Finding the funny in parenthood before somebody loses an eye...



Wednesday, December 29, 2010

10 Resolutions Every Mom Should Make

Here's a little sumpthin' I put together:

10 Resolutions Every Mom Should Make

Do you have any other great ideas for resolutions?  Tell me and I'll put em' all together and post them for New Years Day.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Jewish People make crappy Carolers...

I love Christmas.

I've always loved Christmas.  I love the decorations, the lights and I love to sing christmas songs.

Every year I try to come up with a new tradition to make Christmas special for our family.  My thinking is that even though we don't celebrate the religious aspect, the concept of Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Man is something I can get behind.

So tonight after dinner we went out for a walk around the neighborhood to look at all the Christmas decorations.  I thought it would be a great way to get into the holiday spirit.

While we were walking, I started to sing..."Sleigh Bells riiiiing...are ya listenin..."  Scott joined in "...In the lane....snow is glistenin'..."

Izzy lagged behind hoping no one she knew would see her with us.

"A beautiful siiight....so happy tonight...."

We sang louder and held hands.

"....Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland..."

As we both took a deep breath ready to start the second verse, we looked at each other like...uh...what comes next?

I said "OH!  In the meadow we can build a snoooowmaaaaaannnnn..."

Scott chimed "And pretend that he's ...la...um...la,la, la, laaaaahhh"

"um...la, la, la OH!....a circus clooooowwwwwwwn."  I said.

"Right..."

"She'll say are you married, I'll say...wait...that's not right.  Forget it....let's try Jingle Bells.

We sang:

"Jingle Bells
Jingle Bells
Jingle all the way...
Oh what fun it is to ride
on a one horse open sleigh. Ooooh..."

And we sang that four times.  Loud.  We couldn't remember the rest of it.  But what we sang we sang loud and clear.  The kids all chimed in.  Except Izzy, who was pulling the hood of her vest further down the front of her face.

Then we got cocky.  "Let's do 12 days of Christmas!"

Yeah.  I was a real caroler.  THIS would be our new tradition. I was imagining all of the festiveness we were bringing to our neighbors.  Maybe someone would invite us in for hot cocoa.  Or at least give us some figgy pudding and tell us to scat.

We started up again as we strolled. "On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to meeeeee....a partridge in a pear treeeeeee"  We all sang festively.

Livi sang her own version "And a partridge in a dead treeeeee."

Ben asked..."What's a partridge?"

"It's a bird.  Keep singing..." I said.

"On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to meeeee......uh...aaaaa....what did he give to me?"  I was stumped.  Scott shrugged.

I thought out loud going through the lyrics really fast (like when you forget where a letter is in the alphabet and you sing the alphabet song really fast.)  "FIIIIIVEgoldenrinnnnnngssss, (I can count down from there...)Fourcallingbirds, threefrenchhens....OH...TWO TURTLE DOVES....and a Parrrrtriiiidge in a pear treeeeeee!"

On the third day of christmas, my true love gave to meeeee...ummmmmmmm....he gave to meeeeee.....I couldn't be lieve it, I had to count back again!  I had JUST done it; "Fivegoldenrinnnnnngssss, Fourcallingbirds...THREE French Hens!(yes!)...Two Turtle Doves....and a partridge...

"in...A DEAD TREE!!!" yelled Livi.

We hit a roll and made it up to the 10th day of christmas before completely forgetting the lyrics again.
I was totally stumped and couldn't count back from the 12th day.  We passed some revelers coming out of a christmas eve party.

"Ooo...let's ask them.  they'll know!"

Scott said, "Forget it."  I think he was done.

"But it's going to drive me crazy!  I need to know what my true love got me on the 11th and 12th day!  I KNOW I know this!  I KNOW THIS!!!  AAARRRGH!

"Google it."  He walked up the front steps and went inside.

Grinch.

So we had a nice Christmas Eve overall and I think we have a new family tradition.  A Christmas Eve stroll and a little Christmas Caroling.  And next year, I'm gonna be ready.

But it would certainly be easier if perhaps for Hanukkah next year, my "True Love" could give me some sheet music.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

If you see someone lurking in the bushes outside my house...it's me.

I hide from my kids and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.

Tonight my ex was babysitting so Scott and I thought we'd get a night out.  Woo-Hoo!

We scooted out the door the second my ex showed up at 6:15.

"Bye you guys!"  smooch, smooch..."Mommy loves you!" and we tore out the driveway leaving skidmarks.

By 7:45 we were done dinner.

We couldn't go home.  I knew there was NO way the kids were asleep!  I mean, what's the point of getting out for the night if you have to come home to kids who are awake and want your attention?  That's not a night out.  That's a coffee break.

So I suggested getting a Thai massage.  Scott had his kindle so he waited for me and enjoyed the serenity of the Thai massage waiting room.

9:00pm I was done.  Darn.   Kids would still be up.

So we went for ice cream and burned another 20 mins.

It was iffy to go home.  Knowing my Ex, chances were the kids were still up.

So we cased the house.  We parked across the street and we peeped in windows.

It was hard to tell.  Lights were on, but we couldn't see any confirmed movement.  We tried another window (did I mention it was raining?)

Then I went to the kitchen window.  And was spotted..."HEY MOMMY!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT THERE!?"

Dang.

I answered from the bushes.  "Just watching you.  Cuz you're cute."  She bought it...

It was clear our night out was over.  We went inside.

I guess it was a good thing anyway.  If a neighbor had spotted me in the hydrangea, it could have meant trouble.

Friday, December 17, 2010

10 Reasons for a New Yorker to Appreciate Los Angeles this Holiday Season

I am a transplanted New Yorker.  And like all transplanted New Yorkers, we love to kvetch about how LA doesn’t measure up to our gritty, crowded, bagel-laden homeland.

Well, the holiday season is the perfect time for us and our "ilk" (i.e. Chicago natives, Ohio natives and the occasional Philadelphian…) to amp up our complaints; "There's no snow." "There are no seasons..." "the pizza sucks…"(our favorite complaint…)

But maybe it’s not so bad.  I mean, when you look around, there are some really great things to love about Los Angeles over the holiday season.  For example:

1.  Out-of-work actors = A better class of Santa.    When our Santa’s say “Ho, Ho, Ho…” you believe it.

2.  Thanks to the miracle of plastic surgery, whatever gift you give, the recipient always looks happy and surprised.

3.  Mistletoe is more effective when hung over the hot tub.

4. Chihuauas are the new Reindeer.

5. Because permit parking is never suspended, your guests can't overstay their welcome.

6.  No snow days.  The kids are in school…every…single…day.

7.  Rehab Christmas parties rock.

8.  No slush to ruin your Jimmy Choos.

9.  Drunk Driving is "relative." 

10. When you’re a transplanted New Yorker…your family isn’t around.  Finally...a Merry Christmas.☺

I hope you and your family have a very Happy Holidays,

Love,
Sarah @ Mommy Lite



Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Every child could use a gorgeous setee...or at least cute book ends.

I think you guys already know this, but in addition to Mommy Lite (my baby...), HybridMom.com and Momtourage.com, I am now a regular contributor for CBS/Los Angeles' local website!  I am SO proud to be a part of an amazing group of funny, intelligent and knowledgable bloggers who regularly round-up all the "Best of LA," so you don't have to. :)

My most recent story is a round-up of the BEST kid's furniture in Los Angeles (if you don't live in Los Angeles, you can go on-line).  Whether you're completely redecorating your kid's room, or just looking for a GREAT toy box (or some other gorgeous accessory) you HAVE to check out these places.

(My favorite?  Mod Mom furniture).

CLICK HERE TO READ "WHERE TO BUY KID'S FURNITURE IN LOS ANGELES."

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

"Fricka-Fricka...Word."

My 7 year old son is into rap.

I know it's my fault.  We listen to rap and R&B in the car on the way to school, on the way home, on the way to activities.    And now he turns everything into a rap by adding "Fricka-Fricka...word" to the end of it.  

I don't know where he came up with this idea, but I think it's his way "layin' it down."  And, he loves saying it.  So now he "raps" about everything: 

"The turkey is done.  The lurkey is done.  The turkey is lurky.  Fricka-fricka...Word."

"Izzy is busy.  Izzy is bad. Izzy smells bad.  Fricka-fricka...Word."

"Livi can fly.  Fly through the sky.  Fly oh my.  Fricka-Fricka...Word."

He thinks he's hysterical.  He does the fake gang hand gestures and crosses his arm.   He bounces up and down, he turns his cap around.   He's about as ghetto as my grandmother.  The socks with UGG slip ons don't help.

And now he won't stop.

"I'm going to sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep.  Sleep Meep Peep.  Fricka-fricka-word."

I've had enough and I have a plan.  No more Rap in the car and no more rap on TV.  I'm going to "Soft Listen" the rap right out of him.   I've loaded my iPod with James Taylor, Bread and Bill Withers.

And if that doesn't work, I'm going to put him on YouTube and embarrass the hell out of him.

...Fricka-fricka word.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Romance Re-Kindle-d

Scott and I got each other the same Hanukkah gift.

I suspected this when I saw his box was the same size as mine.  Then I shook them.  He said "DON'T SHAKE THEM!"

"I have to."

"No.  You don't."

I extended my hand and said "Hi.  I'm Sarah. Have we met?"

He was not amused.  "Don't shake them.  They'll break."

So I spent the next 5 minutes weighing the boxes in my hands.

Sure enough, we opened the gifts the other night and we both got each other the Kindle.

Great minds shop alike.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Have Accordion, Will Travel...

I love a good "jam" session.

I love to watch people jam. I love to listen to people play the piano or their guitar and I like to sing along as they spontaneously play classic Billy Joel, James Taylor and Carol King.

Maybe I'm a hippie at heart.

Unfortunately, I never get to do it because I play cello. No one ever whips out a cello. And if they did, certainly nobody knows how to sing along with it.

Well this past week we were invited to a party and bunch of people showed up with their guitars. A Jam was definitely in our future. Yay!

But there was this one guy who brought his accordion.

Now anyone who appreciates a "jam" will tell you the joy of jamming is doing it with other people. Getting people to play together, sing together.   "Come together." (Wow...I am a hippie...Kumbaya!) The point is, you're not an audience during a jam. You're a participant.

But I think it's safe to say that when you show up at a party with an accordion, you're planning on putting on a show.   It's not like you can hand the accordion over to someone else at the party and say "Here...you take a whirl."

Showing up at a party with an accordion is like showing up with a bagpipe - or a set of flaming batons. You pretty much know you're the only one who's going to be using it. This guy obviously had a plan to play for a captive audience.

So we were treated to an accordion concert.

After a song or two he reached into his bag of tricks and pulled out a bunch of other instruments (percussion instruments that wouldn't overshadow him) so we could accompany him.

Maybe you think I’m being too harsh. Maybe an accordion is perfectly acceptable for an after-dinner jam. And you know what? It wasn’t absolutely, horrifically, horrible.

But I can officially say I know why no one ever says "Sing Us a Song, You're the Accordion Guy."

Sunday, December 5, 2010

"Her Story": From Stay at Home Mom To Stand-Up Comic

http://www.parentsask.com/herstory/stay-home-mom-stand-comicMomversation.com did a little documentary using me for their "Her Story" web series this past summer!

I thought I had ended up on the cutting room floor, but TA-DA!  Here it is! "From Stay-at-Home-Mom to Stand-Up Comic."

I  love the intro we filmed of the kids...TOTALLY their idea!

If you get a chance, check out the other "Her Story" webisodes.  There are some really amazing women to be found (why they wanted me, I have no idea!)

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Chinese Jump Rope Torture

There's a new form of torture in town and it's called Chinese Jump rope.

My girls play it.  All morning.  All afternoon.  All...day...long.

When I'm lying in bed in the morning, trying eek out that last half hour of sleep,  I hear THUMP, THUMP, thump, thump thump....coming from the other room.  I swear I can feel the floor shake through my bed.

When I'm writing: THUMP, THUMP, thump, thump thump....

When I'm making dinner:  THUMP, THUMP, thump, thump thump....

If they can't convince their brother to play they ask to "borrow my feet."

"You don't have to doooooo anything."  They say (wow...they know me).  "Just stand there."

And I do.  Obligingly pulling the rope up my as they call out "Ankles!" "Knees!" "Under-butts!"  It's practically a reflex now.   I can do anything while they use me.

When I'm writing, they hook the rope around my ankles.

If I'm watching TV, all I have to do is dangle my feet (I refuse to stand for "under-butts" while I"m watching TV...it's just my rules of relaxation).

If I'm standing outside of school talking to a friend, they hog-tie me.  God forbid someone should yell "fire!"

I need them to find a new hobby fast. 

Can't you crochet a Chinese Jumprope into a scarf or something?

Clever Girl

Last night I was reading through some of my old posts from when I started this "joint." 

It took me down memory lane and made me realize how much I love blogging - and how thankful I am to have Mommy Lite.  It helps me document how my kids have grown, archives all those little moments I know my tiny brain can't hold, and reminds me how GRATEFUL I am to not have wipe anyone's butt anymore.

"Clever Girl"

Maaaa! MAAAAAAAA!  Come heeeeeeeeere!

I know Livi's calling me from the bathroom, but I don't feel like getting up.  Even after three calls.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

I anticipate why she's calling me and yell "Wipe your own butt! (beat)...Honey!" from the kitchen table where I am finally sitting after 10 hours of holiday cooking and cleaning, and enjoying a glass of wine.  I tell myself that this yelled suggestion is more "lovingly helpful" than selfish.  I mean, she needs to know how to wipe her own butt, right?  And, I did add "Honey"...you know, so she knew I cared.

I take a sip of my wine and try to fully absorb this tiny moment of peace.   I think to myself, I just need  5 minutes...

MOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

"WIPE YOUR OWN BUTT!"  Okay, that wasn't quite as sweet, but I just sat down. 

"There's something really weeeeeeeeirrrrd!"

Now those are four words you don't want to hear a child saying from behind a bathroom door, so I am compelled by duty...and curiosity...to see what's up.  Grudgingly I leave my comfortable seat and a glass of pinot noir to see what truly qualifies as "weird" to a 6 year old.  This had better be good.

Sure enough...

I open the door of the bathroom to find my youngest tipped all the way over on the toilet, butt firmly planted but head almost touching the ground and she's pointing to a little plastic empty tampon case that must have rolled out of the trash and behind the toilet.

I suppose to her, a tampon is weird.   What's weird to me is that she even found the tampon at all.  Why was she upside down on the toilet in the first place?

"What's that?" she points from her half-upside down position.

"That's trash."  I am relieved that the "weirdness" of which she spoke was not bodily related and I kneel behind the toilet and throw away the curious object, hoping it doesn't lead to a bigger conversation.  I'm just not in the mood.  But nothing gets by Livi.  She's a clever girl who plans, plots and questions everything so I anticipate a barrage of questions about the tampon and it's origins.

"Oh."

Phew...that was easy.  "Anything else?"

"Nope."

"You good here?"

"Yup."

"Okay then.  I'm going to go finish cleaning up."

"Ok.  Oh, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Before you go, can you wipe my butt?"

Clever girl indeed.

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