Are We There Yet?

Are We There Yet?

More road-trip horror stories

We asked some Facebook friends to share their best (worst?) road-trip horror stories. Read on if you dare. And add your own to the list with a comment below, or email and we'll post it for you:

From Judy Argentieri, Champaign:

Family road trip? Don't forget the towels

Off the beaten basepaths

The Prairie Fields sandlot boys are on the move.

The bats are swinging again on their homemade baseball field in Savoy, but in a new spot.

It’s one of those “making lemonade out of lemons” stories.

O.J. crashed our party (sort of)

(Note: This column ran in the June 10, 2014 edition of The News-Gazette.)

Every wedding has those unforgettable moments — the walk down the aisle, the first dance, the low-speed car chase.

Twenty years ago this month, as my husband and I prepared to pledge our lifetime vows, our wedding party was riveted by a fugitive in a white Bronco.

Are We There Yet: Growing pains - for Mom

It’s Tuesday, so this must be field-trip day.

Or maybe the eighth-grade promotion ceremony? Band Awards night? Fifth-grade bonfire?

Building confident handywomen

For the most part, I am the handyperson in our family, but tools are not always my friend.

I like home projects. I have even completed some, with help from family and friends.
Others, not so much. Take the recent toilet-seat conundrum.

A letter to Mom

My mom recently went through a major life transition, and it’s sparked lots of memories and reflection. Mostly about time passing and all the chances I missed to tell her what she means to me.

She’s definitely not the type to seek the spotlight, and she’d probably try to stop me from writing this if she had the chance.

In defense of helicopter parents

I learned a new phrase recently: lawn-mower mom.

Apparently it’s been around for awhile, along with its predecessors, the helicopter mom and the Tiger Mom.

New study could help identify autism sooner

Crissy Grenier knew something was different about her firstborn by the time he was 6 months old.

Owen didn’t like to be held or played with. He wasn’t interested in people’s faces. He was a terrible sleeper and had “constant” ear infections.