skeleton
6. Notebook
7. Map

Thank you very much,
K

Note: For a sampling of adorable letters to Santa, click here

It's officially crock pot season! Like most working mothers, I put the crock pot to use once the weather turns colder each year. Although it takes some planning and prep up front, there's nothing that delights me more than coming home to the wonderful aroma of a home cooked meal, especially when I didn't have to "cook" it.

This past weekend I bought a turkey breast, planning ahead for the crock pot. We love faux Thanksgiving dinners, so it was the perfect choice for us. I simply popped it in the crock pot, added a bit of water, and rubbed on my favorite mixture of fresh rosemary, thyme and sage (all from my little herb garden), parsley, Tamari (soy sauce), butter and a honey drizzle. That's it! Done.

After we ate the turkey - not once, but twice - for dinner this week, it was time to make a wishbone wish. My son had never done this, so my husband and I were pretty excited. My husband arranged the wishbone "just right" so that my son would end up winning the pull, and then the two of them got into position. One...two...three... Pull!

My son was jumping up and down. He (thankfully) got a bit of his mom's competitive nature. When my husband asked him what he wished for he said "I want to kiss mommy". What? That's your wish, kid? You can do that anytime. Yes, that was his wish. I smiled and gave him a big hug and kiss. What mother could argue with that.

Meet "Piggy". Piggy is part of our family and is helping us teach our young son the importance of giving back.

Piggy was a gift from my friend Kelly at my baby shower. Eight months pregnant at the time, I felt a lot like Piggy. But alas, Piggy was a gift for my son. He's been in our boy's bedroom since before he was born and does his best to blend in with with changes to decor over time.

He's currently half full with silver coins with a few paper dollars mixed in. Our son is saving for gifts that he will donate at Christmas time to the "kids who don't have toys to play with". He's very serious when he talks about Piggy and knows exactly what Piggy stands. Everything inside Piggy is his to give back.

We also teach our son about giving, by doing just that. He's helped me donate clothing items, baked goods, gently used baby gear, books and just about everything else we aren't currently putting to good use. We also talk about the beauty in receiving. For back-to-school, we bought a pair of TOMS shoes together online. I showed him what the purchase of my son's corduroy lace-up shoes means to a boy in Haiti or Cambodia or South Africa. A pair of shoes. "You mean he doesn't have any shoes, mom?", he asked. It's a fact of life I feel compelled to teach our young child. We are very fortunate. Others are less so.

Today he asked to shake Piggy when we added the money he earned at our recent garage sale. "There's a lot of money in there, mom".

We went to Walmart yesterday with one thing in mind: mom needed a floaty for the pool (preferably with a cup holder for my iced coffee). I've been wanting one since we opened our pool in early May, but just hadn't made it a priority until now.

As we made our way through the store and just before we reached the pool aisle, we happened upon the new bike section. You see, during the last couple of months, we've been trying to get our son excited about getting a new bike. His current bike is a bit "babyish" and that - combined with pushing the height limit - made him a great candidate for a new model. The problem was that each time we went to the store, he refused to sit on one. Or look at one, for that matter. He just wasn't into it. Until today.


He pointed to the bike of interest and asked me to get it down off the rack for him. Not only did he want to sit on it, he wanted to ride it. Fast. Up one aisle. Down another. My husband and I looked like lunatics trying to catch him. In fact, he almost mowed down my Media Mom counterpart, Betsy, and her husband who were also shopping there. Once they realized who he was, thankfully, they laughed out loud. And, since there's nothing my son likes more than an audience, he went right into performance mode. We smartly gave up trying to stop him and decided we'd just make good use of his excitement and follow him toward the checkout counter. "May I please buy this new bike?", he said proudly.

One of the many things I've learned as a mom is that just when you think you have your kid figured out (he doesn't want a new bike), he surprises you. And, makes you smile.


As you might have guessed, though, I'll need to make a return trip to the store this week. After all, mom's floaty awaits.

I signed my son up for t-ball. Although he's not quite five years old, the administrator told me he'd be fine to begin this year. I paid the registration fee of $75 ($25 of that was a late fee), the concession fee, and uniform fee. As the nearly $200 left my bank account, I couldn't help but wonder if I was doing the right thing.

On opening day, we all headed to the ball park excited. Well, two of us were excited anyway. My son, was not. We'd played t-ball in the backyard, so why did we have to "go somewhere" to do it? That's what I figured he was thinking anyway.

Turns out, it was fun. We picked up the uniforms, took individual and team photos, played on swings and in the bouncy bounce and ate hot dogs. It was all falling into place. Or, so we thought.

The first practice was a totally different ball game (pun intended). It turns out four of the seven members of my son's team have been "training" for the month prior to opening day. Training? They're five years old for goodness sakes. One kid's wearing eye black and a batting glove. All but two, our kid included, are wearing cleats. Cleats? Isn't t-ball where you learn about the game? These kids (And, let's face it, their parents) are seeking little league mastery!

My son, being the youngest and least experienced, is essentially more interested in the field than the game. There's dirt and grass and cushions (bases). He's doing his best to pay attention, but he's not really getting it. "Keep your hat on" and "Put your glove on" are just two of the instructions he hears from his coach. In spite of coach's attempt to keep him engaged, our son asks "Coach, how much longer is this going to last?". "23 more minutes" coach replies with a smile. About half way through, my son - arms outstretched - announces that he would really, really like me to come out on the field to give him a hug. When I reply "Stay focused, please. Listen to your coach", he turns his body to face his father and asks "Dad, I'd really like a hug. Please?" Although our initial instinct IS to run out on the field, my husband and I do our best NOT to disrupt the game. We share a laugh and nod in agreement to stay put. We're a team after all.

Toward the end of practice, our son starts to get the hang of hit. Turns out he's a pretty good hitter. The last play, he makes his move and gets in the game. He reaches for the ball and, wait for it, a kid steps on his hand. With cleats. Coach gives us the nod to meet him coming off the field to inspect the injury (there's swelling, at a minimum). Surprisingly, our kid is pretty tough. He wipes his tears and meets his coach and team for one last inspirational huddle. Practice breaks up and my husband and I offer up a hot dog and ice cream on the way home to make his first impression of baseball a positive one. By the time we get home, he's his old self again.

It's too early to tell if he'll make it through the season. It's raining now, so game one may very well rain out. Like everything else in life, it's going to be day by day. Or in this case, game by game. As much as I want to instill a "you need to finish what you start" philosophy in my son, I don't want him to turn his back on organized team sports too soon. I loved sports growing up and look back fondly on those early childhood memories. If we need to wait another year - or try another sport for that matter - so be it. Our goal is not to strike out.

"I'm not going overboard this year," I told my fellow mom friends during girls' night out on Friday night. We were talking about Easter and how we were going to fit playing Easter Bunny into our already packed schedules. As working moms, as excited as we are to make our children's holidays special, it can be a challenge to pull off the planning.

When Monday came, I headed out to round up my son's Easter basket loot during lunchtime. It was a nice, sunny day, so I decided to enjoy a much-needed stroll on Broadway in downtown Saratoga. When you're the advertising director at a local newspaper, you not only shop local — you shop with local advertisers. It falls under the "do the right thing" category.

So, what did I do once I entered the inner sanctum of our beloved local toy store? I went completely overboard, of course!

My rationale? My son's not going to believe in the Easter Bunny forever. Plus, I figure I owe my son for hanging the bunny over his head for weeks on end to control his behavior. It's also eight more months until the big guy with the red suit and beard arrives on the scene.

There was no mistaking what my son wanted the Easter Bunny to bring him this year. I purchased it from our local toy store, G. Willikers, the Smart Lab 'You Explore it Human Body'. My son is obsessed with anatomy and has been for some time. We have hardcover anatomy coffee table books, anatomy coloring books and the Dimensional Man anatomical 3D chart in our living room. You get the picture...

I picked up the anatomy set and then roamed around store. "Just a quick look before I leave," I thought. Um, yeah. I added a carnivore dinosaur, a super size magnet, wind-up deep sea diver bath toy, magnetic monkey acrobat game, three toy ladybugs, and a wooden butterfly net. Thank goodness for the 10% discount I receive for being a member of the local downtown business association!

It's r-e-a-l-l-y hard not to spoil your kids. As a working mom, seeing your child after a long day is a beautiful thing. I cherish every moment I spend with my boy (even when he's being bold, which is more often than I'd like to admit). We do spoil him with love and affection, hugs and kisses. In return, we demand good manners and that he keep his listening ears in the "on" position. That said, our days are filled with teachable moments. Not just for him, but for us as parents. Parenting and childhood evolve moment to moment. My hope is that Easter morning will be one to remember.

A week ago Monday, I had planned to take a much needed personal day to decompress and get things done. The most important item on my to-do list? A 90 minute massage.

The Saturday morning prior, my son woke up with a fever. Not just your ordinary 'throw a dose of Tylenol at it' fever, this was of the full on chills-body aches-crying variety. Scary. He hadn't had a fever like this since he was a baby. With a big night ahead of me, I called my parents in as reinforcement and headed to the Children's Museum at Saratoga fundraiser at Saratoga National [I'm on the Board, otherwise I would have put on my PJ's and stayed put]. I made it through most of the evening before my folks alerted me to yet another fever spike. Poor guy. I went home to do what moms do. I cuddled, snuggled, and wiped tears and tried my hardest not to breathe in the germs. My personal day was right around the corner and it was my very first day off since the year began.

Sunday arrived with a repeat of Saturday's fever with the added pleasure of my own scratchy throat and headache. No biggie, I told myself. We'd both feel better in the morning.

Wrong.

We both felt WORSE in the morning. My dad came over so that I could go to the doctor first thing. It was official: my personal day was now a sick day. When the doctor said "you have bronchitis", I thought I'd heard him wrong. My first case ever.

My son's diagnosis came on the fourth day of fever Tuesday afternoon. By the time we made it to clinic hours at the pediatrician, they'd seen more than a dozen cases of flu. My son had it too.

The planned personal day was not to be (I didn't get my massage...wah wah), so I let it go and got back to work on Wednesday and proceeded to play a serious game of catch up that would last through the weekend.

Annoyed? Nah. If there's one thing you learn as a working mom, it's that the kids come first, then work, then massages. Even on my worst day, I wouldn't change a thing. I'm turning my "fail" to focus and planning our first ever family international trip. The Roses are going to Ireland this summer! More on that later... I'm also sure I'll get that massage at some point and it will be just what I need in that moment.

A day in the life of living with an (almost) five year old:

My son: "If the principal calls, don't pick up. Don't do it, mom." Me: What? My son: "I'm talking about when I'm in Kindergarten."

While busily discussing world news and preparing to leave for work, my husband and I failed to notice that our son was eating ice cream out of the container on our couch. When discovered, he smiled and said he saw it on Oswald and just wasn't in the mood for the waffle I made him.

I asked my son to go brush his teeth and he responded "you got it, girl!"

It's pretty obvious I'm not Mother of the Year, but I sure do enjoy being a mom.

"Statistics vary, but 20 percent of Americans suffer from SAD or a lesser condition that Michael Terman, a leading researcher on seasonal disorders, calls the winter doldrums. Another 30 percent will experience one or more SAD symptoms, which include winter weight gain, a craving for sweet or starchy foods, difficulty concentrating, fatigue, irritability, avoidance of social situations, oversleeping and a heavy feeling in the arms or legs. Seasonal disorders occur more often in northern climates and affect women more than men says Terman, director of the Center for Light Treatment and Biological Rhythms at New York-Presbyterian Hospital and founder of the nonprofit Center for Environmental Therapeutics."

This excerpt from an article entitled, How to fire up employees during the post-holiday gloom by Matt Bolch, popped on Google when I was looking for ways to combat my own winter doldrums. Although the findings are relevant to us living in the Northeast, it's not necessarily news. In fact, a good number of my neighbors, friends and colleagues here in the Saratoga community accept that they will inevitably succumb to the winter doldrums this winter. Not mentioned in the article are children. I can personally attest to seeing at least some of these symptoms in my son. At a minimum, our household is officially suffering from cabin fever.

On this first day of February, I thoughts I'd share a few personal strategies to help families survive cabin fever:

1. Don't forget the kitchen when looking for projects to cure the winter doldrums. The last time we were snowed in, my son and I made Dark Chocolate and Oat Clusters that were as fun to make as they were to eat. Find this healthy treat recipe here from Health.com.
2. Make sure the family's snow gear is accessible at all times so you can relieve the pressure of boredom or mania at any given moment. You don't want to spend 20 minutes searching for snow pants or a renegade boot (been there). The sun is still the best way to get your Vitamin D, so bundle up (sunscreen up if you're going to be out for a while) and get out there and play!
3. Board games, especially interactive games (no, not Wii) like Twister make for afternoon fun and big laughs. Twister also counts as exercise for adults and helps kids burn off excess energy when house bound.
4. Make cleaning up fun. Buy dollar store toys and have them on hand as prizes for cleaning games: Who can match the most socks, who can clean their room the fastest, who can finish their chores first. For little ones, you can give prizes for a completed alphabet or counting to 10 in Spanish.
5. Reading together. Prepare some hot cocoa and a light snack to share. Then ask each family member to grab their favorite book(s) and join you on the couch. Quiet contemplation and good old fashion snuggling is a necessary sanity check on snow days and long winter weekends.

My personal goal this season is to beat the winter doldrums and embrace the fun and closeness it brings for our family. Sure winter's a little unpredictable, but you can't control mother nature. Just like mom, mother nature likes it that way.

Apparently, I'm not the only one hearing this from my four year old (phew!).

Our family went skating this weekend with friends who also have a four year old son. So when my mom friend and I had a minute to catch up between the skating rink and the bouncy-bounce, we discovered we had both heard "you're not my best friend anymore", "you're not my good mommy" and the dreaded "I'm not listening to you. You're a mean mommy" recently. [Insert collective sigh of relief here]

As a mom, words like that make you feel as though a million little heat seeking missiles are piercing your heart. What? You don't think I'm the best thing since sliced bread? No?

Well, that's because I'm not your best friend. I'm your mom.

My friend and I share the same sentiment when it comes to responding to the "you're not my best friend, mommy" kind of kid backtalk. It's simply not our job to be our boys' "best friends". Our collective responsibility as moms is to raise kind, generous, well-mannered young men. Sure they're cute enough (and turns out clever & bold), but that's not enough. These boys will someday (hopefully) be a great boyfriend or the husband of some girl's dream.

For now, our little guys are all ours. But someday, they'll be so much more than that. Teammates, students, roommates, boyfriends, employees, husbands and - dare I say - fathers. Although it's hard to believe, our little "talks" about the importance of manners, respect and kindness may just make a difference. We're counting on it.

When I got to work yesterday, I realized that my BlackBerry was missing. I immediately thought "Oh shoot, I left it at home". Since I didn't have time to go back home to get it (meetings galore), I decided I could live without it for one day.

So after attending a dinner with colleagues last night, I came home only to find out that my BlackBerry wasn't there. So, where was it? Ugh. I'd already riffled through my purse and office during the day, so it must be somewhere in the house or car, I thought. I went to bed determined to find it in the morning.

Slightly panicked and one good cup of coffee later, I began my search for the missing BlackBerry. After an hour of looking everywhere, I decided I'd ask our four year old if he'd seen it. Maybe he'll be helpful, I hoped. "I've seen it somewhere, mom", he replied. "Can you remember where, honey?", I asked. "No", he shrugged.

As we're hustling out the door for school and work, I put my son's yogurt and fresh fruit into his backpack and notice something at the bottom of the backpack.

Could it be? "It's my BlackBerry!", I screamed. "I told you I saw it, mom", my son said with a smile...