We are heading into the time of year when my bulletin board is running out of tacks and my day-planner is so stuffed with lists, invitations and recipes that I can’t even shut the cover. Welcome to the holidays, folks.

But, no matter how crazy things get, I always try to stop and reflect before I walk out the door each day. Which is why this hangs in our back hallway. To remind myself, and my children, that no matter what you’re going through and no matter what you’re dealing with, you will always have your dreams.

This is why I was thrilled to be handed an opportunity of a lifetime last week. My family and I attended the fun-filled world premiere of “The Gift of Happy”. This short video was created by retailer, AJWright to benefit the Boys & Girls Clubs of America.

Just before the holidays get out of control, we were reminded of our good fortune. We were shown that sometimes corporations really do care about the little guy and that AJWright’s campaign to benefit the Boys & Girls Clubs inspires the rest of us to do what we can. And, the children, who build success through the Boys & Girls Clubs programs, are learning to follow their dreams.

Please visit WrapUpHappy.com, and watch the video. I’m sure you will enjoy it and when you do, AJWright will donate $1.00 to the Boys & Girls Club of America. That’s what you call a win-win!

Speaking of winning…if you view the video and come back here to leave a comment about your viewing experience, you will be entered to win a $50.00 AJWright gift card! That’s a win-win-win!

Don’t forget to tell me what you thought of the video (and let your kids watch it too…mine really enjoyed the story) and make sure to leave a valid e-mail address with your comment so I can contact you if you’re the winner. The deadline for entering is Monday, December 21 at noon EST.

Oh, and look at what I found on the ground of the Boys and Girls Club of Columbus. It seems to me that I needed another reminder to stop, reflect and remember that you always have your dreams. I hope you will help these children achieve theirs.

UPDATE: Congratulations, Kathy! You are the lucky winner! Merry Christmas!

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When my daughter was two years old, I was making the bed one day when she came out of our bathroom chugging a glass of water.

I said, “Boy, you sure are thirsty!” Then I realized that I hadn’t heard any water running. I walked over to find a liquid trail from the doorway to where she had dunked her cup into the toilet. But, at least it was clean water. You know, with that bleach tablet in the tank and all.

Other than that, and my son once taking a sip of dishwasher rinse aid, I haven’t had to call poison control. However, if there was an emergency service to ask whether the dogs were going to die because of something they ate, I would have it on speed-dial.

Our 11 year old Labrador has been the worst culprit. There was the time she ate an enormous, solid, chocolate bunny, the time a chicken bone slipped out of my fingers and she caught it in mid-air and swallowed it whole, and my personal favorite…when she ate a breast pad when I was pumping for my daughter. By the way, there is something infinitely wonderful about a man who will go through the dog’s poop to make sure your breast pad hasn’t entangled itself in the mutt’s intestines. Hi honey!

As for the new puppy…she has a penchant for dead squirrels, dead birds and my son’s vomit.

And, that bleach-filled toilet water? It turns out the dogs like that too. I suppose I should count my blessings because my kids never ate any breast pads.

Tell me boys and girls, what’s the worst thing your kids (or pets) have ever ingested?

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On Friday afternoon I sat down to write this post, but I couldn’t come up with the right words. I tried again yesterday and here I am again, on Sunday evening, and I am still at a complete loss. It is, quite simply, too painful to trivialize with my voice.

So it has come to this. At a time when there is nothing I can say, I will simply state the facts.

* On February 17, 2004, my niece, Madison, died just shy of her first birthday. My son was too young to comprehend her passing. My daughter was five years old and understood all too well that her cousin was gone.

* On March 1, 2004, a schoolmate of my daughter was run over in our preschool parking lot. Michael was three years old. Telling my daughter that he had been killed in an accident was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

* On September 1, 2007, one of my son’s preschool classmates passed away. John was five, as was my son. My son was far too young to say goodbye to a friend and his friend was far too young to die.

* On October 15, 2009, a little girl who attended school with my daughter and whose family goes to our church lost her battle with Fanconi Anemia. Samantha was 11.

* And last week we learned that a nine year old at the school has an inoperable brain tumor and isn’t expected to live more than a year. A girl who used to play on my daughter’s soccer team and who, until last week, seemed perfectly fine.

Another child. I can not bear it.

I have not told my children yet. My 10 year old daughter and my seven year old son shouldn’t have to deal with losing their friends. Not so many of them. Not in the midst of childhood which is supposed to be carefree.

Not again.

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There are a lot of things you give up when you have children. You simply have to learn to let some things go. Like a good night’s sleep, disposable income and liquid assets.

You also have to accept the muddy floors, juice stained school uniforms and beds that don’t make themselves.

You have to understand that the bathmat will get soaked, that little children like to smudge up the television, the computer monitor and the car windows, and even though a backpack has come home without the slightest remnant of a snack for over a month, it doesn’t mean you won’t look in there one day and suddenly find a small container full of moldy strawberries. Hypothetically.

However, since I started my new job I’ve found it really hard to let those things go ignored because I just don’t have the time to deal with them. It’s one thing to see a load of laundry sitting on the floor in the basement and think, “I’ll get to that later” and it’s something else entirely to actually get it done.

It didn’t used to bother me if I saw a pair of socks on the living room floor or dishes in the sink, because I knew I would have time to take care of it. Now, I simply don’t get that chance. It’s frustrating and I have been letting it drive me crazy.

Yesterday, in the midst of cleaning the house, my daughter asked me to stop and listen to her play a song on her electric piano. As I sat on the edge of her bed and listened to her play Pachelbel Canon, I realized that I really need to stop worrying about whether the floors need swept or if the blinds are dirty.

Because as she played that beautiful music all I could think about was how dusty her keyboard was.

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