Webkinz Anonymous

I hit rock bottom Saturday night around 11:30. I realized then that I truly am hooked on Webkinz. There I was, on my computer, playing Webkinz games to win enough points so I could buy beds in the "W Shop" for my 4-year-old's Webkinz pets, Mister Leopard and Mister Lion. (Not to be confused with Mister Tiger, who in fact is not a Webkinz pet, just a favored stuffed animal.)
I spent about an hour racking up 600 points so I could buy each of them a bed, so my son could put his Webkinz pets there when he signs off so they can get some rest. After all, Doctor Quack recommends the pets get a good night's sleep each time you sign off. Otherwise, they could get sick. We've had that happen.
That's when it hit me: I've gotta be out of my mind. Here I am, playing child-age computer games to win beds for non-existent cyber pets.
I'm not alone though. Mary S. admitted to me that she does the same thing for her 5-year-old. We both shared our common annoyance with our kids when they go into the "Employment Office," because many of the "jobs" they are allowed to do every 8 hours are too difficult for the really little kids, so they don't earn any Kinz Cash if they don't get it right. Heck, even I can't do the grocery store stocking clerk job. I've tried twice. I give up. I'm better at Newspaper Delivery and Hamburger Builder.
As I look back on what I've typed in the last few minutes, all I can think is --- this is so sad.

First I was afraid, I was petrified ...

In the late 1970s, Gloria Gaynor probably couldn't imagine her disco hit "I Will Survive" would be used to kick off a road race nearly 30 years later. But it was a great send-off for the "Just Us Girls" 5K fundraiser for breast cancer research in Sea Girt Saturday morning. I joined my running buddies Mary G. and Pam, who I haven't seen since our last race together in early September. I've missed 'em!
The wise race organizers cut the course to two miles, eliminating a field that apparently turned into something of a swamp with all the rain. But the heavens were good -- few drops fell during the run/walk -- then it poured again shortly after.

If you want to talk to someone with a good outlook on life, hang out with a cancer survivor, especially one who had to go through the gamut of surgery, hair loss, chemo, radiation and the realization that this could have been "it." I met one such woman by the TriState Team Survivors' tent on Saturday as we hunkered down there during one of the outbursts of rain. She was incredible. She had a lumpectomy and nodes removed eight days earlier, her head was clad in the familiar bandanna/kerchief style of covering, evidence of hair loss. But she went to Breeders' Cup events and races on Thursday and Friday, then to a 5K on a particularly miserable Saturday, and was all smiles as she talked excitedly about meeting people from all over the country at the Breeders' Cup races. "I'm too stubborn," she said with a laugh, after someone remarked that they couldn't believe she was out and about so quickly.
You've gotta love that.

Middle-income Moms for state offices!

I used to concur with the theory that handing over the government reins to a businessman like Gov. Corzine or Doug Forrester was a good idea -- that they would run the state with the cost-saving and streamlining and other practices that make businesses profitable. I've changed my mind. We should not run the government like a business, but like a middle-income household. Mom for Governor!
Think about it ... businessmen are used to holiday and performance bonuses, stepping on the little guy to get ahead, sacrificing the little guy to make the wealthy shareholders happy, networking at costly cocktail parties, corporate travel, fully-funded "business trips" and conventions, expense accounts where they can write off any meal where they have the slightest business discussion and charge it to the company. These guys can't save the state. They're probably as bad as the politicians, maybe worse.
Hand over the reins to a mom who managed to hold together a low- to middle-income household in New Jersey, especially on a single income. She knows how to shop at Aldi's instead of Wegman's when things are tight. She looks for things on the clearance racks. Hand-me-downs are wonderful. She can throw a big party on a shoestring budget and still make sure a good time is had by all. She clips coupons, goes yard-saling, has been to a thrift shop, buys on E-Bay and gets the door-buster sale items that are only available between 5 and 9 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving. She figures out which items at Sam's Club or BJ's or Costco are worthwhile savings and which can be purchased more cheaply by getting generic brands at the local grocery store. She knows which gas stations are a few pennies cheaper per gallon. She doesn't fall for gimmicks, like "free" vacations that offer free plane tickets, but only if you stay at an expensive resort when you get to your destination. She can make a complete meal out of the contents of a nearly empty fridge and pantry.
And she can say "No." That's a big problem with state government now. They can't say No. Moms are really good at that. Maybe New Jersey needs its moms more than ever.

Partyin' with the PTO

Who do you call when you need something done, done well, done right and done soon? Probably somebody who's already working on 8 million other things.
Last night I had the opportunity to join the ladies from the PTO (I have to ask Erika why the PTO's Web site has that walking turkey on it ... are we that close to Thanksgiving?) to celebrate Tammy B. joining the board after she was sworn in as vice president following the monthly PTO meeting. We all hit Brennen's on Route 35 for, um, some tea. Yeah, that's it. Tea. Hey, it is the middle sound in the word mar-ti-ni. This is still a G-rated blog, right?
Anyhow, as people congratulated her with warm wishes such as, "Don't you already have enough to do?" "You must be a glutton for punishment" and "Are you crazy?" I thought of a line from my friend Mary H. As I was bemoaning my hectic schedule and after taking on another obligation, Mary said, "Well, you know if you need something done, you find the busiest person you know and ask them to do it."
Every town has them: the people who are actively involved in everything, so much so that you wonder how they find enough hours in the day. That could apply to pretty much everyone who was at the bar, um, I mean tearoom, last night -- Tracy, Tammy, Erika, Jody, Suzi and Mary. There's another dozen or so women in town who fit in the same category. (There's an equal number of men too, but last night was PTO meeting night, and frankly, the guys don't show up en masse there.)
Whenever there's an event that needs to be staffed by volunteers, you'll find them. Whenever there's a fundraiser, they're working on it. Whenever something needs to be organized, and nobody else steps forward, they step up again, take charge and get the work done, often for very little appreciation and an overabundance of aggravation.
Now that I think of it, that nonstop-walking turkey with the googly eye on the PTO Web page probably has nothing to do with Thanksgiving.

Drive-by cosmetics

It struck me today ... I can't remember the last time I applied makeup in front of a mirror that didn't also show me everything behind my car. Every day, I put on "stop light makeup." That's when I dab on what I can while the light is red, then wait until the next red light to continue. It's reached the point where I keep my makeup in the car. I don't think there's any left in the house, I've slowly moved it all out to a basket I keep in between the front seats.
Must've started after I had kids, like every other weird little time-saver I now do. There's never enough time in the morning, no matter how early I start. Oh, and I also keep tweezers in my ash tray. You can spot stray eyebrow pluckables so much better in the car on a bright day.
Occasionally, I'll make it all the way to school then work with no red lights. Hopefully, there's no security camera aimed at me while I put my face on in the office parking lot. Oh, the little luxuries we give up when we're moms.

How much "stuff" can you have?

After watching my now-finally-former neighbors over the last week, I've decided not to ever move until I'm financially able to have someone come in and do it for me. They have spent the last several months throwing things out. Garbage bags upon garbage bags upon garbage bags. For months. After everyone else put their garbage out at night, they'd add a few more bags to each of a few neighbors' piles, sort of spreading their stuff around, probably fearing a revolt if the garbage haulers knew all that stuff came from one house.
I was regularly amazed at how much stuff they threw out. They closed last Thursday, then I saw them there on Friday again. They still had a few things, and the new owners were nice enough to give them an extra day.
Then I saw them again last night. We pulled up, and there they were -- dozens of garbage bags. A whole bunch of other stuff, an old santa, a few pieces of furniture, but more garbage bags than you can believe. There were more in front of my house. More in front of our neighbors on either side. More in front of the houses across the street. I spotted them coming from the rear yard and yelled, "What'd you guys do, move back in and move back out again?" No. Today, they emptied out the shed. Now, this is a 10-by-10 shed. From the looks of things, it must have been stuffed, floor to ceiling. Another neighbor sized it up this morning and said, "Did they take anything with them when they moved?"
I remember what a pain it was moving when it was just me. Then it was more of a pain moving when there were three of us, even moving into a larger place. I can't imagine moving six of us. Ugh.

He's a maniac, maniac on the floor

One thing about having kids, is you get to watch kids' movies. My parents took my children to see "Happy Feet" when it was in the theater, but it was on HBO Saturday night so we all watched it together. Cute!
Funniest part was whenever Mumble got going, my kids would get up and try and imitate his tap dancing. My 4-year-old was hysterical to watch. Savion Glover he is not. His moves looked more like the dancing moves from the '80s movie "Flashdance" when the star (or star's stuntwoman, as I believe the case was) was warming up and almost running in place, really fast.
What's your favorite "kiddie" movie? I loved the Shrek flicks -- haven't seen Shrek 3 yet though. That's next.

Ch-ch-changes

Last night, we said good-bye to our longtime neighbors. We met them 10 1/2 years ago, when we were the new faces in the neighborhood, when we only had one of our four, then a little boy in kindergarten. Roger and Carolyn's daughters were in grammar school too, and they offered to take our little guy to school with them each morning. Good thing, I found out my older daughter was on the way less than a week after we moved in, and I wasn't feeling so hot.
Now our older son is a junior in high school, their daughters are grown, out of college and setting up their own places (we, of course, haven't aged a day), and our neighbors are moving to Vermont. So we went over last night as they gathered up the last of their belongings and loaded the last boxes in the car, moved the last of their things they weren't bringing with them out to the curb and prepared to head out. It was sad to say good-bye. We've been blessed with all great neighbors.
This morning, a moving van was here. My mother-in-law is staying with the kids this afternoon, and I'm sure their noses will be pressed against the windows, watching for signs of the newcomers. Especially for signs of age-specific toys and the like. I already feel bad for them -- it's a miserable day to be moving, hopefully they got most of their stuff in the house before the rain hit. And now they'll have to deal with three inquisitive little faces at the window from 3 o'clock on.

I'm so uncool

I can remember being a teenager, and thinking my parents were the uncoolest and strictest of all. I now realize -- I have become them.
I've heard "Why do you care so much?" after I've grilled my teen on the night's plans, who's driving, where and when and with whom? I also warn that when he has a provisional license, he better not have more than one passenger or I'll turn him in myself. I care too much? I take that as a compliment.
I'll be more than concerned if I hear that someone else's mom is "cool." I remember what that sometimes meant when I was a kid -- they "looked the other way" when it came to partying. Or they were oblivious.
Certainly, parents can be "cool" without being permissive. How do you tell the difference?

Just 5 more minutes!

This morning was one of those days where my whole family could have used five more minutes. Starting at 6:10. I usually wake up at 6, head to the stairs and make sure I hear my teen rustling around, then I climb back into bed until closer to 6:10, then I head down while he's packing up his lunch and we head toward the bus stop a few blocks away for the 6:15 bus.
But he's gotten himself up on time every day so far this year, and he went to bed reasonably early last night for his PSATs today. So I went down at 6:10, and he was walking out of his room. He just woke up, and looked sleepily at me, saying "What do I do now?" Panic mode: "Jump in the shower and just rinse off -- in and out in one minute. Go go go go go!"
We managed to be out the door at 6:15 and missed the bus, but caught it at the next stop.
I decided to jog this morning when my husband was getting ready for work. I like 40 minutes ... gives me time to warm up, jog 3 miles and cool down. But I didn't get out until 7, and my husband has to leave by 7:35. So at 7:17, I turned around, a few blocks shy of my usual destination. Oh well.
The girls were slow moving this morning, and by the time I had them fed, it was after 8, and I still had to get them to brush teeth, do hair, put on shoes and socks and pack up the car. So I had to hold off my shower until after dropping them off -- looked like we had plenty of time, but there seemed to be some confusion on the drop-off line for a few minutes and we were stopped for longer than usual, so they just made it in before the bell.
Got home, got the little guy dressed and ready to go, turned on Curious George and jumped through the shower myself. Couldn't get out the door until 9 a.m., about 5 minutes later than usual, so we didn't get to preschool until 9:05. But they don't really get going until about 9:15, so we were cool.
Nothing disastrous, but I'm always amazed at how 5 minutes can make such a difference. Nobody was late for anything, everyone was where they were supposed to be "just in time." No matter how early I rise, now matter how prepared we are, something gets in the way, or I'll see we have extra time and load or unload the dishwasher or throw in a load of laundry.
We're never the early birds. But that's OK. Worms are nasty.

Say Aaaaaaah

How do you decide when to keep them home from school and when to send them in? There have been times I've made errors on both ends -- kept them home when they turned out to be fine, and sent them in when they seemed a little "off" but showed no signs of fever, pain, nausea or anything like that. There have been times I figured they were tired, or allergies were kicking in or something like that, then the call from school comes and you kick yourself for not following your intuition.
Our first school sick-out was today for one of my children. It started last night when we were out to dinner for my husband's birthday. My 8-year-old put her head in my lap. Not a normal thing at 6:30. She started looking droopy, so she got into bed early, with no arguments -- also not normal.
This morning she came in, sounding chipper at first, then, "My throat kinda hurts and I have a headache."
Her temp was 99.5, but I could just tell by the look in her eyes, she wasn't up to par. So my mother-in-law is at the house with her today so we can see if anything develops. Please, let it not be strep!!!
I looked in her throat but couldn't see anything. Probably too soon, if there is going to be anything to see.
This was an easy call to keep her home. Sometimes you're not so sure. But I'm extremely lucky ... I have my mother-in-law and my parents, and my sitter would have taken her and "quarantined" her away from the other kids if I truly needed it.
I do save my personal days for such times, but she wasn't at the "needs to see the pediatrician" point.

Lions and tigers and bees, Oh My!

Saturday night, my friends told me they laugh about me when I'm not around. It's a good laugh, though. They say I have too much energy and wonder where it all comes from. I rarely take a breather.
This weekend, I'm sure they were considering whether to call a couple of guys in white coats with a big net. I can't blame them.
Saturday morning, I stood with about 150 mostly strangers, wondering whether I'm going through a mid-life crisis. I'm not out buying convertibles or looking for younger men. I'm signing up for things that most people in their right mind wouldn't dream of doing.
The latest was the Rat Race. Andy P. from work ("Hey, you'll be out of there in 45 minutes," he said) has done it for the better part of a decade and told me it was a lot of fun. "You WILL regret doing it," he said. I did. And I'll probably regret it again next year. He was right about one thing ... believe it or not, it was fun. Especially the party at Bar A afterward.
It's not like the usual 5-mile or 5k races. Usually you're not running at all. No one keeps track of your race time. You walk, run and hash your way through the woods. Most often, not on paths. Through swampy areas. Under the Parkway. Through tunnels. Caught in thorns. Peggy H.'s shoe came off in the mud and had to be plucked out. It went so deep you couldn't even see it.
It started at Shark River Park in Neptune, but we were all shuttled out to an office park, off Route 34, I think, about 10:30 to 10:45 a.m. About 11, we were told the course was mapped out in surveyors' tape and flour. Occasionally, you run into a "Rat Hole," which means the next course marker is not immediately visible, so people fan out looking for it (it'll be within 100 yards, in any direction) and try to keep track of who finds it. That's how the about 150 people in it slowly broke up into groups of about 10. That, and the many times someone would get caught up in thorns and break apart from the people ahead of them. (My long running pants were my only bright idea that day -- no scratches).
And Andy gave me some great advice when I reminded him he said it would only take 45 minutes. "Don't ever listen to me, Clare!" I called my husband with someone's cell phone (service in the woods wasn't bad!) to tell him I probably wouldn't be home before my daughter's 1 p.m. guitar lesson. I was right ... it was slightly after 1 when I made it back to the park.
It was very frustrating, but a lot of fun -- despite the many times I questioned my sanity -- until ... a swarm of yellow jackets. Bob and Peggy H. and I were at the front of the pack, trying to shortcut through a very thick set of woods when we hit it. Lesson learned: Stay behind other people. We all got stung, the people behind us heard us and backed up ... Afterward, I heard of about a half dozen or so others who were stung out of about 150. I thought I was the worst, but I think I'm a few shy of the day's record of 15. At first I thought I had 8 stings, but I found a few more over the weekend.
So my usual warp speed today is slowed a bit by the Benadryl. I DID make it to my BFF Diane's birthday party that afternoon ... at one point I didn't think I'd be out of the woods anytime before Sunday. We seemed to be running in circles.
So yesterday, I called my brother and asked if he wanted to join up next year. He's thinking about it.
Don't tell my folks, or they'll have us both committed.

Life's little roadbumps

Yesterday was one of those days when the combination of work and family was just a little overwhelming. Like most working moms, I go with the flow, try and keep everything as organized as I possibly can. My house won't be spotless for another decade or so, and that's fine. We're always running somewhere, that's fine too. I'm up cleaning up and making lunches for the next day every weeknight, it's a pretty effective routine we've got. But sometimes things fall out of place.
Wednesday night, I went with my younger daughter to the Fire Prevention Poster Contest so she could get her award for honorable mention. By the time we got home, it was bath and shower time, followed by books and bed. Soooo, I blew off the homework check. Everyone assured me they were done. After getting them to bed, I cleaned up the kitchen and made Thursday's lunches, thinking all would go smoothly. Ha!
It was not a disaster. But it's a pain in the butt when the best-laid plans of mice and mommies go awry.
Thursday, 6:20 a.m., 5 minutes after he left, my teen text messaged me from the school bus: "I need $20 for the homecoming tickets, the deadline to buy them is today." His school is a half hour away.
7:45, I catch my older daughter doing math homework in front of the TV. I turn the TV off and gruffly remind her all schoolwork is to be done the night before -- and before TV.
I walk into the kitchen and, on the fridge, I see that her weekly writing assignment is due. It's at least a 20-minute operation, so I yell, "Get in here!!!" and put her to work.
8:15, she finishes the assignment and packs it up. Usually by this time, we're heading out the door. Instead we were scrambling, the girls with teeth-brushing and shoe-finding and putting on, and me tossing lunches into backpacks -- my unbrushed damp hair from a much-earlier shower was matted to my head, I should keep a hat in the car for days like this.
We luckily arrived before the 8:25 late bell, then I got home with my 4-year-old, get him a bowl of cereal and went to put on Curious George so I could gather his and my stuff for the day while he ate and ... there's the math book. So it's another trip back to school, then to the sitter's, then to the high school, then to work -- an hour later than usual. My parents usually pick the girls up on Thursdays, but they were visiting relatives, so I had to fly out at 2:40 to get them and bring them to the sitter's house. The only thing that went right was that my husband got out of work on time -- he often gets pulled into overtime, then I have to go get the kids. When my phone rang at 4:15, I answered saying, "Do NOT tell me you're late today." Luckily, he was done early and could take care of dinner. Things started looking up. I got home, my girls pulled out their homework to show me they were done ... each missed an assignment, but got quickly to work and finished.
Friday is "Buy Day" for us. I give everybody cash for lunch, so I was finally able to sit down, put my feet up and relax, knowing we were ready for the next day.

Thanks for the gumball, Popeye!

How on earth did someone dream this idea up? This is the funniest thing I've read in a long time:

DOVER, N.J. (AP) -- Fear that terrorists could poison children has led three Dover aldermen to begin inspecting gumball machines.
They've surveyed 103 machines in the Morris County town and expect to report their results on New Year's Day.
Aldermen Frank Poolas, Jack Delaney and Michael Picciallo have found 100 unlicensed machines filled with gumballs, jawbreakers and other candies.
The three feel they're ripe for terrorists to lace with poisoned products.
Police Chief Harold "Butch" Valentine told The Star-Ledger of Newark the odds are a person would win the lottery before terrorists would use the machines to launch an attack.
Delaney says their goal is to create a registration process to find out where the candy is coming from.

These Aldermen need a hobby. How on earth did someone come up with this crazy idea? Then how did he find two other guys to go along with it? Do they really think Osama is targeting gumballs?
Do they still have the "character" gumball machines? I remember the commercial from my youth, where the little kid got his gum and said, "Thanks for the gumball, Popeye!" Maybe these aldermen could get some made up in the characters of Bin Laden and Ahmadinejad. Scary faces would prevent the kids from wanting the gum inside. Problem solved!

Liar, liar, pants on fire?

There's a post in the forums from a stepmom who said she has trouble with her 14-year-old who is constantly lying to them. How would you handle that? She could use some good advice if you've got any.
What do you do when you catch your kids in a lie? I make sure they know they have to earn trust. If they're caught lying to me, I likely will doubt them in the future. And that will make me say "No" more easily in the future. They have to expect some consequences other than a guilty conscience.

Picture Day!

With my kids' school starting so late this year, we've got Picture Day today. It's hot as blazes and my older daughter's outfit is more appropriate for, well, the weather on a normal Oct. 9.
It's dressy jeans topped with a long-sleeved shirt, but fortunately it's a light one. I asked her if she wanted to change, but nooooo. This was what she was planning on. She looked great as I dropped her off. I packed some lighter clothes in her bookbag just in case.
Hopefully, she won't melt. Or hopefully, she'll heed my words: Take Your Hair Down For The Picture! We had it looking really nice, just like last year. But last year's picture day, on a September morning, was also a hot one, so she pulled her hair off her face in an unimpressive pony tail, then left it that way for her pictures. She's happiest in a T-shirt and basketball shorts. Doesn't care for dresses. Not a big fan of shopping. Same way I was at that age. Actually, I'm still like that. I'm even wearing an unimpressive ponytail right now.
My younger daughter is quite the opposite. She'll keep primping herself until it's time to get her picture done. She came in at 6:45 and asked if she could put on her new dress. Asked me to curl her hair. Checks herself in every mirror when she's all dressed up. Loves to go shopping. She likes to say, "It makes so much sense that Aunt Tricia is my Godmother, because we both love shopping so much!"
Indeed it does.

How many of these phrases have you uttered?

My friend Marj sent me the link to this youtube item that's a must-see for every mom ... Anita Renfroe put all the phrases a mom utters in a 24-hour period, strung them together for a 3-minute song and performs it to the "William Tell Overture." I guarantee you'll have said at least one phrase in it ... I've probably said them all. It's very clever ... Enjoy!!

Mom's William Tell Overture

My alarming behavior

I have to find a way to make my cell phone alarm less annoying. That means figuring out how to work it. Maybe I should just give it to my kids and let them figure it out.
A couple of days a week, I have to pick up my kids from their schools, so I have two alarms set to go off, Monday through Friday, on my cell phone. My preschooler gets out in the late morning and two others get out mid afternoon. If I'm not picking them up, my mom or dad is, but I still like to check and make sure we're all on the same page, since it varies day to day.
But I get caught up in work and don't watch the clock, so my alarms are there, one at 11:25 and one at 2:35, to let me know I have to fly. Before I did that, I usually alarmed people myself, by flying out the door and running to my car at my top speed.
So my cell alarm rings, "Ta-Da!" twice a day. Annoying? Probably. But the peace of mind is worth it. I just have to figure out how to change it from "Ta-Da" into something a little easier on the ears.

Gotta love Back to School Night

I'm getting a double dose of Back to School night this week, last night was my daughters' school, tonight's the little guy's preschool. Next year, I'll be down to two schools, the year after that, just one.
I enjoy the one at our town school. I know just about all of the teachers, since we've been hanging around there for 11 years now. It's great to see the other parents (Hi Melissa!) who we haven't seen since school and Little League or softball ended. It's like a "Homecoming" for the parents, isn't it?
This year was a little different. The construction that took place over the summer, the beginning of refurbishing, gave our school a different atmosphere. It's all good though. The school's old boiler scared the bejeezus out of me.
My daughters left me notes on their desks, I left them notes back. How many times can I write X-O-X-O-X-O to leave them hugs and kisses? When I got home, I was bowled over with "Did you see my note? Did you see my note?" from both of them.
Tonight is my last preschool Back to School Night. Ever. That's making me a little sad, although I look forward to one thing. I was listening to my daughters and their friends talking about their teachers, and one asked my older daughter who her favorite teacher of all time was.
"Miss Holly," my daughter answered. Well, she's in 4th grade now. Miss Holly was her first-year preschool teacher, when she was 3. I get to tell Miss Holly that tonight.

Does your local cop know your school?

Barnegat's governing body and school board were in a tiff over the cost sharing of having a police officer permanently stationed inside the high school. While I'm not sure every high school needs a full-time police officer, a conversation I had with friends this morning might need a little more attention: With all the changes and construction in the last few years, do most police officers know the layouts of the schools in their districts?

The photo attached is of police officers in Mullica doing a "Threat Assessment" training exercise at one of the schools.
With all the new construction -- new schools, new wings, jazzy layouts -- do all the local police officers know their way around them? Would they be able to find a certain classroom if there were a major problem and they were told it's in, say, room E15 or something like that? Do they know how the different wings or floors are labeled?
Do they do drills within the schools to be prepared for anything on the scale of Columbine?
My friend Eileen said her children's district is planning some drills and looking at others. She was asked if she would be upset if the police planned a lockdown drill at the school. "Sure, but I wouldn't try to stop them from doing it," was her answer. With adequate warning that this was only a drill, and with full explanations to the children about what was going to happen, it's probably the best way to prepare all involved for the possibility of a lockdown or an evacuation in the future. Eileen had another suggestion -- have police do training at schools on weekends.
My kids are in a small school; my teen is in a high school that hasn't had any new construction recently. I'm sure it varies from town to town, but I'm curious what towns that have had big changes in the school district are doing to make sure every officer who may have to respond to a school is familiar with its layout, and do they just look at maps or do they each tour the building?

Banging your head against the wall ...

You know, sometimes you wonder if there's anybody anywhere who's decent. There was a brief in Friday's paper about the state taking over a ticket-fixing probe in Jersey City. Here's what happened:
Chief Municipal Court Judge Wanda Molina suspected two court employees of using the computer system to fix tickets. The two were suspended and one resigned, but then the focus turned toward Molina herself, who was accused of eliminating her female companion's parking tickets. Molina then resigned. Seems she never heard the "glass houses" advice.
Want more insult? Another municipal court judge there, Judge Irwin Rosen, is on unpaid leave, accused of dismissing his own ticket.
Don't people have a sense of right and wrong anymore? Especially judges? It's sickening.