The following appeared in the January edition of Chicago Parent. Yes. I'm a bit behind. My oldest son, Danny, was 3 years old when he announced he would not be participating in Pajama Day at his preschool. “I don’t want everyone to laugh at me.” I tried explaining that all the kids and teachers would be in their jammies. Hell, I dropped him off every day in my Tweety Bird flannels. What was the big deal? He was having none of it. A few years later, it was Super Hero day in kindergarten. Once again, Danny balked. He was convinced he would be the laughingstock of the school. Nothing I said ..read more

The following appeared in the April edition of Chicago Parent. In surviving motherhood, I need to believe I’m right about most things. Getting bogged down with self-doubt is far too time-consuming. Over the years, I have felt somewhat confident in my methodology. My kids are pretty good (so far). They are decent students (so far). They haven’t committed any felonies (yet). My mission statement has always included steering my kids away from “the bad kid.” Yes, I can be a haughty wench sometimes. “Bad kids” are the ones who swear in kindergarten. The ones who push. The ones who can’t contr ..read more

The following appeared in the February edition of Chicago Parent. The year was 1984. I went over to my friend’s house to check out the hot, new thing: cable television. For the very low cost of $30 per month, people could watch TV with NO COMMERCIALS. The audacity. The bravery. The brilliance. Sign me up! Unfortunately, I was only making $1.50 an hour babysitting, and there was no chance my parents would ever pay for such a luxury. So I kept going over to my friend’s basement. At first, we were all about the videos. Van Halen. Cyndi Lauper. Michael Jackson. I was definitely going to mar ..read more

The following appeared in the January edition of Chicago Parent. When picking up the kids from their various activities, I usually encourage them to walk outside and look for me in the parking lot. It just makes all my after-school shuttling easier. Yet the other day, I decided to park the car and walk into Dan’s hockey work-out facility for a peek. Behind the glass, my giant 14 year-old stopped, smiled, and delivered a spot-on Forrest Gump wave. The other parents marveled. They shared how their stereotypical teenagers refused to acknowledge their very existence, and their kids’ only reactio ..read more

The following appeared in the December edition of Chicago Parent. As we get deeper into another school year, there are several recurring themes in my life. First up: I suck at homework. Remember when we were kids and couldn’t conceive of a more heinous punishment than diagramming sentences? Hold my beer, Punky Brewster. In teaching my boys this new form of math steeped in the absurd, I have officially become the ferryman of Hades. Every basic rule has been tossed. I feel deceived! Misled! Don’t even get me started on the great Metric System Lie. I AM STILL WAITING, MISS FLOWERS.* Last mo ..read more

The following appeared in the November edition of Chicago Parent.  A letter came home from my sons’ school last year suggesting that the devil himself was behind the video game phenomenon Fortnite. It was described as a dangerous epidemic. Crack cocaine for the middle school set! My kids have engaged in many fads over the years: Angry Birds, Pokemon, Bakugan, Fidget Spinners, Bottle Flipping, and Dabbing to name a few. Some of these were all-consuming obsessions. They typically resulted in the standard school abolitionist letter warning that continued engagement could only result in a l ..read more

The following appears in the October edition of Chicago Parent. I live in an amazing neighborhood of Chicago filled with cops, firemen, and public school teachers. Everyone knows everyone. There are constant food trains for the sick and fundraisers for those suffering hard times. When a local kid does good, you read about it in The Beverly Review. A trip for milk can take two hours as you will invariably encounter your Catholic School principal, your cousin, and the kid who pummeled you in fifth grade. As a closet introvert, I fought with Joe 12 years ago to remain living downtown. Neighbor ..read more

The following appeared in the August edition of Chicago Parent.  It is hard to forget your baby’s first smile. Or first steps. Or first day of school. Those moments are cherished and filmed. Every new milestone rightfully claims its spot in your heart and in your memory. Yet what they never warn you about? There is no notice given for the LAST time your child does something. The last time they say “dwoo” instead of “drew.” The last time they hold your hand in public. The last time they call you “mommy.” For ten years, I have had children in Little League. Dan and Joey eventually wa ..read more

The following appears in the August edition of Chicago Parent. Two years ago, I noticed mom friends posting pictures of their kids standing next to them as their babies passed them up in height. My underachieving oldest son, Danny, was nowhere near my size. Of course, when your mom is 6’ tall, this milestone can prove challenging. This summer, it took a slight tilt upwards to make me realize that the angle of our eye contact had officially shifted. I couldn’t wait to capture that much-anticipated photo, but Danny quickly shot it down. He’s at that age where photographic evidence of his e ..read more

The following appears in the June edition of Chicago Parent. Yesterday, I turned off the news after yet another segment where two different guests insulted and belittled each other. They asserted that only their side held the true moral high ground. My children are growing up in an era where intellectual debate and ideological differences play second fiddle to hysteria and name-calling. Everyone is mad. Everyone is yelling. And nobody is listening. It is us versus them, often defined by age, race, wealth, sex, or politics. Late last year, my middle son, Jack, was placed on a park distric ..read more