Last week I met up with a cousin I haven’t seen in over three years. She has boy/girl twins and an older daughter just like me. The last time the kids saw each other was the summer of 2006 when we were at the beach at the same time.

Since then, our schedules haven’t overlapped, that is until this Thanksgiving. It was amazing how quickly our kids jelled. We stopped by their house to say hello and after five minutes of awkwardness, the kids ran off to play. They spent the next day and a half together like they had always known each other.

My cousin’s oldest is a year younger then Maggie and her twins are a year younger than Lilly and Adam, but they all paired right up — Maggie and Claire, Lilly and Amy and Adam and Will.

My cousin and I had so much fun watching them. It made me hope that no matter how many years pass between visits, they will always have that special family bond.

I know my grandmother — who was a true matriarch in our family until she died at age 103 — was smiling down from heaven.

We are spending Thanksgiving week at my family’s summer home in Rhode Island. My husband and I honeymooned here 14 years ago this month which was the last time we were up here off season.
On that trip, we took a hike to the end of a spit of beach called Napatree Point and found an abandoned fort. It was a really neat spot with deteriorating gun turrets, metal rung ladders and beautiful views in every direction. The other day, we took our kids to the same spot. It was a bit of a walk on a brisk fall day but with a little encouragement, we all made it. The kids were so excited when we climbed up a steep sand dune to find the old fort spread out in front of us. They ran around exploring every nook and cranny of the concrete structure — scrambling down the ladders and peering into dark, cavernous rooms.
As I watched, I thought about how fast time passes and how much things change. It didn’t seem so long ago that Chris and I were there, just starting out our life together. Fourteen years later, there are six of us. Who knew what an adventure our life together would be?

Our guest blogger today is calendar editor and freelancer Laura Cech.

We live in a time when cars can give you directions and cell phones can play poker, so it’s disappointing to me that no one has invented a sock that will stay on a baby’s foot.
I end up putting my infant in footed pajamas almost every day to avoid this vexing - albeit minor-problem. But sometimes I want to put her in a cute outfit.
When I do, she manages to lose at least one sock, usually in a matter of minutes.
Brand doesn’t seem to make any difference. She’ll lose a Baby Gap sock just as quickly as she does a Carters sock.
She’s barely two months old, so it’s not like she’s crawling anywhere or pulling them off herself. At least not yet.
I know I’m not the only mom who has had this sock problem. What surprises me is that someone hasn’t marketed a solution to it. I mean, someone thought to make velcro tennis shoes and electrolyte-enhanced popsicles.
A pediatric nurse told me that the mittens made to keep babies from scratching themselves actually make the best baby socks. I’m ordering a few pairs with high hopes.
Any other suggestions from you moms out there?

When I pick up my youngest every day from preschool, he makes me guess who he’s played with that day. I have to make sure not to make the correct guess on the first try or he will say “no” even if it’s right.

The first few weeks of the game it was either Connor, Quinn or CJ. Sometimes it was Bennett or Haines. But recently it hasn’t been any of the usual suspects. The first day of the change, I listed all the boys in the class, but I still hadn’t named the playmate of the day.

“It starts with a C,” he told me. “And it’s a girl.”

Turns out he played with Colleen that day and almost every day since.

One day last week, he went into the playroom after lunch and was hard at work on something. Soon, there were noises of major frustration. When I went in, he was crumpling up a red piece of construction paper.

“Do you need help?” I asked. “What are you trying to make?”

“A heart,” he said. “A really big one.”

So I cut a heart out of the uncrumpled paper and gave it to him.

“What’s if for?” I asked.

“Colleen,” he said. And then he proceeded to write “I luv U CollEEn” on it.

I wonder if Colleen  knows she holds my 5-year-old’s heart in her hands.

Today I’m 44.

Yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to spend my birthday, where I wanted to go to eat dinner, who could and could not join us. It all felt very important.

Then my day took an unexpected turn.

At 4:15 yesterday afternoon my son left home in our old Jeep to go to work.

At 4:25 he called to say he was turning left at an intersection not too far from our home when he lost control of the car, skidded across the road and jumped the curb. In the process one of the tires came off the rim. As he was talking to me I could hear strangers stopping to ask if he was OK and if he needed help.

Fortunately, one of those people happened to be my next door neighbor Melissa, who stopped, in the rain, to help him change the tire.

Unfortunately, at 4:45 he walked through the front door. Turns out a lug nut broke off and the car was going to have to be towed.

Fortunately, the AAA tow truck was only half an hour away.

Unfortunately, since I did not have my AAA card on me, I had to be the one to wait with the car. In the rain.

Fortunately Melissa drove me to the car and waited with me — and she ended up giving me the best birthday present ever.

“Poor me,” I complained. Money was tight and now we had a repair staring us down (not to mention the tow bill). I didn’t know how I was going to get to work the next day, or get Rosie to school, and how could my son lose control pulling away from a complete stop? Plus, my birthday was tomorrow.

Waa waa waa.

Thanks heavens for friends like Melissa, who remind you that all new drivers have lessons to learn, some harder than others. More importantly, she reminded me that what was really important was that my son was safe and unharmed.

After the tow truck left, I walked home in the rain and didn’t mind it one bit. Gone was all the self-pity, replaced by nothing but gratitude. My son was safe, my car was fixable and I have great friends.

Who needs anything more than that?

We had parent teacher conferences this week. Here were the parts I liked the best:

Maggie’s teacher bought 10 students in her class a meal from a fast food restaurant to reward them for meeting their reading goal. Two kids said thank you. Maggie was one of them.

Adam’s teacher is known for giving kids nick names. She told us she’s been calling him pepperoni lately. She explained that it’s a food everyone’s familiar with, most everyone likes it, but it’s spicy and sometimes it upsets your stomach. Pretty diplomatic for a kid who’s had more than his share of outbursts this fall.

Quiet little Lilly — the one that my husband worries will be walked all over because she’s so sweet — was apparently the captain of the “blue” team of students in her class this fall. She had to make the ultimate decisions for her group, and she did it with finesse. She listened to her sometime arguing teammates, picked a side and stood firm. And apparently her teammates backed her decisions ever time.

Conferences can be daunting at times, especially when your kids are struggling. But it’s so nice when the teacher has something positive and upbeat to say — something that brings a smile to your face and makes you feel like your on the right track after all.

This blog is written by my co-editor Cheryl Clemens:

My husband keeps asking me if I want to go to the Ravens game on Sunday, and while I love football, I’ve been hesitant to commit.

It finally dawned on me why: This is the last weekend before holiday madness begins. One week from tomorrow is Thanksgiving, followed by Black Friday, followed by weeks and weekends filled with decorating, shopping, wrapping and parties.

I love the holidays, but I think I want to just savor this last weekend of normalcy. No demands, no deadlines looming — just a calm, relaxing weekend with the family.

I need to gather my strength before the marathon begins.

My twins came home last week with their first project assignment of the year. They are in fourth grade and they have to write a 10-line poem about a topic having to do with culture in the middle ages. Parents may help, the assignment clearly states.

Have I told you yet how much I loath projects? I’m the type of person who gets a project done as soon as possible to clear it off my plate. I hate work that is looming. I’m not a procrastinator.

My kids, on the other hand, see the word “project” and think it’s not something they have to concern themselves with any time soon. It’s not due for three weeks. There is no chance I can get them to start working on it any time soon. Adam even suggested it was something we should do over the Thanksgiving holiday. That sounds good to him now because it’s weeks away. But I know what will happen. There will be kicking and screaming and gnashing of teeth when that time comes. At that point he will undoubtedly say, “Why do we need to do this now? We are on VACATION?”

So now I’m plotting out my strategy. I’m trying to figure out how I can get them to start working now. I can’t stand to have it looming. They can procrastinate all they want when they are older and those three little words (parents may help) are no longer a factor. I’m already wondering just when that might be.