Let me begin this post by admitting that I did not vote for Kamala Harris for President. More importantly, I did not vote for Donald Trump either. And though I’ve been told that it’s a very old-fashioned notion, I still believe that my vote is between me, the ballot box, and God, so I have no intention of sharing to whom my vote went. What I want to share is how our children are in trouble, and we may be the only ones who can save them.
I bring up my vote first so there is no mistake that I am not a Trump supporter. Right now, I’m not a supporter of any political party or politician. But I am a supporter of my daughters and granddaughter and all future generations, and we have an opportunity before us to save our children before it’s too late.
Read more
Strength is not about power. As we are told in the Book of Psalms, “She [a woman of worth] is clothed with strength and dignity, and laughs at the days to come.” Clothed in strength, not exhibiting strength, not showing power or aggression or loftiness, but clothed in strength. That’s quite remarkable when you think about it. Strength and dignity should be what we wear, what we exude, what we show others. It’s more than being strong or powerful. It’s letting others see what you’re made of, but in a dignified way. My mother is not only the matriarch of our family, she is the bloodline that gives us life literally and figuratively, the glue that holds us together, the giver of advice, and the pillar on which we lean. Everyone thinks that my father is the strong one, but, like the rest of us, all his strength comes from Mom. It always has.
Love has no bounds. St Paul tells us that “Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. It is, in fact, the one thing that still stands when all else has fallen (1 Corinthians 13: 7-8). No truer words could be spoken about my mom. She loves her family fiercely and would do anything for them. The same can be said for her friends. My love for my family and friends is a direct reflection of the love she has always shown to me and my brothers. It’s a love without end, without restraints, without jealously. I think that the simplest way to describe the love that my mother gives is that it’s a direct reflection of the Father’s love for us.
So to all mothers everywhere, but especially, my own, happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for providing your strength, showering us with your love, showing us how to treat others, being there for your family at all times, and radiating the light of Christ for all to see, an example to us and the world. I love you, Mom.
Every year, Ken and I host a giant Easter celebration for our combined families. My parents come for the weekend (typically bringing my brother and his daughter with them), the kids dye eggs on Saturday, we play games until late into the night, attend the early morning Easter Sunday Mass, and come home to get the food ready for our guests. Once everyone is here, we pray, feast (and I mean feast), and watch as the kids try to find approximately 500 stuffed Easter eggs. It’s one of my favorite weekends of the entire year, and I hope to continue these traditions for many years to come.
Back at the house, Rebecca went straight to work, helping to straighten up, set tables, and prepare food. When the food was served, she even helped herself to a glass of wine. The realization hit me: she’s no longer my little girl. At some point, my firstborn became an adult. The talk between Rebecca and her best friend, Bailey, whose family has been sharing Easter with us for as long as I can remember, centered around the fact that this would be their last year as participants in the Easter egg hunt. There comes a time when the hunters must become the hiders, and they planned to make the most of their last year as hunters, kidding about which one would find the most chocolate and the most $1 bills.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the whole nature versus nurture debate. Are we really born with certain innate traits, or do we develop them based on environment and experience? As our oldest daughter applies to law school, our middle daughter applies to college, and our youngest deals with the trials and tribulations of being in high school, I can’t help but wonder how they all three inherited, or perhaps learned, their father’s penchant for worrying, doubting, second guessing, and obsessing over the what ifs. Contrast that with my own attitude of let go, let live, and let God, and I think, where did I fail to instill in them a belief that worrying is a total waste of time?
My girls started school today with a back to school orientation. Most colleges have a Freshman Orientation. But where and when is the Parent Orientation? Listening to 
simply follows in another’s footsteps. She said this with pride and love. The child I worry about the most identifies herself by attaching herself to her sister. Now that’s an orientation I can live with.
The summer of 2016 will soon come to a close, and a chapter in my life will end. For almost my entire adult life, I have been the mother of three school-aged children. While all of my children will still be in school for a few more years, the dynamic is shifting, and my world is changing. This was possibly the last summer that our oldest, Rebecca, will be living at home. She will graduate from Mount St. Mary’s in the spring and go on to law school. She is already looking into the cost and availability of apartments in Washington, D.C., and she reminds me often that she will not be returning home after graduation. Of course, I remember telling my mother the same thing when I was at this stage, but desire is often met with that brick wall called affordability, and I ended up living at home another year until I married. But the reality is that she will still be in school, and she will need to live close to the city, so I will have to get used to one of my children no longer being a resident of my home. As Rebecca embarks on her senior year of college and her sister, Katie Ann, starts her senior year of high school, here are some things that I have realized every high school graduate should know how to do:
We all played several games of Poker, and we had visitors – a beautiful family that consisted of a buck, a doe, and two fawns.
I wrote the following blog almost two years ago. Nothing has changed about the way I feel, but my life continues to be enhanced and made better by the girls and adults that I know through my role as a camp director. Here are my thoughts on the “job” and an update from this year’s camp.
Ken has always given me a hard time on long car rides about having my nose stuck in a book instead of looking around. While I can’t argue his point that there’s so much to see, those long stretches of highway just scream for distraction. However, I’ve always managed to know when to put the book down and take in the beauty around me. Sadly, this knowledge seems to be lost on most people today who can’t lift their eyes from their phones for more than thirty seconds. There is so much that they are missing. Here are just a few of the reasons why everyone needs to put their phones down more often and open their eyes to the world around them.
When I was growing up, I was closer to my grandparents than anybody else in the world. I spent a lot of my summers at their home and learned many lessons about life and love. I have tried to remember all that they taught me, and I hope I have imparted some of their knowledge and beliefs to my own children. The things I learned from them are timeless, and with the world they way it is today, I think everyone could benefit from their wisdom. Here are the top things they taught me, ranked lowest to highest.
The Tonys are this weekend, and I am so excited! I love theater, particularly musical theater. There are so many life lessons that can be learned just from sitting in an ornate theater or opera house and losing yourself in the story and songs. Here are the things I have learned on and off Broadway.
had no pump or filter and no ladder, but it was spring, so those things were readily available. Ken went the very next day to pick up the pool, and I scoured Craig’s list for the missing pieces. By the time Ken got home, I had secured a filter and pump, and a few weeks later, Ken’s sister had located a ladder. 
Vacation planning time is upon us. Tis the season when families are cementing their summer plans and dreaming about visiting exotic locales. Growing up, our vacations always consisted of borrowing a friend’s condo at the beach for a week or traveling with my father on business to places like Dover, New Hampshire or Long Island, New York. We didn’t go far, but we always had fun. I’ll never forget the time we stayed at a motel outside of Williamsburg. I still remember thinking that it had to be the grandest hotel in the world with its strawberry shaped pool and vending machines right in our hallway. In my mind, it was truly a magical vacation that included stops in Colonial Williamsburg and the now extinct pottery factory, a must-see place for all travelers at the time. 
A few years ago, I read a book called 
Yesterday I saw yet another article about why parents should not be friends with their kids. I see memes all the time warning parents about this, and it seems that every magazine, parenting blog site, and advice column rails against the pitfalls of being your child’s friend. While I do understand where they are coming from, I have to respectfully disagree. You see, I am living proof that it’s not only possible but beneficial for parents and children to be friends, even best friends. 
I have had many friends over the course of my life, some loyal and true, others only after their own gain. I’ve learned the hard way whom to trust and how to make friendships that last. I’ve watched my three daughters go through ups and downs with friends as they progress through the various stages of life, each stage with its own set of criteria for relationships. I’ve made mistakes in choosing friends and in properly being a friend, and I try to impart whatever wisdom I have gained on my children and their own circle of companions.
It’s that time of year, the time when parents are bombarded with emails and snail mails asking them to send their children to camp. While there are many different kinds of camps that focus on everything from making your child the next Peyton Manning to teaching them how to audition for Broadway, every child should have the opportunity to experience a good, old-fashioned outdoor camp, especially girls.
I’ve heard the question asked many times. I’ve felt it in the disapproving looks and seen it in the shake of a head. I’ve read it on social media in the form of memes and comments. Many of my friends ask it. “Why is a nice person like you so fanatical about a violent, physical game like that?” I have to smile when confronted with the question. You see, for me, it’s only partially about the game. As the NFL has touted all season, “Football is Family.”
I’m going to do something today that I never thought I would do. I have the privilege of aligning myself with one of my greatest idols, master story-teller, George Lucas. This morning, I re-watched Lucas’ interview with Charlie Rose; and for the second time, I was mesmerized by his story and struck by his priorities. When asked why Lucas walked away from directing for fifteen years, he said “I wanted to be a dad.” Wow. One of the most successful movie makers in the world, and arguably the most successful story-teller of our time, walked away from it all to be a dad; not a politician, not an actor or a rock star, not some other avenue toward greater celebrity, but a dad.
It’s almost funny, the things we will do to spend just a small amount of special time with the ones we love, and how we truly come to appreciate those times over the years. Christmas is one of those times. Christmas in our house was always special, always a wonderful get-together with our large, extended family. When I was very young, my parents and I would spend the entire Christmas holiday with my grandparents on the Wicomico River in St. Mary’s County, Maryland. We always attended the Christmas Eve vigil at the church where my parents were married (which was built by my grandfather). While it was just the five of us there on Christmas morning, throughout the day, family would arrive until the tiny house was bursting at the seams with all of the people, presents, and holiday cheer. Dinner was a festive event with family from all over Southern Maryland popping in and out to exchange gifts and greetings. 
Everyone who has ever taken a yoga class has heard the words, “Whenever you need a break, come to child’s pose.” This morning, as we all went into child’s pose, on our knees with our heads bowed, those words really sank in for me. Typically, my mind goes to, I’ve been doing yoga for three years, I don’t need to go to child’s pose. I don’t want to take a break. Inevitably, though, when our instructor tells us to move on to downward dog, there’s a little voice in my head that says, No, it feels good to be in child’s pose! And today, I had a revelation. In life, we all need a break sometimes. We all need to come to child’s pose. 
I know that when it comes to taking pictures, I drive my family crazy. Countless times I have heard the phrase, “Another picture?” or “Haven’t we taken enough?” or “Can I go now?” They can keep complaining. It doesn’t phase me. I will continue to take their pictures, their friends’ pictures, our pets’ pictures, our family pictures, our vacation pictures, our holiday pictures, and any other photos I feel like 
taking because it all boils down to one thing – this event, this memory, this small moment in time will only happen once and only last for an instant, and I want to remember it forever. 
I am usually finished Christmas shopping by the first of November, except for a few stocking stuffers and perhaps an extra gift here or there. That’s good because this month, we have incurred several unexpected expenses, and Ken asked me to tone down the gift giving. “No problem,” I told him, “I’m pretty much done shopping.” Then I went to my gift closet and pulled out everything I’ve bought in my travels over the past year, and guess what. I haven’t bought nearly as many presents as I thought I had. As Charlie Brown would say, “Good grief.”
from the little orphan girl who took in a stray dog and softened the heart of a grouchy, old millionaire, but I have always remembered and adhered to her words “the sun will come out tomorrow.”
For a country where all are entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, we sure do have to put up with a plethora of rules and regulations. In my ten years as a camp director, I’ve seen the regulations regarding overnight camps skyrocket. This year I will have 100 girls and 60 staff members at camp all week. Think about that – a 6 to 10 ratio! Why? There is now a requirement that I give a two-hour break to all staff members every day. I know, I know, that sounds reasonable enough; but this is an all-volunteer camp. These adults have volunteered their time 24 hours a day (because incidents at camp don’t stop when the lights go out), and they expect to be busy running programs, watching on the beachfront, helping with crafts, going on hikes, etc. None of us expects to sit lazily under a tree or take a nap in our cabins for two hours. And mealtimes and recreational time don’t count as breaks. I’m turning away girls because I have to house staff in order to satisfy this rule.
You must be logged in to post a comment.