Introduction To Placement & Hive Components

Before we get into the actual insect, let's talk about the current hive. Beekeepers, for the most part, still use hives designed by Rev. L. L. Langstroth in the early 1850s. Prior to this, beehives were kept in what looked like up-side-down baskets known as skeps. With skeps, the comb along with the total hive was destroyed when honey was harvested. Langstroth is credited with the removable frame hive and with specific bee space. In other words, he invented the ability to remove the frames of comb and place them back in the hive without damage to the hive or comb. Langstroth also discovered what is known now as "bee space" and is generally thought to be between 1/4"- 3/8". Anything less, they will add their glue known as propolis. Anything greater than 3/8" they will build comb.

Almost all hive boxes today are modeled after Rev. L. L. Langstroth's design with slight modifications over the years.

A typical hive consists of the following pieces, starting at the bottom and working up:

The Hive Stand

The Bottom Board

The Hive Bodies

The Medium or Small Honey Supers

The Inner Cover
The Top Cover

Today, let me explain the hive stand and the bottom board. The hive stand makes up the very bottom of the hive. However, many beekeepers do not find the hive stand necessary. I personally do not bother with hive stands. They appear impressive because they have a ramp leading up to the entrance. And, some people feel this helps the bees walk into the hive. However, I have watched the bees land, and they really don't land on the ramp nor walk up all that much. Bees prefer to fly, not climb. In the natural, they don't have ramps. I would recommend not using a hive stand to reduce cost and it makes it easier should you need to move your hive.

So, in my opinion the first piece of equipment you need is the bottom board. But before we place our bottom board, we have to consider where to place the hive, the direction the hive faces and how much to elevate the hive off the moist ground. I like to use wood pallets that I can obtain free from local factories. Usually one pallet is enough, but sometimes I'll place two pallets on top of each other to elevate the hive around 5-6" off the ground.

Then, I place my bottom board on the pallet. Pallets work well, but so do concrete blocks or any structure that will elevate the hive off the ground. You want the hive elevated for two reasons: To make it less stressful on your back and to raise the hive above the moisture in the ground. Bottom boards do draw moisture and so will be the first item to deteriorate over time. So, keeping the bottom board dry will help then last longer. Plus, it also means less moisture in the hive. Elevating the hive makes it easier on your back. But, do remember that eventually you'll have lots of supers, and if you elevate the first hive body to a comfortable range, you may soon find you need a ladder when you place 5 or 6 supers on. 5-6" is a good range of elevation.

Which direction? Which direction should the hive face. It really doesn't matter. We typically try to avoid the North so that cold winter wind will not blow into the front. And we typically try to face the hive Easterly so that the early morning sunrise will get the bees out working faster.

Shade or Sun? AVOID SHADE!! Get your hive in total sunlight. This is extremely important. They can keep the hive cool. Don't worry about the heat. Shade can attract pests such as Small Hive Beetle, ants and wax moths. Place the hive in direct sunlight. If you cannot avoid the shade, try to place the hive where it will receive the most sunlight.

Let's talk about bottom boards. There are many different variation of bottom boards. In the past there was only a standard solid bottom board. Now, with the introduction of mites, we have found that screen bottom boards help reduce mite populations and the screen also improves overall hive ventilation. A screen bottom board is part of what is known as IPM. Integrated Pest Management.

There are many different types of screen bottom boards. Some are simple and some have various slots and grooves to insert sticky boards or winter panels. Get the simple screen bottom board! If you want to slide in a white board or sticky board to count your mites, you can place it under the screen. And you can make your own sticky board using vasoline. If you need to restrict the air flow when applying a medication, you can slide in a small piece of cardboard or metal.

We have put much time in designing our bottom board manufacturing to produce a simple, yet very effect screen bottom board. Our bottom boards come completely assembled with an entrance reducer cleat. Our bottom boards are designed for a 3/4" opening in the front of the hive. However, with a slight modification, the bottom board can be flipped over and a smaller opening can be used. It is not advised and if reversed, an additional piece must be added to the back of the bottom board.

Sometimes new beekeepers ask which way the bottom board goes. When the bottom board is in the correct position, the screen is up. You can see the staples going into the screen. Also, the top of the bottom board has three edges.

Our bottom boards are made very strong, routed in such a way to lock sections together and are glued with exterior glue.

Finally, the bottom board's entrance is determined by the placement of what is called the entrance reducer cleat. It is a 3/4" x 3/4" piece of wood with two different sized openings. The cleat can be turned so that only one of the openings is used at a time.

In this picture, you can see the smallest setting of the entrance cleat. When would you use this small setting? 1) When installing your package of bees. They can still come and go, but it keeps them from wanting to fly away until they nest. 2) In the winter, when you are trying to keep mice out of your hive. 3) When the hive is being robbed by another hive. There is less entrance to protect.

The next picture shows the larger opening on the entrance cleat. When would you use this setting? Anytime you need a larger opening, but don't want to open it up all the way. This could also be used for all three reasons above.

Though the pictures shows the opening facing down, please remember to have the opening facing UP! When bees die during the winter, if the opening is down, then dead bees will fill up the opening. However, if the opening is facing up the bees can still fly out over the dead bees which you can clean out later on a warm day if the bees do not clean things up first.

Once your hive is more than a few weeks old and is not being robbed and the weather is warm the entrance cleat should be removed and stored in a place where you can easily find it for future needs.

This ends lesson one. You've learned about hive location, placement and the bottom board. In our next lesson we'll discuss the next section of the hive, the deep hive body.

Best Management Practices For Overwintered Colonies

We are David & Sheri Burns from Long Lane Honey Bee Farms and we are glad you’ve joined us for another lesson in beekeeping.
We are located in central Illinois where it is cold and snowy and the bees can’t wait until a nice warm day and neither can we.
I was going to jump into some lessons on Top Bar Hives, but I’m going to save that after this series of lessons.
There is plenty of information in the beekeeping literature to help beginners. But there is far less information that goes into great detail about what to do with your bees the second year as they come out of winter. In today’s lesson and over the course of the next few blogs I’ll address what you should be doing with your bees as winter draws to a close and spring makes its usual grand entry. But first, allow me to mention some important information.
We enjoy offering Beginner Beekeeping course and our first 2011 Basic Beekeeping class is coming up Saturday, January 15th. We still have openings, so sign up now!
Sheri and I are looking forward to this class and we have designed this one day beekeeping course to cover topics on basic beekeeping. I’m an EAS certified Master Beekeeper, so this course is well worth your time. Those interested in becoming beekeepers as well as those who have kept bees for a few years will benefit from this class. Register now to reserve your seat! We still have room for several more. It will be held at our honey bee farm located near Catlin, Illinois. Get a few friends to come along with you! Registration cost is $89 and includes lunch, a hive tool and outlines from the teachings. Also, why not save shipping cost and purchase all your hive equipment on this day. This course is team taught by Sheri and me and you'll have a great day learning about beekeeping.
I’m now blogging for Mother Earth News Magazine on beekeeping. Make my editor happy and check it out and leave a comment. Click here for the the Mother Earth News Beekeeping Blog
And I’m also producing a new newsletter called BEE SMART. It’s a bit different than these online lessons. The new Email newsletter is FREE and is all about beekeeping. It’s more brief, several times a week and has news events, and usually one brief article I’ll share on honey bees. It’s powered through Ezezine. Check out our sign up page.
Finally before we get into today’s lesson, join us for our next short course here at Long Lane Honey Bee Farms. It will be on Pests & Diseases. Get the upper hand so that your bees will be healthier and more able to survive winters. These are part of our First Friday of the month short courses we are offering. The cost is $20 and is on Friday night March 4th from 6pm – 8pm central time. Sign up now! Learn how to spot problems quickly, like the bee in the picture. Notice the problem? This bee has Deformed Wing Virus.
LESSON 91: BEST MANAGEMENT PRACTICES FOR OVERWINTERED COLONIES
There is plenty of information in the beekeeping literature to help beginners. But there is far less information that goes into great detail about what to do with your bees the second year as they come out of winter. I'll take the next few articles to address what you should be doing with your bees as winter draws to a close and spring makes its usual grand entry. The first thing you should do is celebrate and rejoice that your bees made it through a long winter. After you've had sufficient time to celebrate, you'll need to get serious about helping your bees have a great season. I've made an acronym to make it easier to remember how to prepare your bees for their second seasons:
Stimulate For Rapid Foraging Force Prevent Swarms Rotate Hive Bodies Inspect The Productivity Of The Queen New Queen Give 1:1 Sugar Water & Pollen Patties
In this lesson, we'll look at how to stimulate your late winter bees for a rapid buildup of the foraging force. A colony that is very populated with foragers will be able to gather more pollen, nectar, propolis and water. This alone will make a much healthier colony. And if you desire to increase your honey yields per hive, increasing your foraging force is essential.
How can you help your colony build up a huge foraging force to gather an abundance of resources? To start, we have to do the math. We have to work backwards to arrive at our target stimulation date. Let's randomly choose May 1st as the day we want our full foraging force.
By foraging force I mean a maximum number of worker bees of foraging age. Since worker bees take 21 days to emerge and another 21 days until they take their first foraging flight, that gives us a total of 42 days. So we want our queen to be laying at her maximum 42 days prior to May 1st, which would be March 20th. But, we'll need to stimulate the queen about a week before March 20th so that she can be at her maximum laying on March 20th. Bingo, March 13th is our date that we will want to manipulate the colony to ensure we have our full foraging force for May 1st.
To stimulate our queen to lay at her maximum we would normally want a natural, heavy nectar flow. That might be the case the further south you live. In central Illinois I will have to introduce pollen substitute patties and a 1:1 sugar feedings to stimulate my queen to start laying prior to the natural nectar flow. And once I start, I cannot stop, because the colony is counting on my pollen and sugar water to feed to their larva. Even the adult bees feeding the larva need this same food so the glands in their head can produce the much need brood food.
Of course you'll need to be sure you have a prolific queen and you'll be able to determine this once the temperature warms up above 65 (F) and you can lift out brood frames and inspect for eggs and sealed brood.
…next time we’ll look at Spring Swarm Prevention
We hope you are finding our lessons very helpful and if you can, please purchase all your beekeeping needs from us! We sell packages of bees, 4 frame nucs, raise and sell our own queens and we manufacture beekeeping equipment as well. Make us your one stop shop for all your beekeeping needs. Thank you in advance.

IMT ghaziabad MBA/PGDM Admission Process 2012-Fee Structure-Syllabus-Placement

IMT ghaziabad MBA/PGDM Admission Process 2012, IMT MBA Fee Structure, IMT Ghaziabad MBA Syllabus

IMT is consistently being ranked as a Top 10 B-School in India across relevant parameters. This is one of the best B-School in Delhi who offers various programs in management including PGDM, PGDM(Executive), PGDM(Part Time).IMT Known for it's great faculty and the quality of education. IMT Ghaziabad’s permanent faculty are all respected professionals who have been recognised and globally rewarded for their achievements in their respective fields. Many of them are internationally acclaimed scholars who lead executive programmes at IMT and are strongly focused on synthesizing partnerships with global institutes.

IMT Ghaziabad is having Tie-ups with over 80 international institutes provide opportunities for truly global business education experiences. Keeping the global B-Schools in Mind, IMT is having a strong student Exchange Program. IMT Ghaziabad has been ranked 1st in the 'Student Exchange Programme' category by Outlook Magazine in 2008 rankings.

Courses Offered By IMT Ghaziabad in Management Education

PGDM

IMT Ghaziabad will shortly be commencing admissions 2012 for the following programmes

1. PGDM General
2. PGDM Finance
3. PGDM Information Technology (IT)
4. PGDM HR (Human Resources)
5. PGDM IB (International Business)
6. PGDM DCP (Dual Country Programme)

PGDM(Executive)

PGDM (Executive) Programme, approved by All India Council for Technical Education (AICTE), Govt. of India, is a full-time, residential 15-months programme (12 months on campus and 3 months field based dissertation).

Eligibility

Bachelor’s Degree in any discipline with at least 50% marks in aggregate. Minimum 5 years of work experience after graduation at Executive / Managerial level as on 30 June 2011 is required.

Selection Procedure

Selection through GMAT/CAT 2010 score or IMT Entrance Test followed by Personal Interview.

PGDM(Part Time)

IMT Ghaziabad also offers a part-time PGDM program, some can apply for the program by visiting IMT website.

Contact Details
Institute of Management Technology
Raj Nagar
Post Box No. 137
Ghaziabad 201001, India
Phone No: +91 0120 3002200
Fax: +91 0120 3002300
admissions@imt.edu

IMT Ghaziabad admission process 2012, IMT ghaziabad fee structure, IMT Ghaziabad Executive MBA, IMT ghaziabad PGDM program details, Placement

The Mission That's Possible

I love movies that thrill you and take you on a ride. Not scary, gore-soaked flicks, but stories where a disaster looms and someone has two hours to save the world. It can be science fiction, like an alien invasion, or a spy story like Mission: Impossible.


The typical thriller has one character who predicts the disaster. He or she is thought to be overreacting as they try to spread their message of impending doom to anyone who will listen.


This is the character who usually ends up in a fatal car accident under suspicious circumstances or locked away in a mental institution.  At the end of the movie the lone voice of reason is deemed a hero, but it's usually too late for the poor soul. 


It's probably not the best character to identify with.


I'm not saying I always feel like this, but each time we get to another crisis with our daughter, Lizzy, I feel like the crazy person in the movie who knows the aliens are taking over the world and is trying to warn the others.


Ever since Lizzy was six weeks old, I knew something was wrong. 


I was holding her in my arms one morning, cooing and singing to her when I realized she wasn't looking at me.


My heart sank, and a feeling of pure panic took hold of me. My legs felt weak, my chest ached, and my body knew this was serious. 


I'll always be grateful to my husband for trusting me completely and never once doubting my instinct. I most likely would have ended up howling at the moon had it not been for Joe.


I drove many people crazy as I would discuss my fears that something was wrong with our daughter. I was often told to relax and enjoy my children. And I really wanted to, but something just felt wrong.


We started to look for answers quickly. There were times when it looked like we might be headed in the right direction, but then Lizzy's progress would stall, or a new symptom would emerge, and we would be right back where we started.


It didn't help that Lizzy dumbfounded every specialist, therapist, and teacher we met.


Almost all the visits started the same way. Lizzy would smile and be her adorable self and charm the professional we were seeing. I would start to relax and think maybe I was just blowing things out of proportion. 


The therapists and teachers would declare that she only needed a little push to speak. The doctors would look at me as if I was just another over-protective mother.


Then, in the case of almost every specialist we took Lizzy to, there would come a point in the exam when we would see the doctor's face change. 


Something did not make sense. Further tests would be required just to rule things out. I would leave the office nervous, but the doctor would usually reassure me that she was probably just fine.


Then would come the calls. Scary diagnoses would be mentioned. More tests. I would be a wreck. My worst fears were being realized.


Then the tests would come back negative, and we would start the ride all over again. 


My friends, family, and Lizzy's teachers and therapists would tell me I was doing everything humanly possible.


But something was wrong with my child, and I wouldn't rest until I could get an answer. I could keep myself up trying to think of possible causes. 


I was also losing sleep because Lizzy rarely fell asleep before 11:00 p.m. or midnight and then would wake up two or three hours later screaming so loudly you  would swear someone was torturing her. She was never quite awake, and then in mid glass-shattering scream, she would just fall back into a deep sleep. 


When the "behavior seizures" started to happen during the day, I really thought we were going to need adjoining rooms in an asylum. Of course, people started to see what I meant and I didn't look so crazy after all. 


This was of little consolation.


For the last two years things have been pretty quiet for Lizzy.We found a wonderful doctor who has been treating her for a bi-polar disorder that seems to match some of her more difficult behavioral symptoms. 


The medicines Lizzy takes allows her and us as a family to have a more normal existence. We've been able to go out for dinner or other outings without fear of a Lizzy explosion.


But then about six weeks ago, she started with this awful cough. The doctors weren't able to confirm it as a case of Whooping Cough, in part because of the difficulty and unreliability of the test. But all her symptoms pointed to this diagnosis. 


Her cough was so horrible that it would cause my little girl to throw up to the point where her face had little bruises. 


Almost as bad, old behaviors that had been dormant for most of the past two years have returned. Her wild manic behavior is made  worse because Lizzy is older and stronger. 


I got a note the other day from her teacher that Lizzy insisted that she was Disney's Little Mermaid, Ariel, and would not answer to her own name. 


It's at least a small win whenever Lizzy is able to voice what she feels. I have to admit I laughed at that one. But I'm not ready for the notes to come home again. I've enjoyed and gotten used to the "Lizzy had a great day" notes in her communication notebook. 


New physical symptoms have come along with the cough and vomiting as well. Lizzy had has started to break out in an odd rash sometimes. It comes and goes very quickly, but it just doesn't seem right to me.  


Because Lizzy's overall syndrome lacks a firm diagnosis, we have no template to follow. 


We have five MRIs that show significant brain damage, and bones and organs that are growing faster than her age. Yet her hormones and other vitals are normal, and none of the specialists we've seen can say with any certainty what to do. 


How do I help my beautiful enigma when some of the best doctors in the country don't know how? I'm just a mom.


I have to confess that in the past when we have found ourselves in this situation, I've been out of control. I've alienated friends and family. I've eaten my weight in chocolate. And we always end up right where we started. No diagnosis.


I'd rather not take another ride on the same roller coaster.


I have a choice. I can handle this crisis like I have the others only to get a similar result or I can change the pattern. I could learn to live in the mess, the uncertainty, even the fear.


Perhaps if I stop fighting the chaos, some normalcy will take hold. Acceptance has always brought me peace, but I have refused to accept that this is the hand that has been dealt my daughter and family. I have struggled and searched for a magic cure or answer when the truth is, none may exist.


It's a bitter pill to swallow, but neither Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) nor Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) will burst into my house and save my daughter. But the truth is, I can. Not with a heroic Hollywood happy ending, but in the day-to-day wins of tending to and nurturing a special little girl with some very special needs.


I'm going to have to take this road truly one day at a time and enjoy the road, the ride. In the end it is all I really have. That, and my beautiful enigma named Lizzy.

Giving Santa a Second Chance

Halloween hasn't come and gone, but I'm already thinking that I should send my letter to Santa Claus in a little early this year.

I'm counting on your discretion, because truth be told, I sent the same list last year and didn't get any of these presents under my tree. The eternal optimist in me is thinking Santa just didn't get my list in time to deliver the real goods.

That's why I'm giving the old man one more chance.

I got the idea for my own letter to Santa last year when my kids were working on their lists. Now it's been more than a few decades since I wrote a letter to Santa. But, since I was a young girl in the 70's, the technology Santa had to choose from was pretty antiquated.

Back in the dark ages of 1972, it was a big deal that my doll house had battery-powered lights, or that all I had to do was pull a string to get Barbie to say how pretty she was.

When you think of the technology that's at our fingertips today, Santa could really come through with a few items that would not only be helpful to me, but to mothers everywhere.

Plus there is always the chance that he would like to make amends for that Chatty Kathy doll I never got.

So without further ado, here is my letter to Santa (only slightly amended from last year).

Dear Santa:

I've been a very good mommy this year. Besides the usual cooking and cleaning that I do everyday (Please don't laugh Santa, I do all those things, I just don’t do them very well), I have taken the kids to the orthodontist, the doctor, driven to music lessons, dance lessons, birthday parties, chorus practice, various clubs, and dances.

I also went to two birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese this year, this in itself should put me on the top of the "Nice" list.

I know you are very busy, and I’m not expecting miracles, but if you get a chance and can send me a few of these items I would really appreciate it:

I would like a GPS to find the body I had before I had my three children. I have looked for it at various weight-loss programs, gyms and a host of workout DVDs, but I can’t find it anywhere. I'm getting desperate. HELP!

I would like an App that allows my children to remember what I told them five minutes ago. I realize my mother asked for something similar when I was a kid, but technology has come so far since then that I'm thinking this really should be do-able in 2011.

Extra memory would be a great gift and so helpful for my parenting. My own memory card is so used and old that I can no longer remember my own kids’ names. I call them by various terms of endearment and, of course, their siblings’ names. Now that my youngest is insisting that I only call him by his full name, I'm running out of options. 

I could really use an upgrade on my patience. I have a 12-year-old who will soon be 13… need I say more.

A "pause" button would be fantastic! My children are growing up so fast. Yesterday, my daughter put on three coats, four hats, a tiger mask, and a princess crown then said to me, "Don’t I look beautiful?" And, as I type this I can hear our 6-year-old asking his teddy bear if he needs a time-out. There are so many moments I would just like to freeze.

I would like a power cord that allows me to plug it in whenever my battery is low. Having three kids and very little sleep is starting to wear down my original power supply.

Finally, could you slip some gratitude into my stocking? I know I could use it. I have so much to be thankful for. Too often I let the day to day grind keep me from remembering.

Thank you! Please forgive the messy house. I hope you have a wonderful Holiday!

Kathy

I will let you all know if I had better luck this year!


(Author's Note: I posted my first "Letter to Santa" in December of 2010 on Momster.com where I wrote under the name "Blessed Mom Of Three." This is an updated version.)

Growing up all over again

At the end of October, my parents will be celebrating their 48th wedding anniversary. My birthday is the day after. As a little girl I could not understand why people would look at me strangely when I would proudly declare that I was born the day after my parents got married. Or, why my mother was always quick to point out that it was two years after their wedding.

Yes, that means in a few short weeks I will be 46. When I look at the number 46 in relation to me, I just can't quite seem to grasp that I'm "that" old.

There's no way to pretty it up. I may have a kid in first grade and watch the PBS Kids channel, but I'm middle aged.

When you consider that 46 x 2 is 92, I might be even a bit beyond.

"Mom, I just thought of something," announced our 12-year-old,
Tom, a few weeks ago when I was driving him to school.

"What dear?"

"In a few weeks you are going to be 4 years from 50. Isn't that hysterical?"

"Oh, yea, really hysterical. I can't stop laughing!"

Where the heck did the time go? Has it really been 30 years since my Sweet 16 surprise party? It feels like it was just yesterday.

I can still envision the pink rose corsage with the sugar cubes my parents bought me. Or remember how I felt when I went to school and saw the 'Happy Birthday' sign my friends made me.

I was a very innocent 16-year-old. I didn't have my first kiss until the spring of that year. Yet, I do remember it was at 16 when I realized it was official, I was on my way to adulthood. There was no turning back. Some people may have been excited at this prospect, I was terrified.

My dream was to become a singer and actress on Broadway. I wanted to live in Manhattan and had from the time I was a little girl. I saw the skyline all lit up on the few occasions my family would drive through the city to cross a bridge and I was enthralled. I knew in my heart that was where I belonged.

Since I also knew I wanted children one day, I figured at some point I might move back to the suburbs. But, I was adamant... I was not going to ever live on Long Island again.

My plan was that I would marry around age 25 and surely have my first child before I hit the extremely old age of 30. I would effortesly manage a busy thriving acting career with a very happy home life. Piece of cake.

Ten years later, my 26th birthday found me working in an office job I truly liked and living in the city I loved. My roommate and I had moved into a high rise apartment almost a year before.

I was very excited because it was the first of the five apartments I had lived in that had a dishwasher. I also loved that since we lived on the 26th floor, every night I could look out our window and see the lights of the city.

I had exchanged the dream of an acting career for the reality and joy of paying my bills and eating.

Even though I was four years shy of my 30th birthday, I felt as if my life was starting to take shape. Joe and I had been dating for more than a year, and I was sure that this would be the person I would marry. He had planned a great birthday weekend for me complete with a Broadway show.

Even though I was content to watch others preform, I still felt my creative soul longing to get out. Something felt missing.

I thought of going back to school, and was volunteering at my church's help line calling senior citizens who were shut in. I was content with the decission to stop pursuing an acting career. But at 26, I still had no idea what I wanted to be when I "grew" up.

Fast forward 10 years to when I was six months pregnant with our second child. We had recently moved six blocks from where I grew up, and I was a full-time mommy.

Let me repeat that, I was now living on Long Island only blocks from where I grew up. This was the last thing in the world my 16-year-old self thought would become of me. Yet, I was very happy.

My favorite birthday present was a then two-year-old Tom singing Happy Birthday to me with Joe. I remember that we went out to lunch at Wendy's because that's where Tom wanted to take me, and I was thrilled since I was constantly craving their vanilla Frosties. This craving had nothing to do with me, mind you, and everything to do with the little girl I was pregnant with.

My creative energy was being used raising my son and helping him through his speech delays and suspected learning issues. I was thirty-six, married, a homeowner and a soon to be mom of two. In a few months, I would have the "ideal" family of a boy and a girl. What more could I want?

Occasionaly I had thoughts of doing something more, but I was too busy with my life to pay them much mind.

Now weeks away from my 46th birthday, I feel closer to the creative part of myself than I ever have before. Discovering my love of writing a year ago has brought a sense of joy and peace I don't remember having since I was a teenager preforming on stage.

I sit at my computer and let my thoughts take over and form words on the screen. I get excited when the perfect sentence comes to me. It may sound silly or even trite, but I feel alive.

My family is now complete with two boys and a girl. Being the mother to three children, one with very serious issues, takes up most of my energy and time.
 But last year when Peter started full-day kindergarten, I found the time to listen to the stirrings my soul. It's a little scary, but also very exciting.

Is it possible to finally find out what you want to be when you grow up at age 46?

Just what will the next 10 years bring? I can't wait to find out.

My Kids + My Blog = Jealousy

When a new member joins the family, there are bound to be growing pains. The kids may think it's fun at first to have someone new in the daily mix, but eventually the novelty wears thin as the day-to-day care of the new addition becomes a reality.

Being a mom to three kids, I've lived through the excitement and adjustment that comes when your family expands. I totally expected it, too. What I didn't expect was that the same period of adjustment would happen when I started my blog last November. To my surprise, my kids were jealous.

Sure, at first they were very excited for me. They were even impressed that this old dog could learn a few new tricks.


Until this point it never occurred to them that I could even type, let alone use a computer. 

Heck, I barely had time to brush my teeth raising three children with a variety of special needs and issues that needed daily attention. Never mind spending my time web surfing. Personal enrichment and satisfaction were not high on my to-do list.


My kids knew I had worked in an office before becoming a mom, but I think they thought of that as more of a suburban legend in the once-upon-a-time-the-old-gal-had-a-life vein. 


Very quickly the awe and even pride my kids felt at watching me do something new was replaced with cries of, "when are you getting off our computer?"


The cries came the loudest from our daughter Lizzy, whose special needs have always included an extremely hard time with speech and language. Phrases such as "mommy, you sure like that computer," started to grow into "mommy get off my computer now."


Always thrilled whenever Lizzy can find her words, I would smile and tell her that it was great she was using her words so well, but we do not speak to people that way. Then I would go back to my blog.


Our oldest son, Tom knew something had really started to change a few weeks later. We were on our fifth attempt at taking the yearly Christmas picture when I uncharacteristically, threw in the towel.


"That's it guys. It's just going to be the year without a Christmas picture. It's really no big deal."


Then I started to sing that phrase to the tune of an old Christmas special I remembered as a kid.


Tom, newly 12 at the time, was not amused.


"But Mom, you always make the Christmas picture such a big deal."


"I know honey, but why don't we give ourselves a year off, it will be fine."


Then I launched into another round of, "It was the year without a Christmas picture."


His next statement took me completely by surprise.


"This is not like you... You are only doing this because of that blog... You want something to write about for next week."


Honestly. At the time, I hadn't thought about it, but he had a point. It would make a great story. I always knew that boy was brilliant.


Of course, the most heartbreaking reaction came from our youngest, Peter, who was five at the time my blog came into our lives. Since he was used to sharing me with Tom and Lizzy I didn't think my new passion would really affect him. I was wrong.


“Mommy, I hurt my toe! I need a band-aid.”


I looked up from the computer and gave him my sweet mommy smile. I looked at his toe, which showed no signs of trauma and comforted him with a big, long, hug. Then I went back to the computer.


He asked for another band-aid.


I’m used to Peter's need for band-aids, but I was in the middle of a great thought plus I had dinner to check. Surely, an unnecessary band-aid could wait a minute.


After several failed attempts to elicit my sympathy and attention, Peter had had enough.


“Mommy, I will see you later. I am going to the nurse!”


Yes, it's been an adjustment this last year.


Things have changed. Or more accurately, I have changed.


I no longer use the family computer. I have my own. And, I have my own office too. Well, "office" may be stretching it a bit. It really is just a corner in our bedroom, but it's all mine.


At first it was hard for everyone to realize that mom meant business about her "office" being off-limits. I've never made it a priority to have my own space. I was so happy being a mom, the space didn't seem that important.


But this was different. Funny thing is, once I stood up for my right to have my own corner of the world, the kids, and even my husband, complied.


The one exception to the no one touches mommy's computer is each Sunday when Joe edits my blog. Little did I know that when I married an editor 18 years ago his skills would become so handy.


The kids really didn't know what to make of Joe and I working together and spending time on something other than them. All of sudden three people who were perfectly happy playing and not wanting anything to do with dear old mom and dad desperately needed us the minute Joe would start to work on my site.


Now they accept the few minutes Sunday evening when daddy edits mommy's blog and no one can talk to us. They are also used to the silly exchanges that happen between Joe and I while he gently and ever so tactfully reviews my copy.


Last week was a perfect example.


"Kathy, do you really want to say you secretly read romance novels? It's not really a secret."


"Yes it is. I don't like to publicly buy them. I won't even take them out of the library. That's secret."


"Hmm, I don't think that's accurate. You should just say that you read romance novels."


"No, no, don't say that. I don't want anyone to know I'm OK with it. Why can't I just say I read them in secret? Is it really going to harm your journalistic integrity?"


"Yes, yes it is."


With that I hear Tom laughing in the hallway.


"What if I say I guiltily read romance novels, can you live with that?"


"Yes, that will work."


"You two are so cute when you do this" says a soon-to-be 13 year old Tom.


"Shouldn't you be in bed now?" I say with a smile.


Writing my blog and finding my joy in writing has changed me in ways I never expected.Without even knowing I did it, I had misplaced a part of myself. I was so attuned to my children's needs that I really let my own slide.


The truth is the real addition to our lives hasn't been my blog at all.


The new addition to the family has been me. And that is probably one of the best gifts I could give not only myself, but my family too.


Author's note: I published a blog post on Momster.com last December titled, "My kids are jealous of my blog." This piece is another look at the same topic and includes some excerpts from last year's post.

A Novel Life

This week I feel every one of my 45, soon-to-be 46 years. My nerves are shot. I'm tired and more than a little cranky. I'm in need of a makeover, or more appropriately, a rewrite.

After years of guiltily reading romance novels, I've decided to take a page from one of them and reframe my life in the fashion of a novel. I may even put a picture of my dishwasher dressed in a flowing gown on the cover.

The working title: A Woman Possessed by Love, Family and Her Dishwasher.

Now under the haze of romance writing, I can give myself a makeover that I just don't have time for in real life.

First things first, I've never been happy with my height. I think I have way to big of a frame to be only 5'3", so in my novel I am transformed from a short brunette into a petite brunette:

Although lacking in the height her frame would seem to call for, Kathy's lack of height gives her a gentle, almost doll like appearance.

Now what do I do with my out-of-shape, almost 46-year-old body that has had three children, with the last one coming at the age of 39?

Kathy's voluptuous figure, more curvy and full than ever before, fits a woman who has lived life fully. Her round hips are her badge of honor from three hard-won and difficult pregnancies. It was hard not to be grateful to the body that carried her children from the man that is her husband and soul mate.

A few lines and wrinkles? Who needs Botox or plastic surgery? I have a computer and a memory full of romance novels.

Kathy may no longer have the glow of youth, but the sands of time have been gently carved on her still porcelain skin. This has only added character to her unique beauty. Much like a fine wine that gets better with age, Kathy's beauty reflects a life full of experience. She is a classic beauty that never goes out of style.

I may have gone a little overboard, but hey, it's my book.

What I love the most about romance novels is that all the problems and trials that the heroine endures are wrapped up in less than a thousand pages.

I would love it if some of the more difficult times in my life could be summed up so neatly.

Of course, the chapters I would love to be able to jump over the most are the ones that deal with our beautiful daughter, Lizzy.

Lizzy has been an enigma to me and the medical community since she was six weeks old and I realized she was not looking at me like she should have. We have gone to so many doctors, specialists, and therapists that I feel I have earned my own degree in all syndromes related to Lizzy.

How can one little girl have so many issues and delays yet so many gifts at the same time? Watching our beautiful daughter struggle with things people take for granted, such as the ability to express herself when she wants to, is a pain I will never be able to express.

Her special needs are at their most apparent when she is sick. Lizzy can't always feel and express the pain she feels, and we don't know she's sick until the symptoms are at their worst. I also fear that every sneeze, cough, or infection Lizzy gets is somehow related to her undiagnosed brain disorder.

This week, watching Lizzy cough so hard that she turns red and throws up has been hard. Knowing she is in pain and so uncomfortable, yet not able to really tell me what is going on makes it even worse.

Even more heartbreaking is Lizzy's incredible spirit. She will be all red in the face with vomit all over her and yet when one of us asks her how she is she replies with a smile, "I'm good."

After three trips to the doctor in less than a week it looks like it's possible that she has whooping cough. Of course, it's my sweet Lizzy who ends up with this, even though she has had every vaccination a child should have.

It's times like this when she seems so fragile that I fear that one day I will lose her. I would be lying if I didn't say at times that fear keeps me up at nights.

This is when I would love to put the book of my life down and pick it up at a later chapter. A time when everything is settled, and my children are all grown, safe, and happy.


I can see the last chapter I would love to read:

Kathy watches her beautiful daughter, the child that no doctor could diagnosis or explain. The child she was told would never live on her own, and she could feel nothing but pure joy. There Lizzy stood, all grown up. Her beautiful dark hair spilling onto her shoulders, smiling and full of pride as she stood by her paintings. Kathy could see the buzz around her daughter as the critics were touting Lizzy as the next "hot" artist. All of a sudden the years of pain, and fear were gone. Lizzy was a happy, independent woman.

Of course, the hardest thing for me to accept is that I'm not the author of any of my children's stories. Lizzy, as well as my two beautiful sons, will have to write their own "books" and their own happy endings.


I can only concentrate on my own.

Looking over her life, Kathy, still stunningly beautiful at the age of 85, smiled as she marveled at the happy endings each of her children were able to write for themselves. Though not the endings she may have chosen for them, she was grateful that all three had grown into happy, kind adults.

This is a life and a book worth reading to the end.

Me, Myself and my Minivan

They say confession is good for the soul, so here is mine…I love my minivan.

Okay, I said it.

I realize this admission confirms what my sisters always said about me: I'm just not that cool. That's fine with me. My minivan and I can take it. It's my badge of honor that announces to the world each and every day, I am a mom and I am proud!

Now driving a minivan may not seem like such a big feat, but let me explain a few things. First, I did not even learn to drive till I was 35, and I did that only because we were going to be moving to the suburbs where I was raised.

Unlike Manhattan and Queens, my former homes, driving on Long Island is a necessity. Overcoming my fear to drive once seemed impossible, but I did it. It required many driving lessons and a teacher that became a candidate for sainthood, but it's an accomplishment that I'm very proud of.

Second, I never thought I would have enough children to warrant a minivan. Children did not come easily to my husband and me, so once I had my second child I thought we were done.

Life had other plans. I got the happiest shock of my life when after two fertility assisted babies I found myself pregnant with our third child at 39.

For some reason, the minute you find out you will have more than two children, there is an amazing amount of pressure to announce this miracle by the car you drive.

Most of this pressure came from my parents, who thought it was practically child abuse to put their grandchildren in anything less.

This from the same people who took my two sisters and me on more family trips than I care to remember stuffed in the backseat of my father’s green Volvo.

I wish I could properly describe the five hour trips home we would make from my uncle’s dairy farm with my sister Sandy's feet under my butt. The smell of cow manure packed into bags and put into the trunk for my fathers vegetable garden. Sitting in the backseat with a very full bladder because my parents were bound and determined to only make two pit stops per car trip upstate.

Good times indeed.

Yes, now that they are grandparents they sing a very different tune. They get upset at me if I don't have pillows and blankets in the car when I take the kids home from their house. The house that is only six blocks from mine.

Oh how times have changed. But I digress.

Every time I get behind the wheel of my Mom-mobile I get an odd sense of pride. I did it. I became a mom. Look at my dirty minivan with cookies smashed in the carpet: I have arrived.

That silly sense of pride and even joy gets me through my toughest days.

Days when getting everyone into the car becomes a second job. Or when I imagine snapping my 12 year-old’s pants on his wedding day because the 10 years of occupational therapy seems to have done little to help his fine motor issues.

Times when I get tired of hearing my own voice telling my little dears the same things over and over again. The painful days when I realize that my beautiful daughter with a brain disorder is probably never going to be able to live on her own.

I hear the arguing, the singing, and the laughter coming from the backseat and I can’t help but feel blessed and grateful.

There were times I really thought that the life and the children I love so much would never be mine. There were so many obstacles to overcome. Yet, I did it.

I have become the mom that I always wanted to be.

My minivan is a tangible reminder that all the things I once thought were impossible are not impossible at all.



Authors note: The original version of this essay was first published on Momster.com in November, 2010 where I wrote it under the name BlessedMomof3. This version has been altered slightly. It is the first time I have put it on Blogspot.

Lessons Learned from my Dishwasher

I can't believe it, but it's been almost a year since I went to take a rare nap one afternoon and woke up to a mini disaster.

I've always had a hard time sleeping, even as a child. As a mother to three children, all who have some challenges, it's almost impossible. My girlfriends kept telling me that once all three kids were in school full time, I should get some sleep. It seems easy and logical, but how?

Experience has taught me when I let my guard down for a minute, that is the time the nurse calls me to pick up a sick child, or one of our parents is having a medical emergency or I oversleep and miss the bus dropping off one of the kids.

But a year ago, a miracle occurred and I managed to fall asleep--for almost an hour.

As I went to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before the kids got home, I heard what I thought was water running. As I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by a flood of almost biblical proportions coming from my eight year-old dishwasher.

The water wouldn't stop. Just when I thought I had it cleaned up, the dishwasher would start up again. Water was seeping into the basement. I was running up and down the stairs. It was a mess.

Frantically I called my dad and asked him to bring towels because I had used my large supply. Finally it occurred to me to turn off the water. My dad, who is so proficient at fixing nearly everything that my husband calls him "Yoda" declared the dishwasher officially dead. Joe and I bought a new one the next day.

My brand new and not inexpensive dishwasher started acting up the night it was installed. It worked perfectly when the men set it up, but about three hours it's true demonic personality took over. It would beep and hum and light up like a Christmas tree. This would occur at all hours of the day and night. There was no pattern to when it would work or just beep and blink.

The repairman came once, twice, three times. The dishwasher worked perfectly each time he left. Then once his truck pulled out of our driveway, all hell would break loose.

After the fourth time and a new part it finally settled down. It sometimes still acts up but I now know how to calm the savage beast.

As I was thinking about my soon to be one-year anniversary with my possessed appliance, I realized that as well as being a great name for my blog, this silly dishwasher has taught me some very important lessons.

First lesson: Do not overload the machine. 

This seems pretty obvious, but somehow it's a lesson I never seem to learn with both myself and my dishwasher. It's just so easy too overload myself, without thinking. The problem is, just like the dishwasher, when I stuff too much in at one time, there is always something that gets neglected. Most of the time it's me.

This can be verified by any doctor or dentist that I make an appointment with and then cancel because something has come up.

Second lesson: The dishwasher needed to be on level ground so that it could work properly.

This was not discovered till our second repair appointment. Apparently our kitchen floor is not level. This meant the dishwasher was not balanced properly.

I too need to be on level ground to be there for my family.This is easier said than done. Balance has never been my forte in life.

This was confirmed one Saturday a few years ago. It was an extremely crazy time in our lives. Our daughter, Lizzy, who has a undiagnosed brain disorder, was having symptoms that was setting off all kinds of scary bells to some of the top specialists in Manhattan. I was getting calls at odd hours of the day and night scaring the life out of me. Some life threatening conditions were being thrown around. We were terrified.

I was also dealing with every other kind of crisis one could deal with at the same time. Parents being sick, the other children's issues rearing their head and the middle of the holiday season.

My husband was out getting my mini-van repaired because I sheered off my passenger side mirror when I hit a repair truck while I was running from picking up Peter at pre-school, only to find out that Lizzy had to be picked up at her school because she was throwing up. Thankfully my mirror was the only thing damaged that day. Joe called to let me know what was going on with the van.

I'm pretty calm and pride myself on not really loosing it too often with my kids. I accomplish some of this by having spent the equivalent of a small house on therapy. The time I spend talking to someone who is paid to listen really helps keep me balanced. Of course with everything going on I barely had a chance to breathe not to mention keeping something like a therapy appointment.

That Saturday I was snapping at the kids in a way I just hadn't before. I overheard Tom pick up the phone and say to his father:"Quick dad get home. Mom has flipped."

This leads nicely to my third lesson from the dishwasher: If something is wrong, make noise.

Unfortunately my family does not have the power to read my mind, as much as I would like them to. If I need help I need to tell someone. Letting my husband know wouldn't be a bad idea.

Unless there's a flood in my kitchen or some other crisis, I really hate asking for help. Being a bit of a control freak I find it easier to do the job myself rather than explain how to do it.

I'm working on this. I have been pleasantly surprised to find out that I'm not the only human in the world who can make dinner or brush Lizzy's hair.

I love being a mother. It truly is something I adore doing and I feel as if I'm really good at it. I adore my children and my husband. But, I'm a human as much as I would like to believe I'm not. I need to do a much better job of caring for myself.

Who would of have thought that one possessed dishwasher could teach me so much?
　
　

Remembering

Some days I'll never forget. The events are so etched in my memory I can at once be brought back to the exact feelings I experienced. My wedding day, and the births of my three children are the good ones.

Then there are the bad days, and September 11, 2001, may be the worst of all. The panic and grief overwhelmed me as I watched the towers burn and fall on that horrible Tuesday 10 years ago.

The first memory is that it was a gorgeous late summer day in New York. We had been in our new home just a few weeks, and everything still had a new scent to it. The paint was fresh and the walls were clean and waiting to be adorned with pictures and decorations.

It was also an extremely stressful period in our life, with some of my worst fears coming true.

Five days after we closed on the house, my husband was laid off from his job. Anyone would panic, but for us, it was our personal nightmare come true.

I was five months pregnant with our second child, and the pregnancy was getting complicated. I had just switched from my regular ob-gyn to a high risk pregnancy practice. I was going to need to be very careful and get as much rest as a mom with a two-year-old and a new house could.

Despite all the turmoil, I woke up that beautiful September morning feeling happy.

My husband is a financial writer, and some freelance work was beginning to come in. A few days earlier, he had a one-day assignment at the New York Stock Exchange, and he stopped in a coffee shop in the World Trade Center to go over his notes before coming home.

Joe was in his home office interviewing a source for a story. The next day he was supposed to fly down to Washington to cover a conference. I loved having him around. It seemed like I was really going to need help, and maybe it was working out for the best that he was freelancing now.

I was also enjoying living six blocks from my parents. I had lived in Manhattan and Queens for 18 years. It had been a long time since I was able to see my parents on a regular basis. I could hear my mom and then-two-year-old Tom playing in the sun room and listening to Blues Clues.

Gratitude filled me as I was making Tom's new bed and looking at his big boy room. The clouds my sister and brother-in-law had just painted a week ago were finally dry, and I loved the new airplane border.

I was pregnant. We had a lovely house. We still had some savings left. Joe was getting work. We would be okay. The sun was shining. The radio was playing the oldies music I loved. Life was good.

As I was finishing making the bed and arranging animals on Tom's bed, the music stopped and the news cut into the broadcast. The announcer said a plane had hit the World Trade Center. My mind immediately downplayed it. I'm a born and raised New Yorker and do not jump to conclusions or panic easily. I figured it was a small private plane that got into some odd trouble.

Not forgetting my assistant skills from my working days, I wrote a quick note to my husband and put it in front of him as he was talking on the phone: Two planes hit the World Trade Center.

He looked at me and said something to the person he was interviewing.

I ran into the sun room where my mother and Tom were playing. I switched the TV to a news channel. All of a sudden, there was President Bush telling the world that two commercial airlines had hit the World Trade Center, apparently the work of terrorists. Our country was under attack.

The three of us were glued to the TV.

Then the phone started to ring.

People calling to see where Joe was. People calling to see if we heard from my sisters and brother in-law, all who worked in various offices around midtown Manhattan.

My sister worked right by Grand Central Station and was panicked. There was talk of evacuating office buildings. No one knew if there would be another attack, or when or where it would be. Everyone felt vulnerable.

At some point, we heard news about the plane crashing into the Pentagon. TV reporters said people were jumping from the towers. I could only imagine the terror inside.

I know Lower Manhattan pretty well. I had worked in the area for a while and visited the World Trade Center on many occasions. Joe and I dined at Windows on the World for our fifth anniversary and spent the weekend at the Marriott Hotel adjacent to the towers.

Thoughts raced through my head as I watched the nightmare unfolding on TV.

We started going through a list of the people we knew and where they worked. Who did we know who worked in or around the Towers? Are they safe? More phone calls.

Joe, my mother, and I were just stunned as we watched the reports come in. Tom must have heard something about people jumping from the buildings because for weeks afterward Tom would say "People jumped from buildings."

After what seemed like an eternity transifxed to the horror on the screen, the unthinkable happened--the World Trade Center's south tower collapsed into a massive smoke cloud.

None of us could absorb the shock. For close to half an hour, we watched the horror continue to unfold with the north tower. Then the unthinkable became all too real for the second time in 30 minutes.

With both towers of the Trade Center gone, there was this odd void in the Lower Manhattan skyline that didn't belong there. What had just happened was just too much to process. It seemed as if the world had ended and we were watching it on television. Safe and sound in the suburbs. My friends and family in the city.

Some time in the next hour came the report of Flight 93 crashing in Pennsylvania.

Watching the towers fall as if they were made of Tinker Toys and Legos is something I will never forget. The thought of all the people in the building, gone forever. I was fixated on the horrible thought of what their families were gowing through. All that death. All those firemen, police officers, and paramedics just doing their jobs. All of them rushing into a nightmare to help others.

Out in the suburbs, the streets were quiet. People didn't talk much. We couldn't get through to anyone in the city and had no idea where my sisters and brother-in-law were.

Every so often a plane would fly over and send pure panic down our spines.

My father left his office early, and my parents, Joe, and I just continued watching the news as I continued doing for weeks after.

I would watch women and men show pictures of their loved ones, hoping that someone would be able to tell them anything.

TV reporters I had watched for years were crying and visibly shaken as I had never seen them before.


The world had changed.

I was terrified for my son and the baby I was carrying. What kind of world was I bringing them into?

A stuffed lamb for our oldest son and one of his favoritie books, The Runaway Bunny, were gifts from a former colleague of my husband who had been at a conference in the north tower that morning. Other co-workers got a cell phone call from him as he said he and other conference attendees had found a stairwell and were trying to get to safety. That was the last communication with him.

Thankfully, our lives were not touched directly. My family was safe, and our closest friends were unharmed. But it was hard to feel grateful, when all around us people were suffering.

Four months later our daughter was born on January 11. Five weeks after we brought her home from the hospital, my husband started a new job. We all were encouraged to move on yet remember. Life went on.

Yet that day and the days that followed are etched in my consciousness. I still think about everyone who was lost and the memorials that are held every September. My heart aches for all the lives that were lost that day, and all the lives that have been lost since because of that day.

Today we live in a world where terrorist threats seem common, and young men and women who should be in college, starting jobs, or with their families are now fighting two wars.

The one thing I try to impart to my children about September 11, is that although we saw what real evil could cause on that horrible day, we also witnessed many more examples of what real love and sacrifice looked like. In the end, good triumphed over evil.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

The mood in our house right now reminds me of my all-time favorite Staples TV commercial. The spot goes back about 20 years and features the festive Christmas song,"It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

The commercial features an ecstatic father shopping for school supplies with his children. The children are slowly following behind, looking as if they are headed for death row.

The voice-over in the commercial says, "They're going back!"

Tuesday is the first day of school in our little corner of the world. The first bus will arrive around 7:15, and off Lizzy will go to third grade. The second bus shows up at 7:35 to take my baby Peter away to first grade.

Less than an hour later, I'll take my oldest, Tom, to middle school for seventh grade.

Oh Happy Day!

Or is it?

Now I realize that if you happen to be reading this while nursing one baby and holding another little one out of harm's way with your leg the idea of six hours without children sounds heavenly.

I'm not going to lie. It ain't bad.

But it wasn't what I thought it would be either.

I would talk to my friends whose children were at school full time and be envious. They would talk about being busier than they ever thought they would be, and I would smile and nod. Deep down I would think they really had the life. No children home, the ability to shop and do errands without anybody crying, melting down, or asking for Oreos.

I would usually have to cut short the phone call or visit. I either had to pick someone up from preschool or rescue someone from the top bunk bed because it seemed like a good idea to climb up but not so much fun climbing down.

Last year Peter started full-time kindergarten. I had visions of long lunches, long workouts at the gym, cleaning rooms that haven't been cleaned since I had him in 2005.

Turns out, my friends were right. Those six hours go fast!

With the start of school comes all that homework. I'm not talking about the children's homework. I fully accept my role as homework cop. I'm grateful that I'm the one who gets to torture them and go over their weekly spelling lists.

I'm talking about the mommy homework.

There's an endless series of forms to fill out and notices to keep track of for three kids, in three different schools. Then I have to get prescriptions for all three kids for occupational and physical therapy. After that I have to trek back to the doctors office because the original dates on the prescriptions were wrong.

Perhaps the biggest assignment is delivering the EpiPen, Benadryl, and inhaler to the nurse at Tom's school to treat emergency flare-ups of Tom's allergies and asthma.

Did I mention the notes from therapists and teachers? What about the endless teacher conferences? Or the stream of checks for PTA dues, class dues, gifts for teachers, class trips, subscriptions for various class magazines, and a million other things.

I'm tired just thinking of what's in store.

Next come the phone calls I dread.

I have to say I really enjoy the summer break from the panic I feel each time the phone rings. Once school starts all that changes. Now when the phone rings, I have a pretty decent chance of finding out that someone bumped their head, fell asleep in the middle of class, or is having an allergic reaction.

The one I dread most is the yo-yo syndrome. This is when you send your little darling to school and the nurse calls to tell you that the child who looked perfectly healthy two hours earlier while he was torturing his brother is now sick as a dog.

Sometimes I get to enjoy a little pocket of time. I was able to start my blog once all three kids were in school, and I love being a full-fledged mommy blogger. I even have had the occasional long lunch or coffee date with a friend. It's times like this that I feel extremely blessed and grateful for the life I have.

I like the crazy runaround pace of being an at home mom. Part of me is just wired for chaos. My house is cleaner when I have 10 minutes to clean it rather than when I have three hours.

The one real downside is that I'm going to miss my kids.

Please don't tell them that. It will spoil my image. But I had a wonderful summer with them, especially my oldest, Tom.

For the first time in six years, Tom didn't go to the full-day summer camp the school district has for children who need year-round academic support. His dyslexia always made him eligible to attend, and he always enjoyed it. He would spend the morning in the typical day camp and the afternoon working on his academic issues.

Tom did so well in sixth grade he was no longer eligible. While Lizzy and Peter were off to camp having a ball, I had Tom all to myself. For the first time since he was a baby I had some real one-on-one time with him. I loved it.

We would spend the morning walking with my dad, and then he would swim with friends or just hang out with them. Some days we would go for sushi or to the movies. I saw The Planet of Apes, Captain America, and The Zookeeper. All were movies I would never have attended had I not had a 12-year-old boy. I had a blast.

Now it's all over. There are school supplies to separate and put in backpacks, pencils to sharpen, notes to write to teachers, and chaos to deal with.

As much as I love to complain, I am eternally grateful for my beautiful family.

But as Peter is now asking for popcorn for the 20th time in five minutes, the thought that I may be able to finish a thought come Tuesday has me agreeing with the Staples commercial: It is the most wonderful time of the year! 

Distance Learning MBA Institutes Delhi

Distance Learning MBA Colleges in Delhi | Distance Learning MBA Programs In Delhi | How to take Admission in Distance MBA course in Delhi

Delhi is not only a capital of India but It's also a capital of Management Education. There are hundreds of MBA colleges around Delhi/NCR which are offering Distance Learning and Regular courses in Management. Colleges Like FMS Delhi, LBS Delhi, IIFT, IIF, IIT are top rank colleges in India providing world class regular MBA degree program. In Delhi there are also colleges/Universities like IGNOU, IMT Ghaziabad, Amity University, MD University which are pioneer in providing distance learning MBA programs in India.
Trend of doing a distance learning MBA degree program is increasing day by day among working executives and freshers, to encash this opportunity lots of international universities has also started promoting their distance learning MBA program in India. To help the working professionals and freshers we are providing some information about the best distance Learning MBA courses in Delhi.


1) IGNOU Distance Learning MBA Program

Indra Gandhi National Open University (IGNOU) is known for it's distance learning programs in India. IGNOU is one of the best university provides distance learning MBA program in India.
Graduate's and No-Graduate's both can apply for IGNOU MBA program (See The Eligibility criteria on IGNOU's website) , IGNOU takes admission through Open MAT (Entrance Test Conducted By IGNOU) which conducts twice a year. Admission in MBA program is done based on the score obtain by the student in Open MAT exam.

2) IMT Ghaziabad distance learning management program


IMT Ghaziabad is among the top colleges in India provides regular post graduate management programs. It also offers the distance learning management program for working professionals and students. IMT-CDL is recognised by Distance Education Council, Government of India. IMT ghaziabad offers post graduate management programs in diversified areas like HR, Marketing, Retail management, Export Management, Supply Chain management, Financial management etc. The fee of its various programs range between 20,000-25,000 per semester.

3) Amity university distance learning management program
Amity is a reputed university in Delhi-NCR proides various management and engineering programs in India. Amity also runs it's distance learning programs under Amity School of distance learning. as per their website Amity ranks No.1 in providing distance learning programs in India. Amity offers 3 years and 2 years distance learning MBA programs for students and working professionals. Fee for these courses is 51,000 INR.

There are many other univrsities and colleges as well like MD university Rohtak, Sikkim manipal University, symbiosis pune, ICFAI etc which are having their learning centers in Delhi-NCR.

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