Where are you at lunchtime? If you are anything like me, you are sitting at your desk, dropping crumbs into your keyboard, answering phone calls between bites.

We are not alone. Working Mother magazine surveyed its Smart Mom Council and found that 78 percent do take time for lunch....but the majority of us are either eating at our desks or running errands. Some break. We take no time for ourselves to maybe grab a bite with co-workers or spend some quiet time reading with our salad.

This is our problem, working moms. Or is it our strength? We do what we have to do to make it all work.

For years, I told myself that if I take a real lunch break, it just means I'll work later and miss time with my kids in the evening. I was not about to miss bath time or story time for work. Sacrificing a quiet lunch was worth it.

But now as the kids are getting older, they are busier with their own lives and friends. They don't need me in the same way. And I'm beginning to find that I do have a little more time for myself....This week, I've got two lunches scheduled with friends! And I doubt my kids will suffer for it.

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There ought to be a law: Every child who grows up in South Florida is required to go to the Everglades at least once. Period.

The importance of the great River of Grass will probably escape most young kids, but it doesn't hurt to plant that seed early and often.

So we headed west to take an airboat ride over the weekend. This is about as easy an introducation to the Everglades as you can get. Including drive time, you can do it in two and a half or three hours. Our 11-year-old daughter really enjoyed the outing, but we left our grumpy teenager behind. ("That's boring." Whatever.)

We went to Everglades Holiday Park, but there are other options.

This campground/tourist attraction is just west of Weston on Griffin Road, past U.S. 27. (Be sure to go to the website to print out a coupon.) There's a snack stand (gator bites!), a kitschy gift shop and, after the hourlong airboat ride, an alligator wrestling show.

The gator handler gives a little history lesson, and explains why the Seminoles no longer have to resort to wrestling (blackjack, anyone?). Then he demonstrates a few different ways of subduing the very big gator. And, for an extra $5, you can hold a baby alligator and snap a picture. Awwww.

The main event, though, is the airboat ride. Boats go out every 20 minutes or so, and carry 20 or 30 people for an hourlong tour. The biggest surprise? No mosquitoes! And it wasn't too hot either, especially when we were moving over the water. Our driver, Deborah, took off with a blast -- "zoom, zoom, zoom." (Bring earplugs if you are very sensitive.) She slowed down to gives us ecological lessons. We saw vultures and gators and plenty of birds.

This is Everglades 101. It doesn't take the energy or time of a canoe ride out of Flamingo or a bike ride through Shark Valley. We've done that, too, but it's been years. In fact, Erika doesn't even remember Shark Valley (we took the very-informative tram ride and saw TONS of alligators), so we really have to put that back on our list of things to do.

PHOTO: Sun Sentinel/Michael Laughlin

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Lucas Emilio turned 1 last week. We invited a handful of friends over very informally for a small party. We made sure to tell people not to bring gifts. Yet every one of the guests brought something.

Don’t get me wrong. We appreciate their generosity and thoughtful gifts. But we really meant it. We just wanted to have people over to celebrate my son’s milestone birthday.

We’re guilty of doing it too. My wife and I both have brought gifts to parties when the host said don’t do it.

That got me thinking of how do you get the message across in the future that we are sincere in our request without being overbearing.

It’s all in how you explain your wishes to guests, according to an etiquette expert the Emily Post Institute. Simply saying “please no gifts” won’t work.

“You’re really trying to change a tradition,” said Cindy Post Senning, who has a new book coming out next week, “Table Manners for Kids”.

If you’re inviting guests over the phone or in person, she said, tell them that you’re trying to start a new tradition in your family. You want to make birthdays about a celebration and not gifts. In a written invitation, add a sentence to the “no gifts please” note saying the same thing.

There will still be gift givers. Senning said, but don’t open the presents at the party. That would make for an awkward situation for others who listened to your wishes and didn’t bring gifts. She suggests telling the gift givers that you plan to save the gift and give it to your child at another time.

Maybe we’ll try this for Ana Isabel’s upcoming birthday. She turns 4 in August. We’ll see if it works.

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Is your best friend a single mom? Mother’s Day is a great time to let a hardworking single mom know you appreciate her, and you don’t have to run to the mall to do it.

My top 7 gifts for a single mother:

1. A weekend of baby-sitting. Single moms often have very little “Me” time. You can get creative and make your own baby-sitting coupon and stick it in a card.

2. Offer to take some pictures of your friend with her little one, and create a photo collage. I have so many pictures of my daughter, but so few of us together. It’s nice to have someone capture some of those everyday moments.

3. A manicure and pedicure gift certificate. (But again, offer to baby-sit so she doesn’t have to drag the kids to the salon)

4. Get a calendar and fill it with free summer activities for kids happening in the area. Every time that mom is short of ideas she can reach for the calendar.

5. A CD or downloads of inspirational songs that celebrate motherhood. (I like Fantasia’s “Baby Mama”)

6. Offer to help her organize. Homework, bills, junk mail. She might appreciate having someone she trusts help her purge.

7. Cook a few family size meals and zap them in her freezer.

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Submitted by SunSentinel.com schools reporter Kathy Bushouse

Students entering first through 12th grades next year can compete Saturday for a chance at a scholarship to the Museum of Art Fort Lauderdale’s Creative Summer Art Academy.

The competition is from 9 a.m. to noon at the museum’s Studio School Annex, with check-in starting at 8:15 a.m. Students will be separated into three groups based on their age, then will have up to two hours to create one drawing for the competition.

For more information or for applications for the art camp, visit www.moafl.org and click on the Creative Summer Art Academy link on the left-hand side of the page, or call 954-262-0239.

For more summer camp ideas, check out SunSentinel.com's Summer Camp Guide.

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Are you on Facebook and Twitter? More and more of you are, and the Moms & Dads team would love to connect with you.

Click here to join our Facebook page. That's the easiest way to be notified of our updates.

If you follow us on Twitter, you'll not only get our updates, but we'll also point you to other interesting articles in SunSentinel.com and other Web sites.

Finally, we have a Facebook group called SSParents. Join that group to engage us and other South Florida parents in conversations important to you. Just type "ssparents" into the Facebook search box, join, and share your thoughts.

Hope to see you there!

We also have a more traditional Facebook page, and we invite you to become a fan.

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Sorry folks, but I couldn't let this one, umm, pass. I saw this one in the paper today, but savvy SunSentinel.com blog readers saw it on Strange But True yesterday.

It stinks.

The whole thing with Jonathan Locke Jr.

The eighth-grader at the Bill Duncan Excel Center in South Lakeland was suspended from riding the school bus for three days after being accused of passing gas, reports the Lakeland Ledger.

"It wasn't even me," Locke insisted. "It was a kid who sits in front of me."

If the flatulence becomes excessive, then the bus driver has the responsibility to report it to the school administrator, said a school official.

Trouble for Locke started Monday afternoon after school when a student sitting next to him started making noises with his mouth.

Then, students smelled a pungent aroma.

"I started laughing," Locke said. "It was a bad smell."

On Tuesday when Locke walked onto the bus, the bus driver handed him the suspension form.

Locke said he chuckled.

"I asked, 'What is this for?'"

The bus driver ordered Locke off the bus.

Seems if flatulence becomes excessive, the bus driver has the responsibility to report it to the school administrator, a school official said.

This is serious business. The Bill Duncan Excel Center is a last chance school for students. Get expelled from there and you're out of the school district.

Locke was sent to Bill Duncan after he was expelled from Mulberry Middle School for fighting.
The elder Locke said the whole situation seemed petty.

You're not going to stop a kid from laughing if it's (about) passing gas," Locke said.

What I want to know is, if Locke ain't the one that dealt it, is he at least the first one that smelt it?

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We did what any parent must eventually do – we cut the cord.

Only in this case, we canceled the cable service for television. It’s very liberating - we aren’t tethered to it anymore.

Admittedly, it’s more of an adjustment for us rather than The Kid. We adults had become lay-a-bouts. We’d be the ones to mostly say, “wait, after this show I’ll [fill in the blank: help you with your homework; cook dinner; clean the house; put out the fire, etc.]

The Kid does lots of other things already. His withdrawal symptoms will be much less than ours. He plays video and board games, card games; he reads and practices Tae Kwon Do; hangs out with his friends and does his homework.

But I think us big people will survive too. This week, one of us focused more on graduate course homework and the other did more housecleaning.

Though the true catalyst for disconnecting from pay television and switching to rabbit ears was driven by cutting expenses, we’ll gain so much more than loose change. We already have, we’re re-connecting with each other.

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What’s wrong with a few drinks during Spring Break? Plenty if you’re under-age.

And youth ages 14 to 20 have lots to say about it in the Florida Department of Business and Professional Regulation’s 2009 “Why Not?” Spring Break Video Contest.

Participants submitted videos on why they choose not to make alcohol a part of spring break plans: It’s unsafe, is the prevalent theme.

Using YouTube.com and SchoolTube.com, the initiative provided peer-to-peer communication through the Division of Alcoholic Beverages and Tobacco’s education and prevention efforts. The partnership also incorporated the Department of Education that encouraged educators throughout the state to share the contest with students.

The emphasis is a good year-round topic: after all, we have holidays, weekends and summers too!

Make it a family time moment when you check out the 30-second spots at MyFloridaLicense.com.

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Maybe this would be true even if Barack Obama hadn't won the presidency, but I've been really surprised how much my daughter knows about him, and about Michelle Obama and the girls. And this is my first grader we're talking about.

She picked this stuff up at school. She comes home with pictures of President Obama to color.

Well, today is election day again. This time, the elections are small, in various cities in Broward County. My city, Plantation, has an election. But I want to raise a voter. So I'm talking to the kids about the races.

If you want ideas on teaching your kids the A, B, Cs of good citizenship, check out Kids Voting USA.

And by the way, the Kids Voting election results also went Obama's way. But I found it interesting that 494 kids voted Socialist.

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Who doesn’t want their kid to be adventurous?

We want our young man to brave his new world, make it bigger, and try new things. He's turning 14 years old in a few weeks.

We want him to actually visit family – in other states – for extended periods of time: a week, a summer month, a holiday - without us along.

It's all good stuff – he should spread his wings.
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Only, should he spread his wings alone – that is – fly solo?

Independent Traveler.com , basically tells a horror story of a child flying unaccompanied by an adult.(There is a happy ending) The article goes on to give advice and some things to consider when booking a flight.

Just about every commercial airline website addresses the issue of a minor flying solo. They post their policies and provide tips.

There are websites, such as Forms4Parents.com where I can purchase a form and fill it in with detailed information. I can include instructions, identification and contact information.Then I can tuck the paperwork into The Kid’s pocket and keep my fingers crossed.

I can pack him off with a cell phone.

I know, I know, but this is also an emotional decision.

Do I hop on the plane and fly out with him and at the end of the visit, go out and come back with him?

Maybe I just ought to let him visit family via Facebook, from the safety of our own home.

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By now you've probably noticed we're trying to figure out what to call these daily roundups of what you can find on our Web site. Thanks for bearing with us. We're looking for items that are intereting to us as parents and maybe provide a bit of useful information in the process. Feel free to offer your feedback. We appreciate it more than you know.

And we invite you to join us Facebook and/or on Twitter. Look for SSParents.

South Florida Sun-Sentinel Writer Nick Sortal Named Sports Ethics Fellow

Our first item today actually isn't in the newspaper or anywhere else on our Web page. Nick Sortal, a talented reporter and sometime parenting writer for this page, has always shown a knack for finding good stories about kids and sports. So this news doesn't surprise us one bit.

Sortal is among the 12 people or groups cited as Sports Ethics Fellows this year by Positive Coaching Alliance and the Institute for International Sport.

The honor was bestowed on Tuesday, National Sportsmanship Day.

The Institute for International Sport began naming Sports Ethics Fellows in 1990 to recognize those who display admirable leadership in the areas of fair play and sportsmanship. Among those who have been lauded are L.A. Lakers coach Phil Jackson, soccer player Mia Hamm and Olympic cinematographer Bud Greenspan.

Sortal is being recognized for his articles on sports parenting. In recent years he has offered tips on parental behavior at games, advice for volunteer coaches and balanced reporting on referees.

"It's important that we differentiate youth sports from the sports we see on TV," Sortal says. "One is about education, the other about entertainment."

His book, Basketball Tip-Ins: 100 Tips and Drills for Young Players, is among the best-selling basketball instructionals in McGraw-Hill history. Sortal also has been an assistant high school basketball coach at Broward County, Fla., schools for the past 19 years, a volunteer youth sports coach and a cable TV talk-show host. He is a resident of Plantation.

For Moms & Dads, he offers the following suggestions:

* Parents "working the refs" never works. It only agitates them and embarrasses your child. Leave the zebras alone.

* When a kid misses a free throw, "You'll make the next one" is much more helpful than "C'mon make it!"

* You are not a bad parent if you occasionally miss your child's game, and in some ways it's a good thing.

* Remember that most coaches are volunteers. And if you truly have a constructive comment regarding their methods, it's best to bring it up at a practice, not at the game.

* If there's a particularly vocal parent next to you on the sidelines, bring lollipops to the next game and pass them around.

Congratulations, Nick.

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Depressed by what you're seeing on television? So are your kids. Well, sort of. That's one of the articles in today's SunSentinel.com parent's digest. In the meantime, Moms & Dads can now be found as SSParents on Facebook and on Twitter. We invite you to join our growing community.

Palm Beach County schools face potential $100 million cut in state funds

Palm Beach County Schools Superintendent Art Johnson has told employees he is "distressed" over the latest financial outlook: A potential $100 million cut in state funding for next year. And he notified them that right now his administration plans to produce a budget that doesn't include an infusion of federal stimulus cash.

"To date, we have maintained a balanced budget ... and avoided layoffs," he wrote in an e-mail Friday, indicating that what happens next is unclear.

School District administrators this week said they are not forming a spending plan for 2009-10 based on a much rosier projection issued last month by Gov. Charlie Crist. That plan, using a portion of federal stimulus funds, features a $40 million increase for local schools, for a total supply of $1.2 billion for county classrooms. Read the rest here.

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Been trying to post these updates in the morning, but I've been on an earlier shift yesterday and today, so I haven't really had a chance to get it done. So today, you can enjoy these on your lunch break.

Today:
Plantation Elementary teacher could be suspended today

PLANTATION - A Plantation Elementary School music teacher accused of making sexual advances toward a former student could be suspended without pay today and face losing his job.

The Broward County School Board is scheduled to vote on whether to suspend Matthew Diggs without pay, which is the first step toward firing him.

Diggs, of Sunrise, is accused of immorality, moral turpitude, gross insubordination and misconduct under state codes. He is not charged with any crime. Read the rest (along with updates as the day goes on) here.

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Monday, March 2
Els draws on Marino's tale in caring for autistic son

The mystery haunts Ernie Els.

It stabs at his brain and heart in a way nothing else can.

It's a pain former Dolphins quarterback Dan Marino also knew as a young father, a pain that has brought these famous athletes together in a struggle they're both committed to winning.

Els returns to defend his title at the Honda Classic this week almost a year after publicly revealing that his 6-year-old son, Ben, has autism. The root of the neurobiological disorder still puzzles scientists, and that frustrates Els. He used the platform his victory gave him to bolster the quest to figure out what causes autism.

Marino joined that cause 17 years ago, after his son, Michael, was diagnosed. Read the rest here.

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Big drop in rate of US kids with high lead levels, study says

In a stunning improvement in children's health, far fewer kids have high lead levels than 20 years ago, new government research reports — a testament to aggressive efforts to get lead out of paint, water and soil.

Lead can interfere with the developing nervous system and cause permanent problems with learning, memory and behavior. Children in poor neighborhoods have generally been more at risk because they tend to live in older housing and in industrial areas.

Federal researchers found that just 1.4 percent of young children had elevated lead levels in their blood in 2004, the latest data available. That compares with almost 9 percent in 1988.

"It has been a remarkable decline," said study co-author Mary Jean Brown of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. "It's a public health success story." Read the rest here.

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West Palm Beach girl wins new shot at national spelling crown

There is one word that Serena Skye Laine-Lobsinger has down pat — "lacuna."

The noun, derived from Latin, is defined as a blank space or missing part. It's the word that she spelled l-o-c-u-n-a, prompting a defeating "ding" and her exit from the 2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee.

But Serena will get another shot at the crown.

The West Palm Beach eighth-grader defeated nearly 140 other students from Palm Beach, Glades, Hendry and Okeechobee counties Saturday morning to win the regional spelling bee for the second year in a row.

Serena will travel to the nation's capital to compete May 26-28 in the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Read the rest here.

Continue reading for weekend articles you may have missed.

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Hope you're enjoying a great weekend and not spending too much time on the computer - go hug your kids! My wife is giving me that look that says "uh, practice what you preach..."

Okay, right away. Just wanted to take a moment to point you to two posts from other blogs that we like today.

The first comes from Motherlode, one of our favorites. Lisa Belkin of the New York Times writes today:

The rejection season has begun. The time of year when it can hurt more than usual to be a parent and watch your child lose what they desperately want.

That pain is there all year and at all ages — rejection by friends, by lovers and employers. Back when I was a preteen I thought there couldn’t be anything worse than the patches where your friends found new friends and didn’t want you anymore; as an adult I learned there is something far worse — watching that happen to your child.

For those of us with children at the start and the finish of the K-12 arc, there is an extra dose of that doubled pain at this time of year, when the rejection is typed onto school letterhead and sent to your home.
Read the rest of her post here.

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Then we have this item, submitted by Mommy Melee, a St. Petersburg, Fla., mom who started following us this week on Twitter. You ARE following us on Twitter, aren't you? In this entry, Mommy Melee writes a poignant tribute to a school being demolished. It's long compared to what we write here, but worth the read. Here's the top:

It’s a little after 5:30 and the sun is starting to give everything a rusty, magic glow. Green is greener. Blue is bluer. And half of Riviera Middle School is in ruins.

I knew about it, of course—racing the sun to get the light, to document the destruction before I forget, before it’s gone gone gone. I have my camera in the passenger seat. I pull up against the fence, crack the windows for my sons in the backseat, and step out onto the pavement.

Monsters in the parking lot. Two giant diggers. (The dinosaurs are eating the school, my son whispers.) The sun glints just right, a little flare of personality. A wink. I shiver and start taking pictures.

Gum on the seat, then my jeans, a jacket tied around my waist. Crying on the phone, please come and let me go home, the girls are so mean. I write a report on dachshunds. A boy in gifted class writes a song about the way I pick my nose. I know I’m not the only one who thinks about last year’s rape incident every time I march up the dingy stairwells. I have a boyfriend for three days in the hall. A high school student volunteers with the after school chorus program. Why don’t blondes use vibrators, he asks me. Because they chip their teeth. I don’t get the joke.

When I hear tires crunching on gravel, I turn, jittery. But it’s not the cops, it’s a woman in an old Neon. She climbs out of the car as if exhausted by the movement, exhales heavily and tells me, “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Oh.” It’s awkward. “I went to school here. In 1992.” I take another photo, trying to give her space.

“I taught here for twenty years. Do you remember me?”

I don’t. But her face is familiar. Tired. I shake my head apologetically.

She explains where her classroom is, hopeful, reaching for a connection, so I smile and nod. “Yes, I remember that.” But there’s nothing else to say. I’m glad to see the beast go. But I’m not celebrating. This is a funeral.

After a while, she walks back to her car. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”

When she leaves, it’s just me and the diggers. They linger in the parking lot, ominous and hungry. I keep my body between them and my boys in the car. As the traffic whisks by behind us, I take a few more pictures. Someone honks.

Focus. Unfocus. The fence. The ruins. The fence. The steps.

I trip on my backpack and fall on the sidewalk. It bleeds so much my mom thinks I have a gunshot wound. It leaves a perfectly round scar. I ride my bike to school, singing into the wind, licking my braces. I get my period during lunch break. Two girls push me in the bathroom, steal my jacket, and a few dollars from my pocket. My science teacher, handsome, says, “smile—you look like your dog just died.” I smile.

Read the rest of her post here.

Okay, I'm shutting down my computer now. And hugging my kids. All day.

Have a nice weekend.

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To Donna Greene, education budget cuts from Tallahassee are akin to the way that peasants were treated during the French Revolution.

On Thursday, she dressed as Marie Antoinette — complete with a gown, wig and sign that read "Tallahassee Says: Let Them Eat Cake" — joined more than 150 other parents, students, teachers, and local and state leaders in a rally to support public education. "We feel that Tallahassee is ignoring the suffering of their students," said Greene, a mother of two South Broward High School students from Hollywood. "We need real tax reform and we need funding."

The Broward County School District is facing $140 million to $160 million in budget cuts for the upcoming school year, though money from the federal economic stimulus package could reduce that figure.
Read the rest here.

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Florida's university system reached an agreement Thursday with the Florida Prepaid Plan to make sure both remain financially sustainable.

The Florida Board of Governors, the policymaking body for state universities, agreed to cap the tuition it charged Florida Prepaid at about 6 percent to 6.5 percent a year. Local fees would go up 5 percent and dormitory costs would go up 6 percent. The agreement applies to contracts bought before July 1, 2007.

The deal has no impact on anyone who holds a prepaid contract, which is guaranteed by the state, nor does it affect how much people pay for tuition. "Prepaid contracts were never at risk," said John Delaney, president of the University of North Florida, who is temporarily handling the duties of chancellor of the State University System.

Prepaid sells its contracts assuming tuition will climb about 5 percent to 6 percent a year.
Read the rest here.

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How do you know if your children are ready for kindergarten? One way is by enrolling them in the state's free voluntary pre-kindergarten program, according to statistics released Thursday.

Using three methods of testing new kindergartners, the state found that 54 percent of students who completed the optional pre-K classes demonstrated overall readiness for school as opposed to 42 percent who did not attend voluntary pre-K at either a public or private school.

State Education Commissioner Eric J. Smith said the results "show us that by tapping into this potential at the earliest of ages we are ensuring that our students are getting the head start they need to succeed in both school and life."
Read the rest here.

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A rodeo is a rip-roaring, noisy event. The crowd gets excited as a brawny steer appears. Two men on horseback race to lasso the beast. Mission accomplished. The crowd cheers.It's a familiar routine for cowboy Greg Clair who will compete in Davie's annual hullabaloo, The 72nd Orange Blossom Festival, Parade and Rodeo, at Bergeron Rodeo Grounds this weekend.

Activities include a concert by recording artist John Anderson (Swingin'). But the main event is the professional rodeo.

Clair will be galloping after that reluctant steer in the team-roping competition. It's not just a couple of guys horsing around, but "a true working part of ranch life," he said. "You immobilize the animal so he can be doctored."

The former cattle rancher turned land developer and Davie resident has been doing this 30 years. Now 45, he says he has another 10 years of it left in him. But it's physical work that some say is better left to the young and the reckless.
Read the rest here.

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Prosecutors on Thursday dropped a criminal charge against a Weston principal accused of trying to strangle his wife.

Falcon Cove Middle School Principal Mark Kaplan, 37, was charged last month with a felony count of battery, for allegedly trying to strangle his wife, Alyson, 36, as she slept in their Coral Springs home.

After Mark Kaplan was arrested and removed from the home, Alyson Kaplan said she came to believe the attack was unintentional and she did not want her husband to be prosecuted.

Mark Kaplan said he has a sleep disorder, parasomnia, that made him act violently.

"This is the kind of defense you couldn't dream up — it's valid from the beginning," said the defense attorney, Eric Schwartzreich.
Read the rest here.

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And don't forget to visit the SunSentinel.com family page for news and information to help you save money, manage your time and enjoy raising a family in South Florida.

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Do not adjust your bookmark. You're in the right place.

Regular readers of transPARENT may have noticed a few changes over the last few months, and especially in the last few days. We're posting more, for one thing, because we've grown to appreciate what a fun, interesting and educational place this can be. And that's largely because of you.

We've found that this page is more fun when you're involved, and we want you to look at this as your site, because it really is.

Our new name, Moms & Dads, is intended reflect a stronger focus about why we're here. Like you, we are South Florida parents sharing our thoughts and experiences about the challenge of raising children. You care about our schools because you have children who go there. You care about the things your children see on television and in the movies, the music they listen to and the people they admire. You care about the economy because you care about feeding and providing for your children, and you want the best for them.

So do we. So we'll write about schools, from pre-K to post-grad. We'll write about health and education and politics and role models. We'll write about raising toddlers, raising teens, raising children you're still getting to know. If it concerns you as a parent, it's concerns us as Moms & Dads. So we want you to write about those things, too, by responding to our thoughts and letting us know what else is on your mind.

And don't forget to follow us on Twitter (SSParents). We'll update you on our latest posts, plus other articles and news of interest.

Welcome to the family.

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What’s on your refrigerator?

Those drawings, homemade cards and magnets, yep - it's art. Our refrigerators serve as that hallowed Wall of Fame, the Living Museum for our child's creations. Every one of us has kids - and our kids are naturally gifted artists!

We alone possess their unique, original art - drawings of the family pet, a sunset, monsters and dinosaurs, fantastical worlds and perfect profiles. Masterpieces all.

Yet, we want all the world to see. It's time to share with the rest of us Moms and Dads.

Honor your toddler or teen: From the humorous to the serious; the whimsical to the introspective, bring it on - "hang" it up on our virtual family kitchen refrigerator.

We'll shuffle through those treasured toddler drawings and scribbles and the sophisticated draftings and renderings your teenagers create.

Then we'll post photos of their work each week. Here's how:

Take a photo of your child's art work and upload it to Refrigerator Art.

Once submitted, approval of the art can take up to 12 hours.

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Let me get this straight: parents are complaining about the amount of homework their children are assigned.

Apparently the Broward County School Board is expected to vote on homework guidelines that instruct instructors to: provide increased academic challenges in a more coordinated assignment of homework and projects. Oh – and none over holiday breaks and weekends. It will become an actual policy. We paid taxes for this discussion!

I think teachers have their [home]work cut out for them on this one. I see more teacher-planning and staff meetings ahead. I guess teachers will have to add some teacher planning days to the school calendar. The more the better - that would be one less day of homework assignments, per planning day!

Of course I think most students can handle the homework load they get.

Parents overbook their kids in after school programs like dance, sports, clubs, etc.

Sure, some kids, maybe many, many kids have the drive to do 1,483 things after school. How many of those things include chores – that’s homework too.

But, what happened to the reward system? How about telling your future ballerina or football star that school matters?

Kids need to communicate what’s on their plate and plan. We do it as parents in the big-people’s world, and they’ll be a part of that one day.

Not too long ago, it was proposed that students get paid to attend school and do their school work. Wow!

Now, we’re asking the teacher to be considerate of weekends and holidays. How much of that valuable time will the kid spend in front of a TV, text-messaging friends, e-mailing and playing video games? Please.

I’m wondering: while we’re asking teachers to be so considerate, think I could get a couple over to my house to wash a few windows?

[UPDATE: The Broward County School Board approved today new homework guidelines that urge teachers to assign academically challenging work while also being considerate about not assigning too much homework over religious holidays and weekends.

While the policy is careful not to assign time limits for homework, the district's guidelines suggest 10 minutes of work for each grade level. So a first grader would get an assignment that takes about 10 minutes to finish, while a high school junior's total homework load would take 110 minutes to complete.]

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Oh boy!

And I do mean oh, Boy!

It’s about The Kid’s hair. He’s got that grooming thing going on now. And, I must say, he looks pretty dapper!

In the morning getting ready for school, we hear him thinking out loud: “Which gel today? The one that makes them want to run their hands through my hair? Which cologne?" Then we hear humming. Water running, straightening the collar; another quick glance in the mirror – lights off and he’s out the door.

"Bye," he calls out with a smile. He heads to the bus stop, a spring in his step. This is one confident and happy guy.

For those totally overwhelmed and baffled parents and teenagers, KidsHealth offers lots of tips and advice on personal hygiene.

In the meantime, we’re going to have to rearrange a few shelves in the bathroom, to make room for his stuff.

What fashion raves and grooming obsessions is your teen going through?

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I can vouch for the influence parents have over their communities.

When I was way too young to remember, my dad was on the front lines of the civil rights movement. He represented white people pushing for change, he represented his faith as a Presbyterian minister, and ultimately, he simply represented his family.

Recently, one of my brothers found this clip about him from an old 1961 edition of Jet Magazine. He was quoted, “Let me tell you of several incidents when Jesus was caught in the act of sitting-in,” said Henry Warren Kunce. I cannot begin to express my pride!

So it’s not a stretch for me to see the value in National Parent Leadership Month that honors and celebrates parents for the vital roles they fill in their homes and communities.

But, not everyone has the opportunity to take on a mission like the one my dad did.

Still, other issues are just as noble, like Prevent Child Abuse Florida. For many, it’s a cause way too close to home.

The organization engages parent leaders in developing program strategies and public awareness materials through its Florida Circle of Parents program, to prevent child abuse and neglect through mutual, self-help parent support groups.

Based on shared leadership, mutual respect, and inclusiveness, the free, confidential and non-judgmental groups are open to anyone in a parenting or care-giving role.

There are 54 groups throughout Florida.

Find a Florida Circle of Parents support group in your area.

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Priority #1: Safety. Hands down, when it comes to our children. But somehow, we let our guard down in the process of making child care decisions.

Parents of children under the age of 6 are most concerned about safety when choosing child care, according to a recent survey. The report, Parents' Perceptions of Child Care in the United States, highlights other top issues: learning environments with trained child care providers, and cost. Zogby International conducted the telephone poll of 1,004 parents in November for the National Association of Child Care Resource & Referral Agencies.

The report also revealed that parents assume a lot: that there is governmental oversight to ensure child care safety; that background checks are conducted and employees do get training on child development, CPR, child guidance and discipline, and can recognize signs of child abuse.

Sometimes, we parents are naive, just like our children. We place complete trust and faith in the system, just as our children do us. The report went on to say parents believe that state governments license and inspect all child care programs. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. The NACCRRA reports that only about half of the states inspect child care settings only once a year or less.

The report details its findings on cost and other child care issues. The NACCRRA provides links, facts and score cards.

If you had been asked - and other than safety – what is your biggest child care concern?

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South Florida's winter is best spent outdoors in the parks, the Everglades, on the water. In places that are hostile in the summer because of the mosquitos and heat.

I'm partial to parks that cater to the under 5 set, which meet the needs of my 23 month old.

There's the newly expanded Hardy Park in Fort Lauderdale, which has cool chair-like swings for kids at heart.

The ground cover is artificial grass and crumbled tires.

We also like the Riverland Park that has two playground sets, a swing set and a nearby bathroom. The ground cover is mulch.

But I'm always on the hunt for another park that has a (reasonably) clean playset, a bathroom in close promixity and a covered pavilion or trees with shade.

What's your favorite kiddie park?

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The sun is out. The temperature is rising.

Frigid mamas, papas and babes can come out of hibneration and get back outside. (I know I can't be the only one who was COLD this week)

Baby and I will be heading to the recently renovated Hardy Park in Fort Lauderdale at 8th St. and Andrews Ave.

It has two playstations -- one for the big kids and one for the tots. But the best part are the big-people swings that look like suspended lounge chairs.

The "grass" is that hybrid of artificial turf and crumbled rubber tires. It's squishy goodness.

Where's your favorite park to hang out with the kids? Let us know and we'll compile a list of the Best Parks Cause Mom/Dad Said So.

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You can re-enact the joys of winter: roasting marshmallows, sipping cocoa; or you could escape the cold at one of these weekend events as compiled by South Florida Parenting:

READ ON FOR THIS WEEKEND'S BEST BETS

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In the B.K. years (Before Kids) weekend plans were concocted a couple of hours before said event after chatting with friends about what we could get into THAT night.

Now, those last-minute outings have been replaced by play dates with the children of other moms and dads that must be made weeks in advance.

However, if you're the kind of parent who still relishes making last-minute plans, read on for a look at the best of what's going on for kids this weekend as compiled by South Florida Parenting:

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Once your get that tree -- you're going this weekend, right?? -- and the new year arrives you'll need a place to dump it.

Drop it off at one of 13 Broward County parks, which will turn the tree into mulch. There's no fee. Not even gate entrance fee for recyclers.

Here are the rules (there are always rules!):

No more than 2 trees per vehicle

No artificial trees

No commercial vehicles or garbage trucks

Trees must be free of decorations -- this includes tinsel

These 13 Broward County parks will start collecting Dec. 26 - Jan. 18 from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. at the following locations (most are closed Tuesdays, so call ahead):

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The Sun Sentinel reported that a first-grader wielding a kitchen knife robbed a 6-year-old classmate of one dollar at a Pembroke Pines school.

What is wrong with our children, their parents?? I'm looking for seriously constructive advice, here. Parents of reformed bullies speak out: what did you learn from the experience?

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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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(Also posted on Nick Sortal's Trialsanderrors)

I thought there would be greater media attention Friday when Randy Pausch died.

For those who haven't followed it, Pausch was a Carnegie Mellon professor who gave a spirited "last lecture," a tradition at his school. It truly was his last lecture. He was dying.

A Wall Street Journal writer was there to see it, and wrote it up. Then came ABC appearances for Pausch, and Oprah and a book at the top of the best-seller list.

During a time when we have too many useless messages going viral in our media, this was an exception. Such thoughts as: "We can't change the cards we're dealt, just the way we play the hand."

I often quote to my children his line: "You have to decide if you're a Tigger or an Eeyore."

So why am I posting this on this blog? Here's what I want you to do: Because it's summer, and presumably children aren't wrapped up in school work and you have time, please sit down with your child and watch a 10-minute Youtube version of his lecture. And watch or tape the ABC special, set for 10 p.m. Tuesday, with your family. Then talk about it.

Also, there's this 78-minute, longer version of his lecture,and a USA Today version of the story, which includes a box of his tips.

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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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This past weekend I was surrounded by old friends at my 20th high school reunion. I went without my kids, and I can say without question that was the best decision. Who wants to be reminiscing with friends until 3 a.m. and then be woken up at 7 a.m. by the sweet sounds of the Wiggles and demands for chocolate milk?

While I missed my kids, I was thankful that my mom and husband had them instead, safe at home. That feeling was reaffirmed when I saw a dear old friend after she had just spent the day at Animal Kingdom (the reunion was in Orlando). She was exhausted.

The next day, as we all gabbed and dished about our lives and about our classmates, she talked about her own family (she has two boys, ages 4 and 6) and made a confession:

"I have a four-hour tolerance with my kids," she said, somewhat sheepishly, waiting to see our reaction.

She didn't have anything to worry about.

I often have guilty feelings about my weekends at home with the kids. I always schedule a trip with the kids to Target or Publix -- gotta break up the day some way. I let them watch a little too much TV on Saturday and Sunday mornings. And yes, we play ... but it gets old!

My friend said after four hours, she's done. She's got them fed, bathed and in bed well in time before she's too tired to watch a movie and have a glass of wine with her husband. She's not necessarily on the floor with them playing trains every minute of those four hours either.

I think I like this kind of plan. I spend so much time with the kids on weekends that all I feel like doing at night is collapsing on the couch. Can't even clean the kitchen sometimes. So if you let the kids entertain themselves a little more, you'll be less tired. Sounds good to me. Gotta try it.

Moms, dads ... what's your limit?

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As a child, social networking involved a red kickball. All it took was the sight of the ball being launched in the air by a neighboring kid's foot to get me outdoors and socializing.

How pedestrian.

These days kids socialize by logining on to a MySpace, or Facebook or uploading a video of said selves to YouTube.

And in this new social structure enters TotSpot, a place for pre-school kids to swap virtually boogers.

Does your wee one use TotSpot? Lifestyle reporter Liz Doup would like to hear from you. Send her a note at ldoup@sun-sentinel.com.

Or perhaps you frequent the site, famzam that is geared more to families wanting to share photos, videos, recipes, etc. Either way, Liz would love to talk with you.

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Today is my younger son's third birthday. He got a Thomas the Tank Engine bicycle. And he just sits on it. Or he walks it around the house. Or he sits on it, waits for someone to put his feet on the pedals, then waits for someone (me) to grab the handlebars and walk him around. That's right, he refuses to push on the pedals.

He was more excited about his new DVDs, books and his cake than he was his bicycle. Although he won't let anyone else touch his bicycle.

I remember when Evan turned 3, he also got a bicycle. And he went wild on it, riding up and down the sidewalk with a big grin on his face. I know -- different kid, different skill sets, etc.

But it's tough to remain patient when your kid flat-out refuses to even try. He already has a tricycle that he loves ... to be pushed on.

Any suggestions?

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In this week's installment of free stuff to do.

Take your budding car expert to check out the classics at Lake Worth's Evening on the Avenues.

If your kid is interested in making things explode, the free science museum at Sugar Sand Park in Boca Raton is a good bet.

Good (free) times can also be had at:

Today: Summer Games exhibit at Miami Children's Museum, 980 MacArthur Causeway. If you don't make it today, save the date for the third Friday in July when its free admission.

Musical performances from 7 - 9 p.m. at Hollywood's Young Circle Park at U.S. 1 and Hollywood Blvd. Bring a blanket or lawn chair for seating.

Saturday: Asian Pacific Festival at the Alvin Sherman Library in Fort Lauderdale. Learn about traditional Chinese music and dance, Thai traditional dance and see a Korean Hapkido martial arts demo. Plus there will be food and craft projects. From 1 - 4 p.m.

Storytime for kids ages 3 - 6 at 10:30 a.m. Barnes and Noble, Broward Mall, 591 S. University Dr., Plantation.

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Every year, we head to the beach around Father's Day, and my wife takes basically the same picture. I thought I'd provide this 2008 update:

2005:

2006:
My son obviously is getting bigger, but am I getting weaker?

2007:
Does anyone out there remember some parable about an Indian boy and a calf? Something like: If a young boy begins by lifting a calf, and continues lifting it as it grows, he'll be the strongest man on Earth?

2008:

20XX: What year will HE be lifting ME?

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Long ago, I told you guys about one of Palm Beach County's best places to go for entertaining little ones, the Playmobil Fun Park. Located near Palm Beach Gardens, it costs just a buck to get in, and it provides an afternoon or morning of relaxation for moms or dads, who can just kick back on a bench while the kiddies go to town on the hundreds of Playmobil figures, vehicles and play sets.

We were there yesterday, in fact, when something rather disgusting happened.

Elias was sitting on the play mats, happily assembling train tracks, playing with trains and putting the "choo-choo guy" on the trains when another little boy made his way into Eli's space. The boy looked barely a year, as his steps were tentative. He picked up one the play figures from the train, and promptly put it in his mouth.

Sure, I know babies put stuff in their mouth ... duh! But this little guys just mawed on it, just moving it all along the inside of his mouth while his mom stood by. I looked at her, looked at him, and she casually told him not to put it in his mouth. Of course, the kid ignored her. Then he walked DIRECTLY UP TO MY SON, and tried to put the offending, spit-covered conductor person into Elias's hand. I quickly tried to intervene, wondering when this mother was going to step in so that I didn't have to put my hands on the disgusting conductor.

She didn't. I gingerly grabbed it, resisting the temptation to actually kick it away on the floor rather than touch it. Again, nothing from the mom.

Now, I harbor no illusions that the toys at a place like this would be germ-free. Of course not. But jeez, at least TRY to stop your kids from sucking on the toys and then handing them off to someone else.

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No sooner had we paid off one kids' pre-paid college tuition plan, and gotten within a few months of paying off the other, when the two announced their career ambitions: trash man and
drive-through restaurant cashier.

Creed, who is 12, launched the conversation with his comments about how much fun it would be to work on the trash truck. It was the day after bulk trash pickup.

"I'll come visit you in your cardboard box,'' I said.

I don't know how to write the sound that he makes when he thinks what I'm saying is wrong. It's what I call the Exaggerated Gasp, and it is akin to an asthma attack wheeze into a microphone.

"Garbage men make a lot of money!'' he said. "They make more than teachers.''

I suspect he picked up that fact from one of his teachers, probably someone up high in the union.

"Teachers get the summer off,'' I countered, "but while they're on the beach, you would still be sifting through people's castoff garbage.''

Lily piped in. "I'm going to be a register.''

"What is a register?'' I asked, picturing an accounting ledger, and Lily sitting over it with a sharp pencil and designer eyeglasses. I was starting to feel better.

"You know those people you give money to with the register? They get paid!'' she said.

"You mean like a McDonald's drive-through lady who works on the cash register?''

"Yes!''

I had a flashback to a running discussion I had with Creed when he was about 5. The theme was "Is BLANK a good job?'' And he had asked me after we went through a toll booth on the Turnpike, "Is that a good job?''

I'm not criticizing all the good people who hold these jobs. But we've spent a fortune on college tuitions for these two, already. And if you don't use these pre-paid plans, you don't even earn interest on all the money you shelled out!

Plus, as parents aren't we supposed to push our kids to get as educated as they can? Because I want to live in a nice assisted living facility when I get old. A place with a nice hot tub.

"Lily, you are going to be a doctor who delivers babies,'' I said. "And Creed, you're going to be a veterinarian.''

End of story. Unless, of course, Creed's high school graduation coincides with bulk trash day, and he succumbs to the dream.

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Our 7th-grader has never used profanity in front of us, nor have we ever overheard him cursing with his friends. He has three favorite exclamations these days. One is, "Wow,'' which I wrote
about previously. It's his way of expressing just how amazed he is at how dumb his parents are.

Another new favorite is simply what I would call the Exaggerated Gasp. I hope he never uses this rapid (and very loud) inhalation when small parts or flying insects are near his mouth, because he might end up choking on something.

The third is, "What the heck?!'' He says this all the time. I don't mind it at all. How sweet, I thought.

Until this weekend. Creed has a tendency to talk in his sleep, and occasionally to sleepwalk. I read a story this weekend about someone being cleared of a crime he committed while supposedly sleepwalking. I guess that's what inspires this blog post.

In the middle of the night, Creed shouted at the top of his lungs, "What the HELL????!!!!!!!!''

The first thing I thought as I was startled from sleep was, "He cursed. So that means all this time when he substituted the word 'heck,' it was only for the benefit of his parents. Sigh.' "
The second thing I thought was, "Oh my gosh, is Creed alright?!''

I went in his room and he was sitting up in bed, apparently recovering from a nightmare.

The next day he had no recollection. He sure did think it was funny, though. I think he laughed for 10 minutes straight when Bob told him what he had screamed.

If I were really an insane and unfair parent -- and some of us were raised by such people -- I would use this as a confession from his subconscious. And punish him accordingly. I told him I was considering it -- I was joking but wanted to broach the issue -- and he said that "Hell'' is not a curse word. He claims he has used this word in the classroom when necessary.

True a preacher can say it without raising eyebrows. But not a 12-year-old who is not giving a sermon.

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Tomorrow, we're heading to North Carolina. And we all have colds. This is not going to be fun. I am hoping my 4-year-old and a 2-year-old have no ear problems due to the cabin pressure and their severe colds, but I'm definitely going to take some preventive measures.

Evan went to the pediatrician on Tuesday and got antibiotics because he had been suffering from a cough for several weeks. But Elias went on Friday and the same pediatrician thought he just had a virus, as opposed to an infection. She gave me a prescription for an antibiotic only because we were going to be flying on Tuesday but told me not to start it until today, only if he was really feeling awful.

She also recommended a decongestant and/or Benadryl before the flight. I'm wondering if I should do both, or just one or the other? Anyone have any similar experiences? I've also read about getting plus like EarPlanes for kids, but I'm thinking both boys would just pull them out.

Wish me luck tomorrow.

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A New York mom who let her nine-year-old ride the subway alone (without a cellphone!) has unleashed criticism throughout the blogosphere for her supposed disregard for her son's safety.

In response, Lenore Skenazy, the allegedly uncaring mom and a columnist for the New York Sun, has started her own blog to encourage Free Range Kids, with the slogan: "Let's give our kids the freedom we had!"

Skenazy's son had been begging for more freedom to go places without her. She left him at Bloomingdale's and gave him a subway map, $20, a subway card and some quarters to call her in case of emergency. He made it home fine, but Skenazy has been deluged with scorn.

I grew up in a suburb similar to where I live now, and I used to walk everywhere, unaccompanied. As a teen, I took the train to New York City regularly - by myself. It's hard to imagine parents letting their kids do these activities today.

How much freedom do you give your kids to go to places without an entourage?

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Last week I asked whether parents were to blame in the beating of a teenage girl at the hands of six teens.

There was a healthy discussion about individual responsibility, parents' roles in raising children, the amount of violence in society and media.

I want to thank everyone who spoke out about what went wrong in the case, and who may be to blame.

Now I think we should commit ourselves to improving the lives of one un-related child.

I intend to help nurture a friend's teenage son. He's well-behaved and a good student, but as we saw in the Lakeland case, being "good" isn't always enough.

I challenge you to share your time and sensibilities with a child -- be it formally (through groups like the Boys & Girls Clubs) or informally (taking a neighbor's child under your wing).

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My husband just emailed me a link to this article: "Moms, Tots Argue 20 Times an Hour." As I contemplate this stop-the-presses news and think about my own sweet toddler, I come to the conclusion that ... yeah, that sounds about right.

Whether it's scooting to the back of the minivan when we arrive at our destination instead of getting out, or insisting that he has to "push triangle" (translation: press "play" on the DVD player) for his favorite videos, or allowing him to hold the can of Ovaltine as we prepare his chocolate milk in the mornings, there is no shortage to the number of arguments that can occur on a daily basis.

According to this study by Lehigh University, which appears in the March/April issue of Child Development, moms and their toddlers argue 20 to 25 times an hour on average. Granted, for the study, the kids, who were about 30 months old, and their moms were videotaped at a researcher's lab during times most likely to have a conflict. The moms had to enforce rules about toys (and apparently the lab supplied toys that the kids couldn't have), and the kids got to play with puzzles that were too hard for them -- both scenarios sure to elicit frustration and tantrums.

Six months later, the exercise was somewhat repeated, only in the families' homes. What did these researchers find out? The arguments occurred "between 20-25 times an hour at both assessment periods." That's from a low of four arguments an hour to a high of 55 an hour.

I'm not really sure what this study accomplished. What do you guys think?

On a different topic, I'm going to plug CNN on Wednesday, which is devoting a considerable amount of air time throughout the day for World Austim Awareness Day. At noon, a segment produced by John David Dear, whose sister is a close friend of mine, will give viewers a look at the struggles of raising an autistic child. J.D.'s son Jonas was diagnosed in December 2006. I'll be sure to tune in, and I hope we'll all come away with a better understanding of this developmental syndrome that is striking an increasing number of families.

Check this link for a closer look at the CNN programming on Wednesday that centers around autism.

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Just last week I blogged about what a sweet kid my 4-year-old Evan is. But yesterday he temporarily turned into a rude and ungrateful little boy.

I had taken great care in ensuring that the boys' Easter baskets contained an equal number of treats and small toys. Did I make sure that each item was the SAME EXACT COLOR? No. I didn't really think that would be a problem.

But after the initial euphoria of opening Easter baskets had worn off, and I was dozing on the couch at 8 a.m. as the boys played with their new stuff, I heard the all-too familiar wail from Elias that indicated something had been taken away from him. I opened my eyes. A distraught Evan was holding a blue egg that had once held a Hot Wheels car while Elias was crying that it was his. Apparently Evan didn't get a blue egg among the three that contained brand-new cars. I told him that they each got the same number of cars, and that I didn't want to hear any more out of them.

Five seconds later, there was the unmistakable sound of jealousy rearing its ugly head again. Eli crying, Evan acting as though it was a huge injustice that he did not receive a blue plastic egg container. I told him once again that he and Elias both got the same amount of toys and candy and that he should be thankful to the Easter bunny instead of whining. And that the color of the egg didn't matter. I closed my eyes.

"Shut up."

Those two little words were uttered so calmly, yet almost tentatively. And they came out of Evan's mouth for the first time. My jaw dropped. I bolted out of the couch.

"Time out -- NOW," I told Evan.

He went, crying.

I immediately marched into my bedroom and informed Jeff of what Evan had said. Nothing I say usually stirs him out of bed, but his eyes immediately opened. Take his basket away, my husband said firmly.

I wasn't willing to go that far, but Jeff was insistent that Evan's entire Easter basket should be off limits, at least for a little while. He then went in Evan's room and gave him a stern talking-to that provoked the kind of tears usually accompanied by hyperventilating.

Eventually, Evan got his basket back. After an apology. Jeff and I were both aghast that Evan would ever say such a thing. But that's the influence of TV, I guess. And I was left wondering if we addressed it properly.

Any thoughts? How old were your kids when you first became the victim of their shocking language?

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So, my boys and I finally made it to Rita's.

If you don't know anything about Rita's, it's an Italian Ice and custard shop that originated in Pennsylvania and just opened its first Palm Beach County location. Right near me, in Boynton Beach. I can tell you right now, we'll be back frequently for their delicious Italian ices. My little one, Elias, is partial to the vanilla and chocolate twist custard with sprinkles.

I'm told the franchise will soon open in West Boca, West Boynton and East Boca. In the meantime, you can partake in a FREE Italian ice to celebrate spring's arrival by heading to the Boynton Beach location, 1015 Gateway Boulevard, this Thursday between noon and 9 p.m.

On a totally different subject, I was treated to this little nugget the other day as I picked up a very ornery little boy from the bath and tried to put him on his bed to put on his pajamas. Suddenly, inexplicably and irrationally, Elias began hollering and crying, "Mommy, I'm going to throw you away!"

"Okay," I said, resigned.

Evan piped in.

"You can't throw Mommy away. She's too heavy."

"Thanks," I said drily.

One second later, my angel changed his mind.

"No, you can't throw Mommy in the trash because she's too beautiful," Evan said with a smile.

Atta boy.

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Lily lost her first tooth this week. She's 5.

I don't have much time so I'm going to tell you the contents of her letter to the Tooth Fairy, complete with her spelling errors:

"I love to go to the store because I can run in the store it is fun it is loveubl And it is cool and it is. 1. Storey.''

"I love to play cech becase it is fun I like to play cech it is fun. 2. Storey''

"I lost a tooth I wut sum mune frum the tooth fairy I lost 2 teth I wut sum muny.''

Lily believes in the Tooth Fairy. And that is because we told her there is a cute little Tooth Fairy flying around out there.

But she also asked us yesterday: "Are leprechauns real?''

OF COURSE NOT!!!! we answered. I mean, how absurd.

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I walked into the preschool, camera and videocamera packed, a bundle of nerves. I wondered how Evan was faring, just minutes before he would accompany his classroom to sing two songs for the preschool's spring program. Once inside the hall where the show was to take place, I saw a crowd of what had to be at least 200 people. Oh dear God, what is Evan, my sometimes timid little boy, going to do when he sees so many faces staring up at him?

Sitting with a couple of moms, we all copped to a fear that we would be the parent of the child who starts crying inconsolably on stage. And we all pretty much had decided that $45 was a bit too much to spend for chicken and a few songs.

The program started. We sat through the presentations of two other classrooms (yeah, yeah, you're cute -- move along) before the songs of Classroom No. 7 began. There he was. He had an expression on his face that I'd never seen before. Not fear, not exactly confidence. A look that told me that if it weren't for the fact that none of his other classmates seemed scared, he might have been the kid who cried. That probably wasn't obvious to anyone but me, and I gave him a casual thumbs-up when he caught my eye.

The two songs ("Farmer in the Dell" and a little-known ditty called "The Tractor Goes Chug Chug Chug") were over in a flash. Evan sang every word, loudly I might add, and though he forgot a couple of some of the arm motions most of the kids was doing, he did GREAT. The whole thing was ridiculously adorable. Got it on video, of course.

I left before lunch was served, and picked Evan up a little early from his classroom. Gave him a big hug, told him how proud I was. He seemed rather nonchalant by then, but I could tell he was tickled. Made me almost forget that the darn thing cost me $45.

Almost.

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OMG, Cabbage Patch Kids are back!

Not the new-fangled corn-silk-haired dolls or those freaky premies, but the old-school cabbies with yarn for hair.

When the dolls were released in 1983, my dad was among the mass of parents, at a Toys R Us off Biscayne Blvd and 125th St., in the queue to "adopt" a Cabbage Patch Kid.

Rachel is still with me. After years of living on a closet shelf, she now has a loving home in my daughter's toy chest.

Baby loves to pluck Rachel from the chest and drag her (by the hair) around the room, stopping to kiss the doll's cheek or sit on her stomach.

Since the Cabbage Patch phenomenon, there has been mania over Barney, Tickle Me Elmo and Dora the Explorer.

What doll did your kid HAVE to have?

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I haven't checked it out yet, but I thought I'd give a shout-out to a locally produced television show that is embracing the topic near and dear to all of us: parenting. Recently launched by the Children's Services Council of Palm Beach County's Parenting Center, Positive Parenting Today airs on PBC TV Channel 20.

The shows are focusing on topics such as mentoring, discipline, developmental stages and dealing with teen stressors. We can all use a little help with at least one of those subjects, am I right? Or am I right?

In a Jan. 13 Sun-Sentinel community news story by special correspondent Lisa Goddard, CSC's chief executive officer Tana Ebbole said the show has been a "team effort" and something the folks at the Parenting Center have been talking about doing for years.

Created in 2001, the Parenting Center offers workshops throughout the county -- about 200 free classes a month. For those who can't make the workshops, the TV program might fill in that gap.

If you live in Palm Beach County and want to check it out, tune in to Channel 20, which airs educational and government programming, on Mondays at 8 p.m., Fridays at 9 a.m. or Saturdays at 3 p.m. Hey, you can watch it tonight!!!

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Of all the countless parenting dilemmas out there, I never thought I'd face this one, at least not at this early stage. My son, 2 1/2, has turned his yearlong obsession with the alphabet into the ability to read. At first I thought he was just recognizing certain words that he remembers from his favorite books or videos, then I realized he's actually reading.

We were at Babies R Us the other day when he said, "bab." I looked up, and sure enough, most of the store's sign was blocked and he was reading what he saw. My husband took him to the bank the other day and Elias announced "Drive-Through ATM." And this weekend we were at Old Navy waiting at the cash register when he saw a sign (in reverse, mind you, on the store's glass meant for patrons coming toward the store) and said "Baby and kids." That's not even the half of it. He can read practically any three-letter word and lots of simple four-letter words too.

What's the problem, you may ask? Of course, I'm pleased and proud of my little guy. He's super-smart. But my older son Evan is pretty smart too. He's starting to read too, which I think is pretty normal for a 4-year-old. He sounds every letter out, while Elias instinctively just says what he thinks, which is right most of the time.

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By Cindy Kent
Fort Lauderdale mother of three

So help me, yes, I did tell him there was no Santa Claus.

Now, five years later, I'm in the dog house, for that bit of indiscretion.

It came back to haunt me just the other day when my family was sitting on the couch admiring the Christmas tree we had decorated. That's when my 12-year-old son Tom looked to my significant other with baleful eyes and said, "Mom told me there is no Santa Claus."

Then they both glared at me with that unspoken how-could-you look.

So, from the witness stand, (my end of the couch) I recounted what happened:

Back then, my son was seven years old when he cornered me in our laundry room: "Mom, tell me the truth, " Tom said as he blocked the exit. "Is Santa Claus for real?"

"Why yes," I quickly answered. "He's in the hearts of people all ages all over the world."

"But is he a person?" Tom dug deeper.

"Yes, he was known as Saint Nicholas. And through the ages and different cultures, he has lived on," I responded.

"Mom, I want to believe you, but if it's not true, I'll be really disappointed," he sighed.

Gads -- where does he get his material?

"He's real in spirit," I said. (I know -- I talk too much.)

Tom comforted me at that point, letting me believe he was OK with the truth.

"It's all right," he said, patting me on the shoulder. "You can still put presents under the tree after I go to sleep and pretend about Santa," he said softly. "Thanks," I said.

After telling my woeful tale, Tom enjoying every ounce of sympathy for having his childhood Christmas wrenched from him, Tom decided to make an announcement.

With an impish smile, the little dear said, "At least, I still believe in the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny!"

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When we named our son, we were in our early 20s. We had no kids. We weren't even married.

We were carefree.

We surely didn't know that in the new millennium, society would still be so rigid about middle names. We named our son Fulton Creed Norman, intending that he would be called Creed.

Let me warn anyone considering that kind of brazen, rebellious move: American society will resist at every turn the idea of calling a person by his or her middle name. You will spend the first 18 years correcting strangers.

Take him to the doctor? The nurse comes into the waiting room and hollers, "Fulton Norman?''

Sign him up for sports? The application form doesn't include Middle Name. No one cares about Middle Names. It's considered useless, an appendix of sorts.

Apparently 99 percent of the people around us must be going by their first names, and thus people like Creed are a rare breed, the offspring of parents who are apparently quite stupid and have no cultural knowledge of the country in which they live.

I lie now. I claim that Creed is his first name.

But the school system knows better. Creed's teachers who do not appreciate his humorous distractions from the lessons at hand call him by his first name just to bug him.

When he 'graduated' from elementary, the teacher reading the kids' names purposefully announced him as "Fulton Norman,'' with a snide grin. That teacher was a funny guy, not mean spirited.

But now Creed has a teacher who is extremely unimpressed by his comedic talents, and his lack of pencil or paper on occasion. She refuses to call him Creed, and she's not joking.
I've sent her a few emails about other issues (she told us at Seminole Middle School's Open House that she prefers a "to the point' email and doesn't like to chit chat on the phone).

In emails to her, I always introduced myself as "I'm Creed's mom (You call him Fulton)." She didn't get the hint. Finally I expressed my opinion this week that her refusal to call him by his name is ridiculous and shows a lack of respect. Here's what she wrote back:

"Thank you for calling to my attention that you would like Creed to be called by his middle name. According to the school's data base he is listed as Norman, Fulton C.''

What does that mean? She's refusing?

I think it's outrageous.

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The letter from the room parents in my 4-year-old's classroom gave me a bit of a jolt. The holidays were coming -- it was a perfect time for all of us to show our appreciation for the great job done by our children's teachers, the letter suggested. The room moms kindly informed me that they were collecting for a gift for his three teachers, and they helpfully suggested the amount for each parent to contribute. $50. What are they getting them, a plasma TV?

Well, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas and a Jolly Kwanzaa to me. Am I the only person who thinks $50 is a bit steep? I have a friend who's an elementary school teacher, so the concept of gifting at the holidays is not entirely foreign to me, but the whole letter kind of caught me off guard. My son goes to school everyday for four hours, in a classroom for 3-year-old (but that's not another blog), and it's our first experience in a school setting. So I'm learning as I go along.

I don't doubt for a minute that teachers are underpaid. They do deserve a lovely gift around the holidays. But why can't I make the decision on how much I want to spend, and what I want to give? I consulted with my wise and noble friend, who I think is probably in the minority here, and she told me that she feels uncomfortable with the whole idea of gifting. I told her the amount and she was flabbergasted. In fact, this year her classroom is donating what they would have collected for a teacher gift to an animal rescue charity.

I know I don't HAVE to follow what the letter says. But will I be a marked parent? The letter didn't seem to present any other options. Am I going to be that mom who is viewed as cheap? Fifty bucks is fifty bucks. I'd love to hear from other moms and teachers!

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Well, we went out and did it. Got ourselves a minivan. (I know it's not the greenest choice, but it had to be done. With two carseats in the back seat of our crossover Mitsubishi, it was impossible to fit anything else in the car other than the four of us.)

OK, so it may be a cliche to write about how we've totally succumbed to the suburban parenthood trap that is buying a minivan. Too bad. Now that we've had it for about two weeks, I can write about how very lovely it is to drive and how very excruciatingly frustrating it can be to drive it with two little boys who constantly want to flip every switch.

It's a gently used model. We were looking at two minivans, one was a newer, basic no-frills model with Stow and Go. The other was slightly older but fully loaded. To me, the convenience of keyless entry, power windows and automatic everything, including side doors, was far more alluring than stowing away luggage underneath the seats. I didn't count on the annoyance factor of automatic everything.

My younger son now cries because he wants to hold the keys and push the button. My older son insists on being the one to open and close his door. (Why, oh why did they put a button on the side of the door that he can reach with his foot?) Open. Close. Open. Close.

AAAAAAGH!

Oh yeah, and there's the little matter of the DVD player. While I wanted to establish a rule that the kids were not going to watch TV during short trips around town (the main purpose of that thing is that we're driving to North Carolina next month ... 'nuff said), my husband thought it would be harmless to let them watch whenever they wanted. Which basically means, every time we get in the car. While for four years I had managed to avoid playing kid music in my car, I'm now forced to listen to the not-so-sweet sounds of kid TV.

What about you guys? Any ground rules for DVD playing in the van? Will the novelty ever wear off?

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First, a confession: When my daughters were young, I bought enough plastic toys made in China with enough tiny parts and magnets and maybe even lead paint (for all I knew) to kill a kid for sure.

My children survived.

That's because they never played with most of it.

My girls were not enamored of the Fisher Price dollhouse with all its plastic furniture and plastic people and plastic pets. I was.

They could not care less for Barbie, except when their friends came over, stripped off her clothes and made Wedding Barbie ride horses while Dr. Barbie was tossed in a corner, and Horsewoman Barbie tended the pediatric nursery filled with the little preschool Barbie wannabes. When their friends left, my girls tossed Barbie's accoutrements into the nearest bin and never looked back.
I loved Barbie when I was little, and I could not resist buying all her wonderful things when I had money of my own and girl children to give me an excuse, even though they did not share the passion.

My girls did like the teeny-tiny Polly Pockets with their little magnets, but only for the minute it took before half the set was lost in the couch cushions. They also liked the larger Polly with her odd rubber clothes, but those things lasted about as long as a Happy Meal toy.

My children did not need that any of that stuff. The only toys I remember either of them actually playing with were some hand puppets, a baby doll and a play kitchen. (But not the hundreds of pieces of plastic food that I just had to buy.)

Abby always has preferred a book to any toy. Beth always has loved movies and music. These were much better gifts than any plastic crapola I could ever buy.

Please, parents, learn from my excess. Take your money to the book store, where you can buy safe things that will entertain your children for hours, not the toy aisle, which despite recalls, may still proffer danger. Check out as this story in the Sun-Sentinel.

Buy tickets to live children's theater or a kids' concert instead of another piece of licensed merchandise. Buy some balls and teach your kid how to throw and catch, shoot hoops and complete a pass.

If you must have "toys," invest in some good blocks, some non-toxic paints and some puzzles you can do with your child. Put the money you save by not buying all that cheap, meaningless, useless and possibly dangerous junk into a 529 plan for college.

Trust me. When your children are teens, you will be very, very glad you did.

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By Cindy Kent
Sun-Sentinel Writer

It was the second time this school year that my son's school was in "lockdown." No one comes in. No one leaves. The students don't change classes.

Tom was recounting the day's drama this week, when inmate Michael Mazza shot and killed Broward Deputy Paul Rein.

The students got one bathroom break in the 5-hour episode. Students were not allowed to walk across the classroom, avoiding passing doorways and windows. A free lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches was delivered to every room and student.

I detected excitement in Tom's voice. I asked him if he had felt safe. He said yes and that it was fun, though he was disappointed to miss some of his classes.

Don't make phone calls, the teacher said. Don't answer any phones. The concern, they said, was that certain sounds and clicks may spark a bomb -- and since the group was not initially informed of why there was a lockdown, all precautions were taken.

Meanwhile, I knew what was going on and was confident Tom was safe and well cared for.

At the end of the day, when the family was together and we were talking about it, Tom said he had wished he'd know the purpose of the lockdown. I agreed. I think it's better to know.

But like any good student, Tom is equipped with the "essentials" in his bookbag. "I have a stress ball in my backpack," he said, "and we all took turns playing with it."

Cindy Kent is Fort Lauderdale mother of three.

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I think it's good to have children for the simple reason they keep you humble.

Sure, for a few glorious years, they build you up as if you were queen of the universe. They cry when you leave them. They throw their arms around you when you return. It's just great.

And then, they start to see the real you.

"Mommy," says Erika in the checkout line at Target, "you have a big pimple."

Yes, Erika. Thank you, darling. I am well, well, past adolescence, and yet, there it is. Big as life.

"How long are you going to be gone?" asks Alec, when I remind him my sisters and I are taking Grandma to New York for the weekend to see the Rockettes. "Can't you be gone for, like, a month? It's better when it's just Daddy at home."

Thanks, son. I'll miss you, too.

And then there's this startling realization. I am a man -- according to my Florida's driver's license. The kids discovered this when they were analyzing why I don't have any wrinkles in my postage-stamped size photo.

For years, apparently, I have been "M" instead of "F." I always wondered why cashiers gave me funny looks -- I thought it was the haircut. So now it's time to renew my license, and I am trying to explain to the DMV that I have not had a sex change operation.

Ignorance was bliss.

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By Cindy Kent
Reporter Assistant

My desk at work is my home. Rather, there are remnants of my home at my desk. That includes a flip-flops motif and just a lot of stuff.

But I needed one more thing to make the feng shui complete.

A memento of each of my children: A few tiny cinder blocks represent my older son's masonry work. Photos of my daughter show how active she is.

But what would represent my youngest son, Tom? I decided to ask him, especially since he would notice if I swiped one of his toys.

So I told him it would be really cool to have something to put on my desk, perhaps a little car, one of his key chains from his collection, or an action figure. I really emphasized my desire for the action figure. OK, I begged.

After sifting through his treasures, he came up with the perfect thing -- a tiny Tarzan.

Making sure he had eye contact with me, and with one hand on his hip, he handed it over with an admonition of sorts.

"Mom," he said somewhat indignantly, "you don't really need this -- I am your action figure."

Cindy Kent is a Fort Lauderdale mother of three.

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Let's stop the praising madness! OK, full disclosure: I have been guilty of some excessive praising. "Good job," I might say to Elias as he places the airplane puzzle piece in the huge airplane slot. "Great job," I've said to Evan on countless other occasions, some worthy, others not.

Of all the articles I've read in recent times about the whole over-praising thing, in which experts have warned our generation of parents against continuously complimenting our kids, this one from New York magazine is probably the most enlightening, and I wanted to share.

It's pretty long, but worth the read. Here are some of the highlights, taken directly from the article by Po Bronson:

- 85 percent of American parents think it's important to tell their kids they are smart, according to a Columbia University survey cited in the story.

-Giving kids the "smart" label does not prevent them from underperforming, and might actually cause it.

-Here was perhaps the most insightful part of the story. It involves an experiment on fifth-graders, in which groups of kids were given easy puzzles to complete. One group was praised for intelligence ("You must be smart at this.") Others were praised for their effort ("You must have worked really hard.").

The students were then given a choice for the second round of tests, one was more of a challenge, the other was a similar puzzle as the first. The majority of the kids praised for their intelligence chose the easy test, while 90 percent of those praised for their effort chose the harder test.

Psychologist Carol Dweck, who led the study, wrote: "When we praise children for their intelligence, we tell them that this is the name of the game: Look smart, don't risk making mistakes."

The experiment went on in other stages, and I won't regurgitate the details here (that's why you should read the article). I found the effect that praise had on these kids to be fascinating, and I'm going to think twice about the way I praise my own kids. The story also goes on to discuss issues of self-esteem and describes other praise studies. Check it out.

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The last few years I've dressed up as Carrie in the famous horror movie. I had blood all over me. I take a whole crew of little kids trick-or-treating each year, and I slather fake blood over anyone who wants it

I'm not into the goody-two-shoes Halloween costumes where the boys go dressed as golden gourds and the girls are ballerinas.
One of my colleagues, Tim Collie, wants to talk to parents about this issue. Here's what he wrote to me:
I'm looking for parents to talk to me about the "gore line" -- where they would draw it in an age of Jason or Freddy Krueger masks, as well as all kinds of oozing grotesquries. I want them to compare Halloween for them as children, and Halloween now in these scare terms. My number is 954-356-4573, or they can email me (tcollie@sun-sentinel.com).
Will you help out a fellow reporter?
Thanks.

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This woman must be a fly on the wall in my house....and I'm sure dads can relate, too.

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Here's evidence that your voices on transParent can have a direct impact on our community:

Broward School Board member Stephanie Kraft this week proposed that the district explore ways to tone down its FCAT frenzy after reading a post by transParent blogger Vicki McCash Brennan. The FCAT has long been a pet peeve of Kraft, who opposes how the standardized test has consumed education in the classroom. She already had been thinking about bringing the issue to the board’s attention.

“When I saw that [post], I thought ‘My God, this is exactly where I’m going with this,’” said Stephanie, who first became frustrated with the FCAT as the mother of a daughter in the school system.

In her post, which also was published in the Sun-Sentinel’s Sunday Lifestyle section, blogger Vicki detailed her surprise and frustration at how upfront her daughter’s English teacher was about framing lesson plans around the FCAT. There would be no other curriculum until after the test in February, the teacher announced at the school’s open house.

The post clearly struck a nerve, as dozens of you posted comments, including a few teachers.

“It absolutely summed up what it’s like to be a parent of a child in the school system today,” said Stephanie, who first read the post in the paper. “I could have written it myself.”

So to all of you transParent readers: Keep reading and participating in the dialogue about raising our children.

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I caved. Yep, I have to confess to the world that I am all talk. With just two days until my 4-year-old birthday party, a close friend mentioned that one of her student's parents own a bounce house business. I checked out their website and saw the very cool-looking purple Triceratops bounce house. I was sold. All my railings against party excess went out the window.

Of course, I'm already justifying to myself that a bounce house really isn't excessive (because aren't kids automatically attracted to other kids' toys, and couldn't all the darn toys in my house have kept 10 kids occupied?). Could we have done without it? Yes. Was it in my party budget? Not really? Was it worth it? I heartily say yes, especially because the kids had a fantastic time, and the weather cooperated.

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With less than a week to go until Evan's 4th birthday party, we are in panic level red in my household. Correction -- I am in full panic level -- I don't think my husband really cares and Evan expects everything to go swimmingly.

Why the stress/anxiety/panic over a 4-year-old's party, you may ask? Well, I suppose I wouldn't be in a tizzy if I had just invited the usual suspects (family and friends who have always been part of Evan's life). But now with Evan in preschool, that opened up a new wrinkle. Invite the whole class, even though he's only known these kids for a month? I was not ready for that. 18 kids in my cozy home? No thanks. So at the risk of raising eyebrows among the moms, I let Evan invite the three kids that he seems to hang with the most. (Don't worry, I didn't send the invites to the school, I don't know much, but I do know that's a no-no.)

So now I'm faced with having about 10 kids plus their parents in my house. What to do? It's really HOT outside. I don't have a pool. I've wrestled with the idea of a bounce house, just to keep them busy and get them all tuckered out. But that goes against my previous stance against out-of-control parties. Plus it's not really in my budget. Then again, I haven't completely ruled it out. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

I emailed a magician to find out his prices. His website was promising. I thought the kids would find him hilarious. He promptly emailed me back. Forty-five minutes of his time would cost me $450. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

What to do? I'm sure they can entertain each other, right? And what about food? It's at 3 p.m. That's strategic on my part -- doesn't that mean I can get away with not serving a full meal? Or do people still expect to load up their plates? Can't I just do cake, chips and fruit?

I realize I need to relax. But this is new territory. What are those parents going to think of my lame little party? Do I care? I shouldn't. It only matters that Evan and the kids have a great time, right? Oh, and my resolve about goodie bags is melting as well. Why am I taking my angst about out-of-control parties out on the kids? Candy and favors are not going to break the bank. Bounce houses and magicians will.

Steer me to the Pin the Tail on the Donkey games at the party store, then give me a glass of wine, and I'll be fine.

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Looking for a gift idea for a kid? Browsing through the Cool Mom Picks website recently, I came across a link for some unique T-shirts for kids.

Now, I usually don't pay more than $10 for a shirt for a little one, but these shirts are so irresistibly adorable that I didn't mind plunking down $18.95 plus shipping.

Here's the ingenious idea from Amy Lam, who runs Alex and Jett, her T-shirt company named after her two sons. Go online, pick a theme (trucks, dinosaurs, rockets, etc for boys, flowers, princess for girls).

She has created ways to incorporate your child's name, place of birth and year of birth into the design. I ordered the Evanasaurus Rex shirt for Evan (Roaming Boynton Beach since 2003) and the Captain Elias rocket shirt for Eli (service to Mars since 2005, Boynton Beach). I also ordered one for the daughter of a friend. You could do something like "Emily's Flower Garden, Bloom'n since 2001; Boca Raton).

I just received the package last night, and the quality is as good as I had hoped, plus my boys loved their shirts. I also was impressed with the handwritten note included in the package.

Not only do I recommend these as gifts, but I also like the idea of supporting the home business of a fellow mom. And no, I don't know her!

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By Cindy Kent
Sun-Sentinel Staff Writer

The pen is mightier than a computer or BlackBerry. The value of a hand-written note -- no matter how effortless e-mail is -- is priceless.

When my daughter was looking for her own place to live, she tapped a family friend as a reference. She got the place.

A few days later, I got a call from that friend: "What have you done to your children?" she asked. She laughed, but she was really touched too. She said it just blew her way to receive a "handwritten thank you note for being a reference."

I had no idea, and I was so proud.

My youngest, Tom, age 12, developed a tradition several years back of making his own "cards" for people. For special milestones and holidays, he writes each individual a letter, in his own handwriting. Unplugged. Unedited. It's one of the "gifts" we look forward to receiving now.

This past holiday, we gave Tom a quill pen and ink as a gift. He returned the gesture two-fold when he wrote all his thank-you notes to everyone with that pen. He even impressed himself: He'd been reading a series of classics and said: "Mom, this is how everyone used to write in the old days, like presidents and maybe even Homer."

Cindy Kent is a Fort Lauderdale mother of three.

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So it’s finally happened. This year, my daughter has teachers who have thrown out all pretense of teaching anything other than FCAT.

Last night at her school’s open house, I sat, stunned, as her English teacher explained that there would be no curriculum other than FCAT practice until after the writing test in February. This is for a class of the most advanced students in the school. “I don’t teach any literature at all until after that time,” the English teacher said. “I’m sure you all understand.”

I don’t understand. Not at all. I’m speechless.

The principal pops her head in the classroom to cheerily tell us parents that this teacher was responsible for ten children scoring the top score of 6 on the FCAT writing exam last year. She’s just great, the principal says. The best in the school!

You know what? I don’t care what my kid gets on that test. I’d prefer that she enjoy expressing herself writing. I’d like for her to be challenged to think creatively. I wish her teachers might at least try not to suck the last bit of pleasure she takes in learning right out of her.

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All I can say is thank goodness my girls have outgrown Barbie and Polly Pocket, because I would be in a major fury over this latest Mattel recall if they were still young enough to play with those toys.

"How many little kids are going to understand that?" my daughter Beth said. "They're just going to think you're mean to take away all their toys. They're going to wonder what they did wrong."

You can't let children play with lead-tainted toys. Young children are most vulnerable, because their brains and nervous system are still being formed. According to the National Safety Council, "even very low levels of exposure can result in reduced IQ, learning disabilities, attention deficit disorders, behavioral problems, stunted growth, impaired hearing, and kidney damage."

No Barbie accessory -- and no toddler tantrum -- is worth that. But it has to be a delicate matter to collect and dispose of toys that your child enjoys. Beth is right. It's not going to be easy to explain to a 3-year-old why she can't play with her Barbie Dream Puppy House or her Barbie kitchen chairs. Sure, it's going to feel like a punishment even though she did nothing wrong. And it's not like you can just go out and get something new -- although some parents will. Not every family is going to have money to replace the bad toys.

I'd love to hear how you're all handling this. What works? What doesn't?

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First of all, I should disclose that I probably shouldn't even be using the word "shy." My husband absolutely hates it. Multiple people have used the word to describe our older son, Evan, who turns 4 next month. My husband thinks it has a negative connotation and that it possibly sets up our son to be shy for the rest of his life if he keeps hearing it.

Although I'm not entirely on board with that theory and I think it's a word that people who meet Evan have used for lack of a better word and because they don't really know him, I'm not ready to throw it out either. And I don't appreciate that my dictionary's first definition of shy is "easily frightened."

Evan was never a daycare baby, but has been exposed to other kids through playground visits, some play dates, occasional visits with cousins and the like. It has always taken him at least half an hour to warm up to kids, but then he has a great time. I notice it seems like he's always thinking, watching, taking everything in before he acts.

On Saturday we went to the birthday party of a close friend's son, who turned 5. All of the birthday boy's friends were there that he sees on an everyday basis. They were strangers, naturally, to Evan. So Evan hung back, never straying from my side. Never participated in playing with any of the kids and did not really even want to stand in line for a piece of cake without me.

I have to say, it was painful. Because the Evan that I know is strong-willed, funny, loud, and even a bit of a daredevil at home. He'll have extended conversations with adults but all of a sudden become meek with other kids. It makes me wonder how much of his personality is influenced by parenting and what have we possibly done to contribute to this. Have I hovered? Did we keep him at home too long? He is a sweet, sweet kid -- so bright. I know he wants more friends, he's already naming kids from his preschool and talking about inviting them to his party. But there is something holding him back.

I'm wondering whether he will always be so reserved, so timid with kids or whether he can still outgrow this, and what I might be able to do to push it along without it backfiring on me. I'm also wondering if I'm overreacting. I'd be interested in hearing from other parents with "shy" kids.

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I’m the editor of a parenting magazine. This gives me license to tell myself I need to be the perfect mom. It wouldn’t do for me to be a lousy parent.

When my children were little, I tried to run everything. I was the chairperson of the school advisory forum and a member of the school advisory committee. When something wasn't right at the school, by golly, I would fix it.

I read to my daughters every day from the time they were born until they started reading faster than I do. Now, I just discuss the books they read.

I make healthy home-cooked meals, and insist that they do the same when it's their turn to cook.

When she was younger, I signed up my poor older daughter for every imaginable activity except the one that it turns out she might really have loved: martial arts. Who knew? She was a bookworm. I thought the arts and outdoors would hold more appeal.

I became the Girl Scout leader, and proceeded to control things to the point that I had almost no other adult help – except from the other alpha moms in the group. (Of course.)

Did I mention that I work full time, I'm happily married (which means I do try to pay attention to my husband), I help care for my centenarian grandmother in Boca, and my kids are honor students?

I could go on, but I won’t. Instead I challenge you: Are you an alpha mom, too? Do you think it’s a good thing for your kids that you are?

Just so you know, I don’t think my alpha-mominess is all that great for anyone in my family. I never really have time to do it all, and it makes us all kinda nuts when I try. Truth is, I'm learning to let go of my alpha self before I drive my kids, my husband and myself right off the deep end.

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I've always vowed I would stay sane when it came to planning a birthday party for my kids. Nothing elaborate. No clowns, no magicians. No renting of any equipment whatsoever. I always figured that cake, snacks and friends would be more than enough to entertain guests and make my kids happy.

But my resolve is slowly shrinking. My son's 4th birthday is coming up. I'm planning to have some friends over. Fortunately, I'm not in a place yet where I feel obligated to invite his whole camp classroom or all of the neighborhood kids. Just some friends and their kids. But I have to admit, I'm having doubts.

Will the kids be bored? Will people snicker behind my back when they see I only have some lame appetizers and games? While I don't want to spend a fortune for a party, I'm now prepared to make some concessions in my previously militant stance against out-of-control parties. Maybe just a bounce house, or a super-cool slip and slide, I'm thinking.

When I start to get too carried away, I simply check out this site, Birthdays Without Pressure, and get a reality check. It's run by a social science professor hoping to spark a movement. It's a refreshing attitude, but I'm afraid it won't get any traction in South Florida.

So while I might buckle and rent SOMETHING to elevate my sons' party -- not for me -- but to make him happy -- I'm not budging (this year, at least) on another hateful ritual: goodie bags! Message to anyone who's coming over in a couple weeks: prepare your kid and tell them to load up on cake at the party because that mean ol' Nancy didn't get goodie bags.

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Lily, welcome to the liquor store.
On July 1, it became a serious crime to leave your child alone in a car. State legislators felt they had to pass this law because of the 5 percent or so of parents out there in our state who have no common sense and should not be allowed to breed. Such as people who would leave a baby in a hot car while going to bet on horses in Pompano.
That's serious, stuff, I agree. Similar to placing a child in a microwave oven and hitting the "popcorn'' button.
Not sure if you read the story we had about this, when it became law.
The only time I leave my kids in the car alone is when I go the liquor store to buy beer. (How's that for a campaign slogan?)
I run in there for 5 minutes. I think it's fine. Especially since this liquor store was once held up by an armed robber.
I keep reading about how fast a car becomes a sauna when the windows are up,
so I leave a window slightly cracked. (Will this delay the sauna effect? The stories really haven't said. But I assume so.)
Now I have to worry about an officer quizzing my 5 year old to determine whether I've committed a traffic infraction (for leaving child 1 to 14 minutes), a misdemeanor of the second degree (15 minutes or more) or a felony of the third degree (child suffers permanent damage, other than loneliness).

You could ask my daughter ANYTHING and she would say yes.
"Are you hot, little girl? Are your toes feeling numb? Have you been in here for four and a half hours?''
So I'll either have to take my chances at jail time, or introduce Lily to the tequila and whiskey.
Meanwhile, since the law only applies to kids younger than 6, I can leave my 12-year-old son, Creed, sweltering in the car while I go bet on horses in Pompano.
Thanks, Tallahassee.

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Kids are bound to disagree with each other. And they disagree most often with those with whom they share the closest quarters and emotional intimacy: their brothers and sisters.

So says a KidsHealth KidsPoll released today. In the poll of 1,245 kids ages 9-13, 28 percent said they argue with other kids every day and 25 percent do it every week. In all, 64 percent of kids said there's a disagreement at home at least weekly. And more than half of the kids said that the person with whom they fight the most is their brother or sister.

Whew. That's a lot of arguing. The good news of the survey is that a third of kids reported that when they disagree, they ultimately talk it out or work it out.

The bad news is that 26 percent reported that they hit or get physical in a fight. And 18 percent said they use mean words or yell.

No kids are born knowing how to resolve conflicts, but conflict is normal and inevitable. As parents, our job is to teach kids how to disagree without using their fists.

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So, the emails were split. (OK, one for, one against) in response to my question as to whether I should let my son break the rules and use a cell phone at sleepaway camp.

The arguments were as expected: Following the rules vs. keeping your child secure.

Meanwhile, another update: At this camp, apparently you can email your camper with a "Bunk Note," to be printed out and placed on his pillow. My wife signed up for it. Our theories are different on this. I believe being so prominent in his sleepaway experience can upset him, kind of like a constant poke. She believes it makes him more secure.

Again, need some advice here. Communicate or leave him the heck alone?

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From the Poynter Institute's Chip Scanlan, who teaches journalists the world over how to write.

Other than the fact that I've been compared to Ray Barone, I like what he wrote.

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You know what I'm talking about. The (mostly) unspoken war in a restaurant, between the tables with kids and the tables without.

Look, I'm not one of those parents who thinks their kids can do no wrong. I'm really not. With an almost 2-year-old and an almost 4-year-old, my husband and I generally stay away from restaurants because it's a lot to ask of the boys to stay still and mind their manners for that long, and, let's face it, it's really not that fun of an outing for us.

But our kids are actually pretty mild-mannered. And they deserve a treat every once in awhile. So I headed out to Pete Rose Ballpark Cafe for lunch with the boys recently. It was a weekday, I figured it wouldn't be very busy and we could have a fairly uneventful lunch. I didn't know we'd be sitting next to The Most Crotchety and Humorless Woman in the World.

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One of the more fun parts of my job as editor of South Florida Parenting is that I receive a constant flow of new books for parents, some good, some bad, some for extremely narrow audiences within the parent community, such as those for children with a specific diagnosis within the spectrum of austim-related disorders or a book for orthodox Jewish parents of teens.

In the past months, a few books have caught more than my passing attention, and so I’m passing them on to you, in case one of these books catches your fancy, too.

Just in time for summer, The Fun Book for Moms offers 102 ideas to help families connect with each other. Most of the advice is simple, good fun: “On a road trip, listen to Harry Potter on tape.” “Have a watermelon seed-spitting contest in your backyard.” Or my favorite: “Put a rubber band around the sink sprayer so when the kids turn on the water, they get sprayed in the face.” ($12.95 list price.)

If you’re like my family and not likely to get out of the state this summer, you could try a vacation to someplace other than Orlando. Not that I have anything against Disney and Universal, mind you, but Florida has many, many other destinations and some of them are possibly even more fun than a day at a theme park. Kids Love Florida is the latest in a cottage-industry of Florida family travel books. This book by veteran travelers George and Michele Zavatsky focuses on the natural and offbeat, giving as much space, for example, to several Florida state parks as it does to Walt Disney World. For ideas about things to do with 7- to 12-year-olds, try this book. (Self-published, $14.95) If you’re looking for an in-depth travel guide, though, there are better ones out there. Try the Unofficial Guide to Florida instead.

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My 2 ½-year-old son sometimes calls me homie. And I love it.

Some people think it’s a ghetto term. But, when I was growing up, homie was a term of endearment my friends and I used with each other. Hearing my son use it with me makes me remember those days.

Not that I want my son to be just like me. Well, maybe I do. My wife and I did name him after me.

But is that so bad? Before I was a dad, I thought so. In fact, I used to make fun of parents who raised their children in their own likeness, like those dads who played sports in high school who later encourage, sometimes demand, their sons play the same sports. Or the fathers who have long hair and an earring walking around with sons with long hair and an earring.

Now that I’m sort of in that club, it doesn’t seem so wrong. I loved Hot Wheels when I was a boy. Now I love watching my boy play with them too. Maybe I even got him hooked by buying him a new Hot Wheel every chance I get.

I’m sure there is some line out there I don’t want to cross. I certainly don’t want my son to inherit my terrible sense of direction (Yes, I get lost often and never ask for directions) or my lack of patience or my profound ability to lose my keys or wallet just before I head out the door.

On the other hand, having a mini-me around does provide an inner joy that I never knew existed. I do want my son to grow up to be his own man, so I’ll try not to carry this Daddy Xerox thing too far. But I won’t stop calling him homie like my best friends called me back in the day.

After all, my son is my best friend now.

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I really think summer is overrated. It's not the heat and the hurricanes that get me steamed.

It's the unrealistic expectations that we'll have all this free time, that summer will be relaxing and FUN! That the kids will read for an hour every day, they'll brush up on their math skills. We'll visit museums and the beach. It'll be FUN!

Instead...scheduling is even more complicated than during the school year. We spend all of April trying to get Kid A to agree to go to Camp Z (the one that doesn't require a second mortgage) with Friends B, C and D.

Then, between shuffling kids between Camp This and Camp That, there are all those play dates that turn into sleepovers for days on end. Wet towels and swimming suits all over the house. Disney Channel marathons.

THEN.... There's the honey-do list I leave for my husband the teacher. More unfulfilled expections. And you would think my husband (THE TEACHER!!) would create some enriching activities for the kids. Instead, every evening after a long day at the office, I get a blow-by-blow about what happened on Law & Order, Oprah and Dr. Phil. (Last summer, we changed our household budgeting system, thanks to Oprah.)

So this is why I look to summer not with anticipation ... but with longing.

How come everyone else gets to have so much fun?

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I am a terrible artist. My drawing abilities ceased to develop at about third grade. Hence, my portfolio is limited: Butterflies, turtles, sun, birds (the ones that look like an "m" flying in the sky), trees and flowers.

My parents, bless them, never made me feel like I couldn't draw. They kept every painfully ugly card I designed for Mother's Day, Father's Day, Christmas, Easter, Valentine's and birthdays. A few years ago, my mother sent me a package full of cards I had made on construction paper as a child. Without dates on them, I really couldn't decipher if I was five or 15 when I drew them. Yes, I'm that bad.

My son, who is not yet three years old, will soon surpass my skills -- and he can't even write yet. I've begun a stash in my closet of all the "projects" he has worked on at day care. Some are little more than an errant crayon streak across a page. But I can't bear to part with them. Perhaps it's my inner hope that he will not inherit his mother's art handicap.

For this Mother's Day, maybe, just maybe, I'll get a piece of paper with a few colorful lines. And I'll be proud.

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Are you really out there, you parents who try in all seriousness to maintain your pre-baby lifestyle with baby in tow?

The Today Show last week informed me of this term "grupster," pronounced "group-ster" which is some sort of derivative of yuppie, hipster and "grup," a term coined by an early Star Trek episode about a planet ruled by children.

I tried to find this term on the World Wide Web, which usually has plenty to say on most trends, and found only this one article by Jonathon Morgan of the Austin American-Statesman.

Bottom line: These are the cool parents who teach their kids to rock and wear faux prints and other fashionable clothes – who try to keep up their indie lifestyle after children. Or, considered another way, these are delayed adolescents who haven't figured out it's time to grow up, even while raising a child.

Kind of like the illustrated couple who frightened my daughter daily when she was a safety patrol in 4th grade and they were dropping off their 3-year-old for preschool at her school. They could not be parents, she reasoned. They had waaaay more tattoos and hair dye (in colors that do not occur naturally in anyone’s hair) than real parents do.

But then, everybody has tattoos these days. Pretty soon all the parents will have them. There is no doubt that semi-famous grupsters like Miami Herald pop music critic Evelyn McDonnell, author of Mamarama, and Alternadad Neal Pollack, tattoed or not, love their kids like crazy and have some pretty good ideas about how to raise them.

It remains to be seen whether these children of boomers will do any better job raising kids than boomers did. But I think they have the right idea.

Perhaps their kids will not be quite so self-involved, will not live in a false bubble of entitlement. If they are able to raise children to understand that there is an adult world that goes on without them, that children are entitled only to what they themselves earn in life, then I think the grupsters will do just fine as ‘rents.

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My kids won't stop arguing.

They argue about everything -- from toys to television. Being an only child, I can't relate to sibling rivalry, and it's driving me insane. I've turned to my husband, who has two younger siblings, for help in understanding the complex love/hate relationship our kids seem to have with each other. But he's no help.

As it turns out, my husband bossed around his little sister and brother when they were children. In his words, "I tortured them to get them to do what I wanted." Like I said: He's of no help.

With my children, I've tried being the referee, separating them and telling them to work it out for themselves. Nothing has worked. When will this stop?

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The national magazine Parenting celebrates its 20th anniversary this month by exploring the 20 biggest changes in family life over the past 20 years.

Reading about the progress we’ve made, I wonder, is parenting any easier now than it was 20 years ago? My friends with kids in their 20s say it’s definitely harder to be a parent today. At first I thought they were crazy. How different could it be? But as I think about it, I’m inclined to agree with them.

As it turns out, 74 percent of respondents to a Parenting survey said it was easier to raise kids in the 1980s than it is now. Even the things that make life better for families make it harder. For example:

The rate of SIDS has dropped by 60 percent now that babies are put on their backs to sleep. So maybe fewer moms worry that their baby will mysteriously stop breathing while they’re asleep. But, the back-to-sleep campaign has had this unintended consequence: A rapid and alarming increase in plagiocephaly. That’s a fancy word for “flat head.” It comes from babies spending too much time on their backs – while sleeping, in car seats, in swings. Babies need tummy time for proper development. But since you can’t leave a baby alone on his tummy, that means you have to play with baby when he’s on his tummy. That’s harder than just putting baby to sleep on his stomach.

You only need a home computer and Internet access for your kid to do research. There’s no running around to three libraries and two bookstores for a book about whales the same week the rest of the class is also doing a project on whales. But the Internet is wild and unwieldy. Not only do you have to help young children navigate it, you have to worry about pop-up blockers, filters and your own monitoring to be sure your child is not inadvertently exposed to pornography. And let’s not even get started on social networking.

The efforts to make kids safer have also made us more afraid. It’s not OK any more to order your children out of the house to play with the other kids in the neighborhood all afternoon. You have to set up play dates or drive kids to a park.

Even birth isn’t so easy. Often, it’s major surgery. Nationally, about a third of all babies are born by c-section; in South Florida that statistic is even higher.

I don’t mean to be a pessimist. But can any of you convince me that raising kids is easier these days?

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My husband and I affectionately refer to our two-year-old son as “our little monkey.” It seems a fitting term for when he’s climbing on top of the furniture or running across the house naked after bath time. We find humor even in his misbehavior.

I know that’ll be harder to do as he gets older. But listening to actor Alec Baldwin’s telephone tirade, in which he called his 11-year-old daughter a “rude, thoughtless little pig,” makes me wonder: How can a parent ever recover from that?

I can still remember in vivid detail every insult I endured during my adolescence. And those are just the stupid comments from kids who didn’t know any better. But from a parent? That kind of scar runs deep. Baldwin’s daughter will remember her father’s words for decades to come.

If Alec Baldwin spent as much time apologizing to his daughter as he has blaming his ex-wife for supposedly making the tape public, he’d be off to a start to healing that wound.

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No fair looking further down the blog...

And if you're a friend of ours, this is likely what your holiday card will look like this year.

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I was running late to pick up my son from school yesterday, so I had a friend get him for me. When I arrived, I found him in tears. He had fallen down, skinned his knee and was crying uncontollably. When he just wouldn't stop crying (and I had assesed that the knee didn't look too bad) I chastised him for being unreasonable.

"C'mon, buddy, you need to stop. It's just a little scrape. It's not the end of the world," I said.

Once home, -- after the crying had finally, finally ended -- we were taking care of the knee and I noticed he had blood in his nose. I asked if he fell on his face. No, he said. Apparently that was from earlier in the day, when he got a bead stuck in his nose. The teacher had to fish it out. (I asked why he put it in his nose in the first place. He just shrugged.)

When my husband got home later on, he talked to our son and then commented to me, "Did you hear what happened to him today?" I said yes, I knew about the fall, and the bead.

"The fall? The bead?" he asked. "I'm talking about the bathroom incident."

Apparently even earlier in the day, he had waited too long to get to the bathroom and had a little, well, accident. (He's only 4; it happens.) He had to change into a fresh set of clothes, which of course tipped off the situation to his classmates, much to his embarrassment.

I looked at my sweet little angel and mentally kicked myself for being so hard on him when he wouldn't stop crying.

After such a lousy day, his little 4-year-old self must have felt the world really was coming to an end.

K.V.W.

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It was music to my ears.

Ana Isabel said: "Vamos" or at least something that sounded like it in her little girl voice. It's her first word in Spanish and it translates to roughly "Let's go" in English.

You see, I've fretted on this blog before about teaching my 20-month old daughter my parent's native tongue. Since I grew up bilingual the reponsibility to teach her a second language falls mostly to me. Sure, Dora and Diego help, I guess. But with no family nearby, it's up to me to make sure she grows up with the two languages.

It happened while we were leaving the house together one morning this week. My wife was heading to do some grocery shopping and me to work. I bellowed purposelfully and in Spanish to get everyone out the door. As my daughter walked out in front of me, holding her mother's hand, she said it "Vamos."

I turned to my wife, beaming with pride. Did you hear what she said? What a sweet sound.

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I'm a journalist who has always protected her children from the news. Columbine. 9/11. Just the random day-to-day violence that is modern America.

I've hidden the newspaper. Avoided CNN. Don't get me wrong. I don't bury my head in the sand. But I don't want my children to see and hear things before they are ready.

But my son is 12 now. ESPN is his news source of choice. Of course he wants to see the game highlights, but I can almost feel his attention become more focused when the story is about another athlete's brush with the law. A rape or drug bust or a DUI. I don't like it, but I've started to let him watch. I wish I could say I've taken every opportunity to talk about the issues, but I haven't.

When he does his current events report every week for school, I often point out particular stories in the newspaper that I think might be interesting to him. He tends to judge what's interesting based on how long a story is (note to self: are newspaper stories too long?). But I've noticed that he's drawn to stories that are more....unseemly.

So now this...Virginia Tech. Two weeks ago Alec could tell you it's an ACC school with a solid sports program. And now he knows more than I ever would have wanted him to know.

When I brought up the killings, the first thing he wanted to know was whether it was a terrorist attack. I explained that it wasn't and I asked which is worse, just a very disturbed person or terrorism? To him, terrorism is worse.

He was eager to ask me questions: Why did he do it? What did the police do? What did the other students say? Did the students who jumped out the windows get hurt? Very specific questions.

I'm going to let him guide me through this discussion. Give him the opportunity to ask. I know I won't have all the answers, but maybe that's not as important as just giving him a way to try to figure things out himself.

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Last month was a tough anniversary for my family. It marked thirteen years since my mom died of cancer.

We were fortunate, in one sense, that the disease at least afforded us the chance to be with her during her final days and let us each say goodbye. But it still hurts, even after all these years.

My mom was very brave, always. One of my favorite stories about her is how she had joined the Great Grape Boycott in California led by labor rights leader Cesar Chavez, a childhood friend of hers. During one protest, she took me along, even though I was only about two years old. She was sitting on the sidelines when she noticed a small crowd had gathered in front of a gate as a big truck full of produce arrived at a local grocery store. It became pretty clear that the driver was intent on making that delivery, even if it meant making a few of the protesters pay the price. My mom jumped in front of the truck with me by her side. She forced the driver to make a choice: Make that delivery and run over a young mother and her youngest child, or drive away.

He made the right choice.

It was the first and last time my mom would put me even in the slightest bit of danger. But I love remembering the lesson she taught me that day: Standing up for what is right sometimes means putting everything on the line.

My saddest memory is the day, just a few weeks before my mom actually died, when she and I talked about her impending death. She wanted me to feel better and reminded me that she had a great life and that she wasn’t scared about going to heaven. But then she began to weep: “The only thing I wish is that I could see you with your children.”

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I get a kick out of reading Brittany Wallman's postings about her kids. They are much more colorful than my children. I’m sure there was a time when my kids made me laugh out loud at the things they would say, but I can’t remember it. And my two young introverts would sooner hang by their thumbs than do something at school that would merit a call home from a teacher.

But when Brittany wondered about her son Creed’s apparent lack of interest in money, it struck a chord. My husband and I have tried everything to make our children more interested in having, spending and saving money. My kids horde money. They never want to spend it.

We even had the same fight with our kids: Sure, they’d rather not do chores, even if it means they don’t get allowance. Wrong. They still have to do their chores, regardless of whether they are paid. Chores are part of living in the family. Given the choice of chores with no money or chores with money, every kid takes the money.

I’ve learned a few other things from my money-hording children:

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We were three mothers of daughters, spending several days together in Paris. The ultimate escape.

There was my sister Kathy, mother of a brilliant 20-year-old studying abroad for a semester. My French penpal Marie-Claude, mother of a precocious 14-year-old. And me, with a 9-year-old who still thinks I'm worthy.

And we saw in each other our futures and our pasts. I could see the dread in Marie-Claude's eyes as she watched my sister trod carefully, and at times not very successfully, through the minefields of her relationship with her headstrong daughter. And when Marie-Claude talked of her own daughter ("She just talks on her cell phone all the time. She doesn't want to be seen with me. To her, I can't do anything right, I don't even dress right.") I was both comforted to know adolescent insolence is apparently universal -- and in utter denial that my sweet little Erika would ever turn on me like that.

"Just you wait," they told me in so many words.

Even in Paris, there's no escape.

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I'm really not much of a vacation guy; I like my job and for fun I figure there's everything I need here in South Florida. But today, I'm a changed man.

Our family just got back from a week in London -- our 21-year-old is studying over there for a semester -- and aside from our bank account taking a thumping, it's all good.

We learned history together. We learned how to handle disagreements (ANOTHER museum?!). We fit four people into a hotel room designed for two. And we sat down for family breakfast, lunch and dinner.

And mostly, we have a frame of reference together that we'll talk about the rest of our lives.

So, for 2008, Paris. Unless the market dives, then it's Key Largo.

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After six years of caring for our two children, our nanny is leaving us.

It is a mutual separation -- she is going on an extended vacation and our kids are finally old enough for aftercare at school -- but I am suprised at how broken-hearted I feel.

Maritza came to work for us when our daughter, who is now 7, was 15 months old. She has known and cared for our 4-year-old son since the day he was born. I say she worked "for us" but it was never that kind of employer- employee relationship. She was like a favorite aunt to the kids. One that loved them, protected them and, yes, spoiled them.

She taught them how to fish, and would take them for drives along the beach. She'd take them out for fancy dinners. She'd read and play to their hearts' content. When people would remark on how well our son -- at the time only 2 -- could hit a baseball, we'd joke and say he had a personal coach. That's because she'd spend hours a day playing ball with him.

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An oriole flew into an oleander bush across the street from my house the other day, right in front of me. I stood still in pure amazement. Sometimes it’s a swallowtail butterfly that stops me, or a purple orchid on a vine. Occasionally, I’ll spot a caterpillar chewing on a leaf or pause to admire the shape of a slash pine tree.
My children rarely notice these things. Despite my best efforts to get them outdoors and teach them what I can about nature, the truth is, they’re not as tuned in to the natural world as I wish they were.

“Well, mom,” explains my younger daughter, “we have school till 4, then there’s homework, piano practice, dinner, chores, and then it’s dark. When are we supposed to go out and ‘enjoy nature’?” She says that last bit sarcastically, as if I’m asking her to do something that’s a little strange anyway.

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I don't recall my father telling me he loved me a lot when I was a little boy.He was more the type of guy who showed his love, in small, everyday ways. Emotionally, words often escaped him. And that was fine for me, because when he did those little things, they filled my heart.

Once, when he was repairing a city-owned sidewalk in front of our home, I begged him to let me write my initials in the wet cement. He tried to explain to me that the city would know he did the repair and could possibly fine him for not paying city workers to do the job. I just got upset and stormed off. A few days later, with a stern look, he told me to follow him outside to the front yard. My father wasn't frivolous, so I knew it was a bad sign. Without a word, he pointed at the repaired sidewalk, where the initials "DV" were etched in the concrete. My heart nearly fell because I knew I was in for it. It didn't matter that I was innocent. Words poured out of me, so did tears. But my dad said nothing, just smiled slyly and walked away. It took several stunned minutes for me to realize my old man had done the dirty work, despite the possible wrath of the city's code enforcement.

Those initials are still there, more than three decades later.

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Almost three years ago, in one ceremony, I became both a wife and a "stepmother."

I had lived with my husband, Marc, before tying the knot, but I was just dad's "girlfriend" at that time. When we got married, the word stepmother -- with all its negative connotations and images -- started being applied to my name, causing much discomfort. It caused more than discomfort ..I HATE THE WORD!