After my Good Morning column ran yesterday about my old boss, Sheila, I received several e-mails from other professional women sharing their experiences with bad behavior at the office.

One reader sent me a link to this great article "7 Ways to Handle Your Dysfunctional Office" from Monster.com. I admit to employing a few of these strategies myself and can say that they really work.

On the topic of bad work manners, check out the story "Fire at Will" on the cover of You, Inc. today. It's all about how "bad employees can trash office morale," and, unfortunately, I can attest to the truth of that article as well. Been there, done that (and quit that).

OK... this is hysterical. Turn yourself, your friends (or your enemies) into a Simpson at this site.

Here's me...as a Simpson:

I'm on vacation next week -- posts may be sporadic, but...I'll post...Lord knows I'll need to escape from the children and lock myself in my office at some point.

We finally made it to one of the 8 great Tuesdays last night. The rain almost held us back, but when it quit around 7, we decided to take a chance and head down to the bayfront.

A friend had told us to park at the library and take the shuttle, but we decided to see if we could park closer because it was after 8 by the time we got there and we thought people might already be leaving. A couple of cute little girls in the back seat, peeking out of the open windows helped us get premium parking.

We quickly found a group of running friends and parked out chairs with them. The girls had a blast dancing, rolling in the grass and running, running, running around the grassy area with the other kids they managed to round up (including a friend's toddler son who had all kinds of fun chasing the girls around).

What I loved most about it was that it was sense of community there. All these people gathered just to relax and have a good time. Kids whose parents happened to sit near each other quickly made friends.

And, oh..yeah, the music. Last night was the Poverty Redneck Hillbillies and, well, they rocked. Big-time. It was such fun!

Today is a beach day -- provided the weather holds out. Tonight we're going to SeaWolves game and tomorrow, the girls and I are traveling to Pymatuning to visit the spillway and the Deer Park.

Who says there's nothing to do around here? We can't even fit in all the fun things we want to do!

... if I spent every day with my two children who cannot seem to stop fighting and/or whining. . Now...don't get me wrong, we've had lots of fun. I am here at work on a Sunday evening uploading 120 photos that I took during our adventures this week -- evidence of a week well-lived.

But, my husband has been working on a job that needs to be done by the end of next week which means he's working late every night and working every day (yes, even Sundays), so it's been just me & the girls 24/7 for days on end. And, frankly, I think we're all sick of each other. When the husband got home today, I raced out the door telling him I needed to go to work.

I didn't really NEED to come here, though I am on a modem at home and it would take the rest of my life to upload those photos at home AND..it will be nice to be able to just get to work when I do return (having sorted through all my e-mail and snail mail and taken care of minor jobs), but...OK, I'm just going to say it ... I WANTED to come to work.

It's quiet here. There's no one fighting or whining (just some sports guys talking football). It's nice and cool, it's bright, it's peaceful, it's blissfully kid-free and I have Hershey kisses in my drawer and fresh-brewed hot coffee a few steps away. Ah.....

After a week of endless meal making, swimming (beach, YMCA, our pool, the Allegheny River) and animals (Pymatuning spillway, Pmyatuning Deer Park, Erie Zoo, etc.) and all sorts of educational and cultural experiences (Seawolves game, Liberty Park concert, St. James festival, ExpERIEnce museum, TREC center), I am more than ready to come back to my nice quite office.

Apparently, I've been living under a rock (or, more likely, I've just ignored all the Mattel recall hub-bub figuring it was alarmist, well...hub-bub), but a friend sent me a link to this site and I realized that there are many of these toys residing as Cassa Cass -- including the Barbie with the dog that poops (though...most of the "poop" is now in my vacuum cleaner bag), the Silly Elmo, Dora figures and a couple of the big Polly Pocket playsets.

So, now I have one more thing to do -- wade through this list of toys and then try and locate all the toys and figure out what to do with them and blah, blah, blah.

How exhausting and irritating.

All I can hope is that it is precisely this kind of shoddy work that will bring work back to the United States were we do things the right way.

Hello Mattel -- I'm talking to you. How much is your cheap foreign labor costing you now? Good luck repairing your image with millions in advertising after you spend millions replace all those toys.

When was the last time you watched Peter Pan? If you have small kids, it probably wasn't all that long ago -- say a month or so ago when they came out with the new "anniversary edition DVD." That's when a good friend of mine watched it with her daughter and said to me "you know, that's an awful movie. Tinkerbell is a witch (only she didn't say witch) ... and she has body issues."

I came across this article Download file when I was trolling the wires for special sections content and I have to share it because it is hysterical.

My favorite line: "When Jake started saying, "She scares me, Daddy," I thought, "You know what, son? Six-inch-tall bioluminescent fairies with dark powers and vengeful attitudes scare me too."

Tinkerbell is a jerk.

Lots of great story ideas and a line-up of themes for each issue of Her Times magazine in 2008.

Her Times magazine is produced, primarily by three ETN staffers -- myself, my boss, Marnie Mead Oberle and our designer, Holly Waychoff. But, we have a bevy of local freelancers who write for the magazine and lend their creative talent and ideas to the publication.

Once a year, we host a big meeting and invite all the freelancers to sit around in a room and help us pick themes for the magazine for the following year. It's always a wonderful experience to get so many creative, dynamic people in one room.

Here are a few photos from our meeting earlier this week:

From left to right: Dianna Noe, Pam Parker and Chris Pennsy.

Monica Lewis, Amanda Burlingham, Fiona Branton (our new fitness writer), Amy West and Josh West.

Valerie Weaver, Gennifer Biggs, Marnie Mead Oberle, Monica Lewis (who we are pretty sure is NOT asleep here), Amanda Burlingham.

The themes we chose are deliberately vague and open ended so that they can be interpreted in many ways and applied to a cross-section of stories covering everything from hair and makeup to relationships to home interiors.

The themes we chose for 2008 are (drum roll please):

"Baggage"
"Retro -- Everything Old is New Again"
"Women in the Driver's Seat"
"What's Fair?"
"Taking a Stand"
"Party Time"

I've been in a war of words with my daughters, 4 & 6 years, lately. The 6-year-old, in particular, has really been really, um, challenging. She's discovered words can wound and when she's really mad she'll start hauling out her word weapons left and right. Throwing out anything she thinks will get a reaction from me.

Unfortunately, I usually give it to her. I mean, really, how can I not respond to, "You wish I were died, don't you momma?" or "I don't like you, you're a bad mom" and "You're a mean, mean mom" (because I made them leave the Tom Ridge Center after running around it for 45 minutes after spending four hours at the beach and stopping for ice cream...yeah, I'm a real mean, mean mom).

Her latest? "Mom, you never shoulda had kids!" To be honest, that one made me laugh, but...for the most part it hurts when your kid says nasty things to you. And, you want to lash back -- with words, with punishment, with threats, with guilt -- all of which just makes things worse.

During my recent week of vacation, in which the girls and I did fun things every day, almost every day ended the same -- with one, or both kids telling me I was mean or bad or they wanted a new mom. I felt defeated and irritated and frustrated and angry. All I wanted to was have fun with them.

After one particularly bad day, I laid on the porch swing out back, hand over my eyes, stiff drink in hand and I told my husband "I want new kids. I screwed these ones up."

He laughed.

"No, seriously," I said. "Where did I go wrong? How did our cute little girls become these ungrateful, sassy brats? I created these monsters."

Then he said something very, very wise: "It's just their age, Heather. Quit taking it all personally. They'd say the same thing to me if I were with them all day, and you know they say that kind of stuff to your mom sometimes."

The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. I was taking it all personally -- on an adult level -- something no self-centered child can possibly comprehend or intend. Do I really believe my child thinks I'm a bad mom? No. She's just trying to hurt me because she is not getting what she wants and, at that time, that is all that matters to her.

I know this because 30 minutes after they tell me what a horrible mother I am and I'm still licking my wounds, they come bouncing into the room, having forgotten all about our "fight" and telling me that they love me or that I'm the best mom. At that moment, I am convinced they are trying to drive me insane.

But, after my husband's wise words, I realize that it's up to me to be an adult, keep things in perspective and remember that sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

All this said, don't get the impression that I'll let my kids say & do whatever they want and wave it off due to their age...no way...rude and disrespectful behavior will not be tolerated. I am aware that it is up to me to raise polite children with decent manners. All I'm saying is that I, personally, am not going to play their game anymore. I'm disengaging. I will not give her the war of words that she is looking for, which, I hope, will render her word weapons useless.

I've been up since 4:30 a.m. when I woke up with a start, suddenly alarmed that I never taught Kelly to tie her shoes. This is a problem because she starts Kindergarten in 10 days. Who will tie her new sneakers on gym day? Will the other kids laugh at her because she can't tie her shoes? How could I have failed to remember that I need to teach my kid to tie her shoes? Can I teach her in 10 days?

When it comes to parenting, it's the little things that trip me up -- things that never occur to me until they become a problem. Like teaching them to put on their own coats, cutting up their own hot dog and washing their own hair. It's just easier for me to do it and I never think about the fact that these are things I should be teaching them to do for themselves.

Why these things occur to me at 4:30 a.m. on the only day of the week I can "sleep in" until 6 a.m., I don't know.

It wasn't just the shoes, though. It's everything that comes with this major life change. Kelly's going to Kindergarten will cause lots of shifting in our family's life/work schedule.

For starters, my 10-hour Tuesday through Friday schedule is coming to an end. In order to get Kelly on the bus every morning, I'm going to have to go back to the office 5 days a week, starting later in the morning.

My husband has committed to being home three days a week to get Kelly off the bus. This is a major commitment on his part as he works on job sites and he never knows where he'll be working or which jobs will require him to stay late. Doesn't matter, now -- he stepped up and committed to being here so regardless of which contractors are screaming at who, he's leaving the site in time to get our kid off the bus.

I had it all worked out that Kelly would ride the bus home to the babysitter's house the other two days a week, but on Friday I got a letter from the school district saying that Kelly would be dropped off at our house 5 days a week. I had sent them two letters explaining what I needed to do, but I had heard from other parents that they would likely not agree to it.

I know that the school frowns on a child being taking to a different home on different days, but really, what choice do I have? They don't think she can be counted on to remember what bus to get on each day, and, I'll admit, they may have a point because, well, she IS young (heck she can't even tie her shoes let alone remember which day is Tuesday and where she goes on that day).

So, now I have this to worry about -- in addition to everything else. Where do I send her? What do I do? Can I fix my work schedule to be able to get her on the bus 5 days -- and off it 2 days. Actually, believe it or not, I think I can. Now I've just got to pitch the possible new schedule to the boss and see if it will work for her.

The question is..will it work for me? It means giving up lunches and lunchtime walks every single day. It means making the most of every minute I'm at work. It means less chatting in the halls and less workplace-volunteer duties that take time away from my work day. It means giving up my after-work workouts at the downtown YMCA. It means making up time on weeks we have a day off. It means enduring the sideways glances from co-workers who see me leaving at 3:45 twice a week and think "it must be nice."

Then, it occured to me that my new 5-day schedule means I will never take my younger daughter to preschool again (grandma will be taking her) and I'm sad because I will miss out on talking with the teachers, meeting her classmates and chatting up the other moms.

I realize that being a mom means sacrifice. But, how do you ever know which are the right sacrifices to make? And, how do I not sacrifice everything I enjoy so I can get my kid on and off the bus?

And everyone wonders why working moms are so mad. We're frustrated and scared we're not doing the right thing. And, we're tired because we lay awake all night trying to figure it all out and determine who -- or what -- in our lives is going to be left holding the short end of the stick.

All too often, it's us.

We get to check out Kelly's new school and meet her teacher tonight. We are all QUITE excited (yes, even Kelly!).

She's been chosen to participate in a "looping" program where the students move with their teacher (and I believe their entire class) to the next grade. It's supposed to help ease the transition and helps the students and teacher get to know each other better. After 1st grade, Kelly's teacher will go back to Kindergarten and Kelly will move onto 2nd grade. We'll find out more about the whole thing tonight, but it sounds like a great idea to me.

Thursday we ride the bus to the school for an orientation day. Again...not sure who's more excited -- me, Kelly or Grandma (who will be taking 347 photos of us getting on the bus).

It was another fairly sleepless night last night -- not sure if it's all my anxiety about the changes coming or if it was the four-year-old sleeping between my husband and I who kept kicking all the covers down while I shivered in my tank top and shorts, clinging to my sliver of bed (hey, if you're hot, get out of my bed, kid!).

Sleep may come easier tonight since we may finally have a solution to the after-school bus drop-off. Rather than Dan or I having to rush out of work and get home early, we may send Kelly to our babysitter's house who lives in our school district and currently watches the kids one day a week (grandma watches the other days). It would bring me peace of mind to know that she's going to the same place every day -- a place she is familiar with -- with kids she knows and a babysitter she loves.

Of course, meeting the teacher, seeing the classroom and learning more about Kelly's new school could open a whole new can of worms and leave me tossing and turning again tonight (sheesh...you'd think I was the one going back to school!). That or a four-year-old in hot footie jammies.

This (above) is what my daughter said last night when we tried to take her home after the looping meeting. After the teachers talked about looping (sounds all good to me!) with the parents, we had a chance to see her classroom and the kids got to spend some time in their new classroom finding their desk, locating their coat cubbies and getting to know one another.

My shy leg-clinger of last year is long gone. Kelly jumped right into playing with the kids, first helping build a block house and then helping the boys put together a wooden train track. Never did she look back to see what her Dad & I were doing.

She's a confident, gregarious, independent and happy girl. "Mission accomplished," I thought.

Tomorrow, we ride the big yellow school bus together for a 1/2 day of Kindergarten orientation.

Here's a pix of Kelly on our way to the school last night -- looking pensive and a little scared -- holding the picture she made for her new teacher. (Dan accused me of trying to create a suck-up on day 1...and it wasn't even day 1). :-)

Today was the big Kindergarten registration and bus ride. The bus was running about 10 minutes early, so my mom didn't get there in time to get photos of us getting on the bus. (But, I give her credit because she and my dad were there when they dropped us off in the pouring rain -- Dad met us at the bus door with an open umbrella!).

All in all, it was a blast. Kelly is quite excited. The parents had plenty of time to chat and get to know each other and the whole day was nothing but positive (except for the pouring rain and the early bus, of course).

One of the other moms that I talked to remarked that I was handling it (the kindergarten orientation) quite well. "With my oldest, I was in the corner, choking back tears. I didn't want to talk to anyone," she said.

I knew that wouldn't be me.

First of all...I'm never at a loss for words.

Secondly, I'm sentimental, but not in a weepy, looking-back way. Frankly, I'm glad my baby years are behind me. I'll be glad to never change another diaper or mix up another bottle of Similac for a good 25 years (I expect to be a hands-on Grandma).

And, I'm excited for Kelly. She's excited. This is exciting.

I know that things will never be the same. She will never be the same. She will soon learn how to buy her own lunch and ride the bus alone and tie her own shoes and play ball hockey and read and count change.

And I suppose it's a little sad that my innocent baby will now be on her own (sort of) 8 hours a day, but if you could see her face -- how happy she is -- how excited she is -- how ready to do it all herself she is -- you would understand why I can't possibly sit in a corner in mourn what was.

All I see in those bright eyes and wide smile and giddy laughter is all that she can become.

Nothing sad about that.

The Washington Post had an interesting post on it's On Parenting blog about a pair of moms who were angry about the unhealthy food choices at their child's school and -- get this -- did something about it.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that my daughter's school adopted a wellness policy two years ago that has specific goals -- and a three year plan -- to create healthier students. Step one included removing soda from all school vending machines, switching to all skim or 1% milk products, eliminating high-fat, high-sugar desserts and serving smaller portions to elementary school children. In addition, the kids have active time every morning, gym twice a week and go outside for recess every day (except in the most severe weather).

In addition, classroom snacks are to be healthy alternatives to sweets such as crackers, pretzels, fruit and veggies with dip, cheese sticks, etc. They strongly discourage parents from bringing in snacks like cookies and cupcakes and ask that they not send soda pop in their child's lunch (if they pack).

All good news to me.

I've long thought that if America really wanted to do something about the growing obesity problem, they needed to start with the schools who were routinely dishing up fat-laden meals like macaroni and cheese, deep fried chicken nuggets, french fries and full-fat cheese pizza with pepperoni.

That's not to say that we should demonize cupcakes and hot dogs. Truly, everything is fine in moderation.

But, it only makes sense that -- along with their ABCs and 123s, schools should be encouraging kids to make the right food choices and lead active lifestyles.

I may not be as angry as these ladies, but I am prepared to put my money where my mouth is. I'm already dreaming up an elementary school running program to pitch to the PTO. Something that would introduce the kids to running -- perhaps have them run a marathon (over a period of months) and reward them with medals and such.

I know the last thing I need is one more thing to do, but...as with anything...we find time for the things that really matter to us.

Healthier kids matter to me. Healthy bodies create healthy self-esteem -- and if I can give them a good dose of that now it may help immunize them to the self-hatred that too often infects them (girls especially) in middle school.

... on your daughter's first day of kindergarten -- and the first day of riding the big bus alone -- is "Mrs. Cass, we had a problem transporting Kelly today. But, we've located her...."

Seems the bus garage had it down that Kelly would be going to the babysitter's house only on Tuesday & Thursday, but a week or so ago, I changed it to five days to simplify things for everyone. Someone at the bus garage didn't get the message and put Kelly on the wrong bus home.

Isn't this every kindergarten mother's nightmare? Your small, tiny child lost on a big, yellow bus..driving around town.

My mom was waiting at the babysitter's house, camera in hand, to capture Kelly's arrival home from her first day of Kindergarten.

Only she didn't get off.

To their credit, the transportation folks located Kelly quickly (they had tried to deliver her to our house...where no one was home) and got her to our sitter's house and called me and informed me before she'd even gotten off the bus. I don't feel like she was ever in danger and she's not the kind to scare easily. As long as it seemed someone was in charge (the bus driver), she was probably just fine and had no idea she was on the wrong bus.

But, I can't help but wince at the thought that immediately enters my working-mom head -- If I were home, this wouldn't have happened.

I'm sure no one will be emotionally scarred by this (except maybe my mother....who worries way more than I), but it's no way to start the first day of school.

It's a good thing she has a day at grandma's to recover (the other half of Kelly's class starts school tomorrow). grandma, who's been taking care of Kelly since she was 10 weeks old will surely have something special planned for their last day together.

Despite all my no-tears talk, I did find myself choking back tears this morning when that big yellow bus rumbled away with my baby on board. Funny thing is...the only one who did cry was my younger daughter. It never occurred to me that she would miss probably Kelly more than anyone since her big sister has been her constant companion since ... well, birth.

In the category of You Learn Something New Every Day, I just discovered a cool service that the Erie Times-News and GoErie.com offer to help you find what you're looking for in the Classified ads.

I hesitate to admit it, since the Erie Times-News butters my bread, but despite the studies saying my age group is the biggest user of Classified ads, I never read them. The teeny tiny type and all those listings for everything from jobs to used cars to old dolls for sale is just overwhelming to me. I just look at those ink-filled pages & think...I don't think so.

It's the same reason I hate flea markets, big discount retailers that have bins full of stuff you have to wade through and almost any kind of big outlet. I just don't have the time or patience to wade through to find the good stuff.

But, having come up empty-handed during the Steelers single-game ticket sale last month, I remarked to a friend that I would have to start reading the Classifieds now.

She told me about a cool service that we offer that I never even knew about. You can sign up -- online -- to be notified of ads that contain keywords for items you're looking for. In my case "Steelers." Then, every morning, you get an email notifying you of all the ads that match your criteria -- allowing you to jump on the item(s) quick.

So, what are you looking for? Patio furniture? Baby clothes? A baby sitter? A job at Erie Insurance? A velvet Elvis? Sign up and let www.GoErie.com notify you when your coveted item makes it to the Classifieds.

To sign up, go to www.GoErie.com, click on "Classified" in the menu bar at the top. Click on "Notify me" under "search classifieds" and set your keyword(s) and type in the address you'd like to be notified at.

Voila.

Really, it's that simple.

Last night, I got together with some running friends for some food, drink and lots of laughs. We are an informal group of fun-loving, wine-loving, fitness-minded women ranging in age from 35 (I'm the baby of the group) to 60+. We call our little "club" the Whine and Wine Club.

Driving to my gourmet chef friend's beautiful farmhouse in the country where the Whiners were gathering I told myself I wasn't going to swear, or drink too much, or eat too much, or laugh too loud, or talk too much.

I failed on all accounts.

It's just who I am. I like to drink. I like to eat. I swear like a sailor. I love to laugh. And, God knows, I love to talk.

Normally I'd have woken up today feeling bad about myself and feeling guilty about last night. Guilty because I ate lots of delicious (and surely not low-fat) food. Guilty that I swilled too much good wine (ugh...200 calories a glass). Guilty that I dominated too much of the conversation time (do I think the world revolves around me? Do I think I'm that fascinating?) . Guilty that I laughed too loud (and surely showed everyone my imperfect teeth and many fillings). Guilty that I said the "f" word (how unsophisticated and vulgar).

Go ahead...giggle at my negative self-talk...but, ladies, you know how we think and you know I speak the truth.

But, I've decided to give up feeling guilty about things that make me feel good. Seriously...why should we feel guilty for enjoying incredible food, sweet wine, good friends and well-placed swear word? Why should I let my imperfect teeth stop me from throwing back my head and laughing out loud? How stupid is that?

Have you ever chosen not to be friends with someone because they don't wear designer clothes? Do you look at your friends and see imperfections? Or, do you see the unique things about them that make them interesting and beautiful to you (like a raucous laugh, a crooked tooth or a hole in the armpit of their sweater)?

Frankly, my friends must kinda like who I am because they keep inviting me back -- imperfections and all.

My new lease on a guilt-free life comes about after having just editing a story for our October issue of Her Times. Our theme is "I Quit!" and one of our stories, "Guilty as charged: How to quit guilt," is all about letting go of the guilt that holds you back and occupies your mind with useless garbage (when you could be doing something great with your mind like...reading a book, or writing a book, or planning a vacation, or solving a Suduko puzzle).

Letting go of the negative self-talk and guilt that we women tend to heap on ourselves starts with accepting yourself for who you are and refusing to buy into the messages telling us that anything less than perfection is something to be ashamed of.

Sometimes I eat too much, I drink too much, I laugh too loud and, I talk too much.

And, damn, do I have a good time doing it.