When I was in school, I was a horrible speller. When I needed to know how to spell a word, my mother would always tell me, "Sound it out." Even when I was a reporter, I would call her up and ask her how to spell words.

I have been cured of that disability, though. Today, I could win any of the Spelling Bees my elementary-school teachers encouraged me to join.

What's changed, you ask?

These days, I'm the mother and that all-too-familiar question is haunting me. "Mom, how do you spell..."

Tags: Just Me

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My dad has always loved taking pictures. When I was a kid and my parents would have guests or family at the house, he'd always be doing slideshows.

First, he'd set up the collapsible projection screen, release the legs into the tri-pod position, pull up the extension pole and unfurl the sparkly white screen. Then, he'd set up the projector, plug it in and turn on the projection light. Finally, he'd load all the pictures he would have had developed into slides into the slide sorter and connect it to the projector.

This set-up process generally took a half hour.

He would call everyone into the living room, turn off the lights and off he'd go with the show. Each slide required an in-depth explanation of what was happening, where we were and who was in the picture. The slide shows almost always lasted hours and would often retell the stories of travel and relatives from before I was born.

More than once, when the show was over and the lights went on, one of the guests would be sitting upright, but sound asleep.

My sister and her husband celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary with a trip to Greece this past summer. She posted their photos to Shutterfly and sent off a link so everyone could see the slideshow.

She posted 692 photos. Six hundred and ninety-two photos! It took an hour and a half to watch.

As you can tell, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Tags: Observations | Just Me

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It's amazing what a year can do.

Two weeks ago, we spent Thanksgiving Day with dear friends and one of them made a profound observation. She hadn't seen Bug in about a year. She knew all about the abusive behavior he and our family had struggled through at the hands of Maple Street School Prinicpal Michael Bessette. She was expecting to talk with the same Bug she had talked to in the previous year - a beaten down little guy who had no self esteem left.

Instead, she was talking to a confident, engaging and happy 11 year old who laughed, joked and told her all about what a great school he's now attending and the fascinating stuff he's studying. It was such a striking change that she made a point to tell me about it.

Yes, a year has changed everything. Bug has been attending a charter school since September and is beginning to learn how to trust himself and his teachers again. He's succeeding where the nay-sayers at Maple Street School said he never would, earning only As and Bs on his last progress report. He is happy and hasn't complained about school once in the past three months.

I am so grateful we didn't accept what we were told would be all he could do at Maple Street School. I'm so grateful that his teachers at his new school weren't willing to accept it, either. They work with him, encourage him, cheer him on. They make him feel like he's a great kid with a great future.

It was never, ever the wrong decision to advocate vehemently for our son. And our greatest reward has been that our happy, bright and engaging little man is back.

Tags: Tom | Observations | Little Bug

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You know what? Everybody's talking these days about feeling out of control and needing to be in control. Truth is, they really, really, REALLY don't want control.

Because, in order to be in control, you need to make decisions. And when you make decisions, you're held accountable for them.

Yesterday and this morning, I exchanged a series of emails with a client about her needing a logo for some mugs she's ordering.

Now, in the course of how we conduct business, we conform to the belief that clients should ultimately control their brands and that they should be given every opportunity to make decisions. We hope, however, they see us as a valuable resource to help them make decisions. But, in the end, we try not to decide for them.

So, I asked what size logo she wanted. She repeated that it was for a mug.

OK. Got that. Let's try another way of asking. What size is the mug? She didn't know but sent a weblink to the mug's photo, which also contained no size information.

At the risk of not alienating her by asking again, we made a decision.

This was eerily familiar to a dance my wonderful husband and I do every dinnertime.

Me: What would you like to drink with your dinner?

Tom: I don't know. It doesn't matter. You choose.

Hmmm... Budweiser and Clamato? Prune juice? Raw eggs?

We have very similar discussions on any subject that requires a decision to be made, and now I'm seeing the exact same responses from Bug when he's asked to make a decision. Arrgh!

For good and bad, I'm a decision maker. I put it out there. I take the risk and I bear the consequences and the accolades - depending on which way it goes!

And that's probably why I don't worry about being in control. I already made a decision to be.

Tags: Just Me | Tom | Little Bug | Observations | Business

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I'm speaking in favor of implementing China's one-child rule worldwide, though probably not for the reason China has imposed such a harsh restriction in its citizens.

Officially, China's "family planning policy" restricts married, urban couples to having only one child, while allowing some exemptions. To those of us living in free societies, it seems like a rather Draconian measure to manage over-crowded cities. But, it exists.

And here I am, saying Bring It On! One child is plenty, because one child means not having to worry about sharing, specifically, spreading parental love across multiple children. Let's face it, too many parents fail in this area.

Case in point, Sky Metalwala, the missing toddler in Washington State. His mother, facing speculation that she has something to do with his disappearance a week ago, is reported to have a strong connection to her four-year-old daughter. It was also reported that photos of her daughter are displayed prominently on her Facebook page, but there are very few photos of her son.

I don't know if it's true, but if it is, it's not the first time a parent loved one child more than their others.

Now, let's not get our undies all twisted up in knots over what I've written. It's not a universal thing that parents can't love their children equially. It's just that some can't and some is too many.

Several weeks ago, I listened as Tom's relative described her father's admiration and love for her sister. "We all know how proud Dad is of her and how much he loves her." Now, in fairness, he does have good reason to be proud; she's a successful young woman. But her siblings are no less worthy of his pride and love. Each has had successes, conquered obstacles and have made good lives for themselves.

Tom and I have each experienced in our families the "special" sibling. My parents doted on my brother in such an excessive way that it impacted all of our relationships profoundly. Tom's father did the same with his brother. Every child in a family bears the scars of unequal parental love until the day they die.

I don't think parents who love one child more than their others are evil; they're to be pittied. They're blind to the harm it does to their other children and that's just sad. The feelings of loneliness and anguish in not understanding your unworthiness of your parents' love, the resentment that cannot be overcome in so many instances, and the life-long damage it does to families is beyond expression.

There were many reasons we chose to have just one child, and high on the list was not having to face the parental dilemma of loving one child more than others. It may sound harsh, but I don't regret having one child. He's the center of our world and that's absolutely fine. I couldn't bear the burden of hurting one of my children because of my love for another.

Tags: Observations | Tom | Little Bug

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Driving home from school today...

Bug: When I get older, I'm going to buy Dimond Hill Farm.

Me: Oh, you mean you want to be a farmer?

Bug: No, I want to be a CEO.

Me: So, if you're buying the farm, you'll be a farmer.

Bug: No I won't. I'll have people working for me to do that. I don't want to work; I just want to make money.

Every man's dream...

Tags: Little Bug

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Bathrooms - public and private - are probably the most talked-about rooms anywhere. That's because they say so much.

How often have you entered a filthy, disgusting bathroom and walked right out again? It doesn't matter how badly you've got to go. The woods would be a whole lot healthier situation.

Or how about the times you've sat down, only to get your butt soaked because the person before you didn't sit down? Yeah, very pleasant.

Like so many of you, I've also maneuvered the hazards of a filthy public bathroom with little children. When your kid's gotta go, there's no making them wait. You peel the toilet paper off the roll and put five layers around the toilet seat. You carefully lift your child's tiny body onto the seat so that it won't touch anything but the layered toilet paper. And when he's done, you rush the two of you to the sink in order to scrub all exposed skin surfaces with soap and water. A little sanitizer on the way out the door doesn't hurt either.

Don't even get me started on those fold-out changing tables...

Now, think of the impression those immaculately kept public bathrooms leave. Sometimes it comes as a huge surprise, but truth be told, you record those in your GPS forever. You'll even drive miles out of your way because those are the ones you can count on. You walk out feeling clean and confident. And you are absolutely certain that whatever the business that has offered these safe havens, they too are the very best at what they do. Their products and service are top notch, their staffs are brilliant and you will tell everyone who will listen that you're certain of this because, after all, they keep a clean bathroom.

A visit to your friends' bathrooms are pretty telling, too.

What kind of reading material lies in there? (That ought to give you a sense of how much time they spend in that particular room!) Does the toilet share space with the washer and dryer? Do you wash your hands with fancy soap and dry them with fancy cloth towels, or is it Sponge Bob Foaming Soap and paper towels?

If you were to visit the three bathrooms in our house today, they'd tell you a great deal. The bathroom off our bedrooms upstairs have yellow toilets and yellow bath tubs. They came with the house when we bought it some 14 years ago. At the time, the walls in both rooms were painted to match. I never understood why but I can assure you that when you walked into them the colors reminded you to pee.

Today, the fixtures remain, but the walls are white. Hey, we had to do something to tone it down! The rooms are cluttered and not immaculate. We scrub them down when we set aside time to clean, but that isn't as often as should be. These rooms are more utilitarian in nature. They are places to get things done; wash, groom, do your business.

One would think they are not places to linger. Well, that is for one exception; the magazines. Our bathroom has flying and car magazines, old ones. Bug's bathroom has Boys' Life magazines, new ones. (I've come to believe that reading in the bathroom is a male sport.)

The bathroom downstairs is much more to my liking. It's filled with calm. Sea shell wall paper. Paintings of beach settings. A conch shell - a gift from a neighbor's trip to the islands - in the corner. A wreath of dried flowers hanging on the wall. Potted palm trees. Next to the toilet is a large basket, also filled with magazines. There's an assortment of topics, but a dominance of flying, old cars and Boys' Life. (Yes, they read there, too!)

But my favorite in the basket is a book. I gave it to Tom years ago and I hope it speaks volumes about my perspective on bathrooms when other's reach into the basket for a quick read.

Tags: Tom | Little Bug | Observations

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Did you hear that shriek of joy??? Yeah, that was me!

Four little words; that's all it took. Bug had no idea what he was saying.

"I love Saxon Math!"

Yup, those four little words slipped from his mouth with such excitement that I almost fell off my chair. He was doing his math homework. It was a beautiful moment.

Now, to understand why I'm flipping out with joy, you have to know the backstory. For the past couple of years, Bug has struggled with math. It was a math grade on Bug's report card that prompted us to seek support from the Hopkinton School District in the form of an IEP.

Then, seven months ago, twelve words devastated me in a meeting with teachers and school administrators. That's when the Hopkinton School psycologist said, "We'll just have to accept that he'll never do well at math."

Yes, you read that right. Everyone was supposed to accept that at the ripe old age of 11, Bug was never going to do well at math. Seriously, I think if I were giving up on my son's potential at 11, I ought to be awarded the Bad Mother of the Century Prize.

So here we are, seven months later, and he's loving math. It's got me wondering...

Tags: Little Bug | Observations

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Bug started at his new school last week, a charter school. Nearly half his class of sixth graders was new to the school, too.

He wasn't the outsider. He wasn't the new kid. He wasn't uncomfortable.

His teacher is new to the school. He likes the class, his new friends and the environment. He says he's enjoying his days and all is good.

Except, every other day when I pick him up, he asks if he can go back to homeschooling.

It threw me a bit when he asked the first time, and then the second time.

Last night, Tom and I attended Parents Night at the school. We listened hopefully to the principal speak. It all sounded good. We really liked what she had to say. We felt good about the curriculum, the philosophy, the teaching practices and the personal testimonies given by the other parents.

When we left, Tom said that he regretted not having moved Bug to the school two years ago. I reminded him that it all looked good but the year is young, that we haven't experienced how they will handle challenges.

And then it hit me. Bug and I are still uncommitted. We desperately want this to be the safe, positive and nurturing school that's right for him. But, we're still raw from our experiences at Maple Street School over the past two years. We still have flashbacks. We're still scared.

It's going to take some time. We need to get to know the players and get some experience under out belts. We need to be shown that things are going to be okay.

Trust is built over time and that's what I'm holding on to.

Tags: Little Bug | Observations | Tom

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Waiting for a hurricane is a lot like business development.

It's an interesting comparison as I sit here waiting for Irene to pass over our house. For a couple of days now, we've been watching the storm develop. As the days ticked on, it became clear that the hurricane was heading straight up the east coast. And then yesterday, predictions had the storm on a direct path for our little corner of the world.

Plans began to change instantly. Off to the city for a new generator battery, because history tells us we WILL lose power. Gas cans were filled to keep the generator running WHEN we lose power. Grocery shopping so that we will have food.

We've taken down Bug's tent that's been planted in the back yard for the summer, outdoor furniture has been stowed away, trash containers put into the shed, and a long-planned visit 300 miles to the west to celebrate my uncle's 90th birthday is delayed until after the storm strikes.

Yet, we sit here not really knowing if the storm will strike, and if it does, how much damage it will wrought. Will all of our preparations be in vain or will the work have paid off?

Over the past several weeks Janna (designer extraordinaire) and I have been consumed with writing and preparing proposals. Seems no one hires you to do work anymore without interviewing you twice (for hours) and then asking for you to write a 14-page proposal. And we happily comply because we want their business.

So, here's the run:

1. A few hours of preparation, researching their company, their business, their product, their competition.
2. A couple of hours meeting with them trying to impress them with our vast knowledge, without giving away the secrets of how we know what we know.
3. Four to five hours of writing a lengthy proposal designed just for them, including budget estimates that we'll be held to no matter how much the client loves the candy in the candy shop.
4. Then, send off the proposal and the anticipation begins. This waiting period sometimes is interrupted with a call and/or email asking questions that, for the hopeful contractor, offers encouragement and excitement. (After 11 years of this process, I've learned the hard way not to hang my hat on any single word.)

Anticipating a storm is no different than anticipating an answer on your proposal. Even when I've been absolutely certain we've nailed it, I've seen our hopes fizzle out because of things I never could have predicted.

Bug has been excited all day over Irene's arrival. I don't have the heart to tell him that desipite all his excitement, all of the preparations and all the hard work to be sure we'll be safe, that in the end unpredictable elements can change its course and we may never see it.

Then again, we may be powerless for days... 

Tags: Little Bug | Business | Observations

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A month ago, I began to suspect that I may be out of touch with today's trends when all of the fashion press began to hyperventilate about how Princess Catherine (a.k.a. Kate) single-handedly has restored the panyhose industry to its former glory. On her recent visit with Prince William to North America, she wore pantyhose, a garment that, according to the fashion press, lost favor in the 1980s.

What? You mean women don't wear pantyhose? When did I miss that fashion announcement? All these years that I've been stuffing myself into them was all for naught?

OK, just call me out of touch with fashion trends. Juggling a career, business and motherhood has obviously taken its toll.

But, today I saw a glimmer of hope! (Well, that's how I'll spin it.)

Bug was watching educational programming on television that quizzed him on various topics. "Mom, who is Mark Anthony?"

Feeling like I finally am in touch with the lastest trendy news, I responded, "He's a Latin singer. You know, he's married to, well, actually separated from, Jennifer Lopez - J. Lo!" I breathed a sigh of relief.

Two seconds later, the television announcer gave the answer. "Mark Anthony was a statesman in ancient Rome."

I can't win... 

Tags: Little Bug | Just Me

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There's been a theme to my week - Teacher Bashing.

Now, let me be clear from the beginning. I do not hate teachers. I'm not trying to insult teachers. I'm a staunch supporter of teachers and helping them to do a better job at teaching our kids. I have an incentive to help and support teachers; my son's academic success.

Are we clear? Haven't offended anyone yet, have I?

OK, then, let's get started.

Bug has had two absolutely terrific teachers in his six years in public school. Kathy Pepper at Harold Martin School was Bug's first- and second-grade teacher and she was awesome. She took interest in him, she pushed him to excel and she worked with him to help him overcome his academic challenges. She corrected him when he was wrong and she comforted him when he was vulnerable. Most importantly, she treated him with respect.

The same was true of Bug's third-grade teacher at Harold Martin. Deb Jones went out of her way to support Bug and encourage him. She made accommodations for his learning style and always greeted him with a smile and a hug. She and Mrs. Pepper had another commonality - they respected Bug's parents and actively sought our input.

That was not the case with his other teachers in public school.

On Sunday, my neighbor - a teacher - explicitly told Tom how personally offended she is by my blog post where I called teachers lazy. I've gone back over my posts and can't find an instance when I said that, but that's her perception, so I'll accept that. She thinks I think teachers are lazy.

So, let me clarify, if I wasn't clear in the past. I think teachers and school administrators today have less incentives to strive toward excellence for our kids than they did years ago. I think the advent of teachers unions have diminished incentives in the educational system and have inhibited schools' ability to move out under-performing teachers who can't and don't do our kids any good.

I don't think teachers are lazy. I've known too many teachers who are excellent at what they do to ever make a blanket statement calling all teachers lazy. But, I've also known too many teachers who aren't excellent, who are crusing, and who never worked outside the terms of their contract to support their students. And, you have to admit that you've known these teachers, too.

I do think teachers would benefit by having incentives in their employment that encourage them to do their best all the time. Good enough isn't good enough.

I am all in agreement with those who say that teachers have a tough job. They have to teach children with all sorts of backgrounds, limitations and baggage. But that has been the case since public schools came into existence. The difference is that we've gotten better today at identifying kids' challenges and creating interventions that help them.

Tuesday rolled around and the seemingly endless battle we're in to help Bug get academic support for his ADHD raged on. We met...again...with Hopkinton school officials, and joining us this time was the school principal from the Charter School Bug will attend next month. No matter how many times now that we've endured these meetings, I never seem to get over the ever-present, single-minded approach that is taken. It's their way or the highway. They're right and that's that.

How truly wonderful it must be to be right all of the time. When you are, you don't have to listen to anyone else. You don't have to consider alternatives. You don't have to see something through someone else's eyes. You don't have to consider that parents just might know something about their children that you don't; that your limited exposure in a limited environment might not provide you with a crystal-clear, full-color, high-definition view of children. Or, that parents are dedicating massive amounts of time to these meeting because they deeply care about their chidren and are offering help in this process. Teachers and administrators get paid to do this job; parents don't and they're often taking time away from their jobs at their expense in order to participate and contribute to these meetings.

It's been my experience, and yes it's my opinion, that open-minded people will see things more clearly and continue to learn. They may not agree with someone - and they don't have to - but being open to listening to different opinions and perspectives allows them to learn more and offer better solutions.

By far, my most favorite teacher-bashing experience of the week was on Thursday night when a friend on Facebook posted this op-ed about Matt Damon's contention that teachers are underpaid and should not have incentives. The fireworks began when her sister reminded her that several of her family members are teachers. And the comments were off and running.

At one point, my friend's sister-in-law (a teacher), said that my comments about teachers unions were unfounded and that I hadn't come up with a single suggestion on how to improve things. I had, in fact, said that I think good teachers are in the best position to drive us toward improvements in the system and to advise us how to create meaningful incentives, while ridding the system of under-performing teachers.

OK, if I understand my friend's sister-in-law correctly, teachers want me to tell schools what to do, how to improve and how to weed out bad seeds. (Well, been there, done that, and my contributions have been treated as if I'm just an ignorant parent who doesn't know squat.) So, isn't that what No Child Left Behind did? And, don't I hear again and again how horrible that is? And, isn't No Child Left Behind what my son's school principal Michael Bessette blamed as the root of his school's being determined by the state and feds as a School In Need Of Improvement? (Actually, he called the situation "laughable" at the PTO meeting. Then again, I think the inane protection he receives that keeps this under-performing administrator and former teacher in his job is laughable.)

Nope, with all due respect, I don't think I'm your answer.

Good teachers - and there are awesome teachers in every school district - are the ones who can lead us to improvement. They know what will work. You can't tell me that when they see a colleague who isn't doing the job well that it doesn't stir anger deep inside them. Good teachers take a lot of pride in what they do and I don't believe for one instant that they don't feel diminished when they have to work next to under-performing teachers.

Excellence breeds excellence and I have to believe that excellent teachers are the answer to what will pull us out of this tailspin. Are teachers tired of being bashed? I'm sure they are!

But, they need to step up and do something about it. It's not good enough to sit around and tell us how hard they work and how under appreciated they are. Do something meaningful! Fix the system! Take control of your destiny, or someone else - someone who doesn't know anything about it - will.

I'll say again what I said in my comment on my friend's Facebook post. Here's my challenge to all you good teachers who are frustrated by what people are saying about teachers. Stand up and blaze the trail!

Tags: Just Me | Little Bug | Tom | Observations

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My blogger pal, Emily, over at Mothers of Brothers wrote today about something that I think so many parents can shake their heads in agreement to - whose job it is to teach your kids about right and wrong.

Ever since Bug has been a very little guy, I've debated this in my head. So many people - from relatives to perfect strangers - feel they should impose their values on my child. And, when he went to school, teachers, administrators and even our school district took over as defacto parents in teaching values.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not all "you can't touch my kid", or "I'm the only one who can correct my child's bad behavior." I believe in reasonability.

Problem is, I'm not sure others do.

My most recent clash with the values issue happened a few weeks ago as Bug attended Vacation Church School. Because we live about 25 miles away from the church, Bug took his cell phone with him in order to be able to contact me. (As VCS was in session each day, I was out and about with business meetings.)

It just so happens that on one of the days, Bug forgot his cell phone in the car and mistakenly thought he had lost it while VCS was going on. He reached out for assistance to find the phone from of one of the parents who was leading his group. Her response to his request was, "Why would a kid your age have a cell phone?"

Her question was full of judgement and reflected her values. Bug was surprised. It's very fair to say that most of Bug's friends have their own cell phones.

Had I been there, my response probably would have been along the lines of how a cell phone may not be appropriate for her child, but we have very good reasons for Bug being given a cell phone. I doubt I would have gotten into the details of how Bug experiences panic attacks because of the actions of his former school principal and needs to have the security of instant contact, if need be.

Which brings me to my point: There is always more to a story than we know, so why not reserve our judgements and values to the raising of our own children and not worry about imposing them on everyone else's kids?

Values are funny things. They are unique to each person. There are a whole slew of people out there that don't share my values and I don't share theirs. Perfectly fine. I'm certain they wouldn't want me raising their kids any more than I would want them raising mine.

Tags: Introspection | Little Bug

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The minute you let your child graduate from the back seat and ride in the front seat while you drive, you will lose control of your radio FOREVER.

Time it takes to go from Classic Rock to Hip Hop? 3 seconds...

Tags: Just for Fun

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Bug has been bugging (he, he) Tom and me for a year to allow him to go to sleep-away camp. This year, we decided that we'd give it a try, agreeing to a one-week stint at a camp in the Adirondacks, followed by another-week stint at Boy Scout camp. So, Sunday we drove 5 1/2 hours to Upstate New York and delivered Bug to his first away-from-home adventure. He was psyched. By far, the only trauma being experienced was by me.

For the past couple of days, I've found myself wondering what he's doing. I wandered into his bedroom to make sure everything is in place. I checked out the camp's day schedule. I imagined his excitement at sailing, having the top bunk, kayaking and fishing. I wondered how my tech-savvy kid was doing without his cell phone.

About 4 o'clock this afternoon, a window popped up on my computer from my instant messaging system.

Bug: hi mom

Me: Hey Bug! How's camp going?

Bug: really good did you get my letter

I can breathe now...

Tags: Little Bug

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