I admit it. I found myself captivated by The Pope. Everything from his arrival in D.C. to his departure from Philadelphia in the darkness. Like others, I was charmed by his transportation choice, touched as he reached out to kiss babies along every route, and warmed by his smile. Something about his presence here on our soil gave me a sense of peace. And I’m not even Catholic. I know many, including the media, who found themselves as did I, with teary eyes at the sight of

I’m imagining being Marissa Mayer's best friend and we're sitting together at a small, out-of-the-way café. We’ve known each other for 30 years but rarely get this kind of quality time together. Our lives are simply too busy. We talk about the usual…family, work, recent vacations (or lack thereof), exercise routines (never enough time)…the things best friends talk about when it’s only us. We know a lot about each other -- our hopes, secrets, and struggles over the years.

I've had enough of the labels being affixed to parents. No, more than enough. And I'm one of them. Helicopter parents. Free-range parents. Snowplow parents. Lighthouse parents. Tiger parents. Elephant parents. E-nough. Do you know any other group that has so many labels -- none of them positive, by the way, tossed at them? So many terms that others create and then assign based upon their observations of how *they* view the parenting of others? And then feel they hav