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“I would never send my child to that school,” said my friend after I toured the local public high school in my community. And while I don’t need to make this rather weighty decision for another year, this is how we moms are trained to act in the era when high school seniors such as Suzie Lee Weiss are outlining the harsh realities facing college applicants in razor sharp Wall Street Journal op-eds. That’s a topic for a different blog.
One of my greatest pleasures is connecting good people with good products. Your Teen is one of my absolute favorite magazines. Anyone with teenage children should be reading this publication, which goes beyond the fluff of adolescent angst and gets to the root of major issues concerning our teens today. Nothing is sugar-coated. Being a teenager is real, heavy stuff, and with modern technology and the overwhelming pressures on our children, we, as parents, must stay informed.
If you’re from Florida, don’t blink, because if you do, you’re sure to close your eyes in summer and open them to the start of school. What? When did this happen? It’s August! Miami—and to quote our very own hometown celebrity Lisa Petrillo—is “uninhabitable” in the summer so imagine bypassing the bathing suit for a clingy, polyester uniform and suffering a mild stroke in PE while lugging books and backpacks to the steamy, hot car. But that’s not what I’m going to blog about today. No one cares much about Miami these days, though I will talk about a hot car.
Our twin boys return from sleep away camp in a few hours. Wishing for their return means wishing the summer away, and closing their cabin door means stepping into a home which feels distant and awkward. Experience prepares us for the requisite how to’s: how to prepare for that big game and big exam. But what prepares our kids (and us) for re-entry into a comfortable, yet foreign land? Just because we want them home, doesn’t mean they want to be there.
Thank you for thinking about me today.
Mother's Day takes an already difficult day and makes it harder.
Every day is a hard day.
The world has become so high-tech these days. Last weekend, my husband and I ordered Chipotle take-out from my smart phone and were sent a reply that our order would be ready for pick-up in precisely twenty minutes. As we contemplated what to do in Aventura while we waited to pick up our order, my husband jokingly suggested, “Why don’t we meander around the bookstore for a few minutes?” The genesis of the comment is our shared disappointment since the Borders and Barnes and Noble in Aventura closed.
Dear Jordan and Brandon,
Today is September 12, 2001. It is a Wednesday and when you are older you will probably read in the history books about what happened to our country yesterday, September 11, 2001. I am sorry that it takes something so horrifying to happen to all of our lives to prompt me to write to you. I suppose we all believe that in some way we are immortal, untouchable, but we are not.
It’s that time of year again. I know. My female friends spurn me for feeding into the frenzy created by the men in their life. I can’t help myself. I’m a girl, but I love football.
The build-up to this weekend has been mounting since we watched the Ravens beat the 49ers in Super Bowl XLVII. The victory was bittersweet. Watching the esteemed champion take home the coveted Lombardi trophy was great, but with that win came the end of another season. And suddenly, a void permeated our house. I remember vividly watching the end of year highlights on ESPN for the 2011-12 season. Outasight was singing Tonight is the Night while viewers around the world got a snapshot of the year in video.
For years I had carried around a very large purse (a “portable CVS” as my mother used to call it) brimming with everything from matches to a first aid kit. Included were packets of Cottonelle, Clorox wipes, a sewing kit, pencil sharpeners, a fairly large bottle of water, a flash drive, a phone, phone charger, hand lotion, tampons, multiple lipsticks, tissues, safety pins, a notebook for writing down random thoughts, a thesaurus, receipts for every purchase in the last seven years, and no less than fifteen Bed, Bath, & Beyond coupons. Also included was my wallet with about 4 lbs. of change. The parents on my sons’ sport teams knew me as the lady who came to the games really prepared.
We just returned from the seventh grade class trip, and although I would love nothing more than to chillax (chill-relax as the kids call it) on the couch, many of you are expecting this blog about our adventures.