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.

Sometimes it's the little things that help you course-correct in your life.  A letter in the mail, a friend's gentle reminder, or in my case - a birdhouse and a piece of jewelry.

My mom called yesterday morning to see if she and my dad could come up to the house and bring my son his Valentine's Day gift.  It was a quick phone call (I'm busy, after all) and within a minute we'd confirmed the time that they'd be arriving.  Later on, and moments after I met my son at the bus stop, my parents arrived with a balloon, a card, and a box of SweetHearts in hand.  After a lot of hugging, my son opened his gift, ate a few candy hearts and punched away at the balloon (not its intended use). Then, to my surprise, my parents pulled out two additional gifts - both of them for me.  Last I knew, we didn't exchange Valentine's Day gifts. Did I miss something? Two gifts, really?

My dad had handmade a little birdhouse for our deck.  Apparently, he and my son made it together on a recent overnight visit as a 'special project'.  My dad had taken care to place a little wire netting above the birdhouse floor to keep the bird's home clean and comfortable.  He thought I'd like it, and I do; very much in fact.

My mom's gift to me was a little jewelry box wrapped in a red ribbon. "I thought you'd like to have this", she said.  I opened it up and lifted a beautiful rhinestone choker from the box.  It was a piece from my grandmother's collection of costume jewelry (nice stuff, actually).  She had impeccable taste, but not much of a budget.  I also have her beautiful 3/4 sleeve faux fur with mink collar, which tells me that she made the most of her limited resources!  It's really too bad that she died when I was just five years old, since both my mother and I agree that we would have gotten along famously.  This gift really meant a lot to me.

These small acts of kindness from my parents made me realize that my parents are still mine and although they act a whole lot more like grandparents these days (giving my child gummy worms and doing WHATEVER he wants, whenever he wants), I'm pretty lucky to have two living parents that I see on a regular basis.  I'd honestly gotten so used to them being Grandma and Papa, that I'd pretty much stepped out of the parent/daughter relationship all together without truly realizing it.

This year my parents will both turn 70, so it feels pretty important to savor these moments and appreciate them in a way that matters.  Because they do matter.

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

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".

Let's face it, being a working mom means you have to stay super organized and do your best to multi-task every day. There's not a lot of wiggle room and the working parent schedule is not very forgiving from a time management standpoint. Like most working moms, I fall down on the job sometimes.

Sure my child goes to school with clean clothes, hair and teeth brushed (except for one day last week) and my husband and I make it to work on time just about every day. On the weekends, we always make time for a fun family activity and rarely miss a kid or family member's birthday party. So what am I blabbing about? The stuff (insert the word I really want to use here) that doesn't get done.

For us, it's almost always the same. Family bike ride? Check. Laundry. Nope. Spring cleaning and changing our clothes from winter to Spring? Finally took place last month just about the time the Summer Solstice made its grand appearance. You get the idea.

When I get the rare day off that's not earmarked for a sick child or travel day, it's a great opportunity to get to those pesky little projects that desperately need my attention. For me, today is that day and my self-proclaimed hoarder status is my project.

Keep. Toss. Donate.

We're paper pack-rats. My husband is the major mail opener and bill payer, I can't seem to throw away any of my child's artwork or family cards, and my kid colors and draws like it's his life's work (can a mom really argue with that?). Today, I'm happy to report that my recycle bin is full. In fact, I can't even close the top properly. It took FOREVER to look through every single piece of paper, but I'm feeling really good about the fact that my piles have either diminished or - in the rare case - disappeared all together.

I went through both mine and my son's closets and held nothing back in the toss and donate department. Thankfully, I have mom friends who have boys younger and smaller than mine and we have terrific places to donate and consign women's clothes in our town.

My mother gave me a beautiful photograph of my grandmother around Christmastime, so imagine my surprise (It was more like dismay, bordering on shame) when it appeared in yet another pile of "stuff". I'm definitely keeping it and may even achieve superwoman status and finally get it properly framed.

So three hours into project clean up, I'm taking a break and writing this blog. Next up? Lunch and an iced coffee. I've made some serious progress, but I'm still me after all.

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'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.

Most kids are all about pumpkins and costumes this time of year. They're everywhere (grocery stores, department stores, on TV, etc.). What's not to like about carving pumpkins and playing dress up when you're four? Unlike other four year olds though, on a recent Saturday morning trip to one of our family's favorite fall destinations, Saratoga Apple, my son fell hard for a butternut squash. Here's the back story:

We were enjoying our cider doughnuts on a crisp fall morning with coffee and warm cider when my son became mesmerized by two men working on a project near by. Turns out they were carefully wiping excess dirt off a crop of butternut squash. They'd lift them one-by-one from a crate, wipe them with a cloth and then place them in a fresh display crate. "Very interesting", my son said to us as he watched them. After 15 minutes, I asked him if he wanted to go over and ask the guys what they were doing. My son jumped up enthusiastically, took me by the hand, and pulled me toward the men and their squash. "Excuse me. What are you doing?". These two burly, flannel shirt wearing guys stopped their rhythmic routine to give my son their take on all things "butternut squash". He listened with careful intent and nodded periodically, never saying a word. We thanked them and then made our way out into the orchard for some apple picking.

We returned some thirty minutes later with a big bag of Crispin apples. "Come on over. I have something for you" one of the same guys yelled to my son. After receiving mom's nod of approval, he walked over and looked up as a butternut squash was ceremonially placed in his hands. I yelled "thank you" and my boy came running over to show us his squash. I've never seen anyone this excited about a squash and probably never will again.

As we drove home, I saw in the rear view mirror that he was cradling the squash carefully in his lap. When it was nap time an hour later, he asked if he could sleep with his butternut squash. I told him he could keep it on the bedside table. "So I can keep it close by, mom?". "Yes", I nodded.

While he slept my husband and I shared a laugh about our son's fascination with the squash. What we didn't anticipate though, was that this fascination would turn into a now two-week-long obsession! Although I knew he was listening closely to the fellas at Saratoga Apple, we've now come to understand what he learned. For one, they're "baked in the oven and covered with brown sugar and butter". "The guy says that's the best way to eat them, mom", he shared. Since my husband and I both agree with this cooking methodology, we tried to convince him to release the butternut squash from his grip long enough for us to "try out the recipe".

"NOT THIS BUTTERNUT SQUASH, MOM!"

So it is. I suppose the only thing I can do now is police the squash to keep and eye out for rot. In the meantime, the butternut squash is just part of the family.

This past week has been humbling as a working mom. I started my week attending a funeral and memorial service for my dear friend and next door neighbor. Not the way you want to start any week.

Arriving at work just after noon on Monday, I began review of month end commission statements, held a sales meeting to kick off the new month, and worked with our online sales manager to confirm our digital numbers - our best month ever! I was happily getting into the swing of things when at 3:45 PM when I received "the call" from my son's daycare provider. "Your son has a fever", the director shared. This was the beginning of what would be a week of balancing a sick little one, a hectic work schedule, a husband out of the country, and the loss of a close friend.

My son started feeling under the weather with stomach issues on Saturday, but once the fever hit I knew we were in trouble. And after nursing the new symptom of a croup-like cough all night long, we headed straight to the pediatrician first thing Tuesday morning in an attempt to nip whatever it was "in the bud". The pediatrician confirmed my fear: Coxsackie virus. She said they call it the "summer flu" because it's quite often spread in warm weather and, in particular, pools (Um, we have a pool). Thankfully he didn't get the accompanying mouth sores, which can be incredibly painful. Daycare was out, so Tuesday became a sick day for him and a missed day of work for me. I'm one of those lucky working moms who usually has a lot of support. This week was the exception rather than the rule and I was lacking back-up big time.

I attempted to find a new groove on Wednesday and Thursday spending half days at home in the morning with my son (including a SECOND trip to the pediatrician) while the second half of the day my parent's watched him while I hustled into the office trying to squeeze in conference calls, meetings, deliverables and other sales management duties. At home on the couch in the morning, emails and voice mails piled up on my BlackBerry while I stroked my little boy's hair as he lay his head on my lap. Afternoons spent in the office were interrupted by daycare and doctor and concerned granparent calls centered around on my son's health. This was not going to be easy.

As Friday begins - my first full day back to work - my to-do list is a mile long and my fingers are crossed that my son will make it through his whole day at school. My husband is simultaneosly making his way home from South America and tomorrow we'll be one happy - and (hopefully) healthy - family again.

I'll be spending a few extra hours in the office over the weekend in an attempt to not start the week at a deficit, which is just fine. As a working mom it's never possible to give 100% to two separate endeavors. Each day, as hard as you try, you inevitably come up short somewhere. This week, both work and motherhood suffered as I tried desperately to keep the balls in the air. Once I finally acknowledged the truth that they had fallen on the floor, I took care of each the best I could knowing that there isn't a playbook for the working mom. If there were, mine would most certainly be dog-eared.

We headed out to Gavin Park to meet some friends and their children for a bit of Sunday morning fun. The adults in the group drank coffee and caught up on jobs, kids and current events while the children chased each other up the spider climber, across the monkey bars up the climbing wall and down the slide. It's an activity that seems to reoccur about once every month if schedules allow and both adults and kids agree that it's a pretty good way to start the week. The adults get the lowdown on daycare while the kids blow off steam so the adults can rest during the nap time that follows. Sounds pretty good, right?

Well, mostly. After hours of fun in the sun, my son took a nose dive off the climbing wall and split his lip. Crying then bleeding ensued while the adults ran around (mostly me) collecting paper towels, ice and in the end a Popsicle.

My husband and I (and our friends, for that matter) should be used to this. In fact, our son has endured nine stitches and a second degree burn in the last year. He's a trouper and heals as quickly and easily as one can under the circumstances, but that doesn't change the heart-pumping, nerve-wracking parental turmoil that these accidents bring along with them. He's a very adventurous boy - a real thrill seeker. It sounds funny to describe my not yet four year old that way, but he's just that. In fact, he's most likely genetically predisposed to be that way.

My husband was an extreme sport enthusiast before that term ever existed, I was super sporty as a kid, and we both have a history of climbing, diving, and jumping off high places in search of adventure. We see the twinkle in our son's eyes when he begins the ascent to a new height. Although he's quite agile - as everyone on the playground today pointed out, we still cringe at the recognition of the fearlessness in him knowing that there will be times that stitches, burns, blood and broken bones may follow. We know this because we've been there.

Now both in our mid-forties, we get our kicks from being early adopters of technology (him) and creating rockin' marketing campaigns (me). Our son, on the other hand, is just at the beginning of what will likely be years of thrill-seeking, adrenaline-pumping fun.

I'd like to say that the only thing I'm feeling is fear and concern for my son's well being. But to be perfectly honest, I'm just a little bit jealous.

My brother married a terrific woman (who happens to be a friend and former co-worker - yay for me!) this past weekend at a private ceremony at their home. It was an intimate family gathering complete with a heartfelt ceremony, teary-eyed champagne toast and lots of belly laughs. My son was especially happy because it was the day that he was officially getting two new cousins. My new sister-in-law has two wonderful children, one nearly six and the other born within days of my son. If our kids getting along is a sign, I'd say our families have gelled quite nicely.

I scored a great outfit for our son at Target (see photo). A preppy little number which I accessorized with leather driving shoes and belt from the Gap. He looked adorable, if I say so myself (note: mom bias). Although he looked the part of a respectable wedding guest, he was quite frankly in 'rare form' that day.

At the moment that the ceremony was about to begin, he decided to wander off to the dining room. I followed him trying to round him up for the exchange of vows and found him admiring a single painting on the wall. "Mom, look at this beautiful painting", he said. I'd like to say he gets his love of artwork from his mother, but he most likely gets it from the character 'Olivia'. If you've read the series of books or seen the Noggin show, you know what I'm talking about. I decided to stay in the moment with him at let him linger in art appreciation before taking him by the hand into the formal living room. His attention span, you see, is equivalent to his age in minutes. In other words the judge had four whole minutes to engage my son. Let's just say, he lost him at two...

Our rather spirited son is going through what we call the "terrible threes". The photographer who is also a mom of two said that the "threes are the new twos" and "fours are the best". I have to admit it's been a tough year attempting to curb bad behavior while at the same time fostering good behavior. We've heard from teachers that our son didn't have his "listening ears on today" or he "couldn't keep his hands to himself" one day while getting reports like "he's very bright" or his vocabulary is "off the charts" for his age. What exactly do we do with this information? Are they saying we've got a smart brat?

At the wedding alone we heard everything from "he is so adorable" followed by "he's scaling the garage door...you better get him." And, "is that champagne in his glass?" No (seriously?), it was apple juice.

Out of control. Very smart. As a parent you hope that the former is a passing phase and the latter is a testament to his intellect. Only time will tell. In the meantime, I'm choosing to focus on the fact that our son is happy, healthy, and cute enough to be a "Gap model" (also overheard at the wedding). The glass is half full, I always say.