The Disney Cruise!!

By: Heather Somaini

Our 5-year old twins went on a cruise.  I’ve never been on a cruise so my kids actually did something before me.  Yikes, what’s next?

Tere and I spent our last night of true, kid-freedom very seriously.  First, I went on a quick 30-mile bike ride and then rushed home to shower and change before our friends Vickie and Diana arrived to take us on an “adventure”.  We had no idea where we were going, what we would be doing, or more importantly, what we would be eating.  After 30 minutes in the car and lots of guessing, we arrived at a non-descript warehouse district in Gardena.

I saw it immediately and sort of blurted out – “we’re going Go Kart racing”!  And we in fact, did race Go Karts!  It was an indoor course with electric Go Karts and loads of fun.  We had to strap on helmets and wear these ski-mask looking things over our heads.  I was the fastest out of the four of us but we were the slowest out of our entire group.  Some 12-year old came in first as if we were standing still.  We checked out an amazing Italian restaurant and then settled in for the trip home.  Later that night we went to a late night 21+ showing of an R-rated movie with a very happy crowd of hipsters laughing at things that weren’t exactly funny…because they were all drunk!  It was fun to be out and about a little bit.

The next morning my phone rang very early.  My mom was on the other line letting us know they were pulling in to port as we spoke and that they would be finished with breakfast and off the boat by 9:00am.  She said, “You are coming to pick us up, right?”  My first clue.  My parents were exhausted.  I guess managing twin 5-year-olds and a 10-year-old for 8 days was the equivalent of biting off more than they could chew.

What we did find out is that for the most part, our kids were pretty good.  But the constant attention they needed and cacophony of the other 1700 people on the boat were more than my parents expected.  They were truly wiped out by the time they made it to our house and they each napped that afternoon.

The kids swam with dolphins, sparred with pirates on a pirate boat, swam in the ocean and in the pool, and fell asleep at dinner every night. They separated their joint room into grown-ups and kids and made their grandparents “knock” on a curtain to gain entry.  They came back with multiple tan lines and many toys.  They had an awesome time and gave Noni and Opa a run for their money.

We also found out that our kids didn’t mention us once.  Not once.  Yep, you heard me.  No crying at night.  No homesickness.  No longing for Mama and Mommy.  Nothing.  Nada.  On the way in to port they said they wondered what we had been doing while they were gone. That’s it.  I was thrilled.  Tere was not so thrilled.

Our babies are growing up and although they still need us, they’re getting more independent every day.  We now have conversations about what it means to be a “big kid” and what school will be like in the fall.  Free says he can’t wait for Kindergarten because he wants to learn to read.  I’m absolutely anxious about them going to a big school but they’re clearly going to be fine.

P.S. – Although we haven’t gotten the official letter, it looks like Free made it into the charter school that his sister is already enrolled in for the fall.  It’s all done by lottery and it’s sort of amazing that they each pulled such low numbers considering the odds.

Quiet House

By: Heather Somaini

Our almost 5-year-old twins have left the building…like Elvis.  They charged out and didn’t even look back, knowing the devastation they left in their wake.  I guess this is how it goes as our kids get older and find more and more independence.

Right now they’re on a Disney cruise in Mexico.  They’re eating anything they want, swimming in all three pools every day, sleeping in bunk beds, petting dolphins, snorkeling and generally giving their grandparents a run for their money. I wonder if my parents will come back exhausted and never volunteer to do that again!  I’ve been debating about sending the kids twice this coming summer to spend some extended time with my mom and dad.  This trip will tell us if that’s a good idea or not.  I’m sure it’s fine.  They’re fine.  My parents are probably having so much fun with three kids to dote on and spoil.

I’m not worried about them.  I’m worried about US!  Tere and I drove home after dropping them off at the boat with the intention of grabbing a quick bite to eat and then immediately running out to see a grown-up movie.  We never left the house. We napped. We ate leftovers. We watched two shows about the world’s largest cruise ships. We watched Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner in THE BODYGUARD. We finally just went to bed. It was just too pathetic to even keep trying to act like we were anything but completely lame.

I knew we had to make the next day different. Tere was complaining about how quiet the house was. I knew nothing good was going to come of these conversations. We left the house with a limited plan of breakfast, movies, shopping, drinks with friends and dinner.  Somehow we made it all happen and didn’t make it back until well after our “bedtime”. But this morning, Tere mentioned how quiet the house is again.  It’s very strange to be in our big house with only us instead of the usual five that we have – even Sheenah, the twins’ Nanny, left us!

We’ve now been gone all day and I’m working late to write and get ahead at the office.  Tere went to the gym and now dinner with a girlfriend.  Neither of us really wants to be at home.  It’s too quiet and empty. And it’s sort of creepy. Our kids brought life into our house and without them, it’s a bit stagnant. I remember how this used to be for us. It was fine, it was fun. We did exactly what we wanted to do every day. I think a week of it now is going to be perfect.  By Sunday, we’ll have seen a few movies, made a trip to the spa, spent time with friends, and worked a little longer than usual.

And I’ll be ready to get right back on the “baby train” and have my kids back with their endless questions, schedules, food requests, crying, fighting, kisses, hugs, stumbles, and successes. I just hope my parents recover by July to take them for another week!

It’s All My Fault Anyway aka Parenting is Hard!

By: Heather Somaini

It’s that time of year when everyone starts asking what school your kids are going to in the fall.  Here on the west side of Los Angeles, it’s all about the private schools.  Crossroads, New Roads, John Thomas Dye, Wildwood, Curtis…the list goes on and on. Picking the right one seems impossible.

Which brings me to the impossible-ness (I know that’s not a real word) of being a parent.  This parenting thing is hard.  Super hard actually.  Every decision we make has an effect, makes a mark, and leaves an impression.  I was going to say that even before they’re born, we make decisions for our children, which is true.  Some parents, like us, make decisions even further back while picking out a sperm donor.  Now of course, every mother picks a sperm donor, just most of them marry him instead of selecting him from a catalog, paying for his stuff, and taking it to the doctor’s office in a cryo can.

We choose how to take care of them before they’re born and listen to the doctors about everything from genetic testing to not drinking coffee.  Once they’re born, we take such precious care of these little creatures that can do nothing for themselves and cry when they need anything.  Soon, we’re teaching them to use a spoon and walk.  We select their food, their clothes, their caregivers, their activities, their playmates…everything.

Even as I write this, my mind wanders to the big decision we have before the Fall of what school they will attend for Kindergarten.  My heart breaks a little knowing that our twins will most likely be separated into different schools, miles apart.  I try to come up with the best way to explain it to them but I fail miserably every time.  I keep hoping a brilliant plan will miraculously pop into my head before the dreaded day that I sit them down for that talk.  I’m sure my build up to it will be immense and once it’s done, they will run away to play as if nothing new transpired.  That’s the way with kids, right?

Back to these parent decisions.  My frustrations these days lie mostly in this concept that as parents, we are supposed to be the final arbiter in everything for our children.  Who am I really to know what’s best?  I know my kids well but I’m not them.  They are not me.  Their hopes and dreams and struggles and successes are not mine.  And mine are not theirs.  My choices would not be the same ones they would make.

But every day, I know that my daughter needs something.  The experts can’t exactly put their finger on it.  They’re not sure exactly what it is.  But I’m supposed to make decisions as if I did know.  I wish it were as simple as choosing the right school to go to.  I could weigh the pros and cons of each.  I would decide confidently.  I’m a good “decider”.  But there is nothing to weigh today.  No pros and cons.  Just a little girl who can’t seem to recall things at times or who disengages in large groups and doesn’t want to play.  How do I weigh that?  How do I make a decision about that?

I called my mom to tell her that this parenting thing is hard, almost impossible.  She agreed with me.  Jokingly, she then said that every decision I make will leave an impression and probably scar them for life and when they’re 30, they’ll come home and tell me everything wrong with them is my fault.  As we continued to chat, she said that part a few more times.

I finally realized she was talking about me.  Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much.

Happy Birthday to Me!

By: Heather Somaini

My birthday was yesterday.  I’ve turned another year older and now I have to really think about how old I am when someone asks me.  I hate that transition every year when I can’t really remember how old I am; or am I just conveniently confused?  I don’t know which it is but it keeps happening.

Tere’s birthday is next month and then the twins the month after that.  We always have a busy opening of every year.  Lots of milestones to remind us of our growth.  The kids keep getting taller.  I’m getting a little grayer.  And somehow, Tere keeps getting thinner.

A few years ago for a milestone birthday, we had friends and family up in Napa for a long weekend of wine drinking, winding roads, and long dinners.  But what do you do for those few years after a milestone birthday but before the next milestone?  Last year, Tere invited a number of my friends to a dinner where we had a t-shirt contest – no, not that kind of t-shirt contest! Everyone brought a t-shirt as a gift and I picked the most outrageous one as the winner.

I decided this year to give myself a gift.  One of the things I miss since having kids is spending time with friends.  I’ve set up a few one-on-one dinners with friends that I don’t get to see often.  My gift is time.  Time to sit and talk and catch up.  Time to drink a glass of wine or two.  Time to remember why I liked my friends in the first place.

My first was with my friend Kimberly.  We had a great time and even had a couple other friends join us for dessert.  We laughed, we drank, we ate too much.  Sort of perfect.  Last night I ate with my beloved, Tere.  We checked out a new-ish place and tried to act like we didn’t have kids for an evening.

I think it’s so important to celebrate milestones and accomplishments but this year I’m happy just reconnecting with people I miss.  Sometimes I think that my life feels like a non-stop train and so many of the things I used to do have gone by the wayside.  It feels good to give myself permission to make plans, spend time, and not feel guilty about what I’m NOT doing.

For this year, my celebration is enjoying the people in my life, trying to slow down, and smelling the roses a bit.  Do you think it will work?

Snow Bunnies

By: Heather Somaini

Our holidays were a bit more “eclectic” – that’s code for crazed and disjointed – than usual this year.  We spent Thanksgiving here in Los Angeles with our exquisite friends Vickie and Diana with a pre-dinner on Thanksgiving Eve of Joe’s Stone Crab flown in from Miami, a fresh corn salad, and key lime pie.  We’ve done this before and so we thought we would excel at cracking those hard claws open.  We were not.  We had stone crab parts all over the kitchen and that was before we brought in the hammer! Our friends came back for what we can easily say was the most beautiful turkey we’ve ever seen.  It was also the most expensive…EVER.  I swear someone must have massaged it every day with some sort of special oil because nothing you eat, no matter how free-range it is should cost that much.

We made plans to visit with my family up north after Christmas so to kick-off our time here at home, we invited the afore mentioned Vickie and Diana along with our delightful friend Leizel for a Christmas Eve dinner of lobster and tamales.  Yes, you heard that right.  Tere has to have tamales for Christmas.  We’re an odd bunch.  We woke up on Christmas morning and giggled and smiled as the kids ran around like expensive turkeys with their heads cut off squealing about each gift they found from Santa.  It really is the best thing to watch.

We had hours to reach San Francisco when I got a call from my mom that she had misread their tickets and were arriving into SFO many hours earlier than they had planned.  Somehow we got all of us in the car, Coffee Bean in hand, and on the road within two hours.  I was impressed.  I’ve never seen Tere work so hard to make my neurotic idea of fun come to fruition.  With brand new Leapsters in hand, the kids spent the next six hours completely engrossed in their new games.  We spent Christmas dinner with friends in San Rafael, just north of San Francisco.  We haven’t seen them in over a year so it was lovely to reconnect and spend time laughing and eating…yes, eating….did you get the impression that we like food?

The next morning we opened presents with my parents, Noni and Opa.  There was wrapping paper everywhere and squealing children again.  After a slightly pricey trip to Costco (why can’t we spend less there?) for staples, we started out to Tahoe for a week of fun in the snow.  Oh yeah, did I mention there was no snow in Tahoe?  Like none.

Luckily, the resort people can make enough snow for the little ones to take ski lessons at the bottom of the mountain.  We enrolled the twins in their first lesson and within no time at all they were walking into the back with their ski instructors.  And just like that, we were free to do whatever we wanted.  So we sat and waited.

Eventually my dad and I decided to hike over to the Enchanted Forest where the little kids were.  I was a ways away still when I suddenly realized a small person was right in front of me – Free.  He looked miserable and started crying immediately. Through his tears and running snot he told me that he hated skiing because he kept falling and he hated the boots and he hated the snow and he hated everything!  As I tried to calm him down his exasperated instructor came over to get him back with the group.  Free refused to go without me so I came too.  Kathy, the instructor, asked if Izzy was mine.  Apparently both of the kids were very “reluctant” to ski – that’s code for “your kids are being terribly defiant and refusing to do what I ask”.  Kathy asked if they had slept well the night before and eaten a healthy breakfast – that’s code for “your kids are driving me crazy and you’re a bad parent”.  I spent the next ten minutes or so alternating between cajoling, bribing, and arguing with the twins to get them to ski.  They screamed and cried and ranted and raved.  I held firm and told them they could sit in the snow bank for all I cared but they had to stay!  I finally had to leave, kicking myself for my curiosity and opening up Pandora’s Box.  I refused to go back and prayed and hoped their afternoon was a little better.

Tere and I waited at the appointed spot with the throng of parents anxiously awaiting their children’s return.  Group after group emerged and we continued to wait.  Suddenly I looked down and once again, Free was standing in front of me – with a sneaky smile on his face.  He was so proud that he had snuck up on me.  Kathy let us know that Free really warmed up to skiing in the afternoon, he liked going fast and now needed to work on “stopping”.  Izzy, on the other hand, made a snow coyote – I guess a snowman was too common – with another little girl.  Free regaled us with his accomplishments all the way home and went back again the next day.  Although he told us he was going to ski for five or maybe six days, he was wiped out after day two.  I asked him if he wanted to come back tomorrow or take the day off and in the most tired of tired voices he said “take the day off”.

I asked Free what changed for him after that terrible first morning.  He told me “I stopped crying and then it got better”.  Hmmmm…I think he’s on to something.

Super Nanny

By: Heather Somaini

My kids really have three moms…it’s complicated, I know.  We’ve probably ruined them for life.  First they’ll have to explain to every new friend that they don’t have a dad and instead have two moms.  And then they’ll ask who this Sheenah person is.

Izzy and Free don’t know life without Sheenah.  She arrived on day 10 of their little lives.  She came home the same day Free did actually.  We had been at the house for about a week with Izzy along with my mom and dad on that Sunday night when Sheenah arrived with her entire entourage in tow.  Her sisters and her cousin all came to check out these strangers she was going to live with and work for.  I guess they decided we were ok because they didn’t run screaming from our house leaving tire marks at our front door.

We’ve had our ups and downs, like anyone would.  Sheenah doesn’t like sushi and we don’t understand that – she’s clearly from another planet!  She also thinks that some of our all-organic groceries might be a little much but she humors us none the less.

Sheenah decorates our eat-in kitchen area for all major holidays and birthdays.  It looked like this for Valentine’s Day. The kids love it and squeal like it’s Christmas!

Sheenah loves our kids like her own and I swear she would take a bullet for them, just like us.  She has fed them, wiped their little butts, dried their very big tears, bandaged their scrapes and soothed their tiny souls.  There isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for them.

I can’t believe that in March, the twins will turn 5 and Sheenah’s time with us will be the same.  So much time has passed and I’m confident it would have been much more complicated if we hadn’t found Sheenah to also help Tere and me through this life-altering experience called parenthood.  I remember many nights early on falling asleep with a baby on me and waking to Sheenah slowly picking that baby up to put her in the crib.  Those sleepless nights and bleary-eyed days were impossible and Sheenah’s support was invaluable.  We were learning how to be parents and she was helping us along the way.

Sheenah had a big birthday yesterday and I hope she celebrates all through the holidays – she deserves it!  We took her out to mark the occasion and even met “the boyfriend”.  I really hopes he understands that Sheenah has three moms and we get to grill him at every opportunity.  ”What are your intentions with our nanny?!?!”

A couple months ago I realized that Izzy and Free have officially adopted Sheenah.  They were running through the house and I think away from Sheenah when I heard one of them end a sentence with “…Sheenah Somaini”.  I looked at Sheenah and we both started laughing.  I told her it was official and now she was stuck with us forever.  Of course, the kids call her that all the time now just to see if they’ll get the same reaction from us.

No matter what, Sheenah’s a part of our family and we wouldn’t be the same without her.  I hope we’ve had as much of an impact on her as she’s had on us.  Happy Birthday Sheenah!!

Christmas Through a Kid’s Eyes

By: Heather Somaini

I’m not sure if it really matters if you celebrate Christmas or not.  It’s the whole holiday season.  It’s awesome and I think we all get into it a bit.  I’m a little nicer, more charitable and maybe for a few weeks I put away any bad attitude that’s creeped in.  In our family, we consume copious amounts of food and I actually think drinking those Starbucks holiday drinks is a good idea. (Oh the calories!)  When I lived back East, it was cold and it often snowed for Christmas.  There were travel delays, slushy streets, cold feet, and warm fires.  But the food – oh, the food!  I love the food my mom, aunt, and grandmothers would cook.  Although it is great, it doesn’t have to be.  Their food – the smells, the high fat content – all tell me I’m home.

But Christmas with kids is a whole other ball of wax.  At first you end up spending Christmas with other people’s kids – your cousin’s kids, your second cousin’s kids – and at first it’s a whole lot of fun.  But as the day wears on and you’ve played your one-millionth round of whatever “amazingly awesome” game they received, the back den with the funny smell starts calling your name.  Even chopping onions in the kitchen has its appeal over another bout with the 10-year-old who knows more than you.

Now though, I have kids of my own and getting ready for Christmas is by far the most fun with them.  They scream and squeal with delight when the Christmas tree comes into the house.  Decorating the tree is THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER to them.

My parents sent presents for the kids and we were keeping them away from the tree until it was decorated and every time I turned around, Izzy had moved all the presents under the tree.  I moved them away and explained why and the next day the presents were back under the tree.  After three rounds of this, I gave up.  She’s right – presents BELONG under the tree. It looks best that way.

Pictures with Santa are a big pain….until kids turn four.  At four, they fully understand that if they tell Santa what they want, they might actually get it.  Izzy and Free both had lengthy, extensive conversations with Santa this year about all the things they wanted.  They whispered conspiratorially as if others hearing their list would nullify it somehow.

We watch tons of Christmas shows and movies.  Every discussion eventually leads to what they KNOW about Santa.  They know he has reindeer and he lands on the roof and he comes down the chimney and delivers presents.  They also know they must leave out cookies and milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.  Every show or movie about Santa is REAL to them.  It’s brilliant.

There’s really nothing better than watching Christmas through your kids’ eyes.  It’s a rebirth of sorts.  Everything is new again.  I can’t be jaded about the commercialization of the holiday or irritated at someone who was pushy in line.  I get excited when they get excited.  Their amazement and wide-eyed wonder while waiting to see Santa is awe-inspiring.  I love it.  I wish I could bottle it up to have during the rest of the year.  Now THAT’S what I want for Christmas.  Santa?

Parent-Teacher Conferences

By: Heather Somaini

When did school become so hard?  And pre-school none the less!  Isn’t pre-school just about finger paint and jungle gyms?  Isn’t Kindergarten just about learning how to get through the morning without a nap?  I barely remember pre-school and I went longer than most – two whole years.  I have a January birthday so my parents decided to wait until I was 5.5+ to start Kindergarten.  Most kids had their first taste of school when they hit Kindergarten and it was a rude awakening that some grown-up in the front of the room actually wanted you to line up and stand still!

Now we live on the west side of Los Angeles and EVERYONE is obsessed with starting their kids in school as soon as possible.  There are videos to teach your baby to read and flash cards for numbers.  When did we become this way?  When did someone decide that teaching their kid to read and do math before Kindergarten was a GOOD idea?  When did our aggressive pursuit of advancement extend to squeezing our children’s free-wheeling little brains and spirits into pre-determined silos of thinking and behavior?

When did it all become so serious?  We had one public elementary school in the small Vermont town we lived in.  There was one class for each grade and in the winter, we took one afternoon each week to go skiing.  I had the same kids in my class each year.  Here in Los Angeles, we have a plethora of educational options.  There is our neighborhood public elementary school, multiple public charter schools, magnet schools, and the holy grail of the westside – the best private schools that money can buy.

Tere and I have stressed out about schools ever since we realized they were eventually going to go them.  We’ve researched, discussed, debated, asked for advice and generally stressed out for years now.  With the twins half way through their third and last year of pre-school, a common question these days is “where are you applying?”  Your kids’ entire future could be riding on who they meet in Kindergarten.  Maybe their seat mate is the next Steve Jobs or Bill Clinton or Warren Buffet.  Can that really be true?  I mean, I went to public school in a small town in Vermont.  Did that limit my future?  Tere went to a parochial school in the “high desert” of California.  Was she predestined for her life now?

I can’t believe any of that is true.  I have to believe that we determine our future, our fate, our destiny.  I have to believe that my kids will thrive in most schools and environments.  I have to believe that they will love to learn and set themselves on a path of discovery.  But I did find out this week that our kids are perfectionists – it was pointed out many times at our parent-teacher conference.  Both Izzy and Free get frustrated quickly when the vision in their head of something doesn’t exactly match the results their hands create.  They’re learning though that with practice, they get better.

The teachers asked at the end of our conference if we had any questions for them.  I really didn’t have any.  After a number of not the best meetings, I’m a little shell-shocked still.  I wonder how long I will stay this way.  Will I still brace myself for a challenging report when they’re in third grade?  I’m ecstatic that this one went well and both Izzy and Free are thriving.  It makes me happy.  Can I stay happy for a little while longer?  How about no more curve balls for just a little while?  Let me stay in my happy place until they graduate from college and can start paying their own rent!

My IzzyB

By: Heather Somaini

Everyone writes about being thankful, grateful around this time of year and I won’t be any exception.  It’s just too easy and feels like the right thing to do.

It’s been a rough twelve months.  Not the kind of rough when you’re diagnosed with cancer or your world gets turned upside down because someone close to you dies.  It wasn’t the earth shattering kind.  It was just the normal, life comes at you from lots of angles kind of rough.

In early December last year we started to get a sprinkling that would soon become a full blown hurricane.  The teachers at our pre-school let us know that they were going to make some adjustments to our daughter’s schedule to see if it would smooth out some recently noticed issues.  At first it just seemed that she was quiet and maybe had a fiery personality but it was quickly turning into more than that.  Soon she was refusing to speak and having full blown temper tantrums at school which could lead to hitting her brother, screaming, throwing things, and a quirky habit of stripping all of her clothes off.  We didn’t understand why it was happening at school and not at home.

Soon one meeting at the school turned into many.  There was a lot of pressure to have her tested for a “processing issue” – whatever that was.  It was an incredibly difficult time and nothing seemed to get easier.  If anything, things just got worse.  Soon our entire family felt as if it was being torn apart at the seams.  Free was desperate to protect his sister at school and wouldn’t leave her side, Tere and I had already been struggling to keep us together through this life-altering experience of parenting and now we felt completely at odds with the school that had come to mean so much to us.

Against many people’s advice but bowing to the pressure we felt we were under, we had Izzy observed and the result wasn’t what we had hoped.  The therapist said something was definitely wrong although she had no idea what it really was.  At this early stage, she said it could be a number of things that none of us had any control over.  The next step was to have her tested for language and speech but we had to wait a couple of months until she turned four.  In the meantime, we re-arranged our schedules, created new house rules and began to focus on Izzy.  When she was finally tested, she scored lower than she should in a few areas and twice a week speech therapy was recommended.  We worked closely with the school to find any area that we could help Izzy understand her world better.  Soon progress was noticeable.  So much so that the teachers asked if we could have her observed again. Sure enough, the therapist said that massive, beautiful improvement had taken place but we were still a long ways away from where she should be.

In the past year, Izzy has worked diligently at everything we have all asked her to do.  Her language skills were recently re-tested and she is exactly where she should be.  Her graduation ceremony from speech therapy was last week.  We all had cupcakes and she received a certificate.  Her speech therapist adored her and I think actually had to sneak away into her office as we left to have a good cry.  We’re not completely out of the woods and will probably have to re-visit different therapists from time to time as Izzy grows and grapples with new concepts and challenges, but she’s on the right path.

I am grateful for my daughter.  She is beautiful and delightful and perfect.  She shows me every day that we are who we are and sometimes you can’t rush what will be.  I’m confident that she will struggle through life in a myriad of ways but then so did I and I think I’m the better for it.  Izzy taught me early that she is unique and can’t fit into any mold that was predetermined for her.  Any attempt to lead her down a path other than hers would be futile.  Izzy makes me stop and realize that life without her would be meaningless.

What are you thankful for?

Penn State

By: Heather Somaini

In the past week or so we’ve all read about the arrest and shocking accusations made against a coach of the Penn State football team.  Coaches and school officials have either voluntarily stepped down or been forced from their positions for the choices they made in this situation.  Students have rioted on campus and tearfully supported their football coach.  Suddenly today, a 39-year-old man has come forward accusing a Syracuse University basketball coach of similar molestation.

Full disclosure, I am a Syracuse University alum – happily spent four years in that rainy, snowy city…well, town and played in the marching band including the 1988 Sugar Bowl.  I am an Orangeman.

I have read that the Penn State football team brings in north of $70 million a year in revenue to Penn State.  I’m sure the Syracuse teams bring in as much if not more.  I’m sure many of these sports teams bring in funding for all sorts of amazing facilities, programs and scholarships.  I’m sure that without them, these schools would not be able to provide the world class educations that they do.  I’m sure that their ability to attract top notch educators and students would be diminished if they didn’t have that source of revenue.  I’m confident that great and amazing things have come from all that abundance.

But when groups of people hold court over that sort of revenue generation, it ultimately leads to power.  Our private and public institutions should know better than to give anyone running something as significant as a university’s athletic program carte blanche license to do as they will.  It’s common knowledge that Joe Paterno ran that school and that town.  Nothing happened without his approval.  His denial of actual knowledge of what happened is shameful and his insistence on coaching out the rest of the season is embarrassing.  It was right that they ousted him.  It’s just too bad that his legacy is now this instead of all the amazing things he has accomplished.  But maybe he should have thought about that when he didn’t fully hand over and encourage a full investigation at the time it was brought to his attention.

It’s also somewhat incongruous that a graduate assistant who saw what he saw didn’t immediately stop to protect a child.  What was he thinking?  He just left?  As a parent, I can’t even imagine how you wouldn’t rush into that shower and punch that man out.  How could he continue to work there knowing that Sandusky was still allowed on campus, in the gym, in the locker rooms and maintained an office.  It’s mind boggling.  It’s not surprising though that he continued to rise through the field at the Penn State coaching staff.  We all know how this works.

I guess what kills me the most is that this group of people felt that the revenue generated by the team, their careers, and their power were more important than one ten-year-old boy. Forget about the fact that he probably assaulted 20-30 or even more young men over the course of his lifetime because at the time they didn’t know about them.  But they did know about one boy.  One boy is enough.  We shouldn’t be so disgusted by the sheer volume to act.  One boy is enough.  No child should be taken advantage of like these boys were.  One boy is enough.

Next Page »