Are We There Yet?
I've always been a voracious reader -- except for those sleep-deprived baby years when the book would drop from my hand the minute I opened it. (My reading consisted mostly of board books and picture books during that period.)
Somehow, in the way all parents do, I expected my children to imitate my habits, plopping down with a book whenever there's a free minute.
This column ran in the June 5 News-Gazette "Family" section. We've added a few more suggestions at the bottom from friends and readers - feel free to add to the list!
That’s the constant sound in my head every time I think about summers with my kids.
Here’s how a conversation with my son went the other day:
Me: “What kind of summer camps would you like to sign up for this year?”
Son: “None. Maybe baseball.”
Me: “So, your plan is to shoot some hoops, maybe watch TV all summer?”
Son: No response. (Selective hearing kicks in.)
My working-mom friend (yes, we all are) relayed this story to me the other day:
Her 4-year-old daughter, while watching cartoons, announced one morning that she had changed her mind about becoming a dancer and a princess when she grows up.
“I just want to be a mom,” she said.
Touched, her mom said “awww” and reached out to give her a hug.
When I tell people what I love about my job, I usually talk about the intellectual stimulation, the chance to meet interesting people, the importance of a free press, the lack of monotony, the
crazy flexible hours, the huge pay and benefits ... oh wait.
Truth? I get paid to be nosy. Being a journalist (and blogger) gives you a unique entree into people's lives.
Big news in the neighborhood.
I was walking home after dropping my daughter off at school one morning and absentmindedly looked across the street at a house that’s been on the market since August 2010.
Then I did a double take. Was there actually a “SOLD” sign out front?
... here's a little pick-me-up.
It was cleaning day in the newsroom last week, and as I was going through old files and recycling and tossing I glanced down at the word magnets on my desk drawer.
My daughter likes to play with them when she's here waiting for me to finish an assignment. I hadn't noticed her latest creation:
I have a confession to make: I am a slug.
Not that I don't work hard (most weeks, anyway). In fact, my job has kept me so busy these past few months (investigations, confrontations, resignations) that I haven't really had much time to blog.