My sister is a truly special person.  She is 7 years younger than me and the baby of our family.  From a very young age, she has marched to a different drummer - and that drummer is keeping a very difficult beat to keep up with!  She is an accomplished equestrian, animal lover, tennis player, and human rights activist.  I say the last as she became infected with a desire to pull up the socially and economically dejected after a life-altering visit to a museum when she was 9.

She is very bright and was accepted to a prestigious science and technical high school run by the Marines where she left her friends behind to pursue her education.  She recently did a study-abroad in Southern China which further motivated her interest in human rights.  Around that time, she decided she wanted to go to law school to pursue Public Interest Law.

She assures us all that Public Interest Lawyers are not the slimy, ambulance chasers we normally associate with lawyers.  They protect the rights of the public and help write laws in accordance with the Constitution. 

This past summer, she taught English to African refugees and that confirmed her belief that Public Interest Law was the right path for her.  So, she began the process of applying to law schools. By the way, she is graduating from her undergraduate school a year early, with honors.

Here is something else you should know about my sister - she is very hard on herself.  To a ridiculous degree.  Let me give you an example.  When she was 15, she was in the midst of this very difficult high school program, was taking horseback riding lessons 5X a week and playing tennis for her Varsity high school team.  My parents noticed she seemed exhausted and was literally falling asleep at dinner, when they drove her to these events, and going to bed at 8PM (at 15 years old!).  They kept bugging her about whether she was taking on too much, but she insisted she wasn't.

Finally, she came out to visit me in Chicago for a "girls weekend", but she fell asleep during the movie we went to and on our way to dinner...and she declined a spa day to go to bed early.  I called my mom and told her something was definitely wrong.  They went to the doctor and they found out my sister had Mononucleosis.  Rather, she HAD mono and now it was Einsteins-Barr. 

My parents are hippie, free spirit professionals - my dad is a psychologist and my mother is a public school teacher - they never would push us beyond our limits.  My sister -- they had to literally force her to relax. 

If she got a "B" on a test, she was in tears.  If she missed a jump in a dressage competition, she was angry with herself for days!  This kid has a natural fire under her butt that keeps her hopping!

We are always telling her "RELAX!!".

So, in recent weeks, she has been giving herself an ulcer about getting into law school.  Specifically, there was one school in LA that she really wanted to get into as they have the field of law she wants to be in (and it is a rare field since Public Interest lawyers don't make the big bucks so there is not a lot of demand).

A week ago, she got her acceptance letter!  Hooray!  You'd think she would be over the moon happy, right? 

Well, she called me in tears two days ago to say that she didn't receive a scholarship to the school like she was hoping for and that the school is very expensive and she is afraid of having so much student loan debt when she graduates...especially in this economy.

She wanted my advice. 

Should she go to that school?  Should she go to a less expensive school that doesn't have her specific field of interest?

What would you tell her?

Here is a poem my sister wrote when she was 9, right after visiting the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC:

I hold in my hands a key to peace

and a key to hate.

You cannot choose the key for me...

you can only influence my choice.

How do you influence me?

Female judges were more cynical and critical of other women's maternal commitment (but more interested in meeting them). Surprisingly - and to my relief - both sexes are marginally (1.1 times for men, 1.2 for women) more likely to think a woman looked more attractive with a child than when she was alone.

Sometimes you can just feel that a memory is being made as you experience it.  This morning, mama was up before baby!  I felt as excited for Christmas as when I was little and anticipating the newest Barbie mobile.

It was a delight to see him ripping up paper and interesting in what was underneath (okay, more interested in the paper than the toys at this point).

Funny how things have changed.  My parents made childhood magical and fun.  Now I get to return the favor via my son.  However, I cannot shake the feeling that he needs a sibling.  I mean, my favorite Christmas memories involve my older brother.  He was and is such a sweetheart - his focus was always to make it special for me. I think I have birthed a son who is as gentle and thoughtful.  Or, at least, I hope I have.

Am I an adult now?  I feel like a real grown-up. Playing Santa. 

It's terrible to wish time to go by faster than it does so I won't.  Nevertheless, I am very excited for the Christmas' of the future when Leo actually knows what to expect and can wake me up at the crack of dawn!

Next up, my favorite day of the year.......New Years!  Welcome, 2012!

First, lets clarify what "effective" means.  To be effective, the punishment you issue the kid must lead to an end of the undesired behavior.  If you are using the same punishment for the same behavior over and over again - that is NOT an effective punishment.

There are two types of punishment you can administer.  They have different characteristics that have to be applied to turn them from plain old punishment to "effective" punishment.

The first is a rare, but extremely harsh punishment.  Let's use a frequent adult misbehavior as an example.  Speeding.  The reason people speed is because the reward outweighs the punishment.  You either rarely get pulled over or, when you do, the fine is pretty reasonable.  Or a combination of both.  However, imagine that you only got pulled over twice a year for speeding...but the fine was $10,000 and there was no way to fight it.  Now, THAT would likely lead to a sharp reduction in speeding because THAT hurts!

So, to squash a child's misbehavior using this technique, you would have to apply a very painful punishment.  Corporal punishment is used for this, but the problem is that a swat or two on the butt is NOT effective.  That is why people who use this method are often swatting their kid's butt for the same misdemeanors over and over again.  It doesn't really hurt so the kid has no real incentive not to repeat the bad behavior.

Of course, the amount of pain you'd have to apply to a child to make it "memorable" is probably punishable by your own time in jail.  More importantly, most parents are probably not willing to apply the amount of pain required to be effective anyway.  Thank god.

On the other hand, you have non-Corporal punishment methods.  These are not about pain, but inconvenience.  Let's use the speeding example again.  If the fine for speeding was $5.00, you'd probably do it all of the time!  But what if you car was designed to automatically know when you went over the speed limit by even 1 mile per hour and automatically printed a $5.00 ticket each time?  That would not only add up really quick, but it would be really irritating to have to mail in all of those tiny checks.

The same works for non-Corporal punishment - be it "time out", going to bed early, or taking away a toy or privilege.  The problem here is consistency.  If you give a 5 minute time out for talking back - you have to take 5 minutes (or more if the kid won't stay put) each time.  Most parents give up after 2 minutes or give a time out on Thursday, but not on Friday, then again on Sunday, but not on Tuesday.  If it's not consistent, the kid will test the limit again and again.  

But if the parent follows through every single time - the kid will not want to inconvenience themselves with the misbehavior knowing they'll be annoyed for 5 minutes each time.  It's not worth it. 

I guess that is why they say parenting is not easy.  You're resigned to 3 choices: beating your child senseless, annoying your child senseless, or putting up with bad behavior.

Where's that village?

Our country is like a family.  Taxes are like chores.

If parents are smart and family is functioning like it should, the children in the family contribute in the form of chores.  These chores aren't adored by the children, but they should understand the important contribution they are making to the family unit and do so with little griping.  

Some parents use chores as a form of punishment.  This is probably not a good idea.  The reason you are scrubbing the toilet is because everyone in the family , including you, enjoys sitting on a clean seat.  If chores are only a form of punishment, there is no reason to want to do chores when not being punished.

For some reason, most people seem to view taxes in our country as a form of punishment.  Fines are punishment.  Taxes are your contribution to the "family".

But if people are ever going to stop griping about paying their taxes then mom and dad have to stop using them to their own advantage.

For example, doing the dishes is a good chore for a kid because everyone uses the dishes.  However, cleaning mom's jewelry is probably not a good chore since it's really using the kid as a source of free labor.  My mom always gave me a dollar or two as compensation for those kinds of duties.  Refund!

Sometimes, I didn't feel like doing my chores so I would use some of my allowance to pay my brother to do them.  Capitalism!  

If I was especially sweet to my daddy, he'd excuse me from my chores and make my brother do them.  Loop hole!

If there wasn't enough time to finish my chores because I had too much school work, my mother would allow me to do it the next day instead.  Extension!

When I was sick, the chores still had to get done so my mom would do things normally in my jurisdiction.  If my brother was sick, my dad would do things in his jurisdiction.  Benefits!

Some of my chores involved things way up high - like putting away the sheets after they were folded or the plates after they had dried.  In those cases, my father would help me finish.  Welfare!

My brother was the oldest and the strongest so he had more physically demanding chores than me or our little sister.  Progressive Tax!

In the midst of our good times, my brother and I used create a pretty big mess that we came to regret once we realized the scale of the damage.  Debt ceiling!

A lot of times, I'd make the mistake of doing the easy chores first and then I'd run out of steam and really suffer through the hardest chores.  Recession!

When we got along, my brother and I would team up to each finish our chores sooner.  Then, we'd take turns being "look out" for our parents while the other one got to watch TV.  Surplus!

At dinner time, we'd usually vote on what we wanted to eat.  Democracy!

But if my mom burned the meal, we had to clean out plates anyway.  Dictator!

I often wonder if men can really appreciate their ability to bring goodness into the lives of their families.  Because no matter how much society changes, no matter how much technology improves, or how empowered women become, you simply cannot replace the simple greatest of a great Dad or Husband.

Perhaps the greatest part of the Good Man is their variety.  What makes a man good is how they seemed almost tailored to your life.  Good men make those in their life feel protected, loved, guided, and strong.  But there are so many dimensions to the Good Man: the sense of humor, insightful anecdotes, quiet strength, unexpected vulnerability, and cautionary tales.  

As a daughter, I remember falling asleep to the sound of my father working late at night.  The shuffle of paper and the glow of his desk lamp were just enough to make me feel that all was right with my world - I was being watched over.

As a sister, I recall my brother teasing me...and then waiting in my bedroom to see if I was okay after I ran to the bathroom crying.  "Hey, I was just kidding, are you alright?".  

As a granddaughter, I know what my grandpa meant when he said "Now, you bring that boy over so I can question his intentions, young lady" and I can still feel the summer sun on my back as we would sit on the back porch putting together a puzzle with him tossing me candy from his secret stash.  And I swore, as I watched him in that nursing home write his name over and over again - not wanting to forget it, that my son would bear his name.

As a mother, I see my baby son - his grandpa and great-grandpa's namesake, and I know a legacy of Good Men will help turn him into a Good Man. 

Because you don't have to fight to be a warrior or earn a medal to be a hero.  Every day men get up and inspire their children, support their wives, and quietly make their family proud.

So, to all of the Good Men out there, who understand respect and know the value of love, thank you for being you.  For learning from your mistakes, helping us work through ours, and doing it all with a smile, a laugh, a knowing glance.  

Your daughters, sisters, wives, and - especially - your mothers love you.

10) "Wait Till Your Father Gets Home!" is a classic.  It was popularized in the 50's when a father's only job was to beat the @!$%# out of his kids when they misbehaved.  And if you uttered this early enough in the day, you could have a nice fear-induced quiet for the remainder of the afternoon!

9) "One more bite" is for the picky eaters or anyone who just doesn't like your meatloaf recipe.  The fun with this one is that you can always say it, even if the kid has eaten quite a bit already.  Maybe you had a crappy day at work and you want to take it out on someone who is still blissfully carefree.  Just when they start to get up from the table, you can stop them with an "uh-uh-uh.  One more bite, mister."  It lets them know who's boss.

8) "I'll give you something to cry about" is sort of an empty threat these days thanks to CPS.  But it can be used as a humorous way of letting a whiny kid know they're about to take it too far.

7) "When I was your age..." is a phrase that doesn't even need an ending.  You can use this to clear the room when the game just started.

6) "Nice to meet you, Hungry" is what my parents said to me when I complained I was hungry.  It was annoying enough that it bought my mother another 20 minutes to make dinner.  You might even get 30 minutes extra if you shake the kid's hand as you say it.  That always really pissed me off.  

5) "1...2..." you better not get to 3 or their ass is grass.  The trick to this one is that, the first time, you have to get to 3 and then give some sort of punishment.  And it better be a pretty tortuous one because if it is, from then on...1...2...and BAM! your kid is hustling!

4) "Lights out" because it's bedtime!  My mom used to put me to bed when the sun was still out.  Sure, it was majorly lame, but it also meant I could read in bed!  You can decide how crazy you want to be about bed time: from the extreme "your eyes have to be closed and you have to be laying down, snoring" to the more relaxed attitude my mom had.  She just had one rule: keep your butt in the bed until morning.  That provides a lot of lee way and my brother and I imagined our beds were rafts floating down a river...a dungeon high above a fire pit...an island surrounded by hot lava...a magical cave of wonders!  Bedtime was fun and mom could catch up on her soaps and order @!$%# from HSN.  Win-win.

3) "What do you say??" is the universal manners-teaching-phrase.  The fill-in-the-blank answer to this one could be please, thank you, ma'am, sir, or any combination of those words and "yes" or "no" in front.  Be sure to raise your eye brows as they serve as implied multiple question marks.  You can tap your foot as well if you're the mom.

2) "Because I said so" made spot #2 because it can definitely be over-used.  Some adults think it is funny to use as the answer for everything, but that cheapens this otherwise very useful phrase.  There is a difference between a legitimate question and purposeful dilly-dallying.  You know the difference.  Only use this phrase for the latter and you're golden.  Use it for both cases and you're a joke, pops.

and the #1 useful parenting phrase is....

(drum roll, please....)

.

.

.

.

1) "Do what your mother/father says" is my my pick for the #1 useful parenting phrase.  It lets your kid know that, in this family - together or divorced, it's two adults united against you, kid!  You don't stand a chance!  It is a 2-for-1 deal because this phrase tells a kid you BOTH mean business and it also let's the other parent know you got their back.  You want to talk about building goodwill?  This phrase is like Viagra for dads and a 2-hour massage for moms!  If you're divorced, you might even get the other parent to pass-out with this phrase...lawsuits are dropped...the Heavens open up!  So the next time you hear Junior arguing about whether to pick up his dirty socks or Princess whining that she doesn't want to brush her teeth.  Shout out this #1 useful parenting phrase from the den or the kitchen and make your partner's day!

This is a perceived generational faux pas that is growing to epic proportions.  Decades ago, any major event in your life in which you received a gift required a hand-written "thank you" note in which you mentioned the received gift and your joy at having received it.  Bonus points if you also mention your delight at having had them attend your event.

It is not that this newest generation is any less grateful.  It's just that we're less superficial.  No one says "delighted" or "wonderful" any more so saying so in a note is a bit disingenuous.  Furthermore, current eco-friendly trends making paper cards and notes tacky.  Plantable notes and cards are expensive and let's be honest with ourselves, we all throw cards out nearly immediately depending on how close your trash can is to your mailbox.

To me, the only thing worse than not saying "thank you" for a gift is expecting something in return for your gift.

I recently attended a wedding in which I gave a gift off the couple's registry and cash at the reception.  I like these people.  They like me.  I'm assuming that is why they invited me to their wedding.  I was happy to get them something.  If they didn't have a registry, I would have given more cash.  Their gratitude was assumed.  They sent a note any way.  Now it's on my fridge, waiting for the trash. 

I have a system for my fridge cards that you are welcome to adopt:

Friends - 3 days on the fridge for every year I have known you

Family - Automatic week on the fridge regardless of relationship

Co-workers - 1 day on fridge unless you are friend (refer to friends category)

But, honestly, I wish they would stop sending notes of gratitude.  I'm not so insecure that I need tangible proof that my friends, family, and co-workers are grateful to me for gifts I give them.  I know they are grateful because I don't buy gifts for ungrateful @!$%#s.

Nevertheless, grandmas and great aunts everywhere continue to be irritated when someone neglects to mail them a flowery expression of indebted-ness for the tea kettle or salad bowl they graciously gave them.  My own grandmother was irrtated by the speed at which her flowery expression of indebted-ness reached her!

Damn, grandma!  I just got back from the East Coast where we had our wedding for your convenience even though my now-husband and I live in the Mid-West!  Give me some time to unpack the silverware you gave me!

So what do you guys think?  Am I a selfish, Generation-Yer that has no manners?  Or do older generations need to give up their antiquated ideas of social appropriateness?

Moving means change and it's possibly one of the biggest changes a person can make depending on how far they go.  I have noticed that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who move a lot and/or far and those who stick around in the same place for a long time (maybe even forever).

As a child, I was prone to clinging.  I didn't like to spend the night at friend's houses, I slept with my "blankie" every night because it smelled like "mommy", I collected "pretty" rocks, sticks, leaves and refused to throw them away, and I once bawled in the lobby of UCLA at age 6 when my father casually said "someday maybe you'll go here" (imagine: "but I don't wanna ever leave you!!").  But I quickly learned from others that this was taken as a sign of weakness.  From the gentle, but persistent teasing (cry baby, mommy's girl, homebody), I came to understand that I was not supposed to feel this way.  I was supposed to want to "leave the nest".

I grew up in New Jersey, attended summer camps in New York, went to college in Florida, took my first job in Illinois, and...find myself about to move to Texas in the coming months.  

I do not like this.  It is against my nature.  And I have grown up enough to no longer care if my East Coast friends think I'm "cool" or not (ironically, all of my childhood friends still live in New Jersey).

I worked in a funeral home for two years and was honestly shocked to read over and over again on death certificates that the place of birth and place of death matched for 95% of the people...60, 70, 80, 90 years in the same place.  And I was envious!  

Still, I find I am not overly sad or anxious about this move even though it will be the most stressful and complicated of all the moves I have ever made (we have to sell our house, I have to find a new job, and we have a new baby to worry about!) because I have made peace with myself and told my husband that this is the LAST time I will move until I retire...

and now that I know this is the case, I can look forward to Texas as my new "forever home".  And my imagination can run away with me and fantasize about the lovely life we will create there.  I can envision our son growing up there (will he have a Southern accent!?), I will be able to make long-term friends and someday - I will talk about

"when I moved here, years ago..."

After scheduling an induction on a Monday afternoon for the next Friday, I went into labor that night at 2AM.  I wasn't sure I was in labor since I have never been before so I waited until my OBGYN opened in the morning and scheduled an appointment to come in and be checked.  At 10:20AM, a doctor confirmed that I was 3cm dilated and fully effaced so my husband and I checked right into the hospital.  However, the baby didn't arrive until 10:40PM that night, after an hour of pushing.

However, I must admit that the transition home hasn't been easy.  I have been battling a case of the Baby Blues that probably wouldn't be as bad if I didn't feel so guilty for having the baby blues in the first place.  I hadn't been able to stop thinking about how I won't be able to enjoy any time alone with my husband any more.

Frankly, I felt like I missed out on his affection before the baby and having the baby made me realize it would only be worse.  It has gotten better in the last day or two and I am hoping to feel more joy in the coming days rather than anxiety. 

So, 6lbs 13oz, Edward Leo is now a part of our family and we are learning to adjust to one another.  He is seemingly healthy (though has a tear duct that causes some goop in his eye sometimes) and already (dare I say) seems to know the difference between night and day (waking twice in the night for a feeding and a changing).  Breastfeeding is going well and I am eagerly awaiting the umbilical cord to fall off so he will appear less delicate.

Thank you to all for the well wishes and advice over the last few months.  I fear I'll need even more in the future!

This past Christmas, I was unwrapping an ornament my mother passed on to me and I realized it was wrapped in a newspaper from 1986 which included an advertisement for a cell phone that was $700 and the size of a loaf of bread.  It was hilarious and intriguing and I love time capsules!

Now that my little stinker is almost here, I can think about creating a time capsule for him and that makes me happy!  I have decided that I will take my time to gather some items (not too many, he may end up being a big jerk and never even open it or lose it, who knows - and I don't want to have to lug around a big box) and have his first birthday be when I seal it.  This way, I can include some sentimental letters from people like his great grandmother and his grandmother in Russia who is in failing health.

It will be a 21st birthday time capsule and I want it to provide a sentimental and laughter-inducing reaction.  Therefore, aside from letters and photos and my favorite baby outfit for him - I will include practical and interesting things:

1) a newspaper

2) a gossip magazine

3) one of those real estate mags that has photos and prices of houses

4) a receipt from a recent grocery shopping trip (that should be funny to look back on in 20 years!)

5) a photo from the local gas station showing prices

6) a postage stamp

7) a TV guide listing

But there will also be a few things for laughs and entertainment value on his 21st birthday:

1) a Playboy from the month of his birthday (let's see how much different the standard of beauty is in 20 years!)

2) an outfit for him to wear on his 21st b-day (with the receipt - go ahead and try to exchange it if it doesn't fit) - probably a "cool" t-shirt and some shorts

3) the information to the savings account I took out for him before he was born

4) a small, but popular toy from today

5) a sports illustrated

6) a Twinkie

Have any more ideas about things that should be in a time capsule?  Have you ever created or opened a time capsule?

Tell us all about creating a blast from the past! 

I am a daddy's girl.

I was 12 years old when I watched my beloved grandfather writing his name repeatedly, over and over, in a vain attempt not to forget himself. He had Alzheimer's Disease. It was in that moment that I realized my grandfather and my dad (his son) had the same name: Edward.

"It must be a family name!"

I was tickled to discover that we had a family name because we were not a family big on traditions (I had an older brother not named Edward so they obviously hadn't carried it on) and being a very sentimental girl, I decided that, if I ever had a son, I would name him after my father and thus, grandfather: Edward.

When it came up again, I was 17 and mentioned in some specific circumstances in front of my family my plans for my naming my "someday son". My dad looked at me a bit perplexed and said "I'm not named after my dad."

Turns out that my grandmother was close to her brother who died when he was only a kid. His name was Edward and she always knew she would name any son she had in honor of her deceased brother. It just so happened she married a man with that name as well. No passing down of names in this case...

Fast forward to 3 months ago. I'm pregnant and it's a boy! I had told my husband years ago that I would like to name my son Edward. He said he didn't have an opinion - he had a son from a previous marriage and gave him the only boy name he ever liked.

So, when we heard "it's a boy!" - there was no discussion - he would be Edward.

My family thought "oh, cute" - they were not head-over-heels - how precious to name him after your dad! My family doesn't get overly worked up over anything - positive or negative.

Now, we needed a middle name. I suggested dozens of names - my husband turned his nose up at all of them. Weeks went by, nearly every day I would suggest a few more - he didn't like any of them. He is Russian - I offered up some Slavic names. Ick. He hated them.

Then...one day...he sent me an email at work. "How about Leo?"

I knew right away this was a reference to his favorite author, Tolstoy. But since my husband hates Russian names, he prefered Leo to Tolstoy's actual name of Liev.

I thought it was adorable - I absolutely loved it! We immediately began referring to the thing in my belly as "Leo".

Fast forward to now.

I call him Leo 90% of the time. I call him Edward 10% of the time (to family who doesn't live near us and calls him Edward). I have never heard my husband say the name "Edward" unless in reference to my father.

I realize now, after the efforts put into picking the perfect middle name, that the name really is important to my husband. I asked him the other night if he wanted to switch the first and middle names and make him "Leo Edward" instead of "Edward Leo", but he said it didn't really matter and he didn't want to hurt my father's feelings.

I told him - it's our son and he deserves a say in his own son's name...AND that I love both names and don't care about the order. "I don't care about the order either," he said.

Yet, we are still calling him Leo all of the time.

We're down to the wire - the baby is due in a couple of weeks.

How should this little guy's birth certificate read?

Piano lessons, Science Fair Projects, a new car, birthday parties, college fund, gas money, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

What do parents owe their children?

You would think we could agree on something like, say, safety. But then you have parents who think its okay for a child not to wear a helmet when they ride their bike or it's okay for a 4 year old to ride a 4-wheeler -- and others who think that spells "irresponsible".

You could say health. But most parents circle the McDonald's more than once a month or offer up all kinds of treats in place of fruit and vegetables. Or even let their kids drink soda at many meals. I can't get on board with that.

Perhaps we owe them honesty. But then where is the fun in Santa, Easter Bunnies, Tooth Fairies, and any Disney movie?

*sigh* Parenting really doesn't come with any rule book. The government provides some very basic guidelines, like, you cannot beat your child to a bloody pulp or sexually abuse them...but even the punishment rate for these crimes fails to reflect the seemingly serious nature of these transgressions.

As I prepare for my child's arrival - I have only a few things I expect of myself as a mother. The first is to protect my son's health both physically and emotionally until he is old enough to take those responsibilities on himself. The second is to not have any pre-conceived notions about who he is - in other words - pay attention to who he is and who he is becoming....and lastly, to do my best to help foster who is really is without allowing him to feel entitled.

Of course, I plan on offering up my own values along the way: respect, compassion, and education. But my foundation is pretty basic.

The most common mistake that parents seem to make is assuming their child is just like them.

What do you think parents owe their children? What do you feel you owe your children?

"Playing video games with your girls could be a really good thing," said Sarah Coyne, Ph.D., assistant professor of family life at Brigham Young University and lead author of the study. "It's the face-to-face time with an adolescent culture-type of game. When parents play with their kids, they're saying, 'I'm willing to do what you what you like to do.'"

Seeing as many women have their children later in life, there are not many of us who have great-grandparents. More of us have grandparents, however.

As the birth of my first little one is just a few months away, I have started thinking about what he will call his grandparents.

I called my grandparents "Granny and Pop-pop". I had a great-grandpa for a little while and he was called "3 Pops" (since 2 pops was taken =) and it didn't feel right to say pop-pop-pop).

Our little guy will have only one great-grandparent - my maternal grandmother (granny, to me). What will our son call her?

And granny and pop-pop seem too old for my parents. I cannot imagine calling them that.

On my husband's side, there is only his mother who lives in Russia and only speaks Russian - she is "Baba Nata" per my husband's instructions as to what he called his grandmas (Baba = short for Babushka, the word for grandma in Russian -- then insert diminutive form of grandma's first name -- Natasha is Nata in this case).

So, I need some ideas. What did you call your grandparents? What do your kids call your parents? Any name ideas for great-grandparents?

My earliest memories have a common thread: Teddy Beddy - my security blanket.

A big, white square with a blue, polka-dot trim and rainbow ruffles around the edges - "Teddy" was an appliqué teddy bear with sleepy eyes who was holding his own, smaller version of the blankie itself.

On the way to pre-school (a whining, hive-inducing, hiccuping, drama), on the way to the doctor (a begging, pleading, sobbing, adventure), before bed, while watching a movie - I liked to have Teddy Beddy with me all of the time. I liked the way it smelled. I never sucked my thumb, but I would bunch him up under my head and stick my nose in the pile of cotton - just breathing in his smell (which was a combination of mold and tears according to my mother) could calm me down.

After a washing, it would take a week before he "smelled right" again. If I went to grandma's house, I missed my mommy and Teddy Beddy smelled like home. But when I came home, Teddy Beddy seemed to smell like grandma's house and I'd want him washed.

Ironically, Teddy Beddy had been purchased by my grandmother before I was born. He was part of a crib set.

As I grew, my love for Teddy Beddy did not diminish and when I was 8 or 9, that became it's own source of anxiety. Maybe I was weird? Everyone would laugh if they knew I slept with a blankie! If I went to a sleepover party, I stuffed him in the bottom of my sleeping bag so I would have him in the middle of the night.

When I was 13 and still liked to sleep with him - I thought it meant I would never have a boyfriend. But I still wasn't willing to part. Although, notedly, burying my nose in his soft, tattered body didn't make me feel as good as it had when I was 5.

When I went off to college, I put him in a box with some other mementos and I was long over worrying what someone else might think of my blankie.

Since he went in the box, I graduated from college, got married, and got a master's degree. I'd still pull him out when my grandparents visited - filled with holes, missing 90% of his stuffing - no more blue trim (it has faded) or rainbow ruffles (they're just grayish) - to hear them exclaim "I can't believe you still have that thing!" and "Best investment I ever made!".

Now, 6 months pregnant, I received a package yesterday from my grandmother (great grandmother to be!). It was a super-soft, fuzzy blue blankie with an adorable teddy bear face in the middle. Decidedly more "masculine" than my blankie with a note that read:

"I hope the baby loves this one as much as you loved Teddy Beddy!"

Uh-oh, I thought. Do I really want to have to worry about ensuring this blankie's constant presence in my son's life!? Teddy Beddy once got FedEx-ed to California when we forgot him and on the plane - my mother told my father "I am NOT staying in a hotel room with this (pointing at me) child without that blankie!"....it was at the hotel before we were, like magic (to me at the time).

Last night, I took Teddy Beddy out of his box and curled up in bed with him as I drifted off to sleep...he smelled like childhood and innocence.

There are so many factors that shape who we are and how we respond to the world around us. One of those factors are, arguably, our family - but of course there are a billion factors that go into our family dynamics as well...one of those is birth order.

Whether you're an only child or if you have siblings, there are said to be predictable characteristics often shared by individuals who had the same birth order.

Only Child: Often enjoys being the center of attention even if they are not particularly outgoing, may refuse to cooperate when they do not get their own way (even later in the work place or relationships),

Oldest Child: Most likely to conform in order to gain approval from others, strives to protect and help others, values being right and in control

Second Child: Develops abilities different than oldest sibling, views things as competition or race, may question self-worth if first child is successful in life

Middle of Three: Perceives life as unfair, is adaptable, is easily discouraged by others

Youngest: Behaves like Only Child, often allies with oldest sibling if the youngest of three, doesn't mind letting others take responsibility or control of situations

Do these descriptions resonate with you and your family? Did you enjoy your family life with the birth order you had?

There was a time in the U.S. and it still exists in many places in the world - where grandparents lived with their children.

Recently, I met my mother-in-law for the first time as she came in from Russia. My husband had not seen her in 13 years. She has a syndrome that causes severe arthritis and despite being only 72, she is in pretty rough shape. Of course, she is very "old school" - she kept poking my ribs and saying I was too skinny to have kids (my husband and I have started trying), she brought me three pairs of socks and a shawl that she had knit, she made dinner every night, brought an entire box of Russian chocolate candies, and admonished anyone who said anything nasty in front of us women.

My husband told me that, in Russia, grandparents essentially raise their grandchildren. Parents have to work and when they come home, they are tired or want to play with the kids so grandparents prepare dinner and wash the clothes.

There are benefits to this way of doing things. Children gain appreciation for the elderly, specifically, their grandparents. Meanwhile, grandparents get to feel useful, needed, and being around children can keep them young. Parents save money on child care. Grandparents save money on a mortgage and possibly a nursing home later in life.

In America, grandparents often live far from their grandkids and grandkids feel awkward and bored around their grandparents. In Russia, grandparents are a playmate for many years. And they are not alone.

I have to say, it was enjoyable to sit around the table in the evening, eating tradional Russian foods, hearing stories about the old Soviet Union. I couldn't see how it would be bad to have our children exposed to this way of home life.

Maybe we're missing this concept in America. Why can't grandparents be a more integral part of raising our families?

Today, somewhere far away, a mother is giving birth to her first child. After hours of blood, sweat, and tears, her little bundle is placed in her arms and in a soft, cooing voice this mother speaks the first words this baby hears: "Wo ie ni" - "Je t'aime" - "Ich liebe dich" - "Ya lyublyu tebya" - "Te amo" - "I love you."

This baby will grow up in a rich culture, go to grade school, and beyond. He will make friends and have secrets. He will learn to share, learn that life is not fair, and face challenges beyond his years. His parents will adore him and see in him the promise of a better future. They will wish, pray, hope, struggle for a better life for their child.

Some day this child will grow up and take all of the gifts his family has given him. He will dream of a place where his full potential can be met. He will make a journey by train, by plane, by boat, by car. He will be worried, but he will be brave and when he arrives in the Unites States - his long life will be started anew.

Inside of him are all of the qualities that have made America great: Perseverance, Courage, Compassion, Creativity, Faith, and Focus. He will acheive great things the only way we know how - through hard work and sacrifice. He will respect his home-land and love his chosen-land.

Today, somewhere far away, an American is born...

A Few Famous Naturalized Americans:

Albert Eistein (Physicist) - originally from Germany
Madeleine Albright (former Secretary of State) - originally from Czechoslovakia
Joseph Pulitzer (famous journalist/writer) - originally from Hungary
Saint Frances X. Cabrini (Nun; opened 67 schools in the USA) - originally from Italy
Rita M. Rodriguez (first female professor at Harvard) - orginally from Cuba
David Ho (AIDS research pioneer) - originally from Taiwan
Levi Strauss (creator of jeans company) - orginally from Bavaria
Sergey Brin (Google Founder) - originally from Russia
Franklin R. Chang-Diaz (NASA astronaut) - originally from Costa Rica
Louis Prang (inventor of the American Christmas Card) - orginally from Germany

He later said he had lost hope during a 141/2-hour overnight interrogation and made his statement when promised leniency in exchange.
Police knew he was innocent and framed him, Zellner, who represented the couple in the lawsuit, argued at the trial.

DNA evidence gathered from the girl and duct tape placed over her mouth eventually showed that her father was not her killer. He was freed and the murder remains unsolved.

Hey Mom, remember when I cried everyday of preschool and always sobbed at bedtime? You would make your "mad face" and point to the school or my bedroom and I'd obediently go even though I wished you would hug me. You confessed you were sometimes worried I wouldn't want to hug you after school or in the morning. I'm glad I always did. So were you.

Remember when you put my hair in a bun for ballet until I learned I could do it better than you? Remember when I wanted to become a vegetarian, but I hurt your feelings when I didn't like your Eggplant Parmesan and decided to give it up? I wish I knew at the time that was called support.

Remember when you told me I was like a tazmanian devil and I left a "trail" of messiness wherever I went and we'd argue about whether my room was technically "clean" and you said you felt like you were wasting your breath? Well, not much has changed. Sorry.

Do you remember the time we went shopping for my junior prom dress and I wanted to a buy a thong to go under it? I complained that you can't wear regular underwear because then people would see your panty line and you said "what's wrong with people knowing you wear underwear?" And we laughed until we cried. And then on the ride home, I played a new CD and the song had curse words, you demanded to know where I got the CD and I said "You gave it to me for Christmas" and we laughed again until we cried. You said, "I guess you think I'm getting old and out of touch." You were wrong. I thought you were understanding and funny.

You said I should worry about my career first and boys second....that I should never stop dancing....that I should not wear belly shirts....that I should know better than to pout....wait to have sex....tell you if I was in trouble.....be nice or be quiet.....not be such a "worry wart".....remember my little sister looks up to me.....and know that you're proud of me.

You said I would understand someday. That I should never have regrets. When grandpa got Alzheimer's, you said that if it ever happened to you, I shouldn't beat myself up if I had to put you in a nursing home. You said, "I'm always just a plane ride away", "Don't limit yourself for anyone", "You'll change more diapers than your husband, it's not worth fighting over", "If you're being a bitch, just admit it!", and "Are you listening to me?"

Yes, Mom. I was listening. And you were right. You were right about everything.