Our eight year old daughter was giving a presentation in her classroom today, and asked my husband and I to come.  Now, I liked elementary school as much as the next little wide-eyed and bushy-tailed girl when I was a kid, but when I walk through the hallway now, there isn’t one little bit of me that wishes I could go back… 

So the deal was, each child was to pick a passion of theirs, write a report and also create some kind of visual to go along with it, and then share it with the class.  Ok, easy enough.  Thankfully our little one is pretty darn self-motivated and takes on any challenge w/o any real coercing.  According to her teacher, the idea of this “Personal Project” was that all the kids could learn something they didn’t know about their classmates.  Cool.  I get that. 

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WorkingMomLifeline.com’s founders Deb Taylor & Allison Nazarian were featured in The Miami Herald.

Click here for full story.

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Ok, so in a previous post, I discussed how my almost-11-year-old dear son has taken wishing, wanting, visualizing and The Secret to a whole new level.  

When we last left off, we were driving to South Carolina to a wedding. I didn’t know it, but he had watched The Secret not one, not two but three times in the car (great supervision on my part, I know).

With thoughts of free bicycles, this free retail catalog called Life and the Law of Attraction swirling in his head, he began to think of all the amazing things that would be his if he just thought and wished the right way.

Over the course of the few hours we were dancing the night away at the wedding, my son (in the hotel room down the hall) managed to do the following:

1) Opened and somehow logged on to my laptop (in other words, hacked into it)

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From our dinner table to yours - let the carbfest begin!

May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey plump,
May your potatoes and gravy
Have never a lump.
May your yams be delicious
And your pies take the prize,
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
Stay off your thighs!

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In today’s world every woman and mom think she’s a therapist. 

We diagnose our friends and family labeling everyone we meet:

“She’s Psychotic!” 

“He’s a Sociopath!”

“She just went Schizo on me!”

“He’s such a Narcissist!”

“You need Prozac!”

It used to be “She’s Crazy!” or “What a Lunatic!”  These derogatory terms, while offensive, were non-specific and less harmful. Today, we are all more aware of mental health and have adopted much of the jargon associated with it. 

We use it trying to understand the people around us and we also use it to hurt them as well.  Whether with positive or negative intentions, we often misuse these critical diagnostic terms.

As a professional in the field, I want to reach out to those of you who have the desire to be “Clinically Correct.” We all know that knowledge is power and I’d like to educate those of you who want to be empowered. 

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The e-mails have started.

They are coming in daily.

They are detailed.

They have links and graphics and all different fonts. They tug at the heartstrings and appeal to my emotions and innate need to buy. They have a begging, pleading tone — imploring me to buy, buy, buy.

The e-mails are coming not from an online retailer or store catalog. In fact, they’re not coming from any nameless faceless impersonal entity.

They’re coming from my own flesh and blood. From my almost-11-year-old son, my first born who, for better or for worse, is so much like me in so many ways.

It all started when we took a 10-hour car trip to South Carolina for the wedding of one of my closest college friends. We stuffed the two kids in the back, one in each row of the SUV, and prayed we wouldn’t hear much from either of them for the duration of the trip.

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