It takes strength to be a mother

My sister is one of my favorite moms. As a mother, I look up to her. I always have.

When we were young, my sister was probably my worst enemy. We fought like no one's business and, as my parent's can attest, we were terrible. She was popular and pretty and four years younger than me. I don't think she looked up to me, she was her own, independent person and didn't want me as a role model.

At 19-years-old, my sister got pregnant. She had just graduated from high school and had the world in front of her.

She called me on my birthday to tell me she was pregnant. I believe I was the first family member she told. To the horror of my mother, I suggested she get an abortion. I don't regret those words, but I am certainly glad she didn't have one because she gave birth to my nephew, Jimmy, and he is the coolest and he's my favorite boy on the plant.

When my sister got pregnant with her second son, Matthew (the second coolest little boy on the planet – next to Jimmy, of course), I was in a bad spot. My husband and I were going through a very rough patch that was caused partly by our two year struggle to have a baby. She called me on my birthday, again, and I cried. I was so angry at her for "accidentally" getting pregnant for a second time when I couldn't get pregnant even once.

I do regret my reaction to her news. If I were her, I probably would hate me for it. Somehow we overcame my selfish and childish reaction and she blessed me with the opportunity to be with her when she gave birth to Matthew. I couldn't believe how strong my sister was. I never saw that side of her before and I'm so glad I got to be there. Before that moment, I didn't know the strength it takes to deliver a baby.

After watching that unbelievable event, I walked out of the hospital room and said to my husband (who was waiting in the waiting room) that I was glad I hadn't gotten pregnant because there is no way I could deliver a baby. Three days later, I found out I was pregnant with Sophia. When I called my sister to tell her the news, she was so happy for me. She cried out of joy and I wish I would have done the same with her.

My sister now has an 8-year-old and a 2-year-old and she's raised both almost completely on her own. It takes a strong woman to do what she has done. Despite facing adversity that I could never have dealt with, my sister is raising her boys to be wonderful people. She works hard and she doesn't get enough credit for it.

This isn't nearly enough, but here goes anyway:

Carol, you are a wonderful mother and I don't think you are reminded of that often enough. You love your kids with a fierceness I admire and your children love you unconditionally. You have been through more than your years would ever suggest and you've kept your family together and happy despite the odds. I am so proud of you. Happy Mother's Day.

More than just a haircut

My sister cut Sophia's hair for the very first time. I think she likes her new "do."

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Easter was this weekend. It was cute and we ate lots and lots of candy and hunted for Easter eggs. But the real star of the weekend wasn't the Easter Bunny, it was Sophia's first haircut.

It's taken her 20 months to grow enough hair to justify a haircut and once we decided it was time to cut it, I couldn't wait for it to happen. In fact, I've been bugging my sister for months now to cut her hair.

One of my sister's many talents is cutting hair, so it was important to me that Carol was the one who gave my daughter her very first haircut. Plus, I was certain Sophia would freak out during the process and I thought if Carol did it, the whole experience would be much more tolerable and hopefully make the hair cut experience a pleasant one.

On Saturday, my sister drove more than 300 miles to my house with her two sons for our pre-Easter dinner and to cut Sophia's hair. At about 3 p.m., my parents also came over and we were all together, ready for the big snip.

We sat Sophia at the table and handed her a piece of white chocolate (her favorite special treat) and my sister got to cutting. With a comb and scissors in hand, my sister cut the first lock of hair and handed it to me and I started crying like a baby.

This reaction was completely unexpected and I couldn't stop it. I didn't stop crying until the haircut was over. So, with my entire family laughing hysterically at my crying, we cheered Sophia for sitting like a big girl while my husband handed her one piece of chocolate after another. We videotaped the entire haircut and probably took 50 pictures.

By the end of the haircut, Sophia was hopped up on sugar and ready to run around and play with her cousins.

Sophia's hair looks beautiful and I learned how emotional something like this can really be. This haircut symbolized my little baby girl becoming a big girl. Her little baby curls that fell exactly where nature put them are now little bangs. It also symbolized the day I realized I am going to HAVE to learn how to do something with her hair besides brush it.

Sophia will never remember this haircut, but I will never forget it. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I'm pretty sure if my sister couldn't cut hair, Sophia would never have gotten a haircut. I think Sophia was happy with it too.

Family fun

I wasn't sure I'd have a good time at the Bon Jovi concert last night, but I did and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

My mom and sister are huge Bon Jovi fans. I liked him when I was 10 or 12, but honestly, if the song isn't on the "Slippery When Wet" album, I don't know it.

For the past several years, when Bon Jovi goes on tour and stops in Philadelphia, my mom and sister go to see him. This year they invited me and I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to hang out with my mom and sister in the most unusual setting I could imagine the two of them being in together as adults.

Formal American Idol cast off Chris Daughtry opened the show and he was entertaining, but not jump-out-of-your seat fun. I was afraid this had set the mood for the evening.

I wanted to have a good time and during Chris Daughtry's performance I realized that just because I am not a huge Bon Jovi fan didn't mean I couldn't have a good time at a Bon Jovi concert. It didn't matter that I thought the idea of going to a Bon Jovi concert was a little cheesy, I was surrounded by people who really liked him and didn't know me and wouldn't laugh at me for dancing and singing because they were all doing the same thing.

When Bon Jovi got on stage, everyone jumped out of their seats and started yelling, singing and dancing, including me, my mom and my sister. And for the rest of the night I had a really great time. The concert was filled with Bon Jovi standards that I remembered from my 12-year-old big hair days so I was able to sing along with the best of Bon Jovi fans. Of course, they played newer songs that I didn't know, but it didn't matter.

The show was fun, but the best part of the whole night was that I got to hang out with my sister and mom in a way that under normal circumstances would never happen. I hope that when my own children are grown I will be able to do this kind of thing with them and we have as much fun as we did last night.

When you're younger, you take your family for granted. If I was a teenager I would have been totally embarrassed about being at a concert with my family. But when you get older and have children of your own, you realize how special your family really is. It's more important to me now that I have a strong relationship with my family so that my own children can experience that sense of love and security among people who love them. And that includes being able to act like a crazy Bon Jovi fan, even if it was just for one night.

The concert may not have turned me into a Bon Jovi fan, but I hope he comes back to Philly next year because next year we want to get floor seats.