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

Thursday, March 31, 2011

"Got Milf?" - The Book Trailer (rated PG)

TA-DA!!!! I can't believe I finally DID IT! (Thank you Dan Rosen and Randy Shropshire!)

Here is the OFFICIAL book trailer for "Got Milf?"!  TA-DAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The Tooth Fairy is Dead

The Tooth Fairy’s dead.

I killed her. And if you ask me, the bitch had it comin’.

She was a total slacker, missing deadlines, losing teeth, and wreaking emotional havoc on the young minds of my children. And she was a constant disappointment, sometimes taking two or three nights to remember a tooth now crusty and awaiting collection.

When she did her job, she didn’t even do it well - sometimes waking kids out of their precious slumber as her hand jostled about under the pillow digging for ivory gold.

Yes. It was time for her to go.

Her end wasn’t pre-mediated. But at the breakfast table my oldest daughter (who knows the flakey fairy’s true identity) held the tooth she had lost the day before aloft and glared at me with a half smirk saying “Um…Mom? The TOOTH FAIRY forgot my dollar AGAIN! EVEN THOUGH I SPECIFICALLY TOLD the TOOTH FAIRY NOT to forget!”

The twins, now almost 8, looked back and forth from her glaring smirky face to my guilty mug and finally made the connection.

“The Tooth fairy must have been REALLY tired last night.” I IMPLIED to my oldest who was about to blow the whole lid off the fairy thing.

Ben piped in, “Hey! You’re really tired too, Mommy.” I tried to not engage his line of thinking.

“Maybe she’s just really busy with work.”

“You’re really busy with work, too!”  Crap.  He was on a roll. There’s no stopping Ben when he’s on a roll…

Izzy looked wide-eyed from him to me holding in laughter at his comparisons.

I said, “Maybe she’s getting OLD and just doesn’t remember the way she used to.”

“Mommy! YOU’RE getting old and don’t remember stuff either!”

That was it. She burst into laughter. Ben looked from her to me and said

Livi, looked up from her bowl of chocolate cheerios – finally interested in the conversation. She stared at me and said “WHAAAAAATTT???!!”

I gave Izzy the evil eye for having a hand in spoiling it for her brother and sister. She put her hand over her mouth to smother a laugh and cover her smile.

Ben continued to look at me. Accusingly. “Are you the tooth fairy?”

It was a moment of truth. I could grab it and be completely honest with my kids. What a mom! But instead, I chose to ignore it. I tried to change the subject.

“Here. Your lunches are done. Take them.”

“Mommy? Are you the tooth fairy?”

“That reminds me, did you brush your teeth?”

“You are, aren’t you.” He was relentless.

“Go get your jacket.”

“Tell me!”

Izzy shouted from the other room, “SHE IS NOT THE TOOTH FAIRY! BUT SHE KNOWS HER REALLY WELL!”

Ben didn’t buy it. “Mommy? Tell me the truth.”






“Yes, Ben.  I am the tooth fairy.”

I waited for tears. Izzy had cried hysterically when she found out a few years ago.

“I knew it.” He smiled, grabbed his lunch and skipped off to get his jacket.

No crying. No shock. No mourning. Just a smile and pride at having made the connection. Livi, equally unmoved, went back to eating her Cheerios.

“You okay?”


“You’re not too sad?”

“About what?”

“That I’m the tooth fairy?”

“Nope.   So, can you just give us the money now?”

Maybe I’ll miss that flakey fairy after all.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

"MILF or MILF Dud?" - Kimora Lee Simmons

Welcome to "MILF or MILF Dud" the contest that asks YOU to rate the celebrity mom.  Just cast your vote ("MILF or MILF Dud") for the celebrity mom below in the comment section (and feel free to  tell us why!)   I'll post the winning response within 24 hours on the "Got Milf? A Humor Book" Facebook page (where all Milfological news can be found.)

EVERY TIME you vote, you are entered to win a free copy of "Got Milf? The Modern Mom's Guide To Feeling Fabulous, Looking Great and Rocking a Minivan" or a gold-plated "Milf" necklace from NYC Jewelry Designer, Jessica Elliot! 

The Winner will be announced on April 5th, 2011 - to celebrate the publication of my book!

Today's famous mom?  Kimora Lee Simmons.

Remember, the more you play...the better your chance to win!

Have fun!

Friday, March 25, 2011

"MILF or MILF Dud?" - Helen Mirren

YOU voted (hear that Tori?  THEY voted...I love you!) and Tori Spelling's Milfdom ratings are posted on Got Milf? a Humor Book" on Facebook.  (Oooo...this is so much fun!...probably a little mean...but really fun!)
Okay up?  Helen Mirren.

I am so curious to hear what you say.  I think she's FABULOUS!  My vote?  MILF! (I promise...I won't feel this way about everybody!) 

Thursday, March 24, 2011

"MILF or MILF Dud?" - Tori Spelling

Today's submission for "Milf or Milf Dud" is Tori Spelling.

She's usually too thin for me, but I love her curves here.  (I LOVE a pregnant woman willing to wear a bikini!  So MILFy!)  And she seems to love them too.

Whenever I see her around LA she seems like such a cute, loving mom.  (Okay, I admit it...I watched "Tori and Dean...Home Sweet Hollywood"...)

I vote Milf.  What do you think?

You can check out "Got Milf?" a humor book" Facebook Page tomorrow to see who agreed...and who didn't.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

"MILF or MILF Dud?" - Brooke Shields

In honor of the publication of my upcoming book "Got Milf? The Modern Mom's Guide to Feeling Fabulous, Looking Great and Rocking a Minivan"  I created a contest called "MILF or MILF Dud?"

EVERY DAY UNTIL PUBLICATION on April 5th, I'll be posting a picture of a celebrity and asking loyal, supportive Milfological vote "MILF" or "MILF Dud".

I'll post the findings on the Got Milf? Facebook page the next day.   Everyone who votes will be entered to win a FREE advanced copy of "Got Milf?" or a GORGEOUS "Milf" necklace by the NYC Jewelry designer, Jessica Elliot.  I'll pick a winner on Pub Day, April 5th.

You can enter simply by writing "MILF" or "MILF Dud" in a comment (and feel FREE to elaborate why - we want to know!)

So here we go...

Stay fit.
"MILF or MILF Dud?"  

Brooke Shields. 

I love this woman (...sue me...) I think she's beautiful - now and then!

She's smart, has a great sense of humor, down-to-earth, and when you see her with her kids, she just seems so happy and content. 

She also hasn't frozen herself in time.  I respect that.

Go Brooke!

I vote: MILF.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Ode to Mankie

One of the few positive things about moving is the resurfacing of old treasured objects.  Things you've lost track of or that have been buried for so long they've been forgotten.

Last night, we uncovered such an object.  Ben's "Mankie."

"Mankie" was Ben's word for his blankie since he was a baby.  We like to think this name he bestowed upon his flannel companion was a clever combination of "manly" and "blankie."  The truth was probably way less thoughtful.

Ben's "mankie" hasn't looked like a "blankie" in quite a few years.  Two thin shredded strips of blankie were all that remained.  But then last night we found a pile - a balled up wad of "mankie" strands I had put away so we would always have a few strands around of Mankie in a pinch.  Ben was ecstatic and smooshed the shredded wad of familiar softness against his face.

Mankie had been a gift from a baby shower - a shower for him and his twin sister.  I had gotten so many blankets for him at that baby shower.  He was the 1st boy in our family, and everyone wanted to swathe him in traditional manly coverlets that would safeguard his testosterone.   And the blankets were expensive - fluffy, silky or hand-knit by some relative or woman in a foreign country.  Every blanket a shade of blue with white trim, white with blue trim, white and blue stripes, all inevitably blue and white in some combination or another so as best celebrate the fact that my child had a penis.

Mankie, however, was not blue and white, or fluffy, or silky, or even hand-knit.  Mankie was tan flannel with bright red trim stitched around the edges.   Best of all, Mankie was big.  Bigger than the other blankets, and liquidy soft.  The flannel was thin and malleable - perfect for swaddling because of it’s generous size and seeming ability to mold completely to her boy’s beefy proportions without asphyxiating him.  The soft thin flannel had a bit of natural friction that held the boy in without the tucking and pinning necessary for other blankets and the end result was perfect.  To me - stylish masculinity.  To Ben, a soft, snug cocoon of security and peace.   His pliable armor against the strange and stimulating world around him.

And as Ben got bigger and could no longer be contained – certainly not with a thin piece of flannel -  mankie became more of a companion.  A reminder to him of the security he had felt as a baby, and a reminder to me of the security I could once so simply provide.

And then slowly, piece by piece, strip by strip, Mankie disappeared.  A bit in the wash, a bit every night as he chewed on it, until finally, only two thin shreds remained.  Two strips so precious he wouldn't sleep with them in his hands for fear he'd lose them in his bed.  He tucked them into a special pocket in a stuffed whale for safe keeping.  Never telling anyone but me where to find them.

Then last night, when I showed Ben the long-thought gone, balled-up wad of Mankie strips I had found among the ambiguous boxes piled all around our new home, he cheered.  And I thought (though he wouldn't admit it), he got a little teary.

I put Mankie into his outstretched eager hands.   Immediately, he began to curl it around his fingers, savor the liquid softness moving along the webbing of his man-cub hands, and twist his blanket, and himself, into a curled up ball of contentment.

They were, again, one.  And I was transported.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Is Your Child S.T.U.U.P.I.D.?

In honor of my son who tripped over a ball rolling toward him yesterday, I am reposting one of my favorite posts from a few months back.  Am I the only one out there with this problem?

Is Your Child S.T.U.U.P.I.D.?

Scientists are baffled by the recent discovery of a disturbing and potentially fatal childhood disorder known as “Suicidal Tikes Under-Utilizing Protective Indicators Dysfunction”, or S.T.U.U.P.I.D

Diagnosis of S.T.U.U.P.I.D. children is on the rise and no one can figure out why.   Some experts say it is the result of environmental toxins.  Others argue it has been around for years.

Karen Lahey’s daughter was diagnosed as STUUPID last December.   “It all happened so fast.  At first we noticed she liked to climb up on the kitchen counters then we caught her hanging out the second story window waving at the neighbor’s kitty.   She could have killed herself! It was devastating.”

What makes a child STUUPID?  We asked Dr. Emily Nolan a prominent pediatrician from Beverly Hills to explain.  “Children’s brains work like a game of marbles. Each marble has the ability to tell another marble where to go.   What to do.  Each marble reacts naturally to another. When a child is STUUPID, they don’t make connections.  They don’t see the indicators of danger all around them and their brains don’t trigger the crucial instinct to protect themselves.  For STUUPID children, some marbles are missing. “

How can you tell if your child is STUUPID?  Despite the fact that their parents tell them “no,” STUUPID children feel the need to hurl their bodies through space, across slippery floors and into wall units containing crystal, limoge and other breakable objects.  They are unable to control their impulses and are oblivious to potential risk.

“My grandson, Kyle, could see a wall right in front of him and just keep running. It’s heartbreaking really.” Said a grandmother of a STUUPID child who asked not to be identified.

We interviewed one child who was born STUUPID and asked him “What is it that compels you to jump off the sofa over a glass coffee table and onto a slick hardwood floor right in front of a lit fireplace.   The child simply answered, “I want to.”  Apparently, total disregard for safety is the most common theme among children who are STUUPID.

“There is still so little we know about this disorder and we’re learning more every day.   There doesn’t seem to be any correlation between race or religion and children who are STUUPID. In fact, studies show that children of all races are susceptible to being STUUPID.

As of now, there is no known cure. Experts recommend that if you see signs your child is STUUPID, the best way to proceed is find a STUUPID support group in your area, hide sharp objects, and put your local fire department on speed dial.

(Tags: could your child be stupid, stupid kids, special needs parenting, kids with special needs, is your child stupid, stupid children, funny children, funny kid videos)

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The Light At the End of the Tunnel and Other Myths...

It's been a long couple of weeks.  And by long, I mean the kind of long you feel when you're watching a foreign movie and it really sucks, and the sound is off just ever so slightly from the lip-syncing, but enough to be really irritating, and you're just miserable but you have to sit through it because your boyfriend went with you to see "Valentine's Day" the weekend before.  That kind of long.   Lllllllllooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnng.

The good news is the move is done.  The kid's rooms are mostly unpacked and they're taking to their new space.  Which is good...since they don't have a choice. :)

Scott and I are also finally speaking again.  It's so interesting how a little thing like asking a man to move your entire household (which contains loads of crap you never even look at and he knows it - and three young children - and all their crap they never look at) can make a guy crabby.  And every last box, picture frame, and bit of crap you never looked at, is now in the new place - stacked up against freshly painted walls I hope to be able to see one day. 

But we were done.  Time to celebrate and move forward.  All was good.

Or so we thought.

Then Mr. Leo passed away.

Throughout the move we'd been nursing him, holding him, tending relentlessly to his every piggy need.  But despite our best efforts, he just never bounced back after his surgery.  We used up a lot of tissues that night in our new house.  Of course, I had to go buy tons of boxes because I had no idea where I had packed the ones from the old house.

The kids rebounded beautifully.  They took his passing with such bravery and grace.

I, however, was somewhat less graceful.  Sobbing a bit here and there, and then completely throwing out my back tossing his extra cage (the one we used to separate him from his sisters while he was sick) into the garage.

The next three days were spent in bed.  On my back.  Barely able to move.  Peeing was a Herculean feat.  Vicoden became my friend.  I envied old people and their walkers, imagining how I would pimp mine out if only my boyfriend would let me get one.

Well now I'm better.  Sitting in my favorite coffee shop (strapped into a HUGE back brace), and trying to catch up on all of the lost work of the past month.

Yeah.  It's been a reeeeeeaaaaaaaally looooooong past few weeks.  And I would like to say I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  I would love to believe that the worst part of the year is behind us and we are all ready to emerge into the light and start enjoying the goodness of our newly paved lives.
But as shiny as that light is, as bright as it seems, as much as it glows and beckons...I can't help but wonder if it probably is just a flashing light on an ambulance.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Seeing "In Mother Words" at the Geffen Playhouse

There are so many things I've wanted to write about over the past week: our move; the passing of our beloved family pet, Leo; my enormous fight with my Ex-husband...but to my ex-husband's good fortune, I've had no internet for almost 10 days and haven't been able to bitch about a thing. 

But thanks to a particularly helpful AT&T Uverse guy (Thanks Luiz!), and horrifically sprained back, I am completely holed up in bed with nothing to do but write and write and write.

But before I get into all the bitching and moaning, I'd first like to praise the producers of "In Mother Words" at the Geffen Playhouse for their "ray of light" during a time I had loads to bitch and moan about.

I was DESPERATE for an outlet away from the boxes, packing paper and chaos of my home and going to see this play was such a welcome event.  Even more fortuitously, my mom was in town helping me pack - so she was my date. 

And I just wanted to say I LOVED it!

This show was a wonderful, poignant patchwork of the many, multi-textured snippets of motherhood.  "In Mother Words" takes you on the unique journey that is motherhood all the way from tales of expectancy and birth to teenage angst and the empty nest.  It's not just the tightly woven fabric of the story that holds you, it's the varied perspectives and backgrounds of the storytellers that makes this show wholly compelling.  While you might connect to the story of playground politics, you can't help but sympathize and relate to the tale of the mom taking her autistic teenage son on his first date.  Seeing yourself and your child(ren) in every tale - even if it's not your own.

Talking about the show afterwords with my own mom - listening to her own "take" on each story - made the evening even more special.

"In Mother Words" captures the essence of motherhood - an experience that is all at once completely unique and yet universal.  Something that connects us all as mothers and yet defines us as individuals.


If you get a chance - go see it.  And if you can...bring your mom.

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