Every mother has what I call a Mommy DNA –comprised of past experiences that shape who you are as a parent.

I was reminded of mine last week, when I spoke with the family of my childhood friend Shannon Melendi. Her parents, sister and U.S. Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen launched a petition drive to keep Shannon’s confessed killer, Colvin C. “Butch” Hinton, III, behind bars when he comes up for parole. (You can sign the petition here.)

Shannon’s kidnap and murder are never far from my mind as I raise my two children. If it could happen to a smart, independent 19 year old on a Saturday afternoon at a busy softball park in suburban Atlanta, it could happen to anyone.

I live with that reality. And that makes me different than a lot of parents who go through life thinking such cruelty only happens to “other” people.

My Mommy DNA makes me a protective mom. Some might call me overprotective. When I take my son to the park, I don’t just plant myself on a bench and engage in conversation with other moms. I move around to keep my son in sight. When he’s older and asks to spend the night at a friend’s house, I’ll say no. When we have a quiet moment, every once in a while, I fill the silence by asking him what he would do if someone he didn’t know asked him to get into a car.

No matter your Mommy DNA, you can take three simple steps that can go a long way in keeping your children safe.

Make sure you carry a recent photo of your child. That will help authorities should your child go missing. Even better, store it on your phone. Also, have your child fingerprinted and keep the card in a safe place.

Locate sex offenders near your home and kid’s school. There is a lot of information out there. Why not arm yourself with it? Two sites that I’d recommend: The Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE) “offenders” site and familywatchdog.us.

Talk to your kids about staying safe. Make sure it’s age appropriate. For younger kids, role playing helps. For older kids, it’s about keeping an open line of communication. Start early so that they grow comfortable talking to you about their day at school and friends.

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Expect the unexpected when you’re expecting.

That’s my new motto, after giving birth to my second child last month. I had spent much of my pregnancy free of the worries and concerns that marked my first pregnancy. Been there, done that, I thought.

Little did I know there were some curveballs waiting for me this time. Here are a few that took me by surprise, things all expectant moms should keep in mind – even pregnancy veterans.

Check up on your doctors. I blogged just before giving birth that my doctor’s office informed me at the last minute that there was a real possibility that my doctor may not deliver my baby and that the only way to guarantee it would be to schedule a C-section. (She didn’t deliver my baby.)

I didn’t think I’d also be in for a surprise with my pediatrician. About a week before giving birth, I called my pediatrician (my son’s doctor) to let him know that my due date was quickly approaching. That’s when I was told that his medical group was not contracted with the hospital where I was giving birth. What? So who would examine my newborn baby at the hospital? Who would perform the circumcision if I had a boy? (I had a girl.)

In the end, it was the pediatrician on duty at the hospital who checked on my new baby girl. And it may have been for the best (see my second point). But it’s best to sort out these questions well before your due date to avoid a mini-breakdown (like I had) when your hormones are all out of control.

Bones break. I made it through my five-hour labor; held my new baby daughter; heard her first cry. It wasn’t until hours later when one of the nurses whisked away my little girl for yet another battery of routine tests that they returned with the shocking news: My daughter’s right clavicle broke during birth. (Thanks to the neonatal specialist who stood in for my pediatrician for discovering the break, which can go undetected in many newborns.) The doctors chalked it up to her being a big baby. No one looked worried. They seemed more concerned with how I would take the news.

I’m just glad this was my second child, not first. I’ve learned the hard way how resilient babies and children can be. I asked what I needed to do. They said, “Nothing.” Nothing? That’s right. The bone would heal itself and within 3-4 weeks she’d have full range of motion in that arm. I didn’t really believe it. But now, at five weeks old, my daughter is stretching both of her arms up high and pulling my hair so hard it makes me want to cry (literally).

Pay up. Babies are expensive. In all, I’ve paid a total of 8 bills related to my daughter’s birth. Just the birth, not the check-ups that came before or since. Before I left the hospital, I called my healthcare company to make sure it added my daughter to my plan.

As is standard, two days after leaving the hospital, I brought my daughter to my pediatrician for a check-up. After countless conversations and several phone calls, I had to pay out-of-pocket for the visit because my daughter was not yet showing up on my insurance plan. I’m still waiting to get reimbursed. Lesson here: Set aside some money for unexpected bills.

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I couldn’t believe it when I heard it: An office assistant in my doctor’s office told me over the phone that the only way I could guarantee that my doctor would deliver my baby is if I had a scheduled caesarean section. Otherwise, I’d be subject to whoever was on call. Maybe my doctor; maybe not.

Hmm…And people wonder why C-sections are at an all-time high nationally and in Florida?

After the initial shock, I got mad. I’m not opposed to having a C-section – if I actually medically require one. In fact, I almost had an emergency C-section five years ago during labor with my son. I was carted away as nurses walked while dressing my husband in scrubs. My doctor zoomed into the operating room and in one swift movement someone handed him a scalpel. When he realized I hadn’t had an epidural, he decided to re-check the baby’s vital signs. They were up. He stopped and told me that I could have one more chance to deliver naturally. If the vitals dropped one more time, he would operate. I trusted him, and I gave birth within the hour.

Little did I know that my doctor’s decision – and the choice he gave me – few other doctors would make. Recent state figures show that 43 percent of births in Broward County and 41 percent in Palm Beach County were done by C-section in the year ended June 30, 2008. That’s far above the national average of 31.8 percent and greater than the state average of 39 percent.

Experts attribute the rise to fears of malpractice lawsuits, a rise in diabetes and obesity in pregnant women (which may lead to having bigger babies) and the medical belief that once a woman has a C-section, all subsequent births should be delivered via C-section.

Some things expectant moms should consider and discuss with their doctor should the word “C-section” come up during a visit:

Contrary to popular belief, C-sections actually cause more complications and side effects for the mother and baby than do natural births, according to researchers. And don’t forget: Recovery time after delivery is longer for C-sections.

The cost of a C-section is typically twice as much as a natural birth because it is a surgical procedure and requires a longer hospital stay.

The vast majority of women in Florida who deliver a baby via caesarean will likely deliver future babies through C-section. That’s because it’s rare to find doctors who will perform “vaginal birth after caesarean.”

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You’d think parenting and Guns N' Roses don’t go together. But when I think about raising my soon-to-be five-year-old son and soon starting over with a newborn, I can’t seem to get the chorus of one of the ‘80s band’s songs out of my head: “All you need is just a little patience…” Queue the whistling…

Before my son was born, I knew I’d need help in the patience department. I’m naturally impatient. So in the words of a wise blue dog preschoolers love, I learned to “stop, breathe and think.” (Thanks, Blue's Clues.)

Some parents have a different mantra: “stop, threaten and spank.” My parents spanked – well, mostly threatened to spank. Just one sting of my dad’s slipper was enough to remind my siblings and me that we should listen to our parents before they walked to the closet. There’s endless debate about the effects (or lack thereof) of spanking. Here is one more to consider. I don’t put too much stock in these studies because there are so many other variables to consider, which a study’s author typically concedes.

My husband and I made the conscience decision not to spank. But what to do instead? What’s more effective?

I took a six-week class at the Mailman Segal Institute at Nova Southeastern University when my son was two years old. Called the STEP program (Systematic Training for Effective Parenting) for children under six, the course gave me a lot to think about. Mainly: Discipline and punishment are NOT the same thing. You want to correct bad behavior, not a bad child. And knowing the difference can not only relieve your stress level but also help foster self esteem in your child.

Here are a few of the key takeaways when a child is misbehaving:

Distract: If your toddler insists on playing with that fragile vase sitting in your living room, grab a toy and direct him to another corner of the room. Do it calmly and without making a big fuss.

Ignore: When my son yells across a room to ask me for some cheese and crackers, I don’t respond. It might take a few times, but he eventually understands and will walk up to me and ask politely, even adding a “please” for good form. Obviously, if your kid is about to run into a busy street, ignoring the behavior is NOT an option. Use common sense.

Set routines: Children need limits. It helps them learn what to expect. Make a routine for the morning, mealtimes and bedtime. Doing so can save you quite a few battles and headaches in the long run.

Give choices: Control the situation, not the child. This is particularly important for older toddlers or preschoolers, who want to feel some control. When my son interrupts me while I’m on the phone, I let him know he can stay and play quietly or leave the room. His choice. When he insisted tonight that he didn’t want me to comb his hair in the morning, I explained to him that I could leave the knots in his hair or gently smooth them out. His choice. (He ultimately didn’t like the idea of going to school with knots in his hair.)

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Fresh on newstands today is Children’s Health magazine’s ranking of “The 100 Best (and Worst) Places to Raise a Family.” Just skip right to the bottom of the list and there we are. Representing Florida, in all its glory: Miami, #99 (just ahead of dead-last Detroit, Michigan); Orlando, #98; and Tampa, #94.

As a native Miamian who moved from San Jose, Calif. (#39) back to South Florida after starting my family a few years ago, I’m upset. Yes, I know the analysis of FBI, U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics and other expert sources researched more than 30 factors parents consider important, such as crime and safety, education and health. But stats alone don’t tell the story of a place as vibrant, unique and culturally rich as Miami.

I was born and raised in the greater-Miami area, the daughter of Cuban immigrants, a product of the public school system, a graduate of its public university. While I now live 40 minutes north in Broward County, my parents, siblings (and their kids) and extended family still live in Miami. My son knows the city well, since we make the drive down the Turnpike almost every weekend.

"We know not every city is bad from A to Z," said Joel Weber, one of the authors of the study, who explained that Miami's high violent crime rate, high number of sex offenders and high number of missing children per capita contributed to the city's poor ranking. "Every city has its charm."

In that spirit, here is my list in favor of raising your family in Miami:

Diversity: It’s not until I moved across the country that I came to appreciate Miami’s cultural diversity. (At least during my time in the Golden State, Californians had a very skewed sense of race and demographics.) In Miami and South Florida, in general, you can come into contact with different parts of the world just by the people you meet, the places where you worship, the places where you eat. The schools, while far from perfect on a number of levels, force you to mingle with others not like you. I want my son to appreciate that as much as I have.

Big lights, big city: If New York is the city that doesn’t sleep, Miami is its sexy cousin. And while nightlife is certainly not on the top of the priority list for many parents when it comes to raising kids, having easy access to a variety of cultural activities to broaden the minds of young ones is a must. In Miami and South Florida, you’ve got plenty of museums, concert venues, arts festivals – and they’re bigger and better than in many cities across the country.

The beaches: I will never forget my summer internship in Boston when I met a fellow intern from Denver who, at 20 years old, had never seen the ocean. (In all fairness, I had never seen snow at that point.) The ocean breeze, the sand in between your toes, the seashells. Like so many who grow up in South Florida, I took it all for granted. No more. Once I had my son, I promised myself I would give him the same wonderful childhood memories I had at the beach. He loves it, and I love watching him play in the crashing waves.

So speak up: What are your reasons for raising your family in South Florida?

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When it comes to pregnancy, everyone is an expert. All you need to qualify is to have successfully survived the first year of a baby’s life. (Some might say first few months.) The flurry of information from family, friends and co-workers can make a mom-to-be downright dizzy.

And then there are the books: I spent my first pregnancy reading what amounted to a small library collection of parenting guides. Fortunately, the second time around, I’m just skimming the ones that actually worked.

So let me save you some time. If you’re expecting your first baby or you know someone who is, make sure they pick up "The Happiest Baby on the Block,” by Harvey Karp, M.D. It’s a quick, entertaining read. But here is the big takeaway: Swaddle, Side, Shushing, Swinging, Sucking. You execute those 5 “S’s” in combination, and your little crying machine will learn the joys of serenity.

Swaddle: When my son was born, I became a master swaddler. For the first 3-4 months of his life, I wrapped him tighter than a burrito when it came time for rest. He didn’t like it at first. But persistence pays off. So does the right technique. What worked best for me was using a large, square blanket made of stretchy, waffle-like cloth. Dr. Karp walks you step-by-step in the book on how to fold and wrap.

Side/stomach: When it comes to holding your baby, the side or stomach position can be most comforting to the baby. Many unsuspecting parents hold their baby on its back.

Shhh: I remember searching Sears for the “loudest” air cleaner in stock. The salesperson helping me thought I was kidding. Improved technology over the years has resulted in ever-quieter machines. I wanted a white noise machine that also served a greater purpose, though any kind of white noise could work (think loud static on the radio).

Swinging: Be it in your arms or in a baby swing, make sure your swinging is “vigorous,” according to Dr. Karp.

Sucking: Some parents are adamant against using pacifiers. My son found it hugely comforting. I quickly weaned him off it during waking hours and made it purely a sleeping aide. During the first three months, I actually removed it from his mouth as I lay him in his bassinet or crib. (Didn’t want him dropping it until he knew how to put it back in his mouth.)

Tell us: So what book or technique worked best for you?

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We know we are flawed as parents. It’s a universal truth you learn to accept very early on after the birth of your child.

So what happens when you argue in front of your kids? Are you scarring them for life? Or teaching them how to handle conflict? (Click here to read an earlier post from a fellow blogger.)

Apparently, it’s all about how you argue that makes the difference, according to a recent study by researchers at the University of Rochester. The study, published in the Journal of Child Psychiatry earlier this year, suggests that children might actually benefit from watching their parents resolve arguments.

The key is determining whether your argument style is constructive or destructive. Researchers who studied 235 families with children ages 5 to 7 said destructive conflict includes things like name-calling, cursing, physical aggression, crying and “the silent treatment.” Historically, studies have shown that such behavior can make children depressed, withdrawn or aggressive. On the other hand, the University of Rochester study showed that children whose parents argue in a manner that is not demeaning or nasty tend to be friendly to other kids, show more empathy when others are upset and express concern for others.

I wondered about this over the weekend when my parents argued in front of the grandkids. (For once, my husband and I weren’t the guilty ones.) The argument was heated on both sides, unusual in that my mother normally retreats to simmer in silence. My sister and I did our best to keep the kids away, though at ages 6 and 4, they had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Here are some tips on how to communicate and argue effectively, according to family relations experts at the University of Minnesota:

- Decide on a code word for when things get stressful in front of the children. If you feel tensions rising say the code word so you can stop and discuss the problem in private later.

- Never involve children in arguments. It is extremely unfair and upsetting for children to feel that they are forced to take sides against one parent, no matter how strongly you feel that your spouse or partner is wrong.

- Let them see you make up. Apologize to one another and then sit down and explain to your children how even Mommy and Daddy sometimes make mistakes.

- Consider counseling: If arguing becomes a regular habit, talk to a counselor to learn better ways to communicate.

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There is a reason babies are irresistibly cute. It’s nature’s way of keeping parents (and potential parents) from thinking about how much it actually costs to raise a kid from birth to adulthood.

I took a spin through Baby Center’s “Cost of Raising Your Child Calculator” and learned that raising my five-year-old son will cost me well over $200,000 by the time he turns 17. And this is a conservative outlook: It estimates childcare/education costs at a little more than $2,000 a year. I could only wish good childcare was that kind of a bargain.

Baby No. 2 will cost me almost $12,000 in the first year alone. And that’s not including what the Baby Center calls “one-time costs,” such as bouncy seat, high chair, crib, etc. I am forever grateful that my husband and I decided to store all of my son’s baby equipment rather than get rid of it. According to a recent Time article, parents with only one child spend 25% more per child than those with two children. The power of hand-me-downs.

So with that in mind, here are my top three ways to save money. What are yours?

Consider a childcare flex account: These are typically offered by employers and they allow you to set aside up to $5,000 before taxes for dependent care costs. You can then use the money to pay for at-home care (like a nanny or babysitter) and for outside care like daycare. One thing to keep in mind: Be careful how much money you set aside for the flex account because you stand to lose any remaining money that you fail to use during the calendar year.

Get a library card: I wish I would have done this sooner with my son. Not only can you get countless books that your child can select for himself, but libraries also have DVDs for rent. Making a trip to our nearest branch is now a special event – and often comes at the request of my son. Just be careful with those late fees. They can add up! (I learned this the hard way with the DVDs.)

Open a 529 savings account: It’s never too early to start saving for college. The longer you wait to save, the more it’ll cost you in the long run. With a 529 plan, you set aside money for your child’s education and watch it grow tax-free. Unlike pre-paid tuition plans, you can use it at any accredited college or university in the country.

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As if hurricanes aren’t stressful enough, it seems the last thing you’d want to do is sleep under a desk in a crowded hospital to wait out the storm.

That’s what my very pregnant friend had to do as Hurricane Wilma bore down on South Florida in 2005. Doctor’s orders. (The hospital; not the sleep-under-the-desk part.)

I am now in my 34th week of pregnancy, at the height of hurricane season. South Florida dodged a Category 4 bullet this week with Hurricane Bill. But it got me thinking. (It doesn’t take much; I thrive on worrying.) Why and when do pregnant women become a concern during a hurricane?

There is widespread debate about whether a rapid and steep drop in barometric pressure -- the weight of the atmosphere pushing on the surface of the Earth -- can induce labor in women who are at or near term. The lower the barometric pressure, the more intense the storm. And, according to several local hospital accounts in past years, the higher the number of deliveries. Broward General Medical Center received 17 babies in a 24-hour period during Hurricane Frances. Holy Cross Hospital delivered 21 babies in one day.

Official studies are inconclusive. But, in my humble arm-chair estimation, I can see how there’d be some kind of effect with such a dramatic change in pressure. Right now, I feel like I’m headed for the delivery room every time I stand up quickly after sitting down for a long period of time.

In any case, if you’re pregnant, here are some things to keep in mind before and immediately after a hurricane:

- Talk to your doctor well in advance about what precautions you should take. I called my doctor’s office this week, and they faxed me a notice from my hospital stating that pregnant women who are considered high risk or are within 1-2 weeks of their due dates are encouraged to sit out an approaching hurricane in the hospital lobby. The main concern is that you avoid having to travel during a storm if you go into labor. Hospitals usually don’t allow spouses and others to stay during a storm.

- Careful what you drink. Everyone needs to be mindful of boil-water advisories that tend to pop up following big storms. But pregnant women, in particular, are at greater risk of complications if they get sick, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Better just to stick with bottled water.

- Carbon monoxide poisoning. The CDC, in its advisory on hurricanes and pregnant women, warns moms-to-be of steering clear of generators, kerosene heaters or camp stoves indoors. Those pieces of equipment should not be used in a closed space. The colorless, odorless gas is toxic for anyone. And it can poison both you and your baby.

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In less than seven weeks – or thereabouts – my life will change dramatically as my husband and I welcome baby No. 2 into the world. The change, though, may be more dramatic for my almost five-year-old son, who has only known life as an only child.

He has been plenty excited about the upcoming event: He already treats my bulging belly as if it’s a full member of the family. He kisses it goodnight, shows it off to his friends as if it’s a new toy and suggests watching funny cartoons to make the baby inside giggle. He also is doing something he has struggled with as an only child – sharing. Already, he is willingly (and without prodding from mom or dad) setting aside some of his “baby” toys that he thinks his brother or sister will like and that he has outgrown.

As much as I love being pregnant, I’ve loved even more watching my son morph into the role of big brother. It’s a life-changing transition that has deeper effects than I have considered. According to a recent US News & World Report article, siblings impact our lives in ways good and bad – and far more than most people give them credit for.

Here are a few highlights:

THE GOOD

Help us deal with our peers: All of that sibling rivalry that moms and dads instinctively want to squelch may actually serve a purpose, according to experts. It can help kids learn how to interact with friends and how to resolve conflict. Millions of thanks, then, to my older sister and brother for molding me into a well-adjusted adult.

Stress relief: It’s great to have someone who can truly understand what you’re facing at home: Overbearing mom, angry dad, divorce, illness, whatever the case may be. My siblings and I are immediately on the phone with one another as soon as a new health concern arises with my aging parents. I don’t remember us all being so close and on the same page early in life, but it’s nice to know our shared childhood greased the wheels for later in life.

They make us more hip: This is particularly true for younger siblings, who benefit from the experience of an older brother or sister. My taste in music – and knowledge of lots of different genres – is definitely a byproduct of my brother and sister. Long before I learned my math tables, I could name members of rock bands most kids my age hadn’t yet even heard of. My husband, the youngest of seven, also has a unique appreciation of oldies music that dominated radio long before he was born.

THE BAD

Modeling bad behavior: Bad habits or choices can be passed down to younger siblings: Drinking, smoking, early pregnancy, etc. On the other hand….

Make us want to be different from them: This could be good if the behavior mentioned above is what you’re trying to get away from. But it’s not so great when it stems from mere competition with your sibling: Your sister is the brainiac, so you decide to let your grades slack. Experts say it’s a greater issue for siblings close in age, where competition is more fierce.

What do you say? How have siblings affected your lives or your children?

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Warning: What you are about to read may gross you out. No, let me rephrase that: It will gross you out.

I nearly lost my lunch the other day when I read a first-person Time magazine article about a new mother’s pursuit to eat her own placenta to ward off the possibility of post-partum depression. Yes: Eat. Her. Own. Placenta. (Those with strong stomachs can read the article here. Those with REALLY strong stomachs can watch the video of the “placenta cooking lady” here.)

So it got me thinking, as I head into the final stretch of my second pregnancy: Would I eat my own placenta?

This week during a routine check-up, I decided to ask my doctor about the practice, officially referred to as placentophagy. I worked up my nerve at the very end of my appointment. My doctor was about to stand up when she heard my question, then sat back down:

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My post last week about sexual predators and the series of arrests at several major Florida water parks in the past month sparked some good discussion. Quite a few of you mentioned Adam Walsh and how his disappearance and murder in 1981 changed your perspective on the world and is now shaping you as parents.

My seminal moment came in 1994, when my childhood friend, Shannon Melendi, disappeared from a softball field in Atlanta on a Saturday afternoon. She was an Emory University sophomore, 19 years old, wise beyond her years and the daughter of smart, loving parents. Twelve years later, the man long suspected of abducting and murdering Shannon confessed in horrifying detail to the macabre crime.

That’s my story. That’s why I shift in my seat every time my four-year-old son moves out of view on a playground. It’s why I ignore small talk with other parents at a birthday party at a local water park in order to carefully track my son’s whereabouts.

But a parent’s vigilance can only go so far. Talking to your children about personal safety needs to happen early and often, well through the teen years. How to do it can be tricky. Here are a few tips I’ve culled from personal experience and reliable sources, such as the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

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There seems to be a new haven for sexual predators: Water theme parks. In the past month, police have arrested five men on charges of molestation at an Orlando-area water park.

The men, some local and some out-of-towners, have fondled young girls and boys at places such as Disney’s Typhoon Lagoon, Universal’s Wet ‘n Wild and Sea World’s Aquatica water park. The latest incident involved the arrest of a man late Thursday who inappropriately touched a 13-year-old boy while in the wave pool at Typhoon Lagoon. According to investigators, the man admitted to touching young boys in the wave pool as an “experiment.”

As a parent, this news has to make you rethink how to handle these public places. My son is four years old and won’t ever be far from me at a water park. But I have quietly panicked when I momentarily have lost sight of him while he goes down one of the dozen kiddy slides at Paradise Cove at C.B. Smith Park in Pembroke Pines.

Where do you draw the line between freedom and overprotection with your kids?

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I’m not much of a hypochondriac. But the latest cases of swine (H1N1) flu involving pregnant women has me wanting to spend the rest of my pregnancy inside a bubble, free of germs.

The first reported Swine Flu death in Palm Beach County last week was a 25-year-old pregnant woman, whose newborn survived. The state’s health department is awaiting official results on another pregnant woman, 27 years old and 26 weeks pregnant, from Wellington who now lies in a medically induced coma to help fight off the illness.

What gives? Hard to say if the women had any pre-existing health issues prior to contracting the flu. But it’s hard to miss what they certainly have in common.

So what’s a pregnant woman to do?

My 4-year-old son’s pre-school has twice in recent weeks sent home notices about Type A flu, including one confirming that a child at the school was positively diagnosed. State epidemiologists are saying that chances are on the high side that those coming down with the flu likely involve the H1N1 strain. That’s because it’s rare to see so many cases during summertime. And to be clear: Most patients recover.

But my bulging belly has me worried if: 1) I’m more at risk and 2) whether I can do anything to fight it if I do become ill. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), pregnant women can develop more serious complications from the illness because of changes in their heart, lungs and immune systems during gestation. The World Health Organization on Monday announced that a Swine Flu vaccine wouldn't be ready for wide distribution until the end of the year.

Here are some steps you should take if you or someone you know is pregnant and worried about contracting swine flu:

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My 4-year-old son and I have a common exchange when I give him the one-minute warning.

“You’ve got one more minute, and then it’s time to (eat dinner, get out of the pool, go to bed, etc.)” I tell him.

“Is a minute a long time?” my son asks with complete sincerity.

“It’s 60 seconds,” I tell him.

“Oh, cool. Thanks, Mom.”

He’s happy. I’m happy. And, best of all, I didn’t have to lie.

According to a recent Redbook survey, 84 percent of the magazine’s readers said they lie to their kids about once a month. But they’re not proud of it: 76 percent said they feel guilty about telling their child a lie.

As much as I try to avoid lying to my son, I too have been guilty. When the time came to wean him off a pacifier, I concocted the perfect plan: Upon our return from a trip to California to visit Grandpa, I told him we had accidentally left them behind. I got the queue from my Mom, who 30 years earlier turned me off to pacifiers by telling me we lost them outside and then “found” them, dripping in mud. Disgusted, I gave those suckers up cold turkey that night.

Childhood experts seem to agree that, generally speaking, white lies parents tell their kids don’t scar them for life. In fact, those tall tales we tell our kids to foster belief in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, for example, can actually fuel their imagination.

But resorting to lying on a regular basis is not the way to build trust between you and your child and could create a sticky situation if you’re caught in the act. Many kids usually learn to lie by age 3, and most learn by copying Mom and Dad. Best to nip that habit in the bud; otherwise, you might end up with a teenager who thinks lying is perfectly OK.

Here are a few tips from my arsenal of trying to avoid lying to my son:

Explain yourself. Instead of trying to convince your child that the M&Ms are old or rotten, tell him that eating too many of them is not healthy. They don’t make you strong the way fruits and vegetables do.

Of course, it’s important to know your audience and understand what your child is developmentally ready to handle. When my husband and I told our son that I was pregnant and expecting Baby No. 2 one evening, he woke up the next morning with lots of questions.

“Is your belly going to get bigger and bigger and then will pop so the baby can come out?” he asked.

“No, my belly won’t pop,” I assured him.

“Will the baby come out of your mouth?” he followed up.

“Don’t worry. The baby is going to grow in my belly, and when it’s time, it’ll come out,” I answered, as I walked toward his playroom to find some great new toy to take his mind off the topic.

Which brings me to my second point:

When in doubt, distract. When you’re heading to the checkout counter and you want to avoid your child spotting that must-have candy, give her the opportunity to swipe your credit card in the machine. Even better, let her press the buttons! Chances are she won’t even notice those M&Ms sitting there.

It’s OK to say you don’t want to talk about something. Remember, you set the rules. The same way you can and should put a stop to your child eating too much cake, you can stop a conversation nicely and directly.

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The time has come. I am about to become a Soccer Mom (minus the mini-van). My husband and I are planning to enroll our son in his first sports league. We figure soccer is a good start for an energetic kid who collects so many bruises and scrapes running around that his teacher has coined him “Boo-Boo Boy.” Might as well give him a good excuse!

But I’d be lying if I said we weren’t proceeding with caution. Figuring out the right time to start, balancing the practice schedule with daily life, and deciding – if it comes to that – when is it OK to quit is enough to send any parent running for the bench.

And let’s not forget those diehard parents who make heckling at a ref at their kid’s Little League game a sport. As I see it, parents fall into one of two categories: Those who want to enroll Little Johnny in a sport for his personal development. (Think learning cooperation, teamwork, responsibility.) Or those that are hoping to groom a star college athlete or Olympian. (Think multiple travel teams, intense pressure, little free time.)

My husband and I definitely fall into the first camp. And we both played competitive sports as children. So we’re no couch potatoes.

There’s a lot to consider before taking the plunge. Here are a few points I’ve found important. Would love to hear some of yours:

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My 4-year-old son is about to get his own iPhone. When Dad upgrades his phone, he has decided to pass down the old one to our pre-schooler (sans the SIM card).

I thought the idea a bit strange at first, but I’ve come around. My son became an iPhone whiz before his third birthday. He knows his way around the apps, the videos and even the camera, teaching my husband and me a few things along the way (like how to get a screen grab from the phone).

As far as debates between my tech-junky husband and me go, the what-to-do-with-the-old-iPhone one was pretty easy. We’ve butted heads before on the issue of wiring our kid.

How much is too much too soon?

Here are a few of the tech debates we’ve had in the Vasquez household. Would love to hear some of yours:

TV in the bedroom. Just say no. Really. What child who has spent more than half of his life in diapers needs a TV in the bedroom? My husband thought it’d be a great idea. In addition to the common sense argument, I have legions of pediatric professionals on my side. As it is, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends children under the age of two watch no TV. And those older than two watch no more than one or two hours of quality programming. Granted, they are tough guidelines to abide by. (I loved those Baby Einstein videos when my son was a toddler.) But a TV in the bedroom at this age is like walking off a cliff. Our compromise? We put a TV in my son’s playroom, which, frankly, doesn’t get a fraction of the use as the one we all watch together in the family room.

Video games. I am a huge fan of educational gadgets like those made by Leapster. My son has a Leapster L-Max handheld video game player that is teaching him math, writing and problem solving. I’m convinced the player (and its stylus pen) is the reason he can now write numbers that actually look like real numbers. He is now fascinated by addition and subtraction. He also has a Smart Cycle by Fisher Price that incorporates peddling a bicycle with educational games. I think it helped encourage him to practice riding the real thing.

I’m less enthused about game players like Playstation and the Wii. Yes, they’re very cool. And I fully expect that at some point down the road, my son will start playing them. But right now? I’d rather he go swimming in the pool or play with friends outside. And my son is not all that interested. My husband tried to get him to play a Lego Star Wars game on an old Playstation 2 console. It’s sitting gathering dust.

Computer. It’s inevitable that your child will show a growing interest in working on a computer. Getting children to understand how computers function is more a necessity than a luxury. My six-year-old niece who is in kindergarten already gets homework assignments via e-mail and the Internet. So the question here is really: When? When do you start making it a regular habit? When do you buy your kids (if you can afford it) their own computer?

My husband and I are still wrestling with this one. There are some great educational websites that we allow our son to check out on our computer with our supervision. A recent favorite is colorwithleo.com, which has all sorts of geometric games, puzzles and art-driven activities designed to bring out the Leonardo da Vinci in young children.

My husband is already talking about getting my son his own laptop. But I’m thinking: Let’s first buy him a bicycle with training wheels. Am I wrong?

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It’s wedding week at SouthFlorida.com/LIVE, and it got me thinking…

There are seminal moments in a young couple’s life: There’s the day you meet, the day you move in together, the day you get married (which can coincide with No. 2), and the day you become parents.

Each one is both blissful and stressful. Perhaps none more than becoming Mom and Dad. If you’re smart, you’ve talked about family planning before you walk down the aisle. And if you’re really smart, you keep talking about it long after the honeymoon.

It’s not as simple as knowing whether or not you both want kids one day. That’d be way too easy. Life is much more complicated than that. So here’s my list of questions any couple on the cusp of marriage should be asking each other. I encourage readers of this blog to add ones I may have missed.

How many? My husband and I quickly settled on two. We both have siblings and couldn’t imagine having an only child. Three kids and we’d be out numbered. Not to mention broke. My sister is now a working mom of three. My brother-in-law jokes about having a fourth. She doesn’t think it’s funny. She’s plenty happy with a party of five.

Where will you live? Before I got married, I knew I wanted to own a home before a little one arrived. Not only that, I knew I’d want to eventually move back to live close to my family in Miami. My husband, a California native who really loved our seven years living in the Golden State, definitely would have been in for an unpleasant surprise if I kept either of those two expectations to myself.

What if you can’t conceive? Admittedly, this one didn’t come up for us until after we had our first child. We just assumed we’d have two kids. Little did we think Mother Nature may not work in our favor exactly when we had planned. Two miscarriages and more than a year of trying, we finally decided we were blessed with one child and grew at peace with our new reality. No fertility treatments. No adoption. A few weeks later, we learned we were pregnant with Baby No. 2, who is due this fall.

Keep the faith? We’re still wrestling with this one. My husband was raised Catholic. I am Methodist. We both quickly decided to baptize our son but knew we didn’t want parochial school. Now we’re torn about Sunday school. What church? What faith? We’ve put it off long enough.

How will you deal with change? You can plan until your face turns blue. More important than any answer to my questions above is coming to an understanding that things could change. You may want that home with a white picket fence but can’t afford more than your two-bedroom rental. You may vow against fertility treatments but later realize you couldn’t live with yourself without trying every possible solution.

Just keep talking, and you’ll figure it out.

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Getting on an airplane with small children can strike fear into the hearts of parents. (And, yes, fellow passengers.)

I know the feeling too well. My four-year-old son has made cross-country flights on an annual basis since he was born.

Before he (I) blew out the candle on his first birthday cake, he had already racked up considerable mileage by flying San Francisco-to-Miami three times. As if traveling with a two-month-old wasn’t challenging enough for our inaugural flight, my husband and I decided to bring our beloved beagle along (inside the cabin). By the time we reached the departure gate, we were breaking a sweat, thanks to the Olympic maneuvers required to get through security while juggling baby, car seat, stroller, carry-on bags and doggy carrier. And then we had a five-hour flight to endure. I’m tired just thinking about it.

But we survived. And so can you. As your little one gets older, the challenges will change, and you’ll need to adjust. With the summer travel season now officially underway, here are a few tips to keep air travel stress free:

Buy a seat for the baby. Sure, right now you think saving the money and having baby sit on your lap for the entire flight is a grand idea. Chances are it won’t be comfortable for either of you. And if it’s a long flight, it’s a recipe for disaster. You can no longer count on having an open seat next to you. Airlines are packing their planes while offering fewer flights. Extra tip: Ask the airline if they have discounted airfare for infants. Most do.

Choose a direct flight. Even if it means leaving from an alternate airport or it costs a little more. Just picture yourself bobbing through a crowded airport (with a child who is tired, cranky, hungry or in need of a diaper change) trying to make a connecting flight. It isn’t pretty.

Consider sitting at the back of the plane. If you have a toddler or pre-schooler who can’t sit still for long, you’ll want some space. Usually, the seats at the back of the plane are situated near the flight attendant station, which can provide a little bit of walking space without disturbing the majority of passengers. Extra tip: You’ll also be closer to the bathroom.

Do not underestimate the power of distraction. DVD player? Toys? Books? Lunch box filled with goodies? Pack all of the above. I also bring one new toy as a surprise present that I break out if all else fails.

Make nice with fellow passengers. This one comes from a former colleague of mine who proudly told my husband and me of a peace offering he made with surrounding passengers on his first flight with the baby to his native Argentina. As everyone settled into their seats, he and his wife passed out ear plugs. They also bought a round of drinks for those closest to them.

So tell me: What’s your plan for traveling with kids this summer?

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Two years ago, in this very space, I wrote about how my husband and I were worlds apart when it came to parenting styles.

We’re now two years wiser, our son two years older (4+), and guess what? We’re still exactly where we were two years ago. The scenarios are slightly different, but our roles remain the same: He’s still the “fun” parent. I’m the rule maker.

One key change? I’ve learned to embrace our differences. (Do not interpret that to mean that I don’t get annoyed with the differences. I’ve just learned to accept them, like the stack of dirty dishes sitting in my kitchen sink right now while said husband snoozes on the couch after promising to wash them.)

Acceptance is liberating. But so is realizing that – as much as you’d hate to admit it – Dad’s approach may actually work. A story I read recently reminded me of that. Here are the big takeaways for me:

Thou shalt accept allowing your kids to take risks: Dads tend to be more at ease with letting their children get banged around a bit. That scraped knee may be painful now, but Dad is betting next time Little Danny won’t climb the playground with two toys in hand. My tendency? Tell Danny to put down the toys before he starts climbing.

Thou shalt accept that less-than-perfect is OK: So what if Dad dresses Danny in an outfit even a colorblind person wouldn’t put together? And will my son even notice that his shirt is on backwards? It’s not the end of the world. The time Mom spends correcting Dad’s behavior could probably be better spent just enjoying the moment with the family.

Thou shalt accept that acting like a kid has its benefits: My husband has mastered the art of distraction. My son won’t jump in the bathtub? Dad pretends to start taking off his own clothes and runs to the bathroom to beat my son to it. My son doesn’t want to go to bed? Dad secretly steals a few of his toys and mysteriously places them in the hallway leading to his bedroom. Both work like a charm. And if I tried either, my son would see right through it. Dad has the magic touch.

What’s your parenting style? And if you’re wondering where you and your significant other fall on the parenting spectrum, take this test.

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Remember when summer meant the start of relaxation? If you’re a working parent, the word “summer” can be a dreaded term.

Figuring out how to keep your children busy while mom and dad are working full-time pulls at both your heart and wallet. Your heart, because as much as you want to “enrich” your children with all of these wonderful gymnastics, tennis, arts & crafts camps, you also realize that there are benefits to having some time to just veg out and do as little as possible. Your wallet, because the reality is Little Johnny can’t stay home alone, and the camps you’ve checked out amount to a sizeable car payment.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. My son’s pre-school has a built-in camp option, so I’ve been paying for the upcoming summer sessions all year long. I’m putting off worrying about what to do when he enters kindergarten and actually has the summer off like most regular kids. My neighbor is going the smorgasbord route for her pre-schooler: Gymnastics camp for three weeks; general-interest camp at a different location for three weeks; then back to school for a camp to transition her daughter into the start of the school year. My sister-in-law, who is a personal trainer, is considering two weeks of soccer camp for her son. The rest of the summer, he’ll just have to tag along with her when she meets with clients. And my sister, the lucky one, is relying on Abuelo and Abuela to watch her three kids this summer.

If you’re one of those parents dreading the summertime blues, be sure to check out the Sun Sentinel’s online summer camp guide. And here are a few of my own tips to keep in mind:

- Ask for a group discount. If you have more than one child who will be enrolling in a camp, ask for a price break. It’s also worth asking if you get a group of your kid’s friends to enroll.

- Faith-based groups, city parks and recreation departments, and YMCAs usually offer camps that are reasonably priced.

- Ask about scholarships. Some camps work with foundations that set aside some money to be available to families in need.

- Organize play-date swaps. Check with the parents of some of your child’s friends to see if they’re interested in alternating days or weeks to watch over a small group of kids.

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Much has been written recently (including in this blog) about the two Palm Beach County moms who went on Oprah to talk about their kids’ sex lives. I’ve always been a consummate planner, so it got me thinking: When is the right time to talk to your child about sex?

Forget going to the bookstore to pick up a hardback on the topic. I took my research into the 21st Century and did what any respectable Gen Xer would do: I posed the question to my elaborate network of friends on Facebook. After all, as this blog so often reminds you, it’s the advice from parents in the throes of childrearing who can offer the best words of wisdom.

Here’s some of what I heard:

Take it slow. You don’t need to cram everything into one BIG talk. Instead, have ongoing discussions and make them short. One of my friends thinks the car is the best place. That way, her daughter can look out the window and pretend to stare off into space while Mom is driving.

The “right” age is relative. Everyone, though, seems to agree that if you wait until your kids are teenagers, chances are they’ve already started learning on their own. And the basics start early: Talking to kids about their bodies (and overall gender differences) begins when kids learn to talk. My pre-schooler right now has lots of questions.

Split up the work. If you live in a two-parent household, ask your spouse or partner to help. My friends from California decided early that Mom would handle talks with their daughter and Dad with their son. The talks began around ages 9-10. The kids are now 13 and 11, and they have grown accustomed to Mom’s and Dad’s talks. At the beginning of the conversation, daughter always says: “Awkward.” And Mom replies with: “For me too! Get over it…”

How this generation of parents deals with the sex talk will differ greatly from how our parents handled the situation. (I don’t think I ever had a “talk” with anyone in my family as a teen. The closest I came to one was a 5-minute conversation initiated by my older sister on a flight to Paris for a family vacation.)

What’s your plan?

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What a difference a year makes.

A year ago, I wrote about my guilt over being a working mom, in response to an innocent Mother’s Day questionnaire completed at school by my then-three-year-old son. He told his teachers that his “Mommy loves to _(work)_.”

For this Mother’s Day, teachers again posed the question to my son. Only this time he answered: “My Mother likes to _(cook)_.”

No, I didn’t quit my job and become a stay-at-home mom.

But I did make a New Year’s resolution that I would make sure we had more family dinners at home. I rearranged my son’s night schedule, so that I had a better chance of making it home in time for dinner. And I started preparing meals early. Sometimes days early. Just to give myself a fighting chance to actually succeed.

Despite lots of talk in recent years about a phenomenon coined mothers “opting out” of the workplace and returning home to take care of the kids and household, a study last year showed that more women with children (not fewer) are working full-time -- and logging longer hours.

There has always been pressure to live up to an unrealistic idea of what motherhood can and should be. Just think about all the moms on the silver screen and TV shows: How many can you recall featured a working mom who didn’t always get it right? Who struggled to get dinner on the table, failed to attend PTA meetings or never made it to a weekday soccer game?

Help me come up with a list. I’ll talk about it Wednesday morning on the new SouthFlorida.com/LIVE morning show.

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I am expecting Baby No. 2 this fall. Now that I’m well into my second trimester, you’ll be hearing from me on a variety of issues – from medical tests to preparing older brother for the baby.

I must admit that, at first, I almost felt like I needed to explain why my husband and I chose to have a baby in this economy. But that’s nonsense. A baby is a blessing at any time. And think of all the other potential benefits…

Top 5 reasons a recession is as good a time as any to be pregnant:

-- Forget your credit card bills for a moment. This is one “due date” that you can actually look forward to.

-- Keep the family together. Rather than focus on your plunging home value, you can instead fantasize about your little one actually being able to afford a home near you one day.

-- Help stimulate the economy. Just think about what millions of moms buying loads of diapers, baby products, cans of formula could do to help bring the economy out of this slump.

-- A sense of accomplishment. Layoffs are a fact of life these days, but having a baby is a lifelong project you can help guide well into old age, if you’re lucky.

-- No one can tell the difference between whether you are overeating because of stress or simply “eating for two.”

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If this video doesn’t pull on the heartstrings of parents everywhere, you probably need to have your heart checked.

An anti-smoking campaign commercial shot in a busy Australia bus station pictures a little boy who is separated from his mother amid the bustling scene. The boy looks sincerely lost. The cameras capture a very real moment where he turns from surprised to scared to just plain sad, with tears streaming down his face.

Queue the somber music, followed by an ominous voice: “If this is how your child feels after losing you for a minute, just imagine if they lost you for life.”

The ad by Quit Victoria, a nonprofit established by a local government in Australia, is creating a buzz.

Parents are asking whether it was appropriate to put the little boy in a situation where he very seemingly believed he had lost his mother. Quit’s executive director appeared on the Today Show this morning and said the boy and mother were actors who were coached for the commercial. Still she came short of denying that the scene, captured in one take, was anything but real for the little boy.

My question: Is it wrong to try to evoke a real response from child actors? Matt Lauer seemed to think so. But is it so different than the photographer who tries to capture a few alligator tears for the camera? (My parents have one of those shots of my sister when she was just a few months old.)

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I didn’t come to know about Jade Goody until she became the symbol of cervical cancer as the young mother of two little boys. I didn’t watch her on Big Brother U.K. And I didn’t watch her on yet another reality series as she got the news that she was dying of the disease.

But her story has captivated me since she chose to die on television, selling exclusive rights to filming her final days of life. Goody died over the weekend.

As a mother, I can’t stop thinking about her little boys. What they must be going through. And that they had to go through this very tragic time in the spotlight of television cameras. In a flash, those little boys were forced to grow up and deal with a painful reality many adults have yet to experience.

I’ve wondered if given the chance, would I make the decision Goody made to die in front of the cameras. I’m glad I don’t have to make that choice. Goody’s decision was apparently a financial one: The money she received in exchange for her access would go a long way in providing for her children and paying for their education long after she was gone.

But at what cost to the children? I guess the millions could also go toward paying for the kids’ counseling, as well, because they’ll surely need it.

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I had one of those “light bulb” moments the other day when my 4-year-old son tagged along for a quick trip to the salon. As I sat in the chair and chatted with my hairstylist, my son played his video games contently.

Before long, we started talking about the economy: The slumping real estate market. People losing jobs. 401(k)s disappearing. We must have used words, such as “bad,” “scary,” and “sad” in what amounted to a three-minute conversation.

My son stopped playing his game and put an end to it: “Stop talking, Mommy!” He said it firmly, with an intensity that was more concern than childish.

Shocked, my hairstylist and I quickly changed the subject and quietly wondered if my son actually understood what we were talking about. He may not know what being “underwater” on your mortgage means, but he certainly knew Mommy was not talking about happy things.

The experience really made me appreciate the degree to which young children can worry about issues that are far beyond their years. That afternoon, I saw my son in a different light. And I vowed to be more mindful of how and when I talk about sensitive topics.

The American Academy of Pediatrics has prepared tips for parents and caregivers when it comes to talking to kids about the economy. Among other things, they recommend limiting TV and other media time; talking to your pediatrician if your child shows signs of stress; and choosing your words carefully.

What tips do you have about talking to your kids about the economy?

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One of my New Year’s resolutions sounds simple, but it's not: eating dinner as a family more often.

Because of our work schedules, my husband often eats dinner with our four-year-old son during the week. I arrive shortly after, if I’m lucky. I do my best to make it home in time at least once or twice during the workweek. The weekends are my time to cook and hopefully leave enough leftovers to last a few days.

But it’s just not good enough. Countless studies have explored the benefits of a family dinner for children of all ages. That time around the table purportedly guards against obesity, results in better grades at school, and helps prevent teens from engaging in illicit behavior.

Forget the studies. I don’t need a report to tell me that spending quality family time together has lasting benefits. So I’ve decided to alter my son’s schedule. We now eat dinner a little later and moved up my son’s bath time. We’ve only tried it for a few days, but it seems to be working.

And I can tell my son enjoys the special time together. Just last night, he turned to me in between bites of his fricase de pollo and said: “Mom, you’re the best cooker!”

How do you make dinnertime work for your family?

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I’m starting to appreciate what it means to be left-handed in a right-handed world. I first suspected my son was favoring his left hand when he began putting baby rattles in his mouth.

The doctors told me to forget about it until he was 3 years old. Many kids don’t have a dominant hand until that age. Three years went by, and guess what? My son still favored his left hand. Wait until he’s 4 years old, then you’ll know, my son’s doctor said.

Danny turned 4 last month and – surprise – he prefers to write, cut, kick and ride a scooter with his left. Fortunately, my son’s teacher is left-handed and is very cognizant of how she teaches my son.

But what should I be doing as a parent? Or, more importantly, what should I not be doing?

Both my husband and I are right-handed. Teaching our son to trace, write and cut are already a challenge. I can’t imagine how we’ll tackle teaching him to tie his shoelaces!

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Visiting your neighborhood park with your children should not be a lesson in profanity.

I still remember when I took my son to one of our favorite haunts in Davie, and he came across some graffiti on the side of the playground.

“What does that say, Mommy?” my three-year-old asked.

I diverted his attention elsewhere and seethed at the thought of delinquents destroying the recently refurbished playground. I should have reported it to the city.

That’s what some parents in Coral Springs are doing as they patrol their area parks. Called Park Moms, they check to see if the garbage is picked up, equipment is functioning properly and the playground is graffiti-free. (You can read about them in today’s Sun-Sentinel.)

If only there was a Park Moms in every city. Now there’s an idea…

Tell us what you think, and share your playground stories.

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My son is finally at the age where he can enjoy (and sit through) a movie at the theater. We've seen Kung Fu Panda, Speed Racer and Horton Hears a Who in the past year.

Now the movie my son has been waiting for opens this weekend -- Wall-E, a lovable little robot tasked with cleaning up the mess that is Earth in the distant future. Judging by the review, it should be well worth the wait.

Will let you know what my son thought of it next week. At what age did you start taking your son/daughter to the movies?

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The sting from Mother’s Day is slowly subsiding. Yes, Mother’s Day.

For the special occasion, my three-year-old son answered a series of questions posed by his teachers for a special, keepsake memento for Mommy. Questions like:

“My mother’s eyes are _(green)___ . My mother’s hair is _(brown)__ . My mother’s favorite color is _(red)__ .”

Cute, harmless stuff. Then came the zinger, the one I can’t get out of my mind and has fueled both tears of laughter and sadness.

“My mother loves to _(WORK!!!!)_.”

OK, he didn’t actually yell the answer to his teachers (the caps and exclamation points are how I read it). But he might as well have. His answer gets to the heart of insecurity for most working moms I know. And it breaks my heart to think “work” is what first came to his mind.

My husband and my son’s teacher both worried I might take it the wrong way. I’m sorry: What good way is there to take it? Yes, I’m sure at three years old, my son said it as matter-of-factly as, “The sky is blue.” Still doesn’t make me feel any better. (That said, I’m sure I feel better than the mom whose son said: “My mother loves to ___(put me in time out.)_”)

A colleague at work, hearing my telling of the story, offered some insight that poured salt on the wound: “It’s not where you want to be that matters to children. It’s where you are.”

Leave it to my son to be the one to make me feel better. He overheard me reciting the Mommy questionnaire on the phone to my mother.

“You’re never going to believe what he said,” I told my mom.

“Your mother loves to …..” I continued.

Then my son chimed in: “Bake cookies!”

I looked at him, put the phone down and ran across the room to give him a big, fat kiss.

And then I wondered if permanent marker was a bit much to add a footnote to my cherished memento.

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Dry drowning. Ever heard of it?

I hadn't until my brother passed along the following link. A 10-year-old from South Carolina died this week, more than hour after he had gone swimming.

Apparently, during his day at the pool, water accumulated in his lungs. He walked home with his mother, talking normally, and then went to bed because he felt very tired. He never woke up.

About 3,600 Americans died from drowning in 2005, according to the latest figures by the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). An estimated 10-15 percent of those were classified as "dry drowning," in which death occurs up to 24 hours later because of water entering the respiratory system.

As the summer swimming season kicks off with the end of school this week, I'm keeping this story top of mind. My hope is to teach my 3-year-old to swim this summer.

Any tips on good private instructors or classes for pre-schoolers?

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Just in time for Mother’s Day, a Bal Harbour plastic surgeon is releasing a new children’s book: “My Beautiful Mommy.”

The illustrated book helps walk little kids through understanding why Mommy wants that tummy tuck, breast augmentation or nose job.

“But you’re already the prettiest Mommy in the whole wide world!” reads an excerpt from the book by Dr. Michael Salzhauer posted on Newsweek's Web site.

No matter. Mommy doesn’t feel that way.

I’m doing my best not to pass judgment. (I’ll leave that to all of you transPARENT readers and those of the parenting bloggers at our sister newspaper, Orlando Sentinel.) Not my job.

Let me just say I’m happy I have a son. I can only imagine how difficult it would be for a young girl to deal with a Mom who is struggling with body image issues.

Believe me, I have my share of those. But my son is more interested in cars and robots than whether Mommy is upset that she still can’t get into her pre-pregnancy jeans. I have often thought about how mindful I would have to be about making seemingly innocuous comments (“Do I look fat in this outfit? I look pregnant!”) if I had a daughter.

For all you mothers of daughters out there: How have you handled the issue of body image? Any inadvertent missteps?

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Last week, our parenting blog colleagues at the Orlando Sentinel began a discussion about children and music. (One parent worried about her young daughter coming home singing the lyrics to a rap song. ) And at transPARENT, fellow blogger Matthew Strozier lamented that he had to give up his hope (at least for now) of introducing grown-up music to his two-year-old. His son loooves Raffi.

My three-year-old son did too. But then he discovered Avril Lavigne. And Alicia Keys. And Journey.

I thank the iPhone and the fact that I love to sing in the car on the 40-minute drive down to my parents’ house in Miami each weekend.

And in some cosmic sense, maybe the fact that my son was born to a mix CD my husband and I made for the special occasion has something to do with it. Officially, our son was born to Sade’s “By Your Side.” A few seconds earlier, and he would have been born to the Santana/Rob Smith 1999 hit “Smooth.” (How I remembered this amid a non-medicated birthing process is beyond me.)

You never know whether your kid is going to be a music aficionado. My advice? Expose him or her often and early. And, as much as possible, engage in the music. Sing and dance together. Be silly. Make it fun.

To this day, I still insist on dancing to the Go Diego Go! song before each episode. I can’t think of a time when my son – even in the worst of moods – didn’t want me to pick him up and twirl him around.

He also pulls out his Fisher Price piano every time he’s inspired: Usually when he sees former Journey frontman Steve Perry play the piano in the “Don’t Stop Believin’” video we downloaded from iTunes. My son quickly learned how to navigate my husband’s iPhone and likes to replay his favorite songs and videos over and over again.

As for other grown-up music, he learned on those trips down to Miami to request certain songs: There’s the CD that has some oldies like “Sugar” and “Buttercup.” And the Indigo Girls CD, which has, according to my son, the “Mommy and Daddy” song. (Our wedding DVD, which my son loves to watch, has as part of its soundtrack the IG song “Closer to Fine.”)

But, by far, my son’s favorite, No. 1 request, several months running, is “No One,” by Alicia Keys. In my household, it’s better known as “Special Music Song.” That’s the term my son coined the first time I played the song for him and told him: “I have a special song for you.”

Hot Wheels in hand, head bobbing to the beat, he does his best to sing the song. Just last week, as we were listening to the song on the way to school, he told me he wanted to sing it to his friends. A cute notion, but one I thought he’d soon forget.

He didn’t.

As soon as he stepped into the classroom, he found his best friend and started:

“No one, No one, No wa-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-n, (mumble, mumble, mumble) feel for you,” he began. Then he skipped to his favorite part: “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh (oh), Oh (oh), O-o-oh.”

Now that’s music to my ears.

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Want to look smart and tech savvy without actually doing something more than a third-grader could do?

I’m a little late this year, but I’m planning to design my 2008 personalized calendar online. Ever since my son was born, I’ve used Shutterfly.com to produce a number of keepsakes, including photo books, birthday cards and -- my favorite – calendars.

The best part about the calendar is you can make it start and end at any point in the year. So don’t worry if you’re a procrastinator or that we’re already in Spring. My calendar this year will be April 2008–April 2009, which actually follows my March 2007–March 2008 calendar. (Hey, I’m a busy working mom.)

Don’t be afraid to hunt online for other sites. I know Snapfish.com and Kodak.com also have similar capabilities.

The benefits are huge. Of course, you’ll have a calendar that you can keep for years, much as you would a photo album. Even better: Fill it with little notes about what you did on a particular day.

Some gems I had on my calendar this past year: Jan. 22, 2008: “Danny went to school in underwear for the first time!” June 9, 2007: “My new alarm clock: ‘Wake up, Mommy! I said ‘wa-a-a-ke up!’” October 6, 2007: “Danny says his favorite song is “Hey, Hey, You, You,” which means “Girlfriend” by Avril Lavinge.”

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I’m convinced my three-year-old son is a budding musician. Not the classically trained kind. He’s more of a pound your fists on the Fisher-Price piano and play the harmonica while trying to brush your teeth kind of kid.

For Christmas, my husband desperately wanted to buy our son the Blue Man Group keyboard and drums. He was very disappointed when Santa drew the line on expensive gifts at a 5-speed miniature Corvette, which said husband also desperately wanted for our son. (Starts to make me wonder whom the Christmas gifts are for.)

Now’s my chance to see if those Blue Man instruments are worth the investment. The Blue Man Group brings their How to be a Megastar Tour 2.1 to the BankAtlantic Center in Sunrise on Saturday. Tickets aren’t cheap, but it’ll be the closest thing to a “date night” I’ve had in months.

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This week, my three-year-old began to learn the value of a dollar. Better said, he’s learning the value of a penny, nickel, dime and quarter.

And I can thank a "Curious George" cartoon on PBS. My son and I caught a few minutes of an episode the other morning that involved the scheming monkey using a piggy bank to save money to buy a toy.

My son immediately wanted a piggy bank. A blue one.

That afternoon when I picked him up from pre-school, I opened up a gift given to me at one of my baby showers before my son was born – a porcelain piggy bank. It wasn’t blue, but my son’s face lit up regardless.

“Mommy, I need coins,” he said. “I need coins like Curious George.”

I grabbed some spare change and attempted to explain its value. That was way too complex. So, we settled on learning the names and attributes: A penny is copper in color; a dime is the smallest coin; a quarter is the biggest. (I haven’t yet introduced the Susan B. Anthony coin.)

He loved it. My husband I explained to our son that if he helps pick up -- say his toys or the dinner table -- we’ll give him some money for his piggy bank. It has become such a successful tool. I’ve used it to get him to brush his teeth.

Some parents use stickers. We use pennies.

My next step is to help my son realize the choices he can make with his money: Spend it quickly, and buy one small toy or book. Or save more, and buy a bigger toy or more books. I’m not quite sure he’ll get the concept entirely, but at least I’ll have some extra help with chores around the house. And he'll be on his way to saving later in life, I hope.

Tell us what you've done to teach your kids about money and saving.

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We rid our house this week of yogurt-covered raisins.

The seemingly benign snack, an on-and-off favorite of my three-year-old son’s, almost killed our beagle, Chico.

Late one night this week, Chico managed to get into my son’s diaper bag, pull out a sealed Ziploc bag of yogurt raisins and chew a hole through it. When my husband stumbled upon him feasting on top of our bed, it was hard to tell if Chico had eaten two or twenty.

What happened next could be best described as pet pandemonium: My husband panicked, remembering a passing conversation with a friend years ago that raisins, grapes and chocolate can be toxic for dogs. He searched the Internet and read that as little as seven raisins can be lethal.

We had to do something. Little did I know it would involve making my dog throw up (by giving him 3 tablespoons of hydrogen peroxide) and sifting through the vomit to count just how many raisins he may have eaten. Those were the instructions of the ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center, which, by the way, also charged my credit card $60 for the advice.

The final score for the three-hour ordeal: 49 raisins! (Beagles are known for their insatiable appetite.)

The next morning we took Chico to the vet to run some tests to make sure he wasn’t showing signs of renal failure. They came back clean.

We dodged a bullet on this one. Our dog is a member of our family, my son’s brother, as he calls him. But the scare served as a good wake-up call: We’re re-checking our childproof locks and making sure the cabinets are kept securely closed.

And we’ve said goodbye to yogurt raisins.

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My husband and I are finally ready. After two months of accidents, emergency wardrobe changes and extra loads of laundry, we are finally ready to send our 3-year-old son to school in “big boy” underwear, as we call it at home.

Yes, we’re finally ready.

We’ve held off because we have wanted to spare our son the possible embarrassment of wetting his pants in front of his friends. Thanksgiving weekend, he had an accident in front of his cousins and the memory stuck with him.

But since then, our son has progressively improved in the bladder-control department: He now goes to the bathroom on his own (though he still likes to announce it to everyone within an earshot, including our dog). He prefers to wear underwear than pull-ups at home and on the weekends. And the four-times-an-hour accidents have disappeared.

His teachers have been nudging my husband and I to just do it. So this weekend, I will stock up on extra Buzz Lightyear and Nemo underwear, shorts, socks and even buy an extra pair of shoes to send to school. And I’ll just pray for the best.

Am I nuts for taking this step too seriously and postponing it until I thought my son had a real chance at success?

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My three-year-old son had his first dental check-up today – and he was a champ. It didn’t hurt that the office was decked out in safari décor, with bamboo-framed flat-screen TVs blasting Disney favorites like Monsters Inc. and Ratatouille.

Oh, and did I mention the three videogame stations?

What I loved best of all was the way the hygienist and dentist talked to my son. They explained every tool, prefaced every action with a gentle warning, and let him participate by holding the suction device. He even agreed to wear sunglasses to keep the bright light from hurting his eyes. (If you knew my son, you’d know that he’d rather do just about anything than wear 1) a hat 2) sunglasses 3) stickers.)

Despite the smooth visit, I left the office with some homework: Regularly floss my son’s teeth and give him fluoridated water to drink. I’m on board with the flossing. But I have mixed feelings about the extra fluoride. I figured fluoride in toothpaste was enough.

How did you handle the fluoride issue with your kids?

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The only babysitter my son has ever known is his grandmother.

Aside from pre-school, my husband and I have somehow managed to avoid hiring a sitter. (The lone exception was one day last year – an emergency – when we asked one of our son’s teachers to watch him for two hours in the evening until one of us got home.)

The pluses of having abuela babysit are endless: Familiarity, kid-friendly atmosphere, and my son just loves being at her house. But not everyone is as fortunate.

So if you’re in the market for a babysitter, there are several things you should keep in mind. Check out these tips from Sun-Sentinel columnist Daniel Vasquez.

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I love the cold weather. My three-year-old son loves it too. But every year, around this time, we have a confrontation over clothes.

This morning it went something like this:

Slip on long-sleeved shirt: “What’s that? I don’t like it Mommy,” he says with a look of desperation. “Take it off!” I ask him to think of it like a pajama shirt for school.

He looks at me funny.

Slip on pants: His reaction is delayed somewhat because I was clever enough to call the dog into the room to distract him. Thirty seconds later: “It’s too long,” he says tugging at the pants. “I can’t walk.” "Let me put on your shoes," I tell him. "You’ll see you’ll be able to walk just fine."

He looks at me funny.

I hold off on the hooded jacket until I step outside to check if it’s really, absolutely, 100 percent necessary. Snap. It is.

“OK, Danny, we need to put on your jacket,” I tell him. Before he can turn to give me a look, I’ve already got one arm in the jacket and working on the second. I zip him up. He doesn’t move. It’s as if I’ve wrapped him in a straight jacket.

He eventually takes a step toward the car. And then another. Finally, we’re on our way to school. Once there, though, we enter a practically empty classroom.

“Where are all my friends?” my son asks.

“They’re probably all wrestling with their parents to put on their winter clothes,” his teacher explains.

I find comfort in knowing I’m not alone.

Then my son chimes in: “Mommy, take off my jacket.”

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In the end, he was a baseball player.

Halloween in the Vasquez household played out pretty much as expected. When it came time to get dressed to go trick-or-treating, my son would have none of it.

Big tears. Lots of screaming (“Take it off!”) when I tried to slip on the “scurvy” pirate costume he had been talking about for weeks. I managed to get the pants on. But that was it. The shirt might as well have been laced with shards of glass. The painful screams persisted long after the shirt was removed and shoved into a distant corner. Our back-up fireman costume didn’t even make it out of the closet.

The crying eventually subsided, and, amazingly, my son still wanted to go trick-or-treating. So my husband and I improvised and searched the house for some semblance of a costume:

Mickey Mouse Club member. Costume: Mickey Mouse shirt and Mickey ears. My son’s response: “I don’t want the ears. I don’t like it!”

Harry Potter. Costume: Pair of round glasses. My son’s response: “I don’t want glasses!”

Then came one last idea: Baseball player. Costume: Aforementioned pirate pants, San Francisco Giants jersey and plastic bat. My son’s initial response: “No shirt! No shirt!”

At that point, I realized he just wanted to say no to everything –- not exactly unusual for a three-year-old. So I told him if he wanted to go outside to see his friends and go trick-or-treating, he needed to wear a jacket (a.k.a. baseball jersey) because it was cold. (OK, technically, it was just breezy.)

He agreed. He smiled. And the rest is one for the baby book.

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