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Once I learned of the glories of adding dry ice to a birthday cake, I couldn't resist. My first creation was a volcano cake, complete with red lava frosting and dry ice smoke cascading down.  When my son turned 5 last week we celebrated with a Burning House Firefighter Birthday Cake.

One of the stops I made on my book tour this summer was Phoenix Books in Burlington, Vermont.  There, next to my poster on the bookstore window, was a poster for another parenting book by Vermonter Vicki Hoefle.  Vicki and I never met, but I felt a kinship since we shared the same space on Bank St.  Not long after, Vicki reached out to introduce herself and her book Duct Tape Parenting.

When my grandmother was losing her memory, she still remembered the poetry she had memorized as a girl.  She had no idea who I was ("this is my great friend...(pause) tell me again how we met?"), but out for a walk together she would stop and gaze with joy at a tree.  From the depths of her memory she would recite:

An allowance is given to teach a child about money.  It should be separate from chores.  Pitching in at home is part of being a family.  It should not be "paid" for.  Some families like to offer money for extra big, once-in-awhile tasks as a way for a child to earn some money; that's fine.

I was told by my wonderful blog mentors, that an active blog should appear at least once a week.  Well, I just violated that -- on purpose.  It was the holidays and time for some downtime. Our family spent part of the time tucked in a cabin in the Hocking Hills.

One thing I’ve realized being the author of a parenting book, is you get to know authors of other parenting books.  One who reached out to contact me was Amy McCready, author of If I Have to Tell you One More Time...

"You must know that there is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome for life in the future than some good memory, especially a memory preserved from childhood, of home. People talk to you a great deal about education.

One year I was horrified to realize I'd only read eight books.  Of course, that was the same year I became a new mother, but still. It's too easy for mothers, parents and busy folks to lose a sense of priorities.

My son is never without a stick in his hand. Or five or six. Some days it’s a cane. Usually it’s a sword or gun. Yesterday he made sticks into arrows by decorating the tips with beech leaves. Sticks make forts, pretend campfires and real ones. They sail down streams as boats. They draw in the sand.

I'm thankful for our chickens. We've had a small backyard coop for three years now. Fresh eggs with golden yolks for breakfast, the joy of opening up the nesting box and cradling a warm newly laid egg.