I’m so over the moon and I have to share my happy news. Yesterday, at 5:30pm, my older sister gave birth to my first nephew.

He’s so tiny, sweet, and perfect. He’s all cheeks and blond hair, just like me! He’s not even a day old and I can’t get enough of him.

My mother and I spent 6 long hours pacing the halls of the hospital awaiting his arrival. We talked with other expectant families. We took turns grabbing coffee. And we both sprang from our very uncomfortable waiting room seats when the joyous father appeared from the delivery room.

From the moment I laid eyes on the little guy I was hooked. I also began feeling something else — this overwhelming desire to have one of my own. I have always wanted to wait to have children until my husband and I were married for about 5 years (we just celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary). Then something about seeing that little man shattered all of my plans.

I’m not naive to the enormity of raising a child. I’ve spent sleepless nights caring for the children of family and friends (and I do mean sleepless — I had this continuous urge to leave my bed to make and sure they were still breathing). I worry daily about my special-needs sister. I cringe at the cost of supporting a child. But that all pales in comparison to the love I felt when I cradled that baby boy in my arms.

I’m hooked, and going down fast!

As a teacher it is my belief that getting to know your students is absolutely necessary to building a warm, loving, and productive learning environment. I like to ask the usual questions when I meet students — what is your favorite sport, after-school activity, subject, etc. One of my favorite questions is “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

The answers provide much needed insight into a student. It tells me what subjects may interest them and how to gear activities to their liking. Whether 5 or 15, knowing a students future goal is an intangible piece of information.

From mommy to firefighter and orthopedic surgeon to bus caller (one little girl thought the announcing of the buses as they arrived was so exciting!), I’ve heard it all. Of course, choice of career may change. My older sister and I had grand plans of becoming pom-pom girls. Not cheerleaders. Pom-pom girls. We had the cutest red and white pom-poms.

My sister and I took a slightly different path and became teachers. While it is not an easy, glamorous job, there is nothing else we’d rather be — not even pom-pom girls.

Thinking about the upcoming school year and the future artists, engineers, parents, doctors, and athletes I’m sure to meet, I’ve begun to take a closer look at the career choices of my friends and family. It’s a diverse group — hair stylists, lawyers, nurses, teachers, writers, photographers. Some took a very clear path to reach their destination, some stumbled upon their profession, and others appear to still be searching for their niche.

So I have to ask — what did you want to be when you grew up? Are you professionally where you want to be?

I’m in the midst of summer and have some extra time on my hands. Deciding to be proactive, I developed a rather lengthy “to-do” list. Each task is time consuming and tedious, but must be done.

* Clean out the basement
* Clean out the garage
* Reorganize my second floor
* Tackle my home office, which is overflowing with papers, books, bills
* Finally go through 10 years of pictures and arrange into albums
* Empty the dressers and toss old clothes
* Venture onto the back florida room and give it a good cleaning

It’s already the middle of July and I have yet to attack said list.

I know time is running out to complete these daunting tasks, but the warm sun keeps calling me outdoors. And while I fully planned on a productive Tuesday, I think I’ll grab my dog, a good book, and spend my afternoon at the park.

So tomorrow is the 4th of July — the kick-off of all summer celebrations.

I’ve always been a big fan of the 4th. The fire works and picnics. Red, white and blue as far as the eye can see. Everything seems to shut down in favor of fun and festivities.

However, I’m a bit down this year. My family is big on tradition — Christmas Eve is always as Great Grandma’s (although she is now deceased) with about 85 of our nearest and dearest. Even though our winters can be deadly, we always make the hour-long journey. Christmas Day is at Grandpa’s where the family has been celebrating the same way for the past 30 years. My husband and our friends have a long-standing Christmas dinner together. Each October we all trek to a state park for a long weekend. Good Friday means a 6am wake-up call as DH and I prepare to head out to the Polish market. The last weekend in July is spent at the Level Regatta, regardless of the rising ticket cost and presence of unwanted teens. We have lots of traditions — and I am a stickler about them. To quote a favorite movie of mine, “You don’t monkey with tradition.” But this year everything is screwy.

TRADITIONALLY we spend Independence Day doing a myriad of activities. We start off the morning on the sailboat. My father gets frustrated if we don’t tighten the jib fast enough. My mother gets nervous when the boat tips and becomes frustrated with the whole situation. And someone always loses something overboard. Next we head back to my parent’s for an all-day picnic. My dog stands on the pool deck while my husband soaks him. Said dog inevitably goes on to the patio and shakes his wet fur all over the relatives, who shoot daggers my way. We all eat too much and then complain about the raging sunburns we’ve all acquired.

Then the pieces de resistance — fire works. We load up wagons and coolers and make our way to a local park. We fight for a spot to lay down our numerous blankets and prepare for the light show. The park becomes mobbed, babies are crying, dogs are barking, and someone always has to use the bathroom. We’re tired, burned and a bit cranky. Then we have to wait 45 minutes for the show to actually begin. When all is said and done we make the slow walk home among fellow neighbors.

I’m bumming because this year our sailboat is on its way to Toronto, my parents have to attend a graduation party tomorrow, and my very pregnant sister isn’t up to much walking. My husband and I are scrambling to find some festivities to occupy our 4th. I know we’ll pull something together, but the absence of long-standing traditions is breaking my spirit.

I just like the comfort that comes with family traditions, or the new ones my husband and I have created with friends. I want my children to grow up with those traditions. I want them to have the same warm memories that I cherish. Is your family big on tradition?

I am grateful that my husband is handy. With the exception of hiring an electrician to put in a new box (now a law in my area), my husband has done everything to our fixer-upper himself (with much appreciated help from my father, FIL, and friends). There isn’t too much that he cannot do, which has saved us a countless amount of money.

Having grown up with a Mr. Fix-It as a father, this was a very attractive quality that my DH possessed. And then I realized the one down side. He’s not being paid to do it. There is no legally binding contract. Our house is at his mercy. At least hockey season is over…

April 2008

Me: Babe, we really need to side the house. The stucco, although very attractive, is stained. Plus we need the extra insulation for our wicked winters.

DH: OK. I’ll call my dad and we’ll start getting everything together.

Me: Should we hire someone?

DH looks at me as though I have simultaneously grown three heads and emasculated him in one feel swoop.

DH: Do you know how much more that would cost? I can do it. Do you know how many houses my dad and I have sided? We can do it.

Me: Sweet!

Now a wiser woman would have known better. She would have immediately started a list of needed supplies and a time line.

May 2008:

Me: Babe, remember last month when I said we really needed to side the house? Well, we really should get started. Your hectic traveling schedule is going to make this difficult enough. Can we go choose the color?

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