"Road Trip!" These two words are destined to evoke either angst or excitement, depending on who's doing the shouting. In my house, excitement wins. We've always enjoyed road trips--driving to Florida or Canada and many places in between. Mom often popped me in the car when I was a young kid, not yet in school. "We're going on an adventure," she'd say. "Where?" I'd ask. "Don't know…let's pick a direction and go," she'd respond. "Does Daddy know?" I'd ask, always concerned that dad knew and could provide rescue, if needed. "Yes, dear, he knows," she'd say. Off we'd toot in her gold Toyota wagon…

A constant parade of babysitters marched through my parents' home while I was growing up. Both teachers, they had instant access to kids they grew to know and trust. I wish that it were as easy for me today. It isn't that I have so few students who I'd trust with my little guy, and certainly transportation is less an issue in my district, where it's a student's inalienable right to get a car shortly after earning his license. But I had no idea, until my husband and I pledged to share a monthly date night, what a challenge it would be to find someone who isn't working every Friday and Saturday…

When Benjamin was born, we'd already set in place a plan for his care once my maternity leave expired. My husband works different shifts than I do, while also completing his teaching degree, and planned to assume "daytime Ben-watch" with the help of my parents, who would watch him a few hours a week. I returned to work without concern that my boy would be neglected, but a thought did niggle--a thought I did not share with my worry-prone husband. I work in a germ factory. I teach teens who don't always wash after using the bathroom and who don't necessarily believe that cleanliness is a …

Ah, the comfort of footie pajamas. You never have to worry about finding the missing mate of your slipper, probably stuck smack dab in the center under your bed. You don't need a bathrobe and the top and bottom match automatically because they're one piece. They're snuggly, fleecy, warm--like wearing a hug all night long. What could be better? This rhetorical question I posed to my husband got me thinking about other "baby comforts" available for our little guy today that I think would make our adult lives so much better. Bibs: We're not talking your grandma's bibs--these are stylish, …

Since a colleague's little guy wears clothing about a year ahead of my peanut, we inherit many hand-me-downs I'm desperately seeking, like a snowsuit or swim trunks. Not being much of a shopper, I never realized until I needed to find these vital items that I should have sought the swim trunks for June in January and the snowsuit for December in July. Sadly, not one place I visited offered a Magic 8 Ball able to predict the size my unpredictably growing son would be wearing six months hence. Thank goodness the hand-me-down tradition is still alive and well--and for thrift and consignment …