"Check Out My Dot-Com"

The Boy is about to hit a major milestone. He will turn seven and two-thirds on Monday. He thinks that sounds so much older than just "seven."

Like any typical kid, he just can't get older fast enough. When the neighbors across the street put their "slug bug blue" up for sale, he begged me to buy it for him so he had a car to drive when he got his license. He already knows who he's going to marry -- and has known this for about three years now -- and has, in fact, proposed. She accepted, but I'm pretty sure that she's not aware that this truly is a long-term plan of his.

But this boy who would be a man in a heartbeat also has some trouble letting go of some of his more childish characteristics. Like his love for all things Pokemon (shirts, notebooks, video games). And his need to still burrow next to me on the couch, or crawl into bed with beside me when he wakes up just a little too early on a Saturday.

One of my favorite things about all kids in general is their propensity to tweak the English language to their liking. Pasghetti is a nationwide phenomenon, but Jacob always used to enjoy milkaches (milkshakes) and lalos (balloons) on a weekend outing. He has since mastered pronunciation, but his awkwardness with some phrases leave me smiling.

Just today he was asking me about boxing gloves, and whether you could really open and close your hands when you were wearing them. I told him I didn't really know. So he grabbed his guitar and made up a song on the spot, that went something like this:

Hey there, can anyone tell me about boxing gloves?

I wanna know, wanna know, wanna know right now.

Can you open your hands when you're wearing them?

Send me the answer on my dot-com.

After I appropriately applauded, he took his bow, and said, "I really need my own dot-com, Mom. That way I can tell people to check out my dot-com."

I still don't know whether he meant an e-mail address, a website , or -- gasp! -- maybe even a blog. But I didn't correct him. I love his phrasing. He still lets me kiss and hug him when I drop him off at school or camp, but he's starting to get embarrassed when I fuss over him at soccer. So while we're in this no-man's land between boy and man, I'm going to enjoy every bit of "childhood" that we have left.

Why Someone Calls Me "Mom"

Now that you've met my dad (through my eyes, at least), I'd like to introduce you to the inspiration behind my favorite job ... being a mom.

My earliest memories of my mother are of her staying at home to take care of my sister and me. She sacrificed a lot to be our wake-up call, our welcome-home committee and our very own Cruise Director Julie. I give her a hard time because I can remember coming home from kindergarten (a TOUGH half-day!) and asking her for a peanut butter and jelly andwich, to which she replied that I'd have to wait for her to finish dusting. To be fair, I'm pretty sure my five-year-old mind warped that reality a bit before tucking it away to be brought up in times of adult whininess.

As much as I love her dearly for being there for us as kids, I love her even more for her next sacrifice. Mom gave up her free time and even some of her family time to go back to school and to work. It took her years, but she earned her Bachelor's degree as a mom, juggling school responsibilities for both her and her daughters.

Now that I'm a mom myself, I realize just how difficult that must have been for her. She probably worried she was giving up too much to achieve her goal, maybe even fretted over the time away from her husband and kids. What I do know is this: I waited far too many decades to tell my mom that I am incredibly proud of her for her sacrifice. What she imprinted upon me was an intense motherly devotion, the life lesson that becoming a student and a thriving member of the workforce as a parent does not mean you leave your innate "mother-ness" behind.

After my son, Jacob, has been tucked in for the night, I spend much of my time reading books about leadership in education, learning how to navigate my team through a maze of state and local concerns. But I realize now that the person I have sought to emulate the most isn't a superintendent, a highly-paid consultant, or even an author. It's my mom.

She made who I am today possible for me, a reality. She taught me that I can have it all... I can be a leader, a trusted friend, a creative soul ... but more importantly, I can be Mom, too.

I love you, Mom.

The first love of my life ...

I know that every daughter loves her father. I would never assume to love my dad more than my sister does, nor more than any other daughter in the world loves her father. But my dad truly amazes me. He gives, and gives, and gives. And just when you think he's done, he gives some more.

My dad had to put up with a heck of a lot of crazy antics when it came to rearing me in Michigan. For those of you who knew me at all as a child, a pre-teen, a teenager, a young adult, an adult ... wait, I'm not sure I like where that was going... well, you know what I'm talking about.

I've never been the one to take the easy road. I didn't like to take my parents' advice as much as I liked to learn things the hard way. Of course, I didn't realize that's what I was doing at the time. My Dad dealt with the phone calls gracefully, and if he dreaded the ringing of the telephone, he never showed it.

"Dad, I wrecked the car."
"Dad, I've got a flat tire."
"Dad, I wrecked the other car."
"Dad, my car's making a weird noise."
"Dad, what kind of tires should I buy?"

When I moved away after college, if the phone stopped ringing for any substantial length of time, my mother would tell him to get in the car. She wanted him to "look at me" and make sure I was OK. Usually, this sixth sense of hers was on the mark. And he never questioned it, he just packed up the car and came for a visit.

Four grandchildren later -- his four angels, as he calls them -- the man is still a force to be reckoned with. He's tough as nails when he wants to be, but gladly turns into a puddle of goo when my son or one of my nieces calls his name. And family is everything to him. When my mother needs to spend weeks and months away from him to take care of my grandmother, he sacrifices to make that happen. He's there for her with just a phone call, even though he'd rather they not spend that time apart.

I'm 38 now, and my 66-year-old father is still a major guiding force in my life. And he still gets a few of those calls every now again, since my husband is admittedly not a handyman.

But I know that whether I call him to ask about motor oil or just to tell him I'm thinking of him, he'll be there.

I love you, Dad.