The Dark Side of Slime

By now, you must have heard about the slime craze. It’s the past year’s trendiest hobby. Kids all over the world are making their own slime. Google “DIY Slime” and you will find slime recipes, tips, and videos. It’s also a huge topic on social media pages. There are literally thousands of Instagram “slime” accounts. Maybe more. Shop on Etsy, and you can actually buy slime other kids made. Like I said, it’s a huge craze.

I can see why. Slime is easy to make, and fun to play with.

The Simple Steps to Make Slime:

Mix Elmer’s Glue with Borax. Maybe throw in a little food coloring…  mix it up, and voila! You have SLIME.

There are varieties of slime too. Just add an extra ingredient, and you can also craft varieties like Butter Slime, Crunchy Slime, Floam Slime, Puffy Slime, Jiggly Slime, Glitter Slime…  the list is pretty much endless.

It’s stretchy, gooey, colorful, squishy, and well… just plain SLIMY. Sounds like fun, right?

Well… yes, it IS fun. But there is also a dark side to slime that moms don’t often talk about.

The Dark Side of Slime:

First, the MESS. Take a peek in your little ‘creator of slime’s’ “SLIME LAB”, and you will see exactly what I mean.

When you do, your feelings about this fun slime hobby will take a nosedive downhill. Saying it’s messy is like saying kittens are “sort of okay-looking”. Messy is a giant understatement. Sticky, gooey stuff gets dried up on every surface. Glue is spilled, left to dry & harden. And the floor… covered in goop. I’m pretty sure I let out a scream the first time I saw the mess.

My first concern was safety. So I researched and discovered that the basic ingredients are deemed “safe” by many pediatricians. Bummer… I was kind of hoping I’d have a good medical reason why I had to ban slime.

I have to admit I was slightly torn between my hatred for slime and the fact that it could be educational. Some see making slime as a “science experiment”, and “creative”, and hey, let’s face it, making slime is definitely much better than having my tween staring at an iPhone.

So I decided to let her continue with her slime-making quest, but I set some rules. My first rule was to limit the making of slime to one room in the house. Unfortunately, the only available location happened to be my home-office. Bad choice, because the very next day, I discovered slime had oozed off my desk and into my filing cabinet. It had oozed into my stapler. Oozed into my file of “bills to file” (okay, maybe that one wasn’t so bad). But still… oozing slime is bad.

Then… on my way out of my office, I stepped on a pile of raspberry, glitter, galaxy, floam slime and tracked it through the house.

That was officially a bad day.

I went to sleep and had slime-filled nightmares that night. The next morning, I decided that the slime would be limited to ONE TABLE in my office. I felt happy with my decision. I wasn’t stifling my kids’ creative spirit, just helping to keep it in one spot and limit the mess.

Well… that rule lasted for a week. The one table was demolished. Every nook & cranny of it was covered in slimy ooze.

Still, I was on the fence about saying no more slime.

UNTIL… that one day when my daughter begged me to bring just one small container of slime with her on a long car ride we were taking. I agreed. But the next day, when I discovered frozen slime, oozed into my car’s back door compartment. Scraping it out with a butter knife (and silently saying a lot of bad words)… I made the decision.


Officially banned. “Not in my house”, is what I yelled. Not.In.My.House.



#GoodbyeSlime #SorryNotSorry


















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Have You Decided What Your Legacy Looks Like?

I am sharing this story in hopes that it encourages you to think about what your legacy will look like. Will it be a legacy of kindness, like this gentleman? He touched thousands of people in his local community, without even realizing it. Simply by “disconnecting” and staying present when he walked the town. He was friendly, welcoming and always very kind.

And he will truly be missed.  Here is his story:



Michael Nardone Jr. remembers when his dad, Michael Nardone, first moved to Ridgefield in the spring of 1997.

A widower from Weston who had run his own consulting company since 1973, the senior Nardone instantly grew enchanted with his new community and began walking the town’s beautiful, idyllic streets, where he’d meet its generous residents — folks he greeted with a warm smile and welcome into his life as if they were part of his family.

“He walked every single day he lived in that town — 12 months, 365 days a year, for four to five hours a day. It didn’t matter if it was raining or if it was snowing,” Michael Nardone Jr. recalled last week about the man many here in town know as “the Ridgefield Walker.”

“He started on those big walks from almost day one, and they really changed him,” his son added. “Before he came to town, my father lived in a very white world. But in Ridgefield, he became friends with everyone, even the dishwashers and cooks who worked in town. He got to know their schedules and when they went on break, and he would speak to them in the back of the restaurants they worked at.

“He never did that stuff before he moved to town, so he clearly evolved as a person and found a lot of happiness through those interactions.”

Michael Nardone’s “walking journey” — the one that spanned two decades and more than tens of  thousands of miles in Ridgefield — ended in this past June when was diagnosed with stage three multiple myeloma, a form of cancer in which abnormal plasma cells build up in the bone marrow and form tumors in many bones of the body.

“He fell in the first week of June and that snowballed into a series of doctor’s visits and trips to the hospitals,” his son told The Press last week.

“He’s recently become very ill and has maybe a few weeks left to live, but wanted to thank everyone who has written him over the last several months.”

‘Bundles of cards’

It didn’t take long for residents to notice Nardone’s warm presence missing on Main Street this summer.

They began writing cards to the 87-year-old man whom they had come to know over the years, wishing him well and thanking him for all the support and friendliness he displayed with such ease.

“We would visit his home, to pick up his mail, and there they were — a few at first, then stacks, then bundles of cards, personally delivered. The cards just kept coming,” Nardone Jr. wrote in a thank-you letter to the community last week. “If people didn’t know where my father lived, they dropped a card at St. Mary’s Parish. If they knew someone who knew my father, they handed the cards to them.”

Nardone’s son said he and his three siblings — Greg, Keith and Beth — have “been humbled by this genuine act of community caring and kindness.”

“It’s helped us better understand that you can truly impact someone’s life just by being ‘present’ and actively listening, as you go about your day,” he said. “Imagine if my father walked with headphones, listening to music. He might have missed these beautiful connections. But he didn’t, he never would have.

“He’s lived his whole life being absolutely present and engaged with his family — through thick and thin — so, of course, he’d do the same for the Ridgefield community that he so loves and that has loved him back.”

“I want to personally thank you, on behalf of my father. Please know that he has read every card and note, and he is so thankful for each and every sentiment of support and encouragement. If he was able, he would have responded to all of you. Please accept this note as his personal thank you.”

Mike’s Legacy

Nardone Jr. said his dad wanted to remind everyone in Ridgefield to stay connected to the community, keep moving forward, and remain positive in attitude, “regardless of what life throws at you.”

“He just wants to thank the town because he’s going to pass really soon,” Nardone Jr. said.

“It’s humbling to see how kind a community can be,” he added. “You forget that sometimes, but there’s no doubt about it — this is a very special place and it changed my dad forever.”


Editor’s note: Michael Nardone died on Thanksgiving Day (Nov. 23, 2017) with his family by his side.  The Ridgefield community has planned a “Walk for Mike” that will start in front of the RVNA building on Governor Street Sunday, Dec. 3, at 9 a.m. 

R.I.P. Mike. We will all miss you. Thank you for teaching us about kindness.

You can read the original article in its entirety here.*

*Published by the Ridgefield Press on 11/28/17.





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Weird News: Mom Accused Of Driving Minivan With Son On Top


File this one in the “bad choice” category!

A Florida mom was arrested after concerned on-lookers called the police to report she had driven with her 9-year old son, “holding down”, a recently purchased plastic pool, which was on the roof of her minivan!

“Officers who arrived on scene questioned Schmunk about her son’s alleged wild ride.  They said she admitted the boy had been on top of the minivan on the road…  She allegedly said she decided to put the pool on top of the minivan, but had no way to strap it down, so she had her child climb on the roof and hold it down while she drove”.

Police said Schmunk told them she thought her actions were “OK,” since her dad let her do things like that when she was nine.


Read the whole story here:

Mom Accused Of Driving Minivan With Son On Top

*This story originally appeared in the Huffington Post



What crazy things did your parents let you do back when you were young, that you’d NEVER let your own kids do?  Comment Below.



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When Life Freezes. Unforgettable Moments.

As a child, I remember hearing stories about “unforgettable moments in life”.  My mom told me about how events happen that are so memorable, they live with you forever.  Time freezes.  Her example was the assassination of JFK.  My mom told me about when she and her friends learned of his death, time froze.  Everyone who lived through that remembers where they were the moment they heard he was killed.

John Lennon’s death, The Challenger Space Shuttle Explosion, Jim Morrison’s death.  All were unforgettable moments in time.

As a little girl, I wondered when my unforgettable moment would come.

9/11, turned out to be THAT moment for me.


NYC; 9/11/2001:

Standing in my pajamas in my NYC apartment that morning, when all hell broke loose… well, that became MY unforgettable moment. There are no words to adequately explain the terror I felt when I realized that my city, the city where I lived, where I loved, where I grew into a woman, had been attacked.  The earthquake I felt when the towers tumbled…

In the end, we survived.  Some friends didn’t, but we did.  The images though, were so tough.  Neighbors and friends whose husbands didn’t come home, friends whose waited at Ground Zero for weeks to find traces of their loved ones… those moments haunt me to this day.  The burnt smell in the air for days, while we were locked-down and not able to leave the city.  The fighter jets that patrolled the city for days after.  The supermarkets with barren shelves. Those days are frozen in my mind.

So much sadness, disbelief, and many, many questions. I was a part of that city and I survived, so why didn’t all those innocent people?  It was a rough time, trying to maneuver the complex emotions and feelings of guilt, remorse, dismay.

 15 Years Later… 

I thought that day was one day.  But it wasn’t.  It’s a never-ending day.  It’s always there reminding me of how vulnerable we all are.  How precious life is.

And each and every year, I am transported back to the absolute terror I felt when I realized those planes had hit the towers, INTENTIONALLY.

I didn’t know it right away, but over time I realized that that day was my huge, unforgettable moment.  Life changed for me in a blink of an eye that day.  My security, my innocence, were gone forever.

And just like my mom told me I would… I discovered the moment that will be frozen in my mind forever.

9/11 is and always will be MY unforgettable moment.







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