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

Monday, December 17, 2012

Every Parent's Worst Nightmare

This morning I walked my kids into school.  I usually just drop them off in car line - sometimes as far back as a whole block.  Almost always because I'm still in my pajamas, but mostly because I assume they'll be fine.

But I didn't assume that today.  And I don't think my kids did either as they saw several police cars parked out side their school.  Just sitting there.  A reminder.  And a warning.

The term “every parent’s worst nightmare” is overused and has lost its impact.  We use it when our kids get lice or when the third person in our house has gotten the flu.  Irritations.  But not nightmares.  But when something as tragic as the Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting  happens – something that truly is ‘every parent’s worst nightmare’ – I need the words to express how deeply horrified I am.   “Every parents worst nightmare” is exactly how I feel right now.

Twenty children have been gunned down intentionally by a deranged, demented maniac.  Taking the most beloved part of these families away along with any peace of mind for our children's safety any parent in this country might have.  And we can't even find justice in cruelly pulling him apart like a daddy long legged spider.  He took that away from us too.  

How could this happen?!  Why did this happen?!  Parents’ heads are reeling right now wondering, “Are my children safe anywhere anymore?”

I was out running errands on Friday when I ran into another mom - the mother of a 21 month old boy.  Her son goes to daycare and isn’t in school yet, but her parents were living in Colorado at the time of Columbine shooting and it all felt familiar.  As the news of Columbine started to break nationally, she called her parents to ask “What’s going on?”  Her mother said “The police won’t go in.  The shooter is still in the building.”  But Dunn heard another person speaking in the background say, “The mothers would go in.”  At the time she didn’t full understand that statement but now as a mother she does.  Dunn said “I would go in.  I would be a superhero for my child.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

There is only one thing that is more tragic than this carnage of innocence – the fact that reading about mass shootings is becoming all too common.   Every day news of fresh horror is delivered to our inboxes. 

People – parents or not - are scared.  You can’t go to the movies, you can’t go to malls, and now you can’t go to school without the possibility of harm?  The potential for tragedy is becoming too real.  

When will it stop?  How can we keep our children safe?!

People want justice. 

But there is no justice.  Not even in the death of the killer.  And when there can be no justice it’s hard to find peace.  

When this sort of senseless tragedy occurs, the only way to deal with it is to try to make sense of it – hoping that if you can just find the reason it happened, you can ensure it won’t happen again. 

But everyone knows where it really went wrong.  It went wrong when a 24 year old man got a gun.

On her blog on Huffington Post Parents, Lisa Belkin debates White House spokesman, Jay Carney’s statement that “Now is not the time to talk about gun control.” She says, “This is all we should talk about right now.” I agree.  

Because this morning, as I watched my kids turn into the gate of the school and waved at them, they gave me a look like "Come on, Mom.  You're embarrassing me." I realized  this was probably the same image - the last image - those 20 sets of parents will ever have of their children.  And my heart just broke for those families.

There is no justice for them until we can make sure this doesn’t happen again.  Ever.  Until real gun control is instituted, I worry this could happen again.  That it could happen tomorrow in my town, in my school, to my children.

And that is truly every parent’s worst nightmare.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Top 25 Book Author Moms

So I wasn't going to say anything but I am very excited by the news that I was nominated by Circle of Moms as a Top 25 Book Author Mom.  I just didn't want to enter into one of these vote every day things.

That being said, I did JUST turn in my 5th book and it inspired me to see if just one day of voting would make a difference.  Besides it is always really nice to win these things (and I am a really crappy loser...)

So I'm putting it out there.  Just this one day.  Asking for votes.

Thanks everyone!


Thursday, November 8, 2012

The Tao of Breakfast Cereal

Do you know why I never wanted to grow up? Bran.

Really. Everything about being an adult seemed to revolve around bran. My grandparents ate bran. My parents ate bran. All the grown-ups I knew ate bran. It was obvious to me that if I became an adult, my future would also include bran...

And so begins my latest piece for Huffington Post...

CLICK HERE to read "The Tao of Breakfast Cereal" on Huffington Post. :)

For my next trick, I'll be reading empty cereal bowls like tea leaves. :)

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Best Family Halloween Costume This Year

Claws down - best family costume of the year! 

It would be perfect if you could get 3 kids in that pot...

A Look Back At My Favorite Halloween Story..."Illegal Activity"

I illegally entered someone's home the other day.  I didn't mean to.  My intentions were honorable.  I was just looking for cake.

Security rolled by in a golfcart and eyeballed me as I ran out the front door of some woman's home dressed in a toga and clinging a handful of cash.

Let me back up.

Last week was my boyfriend's birthday.  Friday night we had ten of his old friends over for Baked Ziti, and Martinis.  I wanted it to be a perfect evening.  Of course, this meant ordering the perfect cake.

Chocolate Chocolate Chip cake with Bittersweet Buttercream Scharffengerger Chocolate frosting.  Ten inches and 4 layers of beautiful, fudgey, chippy and tasty perfection made by Laura's Cake Kitchen (you may know her as Laura from My Life Is a Piece Of Cake.  She's a cakey genius and she likes to get paid in cash).

Friday was also the last day of school before Halloween - which means ALL THREE kids had Halloween parties in their classes AS WELL AS a halloween parade on the school yard.

So as soon as I drop off my kids at school, I'm making ziti, moving furniture, setting the table, polishing my grandmother's silver and laying out china my sister later tells me shouldn't be eaten on because it contains lead.

By 11:30 the sauce is made, the ziti is boiled, the table is set and the flowers are arranged.

I put on my costume (the kids insisted I wear one in a show of solidarity - I was Athena, Goddess of Wisdom).  I grab my daughters stuffed owl to accentuate my Goddessness (Athena's symbol - but I don't think she carried a Webkinz) and ran out the door.  (Complicated hairdo shown in photo).

I spent the next hour and a half running from classroom to classroom as a part of my own personal "no child left behind" policy and managed to help get each party up and running. 

I looked at my watch.  I had a 1 hour window till the Halloween Parade started on the school yard.

I thought about the cake waiting for me across town at Laura's house.  Could I make it?  It's tight.

I took a chance.

I made it to her housing complex in 20 minutes.  I park.  I call Laura on the phone to tell her I'm at her house.  Meanwhile, she's at HER kids school applying Vampire make-up to one of her four children, but she says the door to her house is open and the cake is waiting. 

I walk in to the house while talking to her on the phone so she can direct me where to go.

I tell her "Laura, I'm putting the cash on your dining room under the brush on the table.  Next to the pumpkin."

She's distracted. "Okay.  No Luke, the blood looks good there."  

I keep walking through the house. "I'm heading into your kitchen."  There's a child's scream on the other end of the phone.  I look in the fridge.  No cake.  My stomach drops.  Someone stole my cake!

"Laura!  There's no cake in here!"

"It's right there."  She says.

"I'm looking in your fridge right now and there is no cake."

"It's not in the fridge.  Why are you in the fridge?"

"I thought you said it's in the fridge."

"It's not in the fridge.  It's on the dining room table.  Luke, stop playing with your blood."

"Oh."  I close the fridge and walk back out.

No cake.

"Laura.  There's no cake on the table!"  I'm hyperventilating...visions of fudgy goodness slipping through my fingers.

"It's right there!"

"NO!  It's not!  There's just a big pumpkin!"

"What's with the pumpkin!  There's no pumpkin.  Only a cake."

"I'm looking at your table and there's no cake.  There's a pumpkin and some placemats..."

"Placemats?  I don't have placemats on the table.  Where are you?"

"I'm in your living room.  I'm looking at your TV area, there's a pink wooden kitchen in the corner - oh, that's cute..."

She's hysterical laughing on the end of the line.  "'re in the wrong house."

I am suddenly very aware of the fact that I have just raided some stranger's fridge, and am now standing in the middle of their living room dressed like a drunk sorority girl.  I grabbed my cash from under the hairbrush and took off out the door, JUST in time for security to drive by.

I think he would have stopped me for questioning if I hadn't been dressed in a toga, clinging to a small furry owl, and bent over, crying of laughter on some woman's front lawn.  I think he was afraid.  I would be. 

I went to the house next door, found my cake, left the cash and hopped back in my car.

I made it back to my kids' school JUST in time for the first graders to make their rounds on the school track in their costumes.

I took a ton of pictures as each child smiled as they passed me on the track.   Completely unaware that their mother narrowly escaped the law.  Again.

Unless of course there's an APB out right now for a tall, middle-aged brunette woman in a toga carrying a stuffed owl.  Check your local post offices and let me know.

P.S.  The cake was CRAZY FANTASTIC!

Originally published on on 11/1/09, but if feels like last week...

Friday, October 26, 2012

'Girl's Night Out' Results In Jeff Goldblum Encounter...

I love Jeff Goldblum.

The kind of love that Ryan Reynolds elicits from the 20-something crowd.

Maybe it's because he's tall and sexy and always plays such incredibly brilliant characters.  What Jewish girl wouldn't swoon for a tall sexy man who can so aptly spew James Glick's theory of chaos?  In fact, one could say I married my ex husband because of Jeff Goldblum.  He's tall and smart.  But ultimately, he fell short of Jeff Goldblum and had to go.  Sure there were other reasons the marriage didn't work, but I prefer to look at it like this.

So last month when a girlfriend and I were out for drinks at The BLVD (by the way - GREAT place for drinks and dinner if you're in LA.  Nice crowd it's not too loud and the drinks and snacks are spectacular.)  I got a very nice surprise.

My girlfriend comes back from the bathroom and says "I just saw Jeff Goldblum."


"In the bathroom.  Well, not in the bathroom, outside of the bathroom, walking into the men's room."

"Oh MY GOD! REALLY????!!  I LOVE HIM!  Be right back..."  I dashed to the bathroom area and stood around look aloof.  "Just a girl....standing outside the bathroom...checking her email.  Nothing going on here...." was my modus operendi.  Thank God for smart phones or I'd have looked like a stalker.

I'm not sure exactly what I thought was going to happen.  I knew I wanted to see what he looked like in person and to confirm he was worthy of my fan lust.  Maybe I thought he'd be so intrigued by this tall, aloof woman who hangs out near bathrooms that he'd ask to join me and my friend for a drink.  Of course, he'd find me fascinating and we'd become close friends.  Perhaps he and I would talk story and characters until dawn and then he'd make Jeff Goldblum love to me.  Scott should be cool with it of course.  I mean, he is Jeff Goldblum.   So I continued to hang around outside the bathroom.  But he was nowhere to be seen.  Darn.  No Jeff Goldblum.  I waited a little longer.

After writing several pretend emails I went back to the table, dejected.

"I didn't see him."

"Sorry.  I had no idea you liked Jeff Goldblum so much."

"Correction.  Love Jeff Goldblum so much."

"Even in The Fly?  He was like half insect.  Ew."

"Well, not AS the fly.  But he was good in the movie.  And sexy in the beginning."

"I can see that."

The next day she called and said "Guess what?!  I just got tickets for "Seminar" with Jeff Goldblum!  Come with me??!

"REALLY???!!  I'D LOVE to!!!!"  Now that's a good friend.

So last night we went to see Jeff Goldblum in Seminar.

I planned my outfit carefully.  I wore high platform heels so that if Jeff Goldblum saw me standing around the Mark Taper theatre he'd notice how tall and spectacular I am.  Okay, he'd notice I'm tall.  I wasn't sure exactly how Jeff Goldblum would notice me - but I wanted to be ready if it happened.  I even wore a little mascara and touched up my lips - you know - cause I thought Jeff Goldblum would like it.  My boyfriend was amused.

"You don't care if I have sex with Jeff Goldblum, right?"

"No, Honey.  You go ahead and have sex with Jeff Goldblum."

"Thanks!"  I gave him a kiss on his head and he smirked at me as I left the house giddy like a teenage girl on her first date.

Well, the show was fantastic.  And of course, Jeff Goldblum was fantastic.  And the fact that he played a tortured, sex-hungry writing teacher only fueled my fantasies.  So he didn't notice me in the audience and our eyes never met.  So he'd never know how intriguing I am.  At least I got to see him perform live.  That was enough to fuel my future fantasies.

My friends indulged me after the show and we walked around to the stage door so see if we could see him.

When he came out he smiled at me.  A big toothy smile.  I think I smiled ear to ear.  I might have blushed.  Yeah.  We had a moment - not that he had a choice but to have "a moment" with me since I was like 6'1" in my shoes and practically in his face.

He said "Hi!"  I melted.

"Hi.  Um, can I take a picture with you?"

"OF COURSE!!!!  Come here!"  I stiffly stood next to him, respecting his personal bubble and he pulled me in closer holding my waist.  Yummy!  He was adorable.  And he smelled good.  Poor Scott.

"You were really great in the show.  We loved it."

"Thank you!  I'm so glad you liked it!  Here let's get one like this."  And he put his face next to mine.  If he only knew how much I adored him, he might have been very afraid to do this.  I was grateful I looked like a normal person on the outside.

My friend said "We actually saw you at The BLVD a few weeks ago."

"The BLVD? Where's that?"

"In the Beverly Wilshire in Beverly Hills?"

"Hmm...I don't think that was me."

Then my friend said "Oh.  Oh well."

Way to insult Jeff Goldblum.

He politely took a few more pictures with us, shook my hand and gave me a little eye contact that I like to interpret as "I would fall instantly for you - you tall, fascinating stranger - but I bet you already have a great man in your life and I don't want to get in the way."  Yes.  That's precisely what he was saying.

Then Jeff Goldblum got into his car and went home.  Leaving me behind.  Oh well.

So I dedicate this post to Jeff Goldblum and thank him, wherever he is for a great show.  You are as sexy, smart and adorable as I imagined.

And if you ever want to get those drinks...
Me and Jeff Goldblum, planning our future together...

Friday, October 19, 2012

How To Deal With A Mom You Hate

I had to share this.

The hilarious Daphne Brogdon of fame just launched her new webseries "How to be a Mom."  (Can you guess who was the flakey, bitchy and boring mom or are you fooled by the changing hairdo?)

You're going to laugh out loud.  Really. 


Monday, September 24, 2012

School Lockers: The New Design Frontier

This year my 4th graders got lockers.

If you have kids who don’t have lockers yet, you know this is a really big deal. 

Thanks to Nickelodeon and Disney Channel, my kids have spent hundreds (thousands?) of hours watching good-looking teens and their fascinating lives unfold against a backdrop of these mysterious, stacked metal cubicles.  They’re not just ‘lockers,’ they’re totems of maturity.  A sign that your fascinating life is about to begin!

Livi was so excited.  “I can’t wait to decorate it!”

“You mean pick out a combination lock?  Sure!  You can have any color you want.  Would you like green?  I know you love green.”

“No.  Decorate it!  With wallpaper, and a lamp, and a carpet…”

WTF?  Excuse me?  We’re talking about your locker, right?” 

Welcome to "Better Schools and Lockers."
Forget the whiteboard and matching magnets.  Kids are pimping out their lockers (I smell a TLC show, "Pimp My Locker!") and there’s a whole new generation of décor available; chandeliers, shag rugs and matching vanity sets that transform your locker from a dumping ground for heavy books and old lunches into a “Hallway Haven.”

It's insane.  Some of these lockers could grace the pages of Elle Decor.
I mean, is this really necessary?  Wallpaper?  Lighting fixtures?  And this stuff ain’t cheap.  The chandelier was $25.  Sure it lit up, but unless I can find tiny Barbie sized chandelier bulbs at Target I’m pretty sure once that sucker goes out it’ll cost me another fortune.

My friends and I imagine how we'd outfit our lockers.  One friend suggested a miniature DJ booth in hers and a disco ball so that every time your locker door opens, it's like a party in there; I think mine might be more like a spa outfitted in teak wood and smelling of eucalyptus.  You lift the finger latch and are caressed with the sounds of ocean waves, chirping birds and wood instruments; Kind of like at the gym...but without the old sneaker smell.

I'm okay with a little self-expression, but I can't help wondering what's next (and how much it's going to cost me); battery powered mini-fridges; tiny minibars, little velvet ropes to put around your math book?  How much decorated personal space does a kid need?

On second thought, maybe if I buy her that shag carpet she so desperately wants, she'll stop nagging me about getting her own room.

(Livi's locker. )

Saturday, September 22, 2012

A Shiny Vagina

(TMI ALERT!!!...You know, in case you didn't get that from the title.  TURN BACK NOW if you don't like to talk 'vaginas').

It's been a while since I've had a bikini wax.

Not like a "few weeks" kind of 'while' - more like a "few seasons."  Okay, I'm exaggerating, but my point is you need a GPS to find anything down there.

Last night this was dinner conversation for me and my boyfriend at one of our favorite Italian restaurants.  Over torta della nonna - AMAZING torta della nonna - I shared "I need a wax."  As if he wasn't already aware of this fact.

No response. 

"You think so too, obviously."

He looked up from cake. "I didn't say anything."

"I know.  That's how I know you think so."

"I didn't SAY a word!"  He'd deny it, but I totally saw a smirk.

"I know you prefer it when I have a shiny vagina.  I'll go tomorrow.  It's okay.  You can say it."

He put down his fork. (Wouldn't you?) "Say what?  I didn't say anything."

I ignored his false protests.  "Why can't I just let it all go.  And none of this 'landing strip' stuff either.  What if I just went all 'native'?  You know, it would be like landing a plane in the Amazon forest."


"Come on.  It could be so retro!"

"I thought you liked to get bikini waxes?"

"What?!  NO!  Would you like hot wax poured on your balls and ripped off?"

"Well no.  Not when you put it like that."

"What do you think happens in there?  Do you picture some hot Eastern European woman lovingly slathering wax on my privates while a small grouping of angels delicately pat then lift the congealing wax from my netherlands resulting is a lovely shiny vagina that sparkles in the sunlight.  Little 'tings' of light glittering here and there like bright clean teeth in a toothpaste ad?"

"That sounds nice."

"Well it's not."

"Okay...Then don't do it."

"What?!  EW!  I have to!!  I'm creeping out of my swimsuit."

The couple at the table next to us looked over.  And squirmed.

"Okay.  Enough."

"Just saying.  It just sucks that as women it's ONE MORE thing we need to do.  Don't men know we're busy?"

"I don't know what you want me to say here."

"Just admit you like nicely-kept vagina.  Not all hairy."

"Uh.  Okay."

"That's all I'm sayin'.  You eating your dessert?"

"It's all yours."

And that ladies, is how you get the torta della nonna all to yourself.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Tori Spelling says "NEVER BE BORED AGAIN!"

Just a REMINDER that there is still time to be a part of Tori Spelling's and Lunchable's Never Be Bored Again" campaign and make a difference to Boy's and Girl's Clubs across America!

The star of "Craft Wars" and mother of 4 (I got to interview her THE DAY BEFORE she had her 4th - THAT'S a trooper...) INVITES ALL OF YOU to take pictures of YOUR boredom-busting activities and share them with her and Kraft at! 

Now here's the REALLY awesome part!  EVERY PICTURE that's uploaded from today through October 15, 2012 will generate a $1 donation to Boys & Girls Clubs across America (up to $100,000).  How great is that??!!

ALSO (yes there's more!) AFTER you upload your photo, you will receive a $1-off coupon for new Lunchables with Smoothie (while supplies last of course).

So SNAP to it and GET SNAPPIN'!

Saturday, September 15, 2012

A 9 Year Old's POV on the Presidential Campaign

Interior scene.  Nighttime.  Dinner is on the table.  Hungry children dig in (yet still manage to complain I put out the wrong grated cheese):

Scott:  Ben, who are the presidential candidates?
Ben:  Mitt and Barack…Obama.
Scott:  Right.  And which is republican and which is democrat?
Ben:  Mitt is republican.  Obama is democrat.
Scott:   And how can you tell the difference? 
Ben:  One is a total maniac and one is decent.

I guess it’s just a matter of perspective from there.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Never Forget - 9/11

This morning Isabel said "You know what today is, Mom?"

I expected her to say "It's math quiz day." or  "It's Sloane's Birthday."  That's the sort of stuff that seems worthy of pre-cereal note.  But when I said "What day is today?"

She said "9/11."

I don't know why it surprised me.  Maybe because she didn't say it with with the enthusiasm attached to a holiday that gives her a break from school, but with the solemnity of a day that's important and should be noted.

I'm glad she thought it was worthy of mentioning.  But what pleased me most was the fact that she seemed to understand that it was a day that meant something - that it was a day to be remembered.

As my kids (achem...and I ) get older it's so weird to see how my past becomes her "history."   That 9/11 to her is kind of how I feel about Kennedy's assassination - touched but removed.

I had already moved from NYC to LA when the towers went down.   I remember waking up that morning and getting in the shower for work.  My husband at the time knocked on the shower door.  "A plane just flew into the World Trade Center!!  Get out here!!!!"


Soaking wet and still covered in soap and shampoo I jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to run into the living room.

I stood in a wet soapy puddle watching the news roll the same footage over and over.  I imagine this was a necessary evil for all the people who, like me, just couldn't believe what they were seeing.  A hole in the seemingly impenetrable monolith - surreal, frightening and smoking.  Then a sudden explosion in the second tower after a passenger plane barely noticeable at first glance is seen flying at an oddly low and seamlessly straight line toward the site - slicing through the side of the tower like a knife through butter.  The horror was palpable.  You could feel the snuffing of life. There was a moment of realization - "this was intentional."

We just watched with our mouths gaping at the TV.  Watching the carnage.  The burning.  The desperation as people - people just like you and me - chose jumping over burning.

We watched waiting for something to make it better.  To see how they/SOMEBODY would make it OK.  But they didn't.  Nobody did.  All you could see were flames and ashes and terror. 

I was just sobbing.  I had never in my life witnessed actual death.  This was what real horror looked like. 

I looked at Steven who looked like somebody was pointing a loaded gun at him.  "Doug Gardner is in there!  HALF my lawyers league are in there!"


I tried to call our friends and family in NY to see what was happening.  We got through on my mom's cell phone and she was fine.  My cousin was in Tribeca though and couldn't get out.  But at least she was safe.

Our friend, Doug Gardner, was not.  He was in the towers that morning and I still can't bring myself to think what that morning was like for him...or his family.  His wife, Jennifer Gardner (now Jennifer Gardner Trulson), wrote a book titled Where You Left Me last year about her experience losing the love of her life, and father of her two children, in this tragic disaster.  I don't know if I'd have been so brave. 

9/11 was a tragic, horrific day that redefined our nation's sense of security.  It not only made us realize our vulnerabilities, but it lifted a veil for many head-in-the-sand-Americans - myself included - who had gone their whole lives feeling like the world's problems were somewhere else.  Somewhere far away.  The reality is, the world's problems are right here.  And we need to be the change we want to see.

So hearing my daughter take note of the importance of the day and even asking me to sit and watch YouTube videos of the disaster with her is comforting in the strangest and most unexpected of ways.  People say we need to "Remember 9/11"  And I can honestly say that from what I see, history is being passed on effectively, and that our children will, indeed, remember.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Just Because - Chicks in Hats

Ever since we hatched chickens in Mrs. Climan's 4th grade class and Alison Eisenberg's mother let her take home two of the teensy, tiny, fluffy, cheeping chickadees (while my OWN mother denied me the peeping poultry...) I've loved baby chicks.   So, had to share.

Photo Credit: Julie Persons / Barcroft Media via Landov

Want more chicks in hats?   Just go to for "Just Because: 11 Pictures of Chicks in Hats". in MSNBC's morning show.  Apparently they find chicks in hats newsworthy.  And I kind of love them for it.

And if you're wondering, " seem like you'd be such a fun mom!  Would you let your kids bring home baby chicks now?" 

The answer is no.  Absolutely not.  I remember going to Alison's house a few months later and the chickens were full grown.  I thought "Wow.  So glad I didn't get a chicken.  Thems is some ugly *ss birds."

So.  No full grown chickens for our family.

Click HERE for more pictures of chicks in hats.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Could Your Child Be 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 S.T.U.U.P.I.D. 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 are the signs a child is S.T.U.U.P.I.D.?  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 S.T.U.U.P.I.D., 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 S.T.U.U.P.I.D. children, some marbles are missing. “

How can you tell if your child is S.T.U.U.P.I.D.?  Despite the fact that their parents tell them “no,” S.T.U.U.P.I.D. 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 S.T.U.U.P.I.D. child who asked not to be identified.

We interviewed one child who was born S.T.U.U.P.I.D. 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 S.T.U.U.P.I.D..

“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 S.T.U.U.P.I.D.. In fact, studies show that children of all races are susceptible to being S.T.U.U.P.I.D..

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

Disclaimer: No stupid children were harmed in researching this piece.  But a good laugh was had at their expense.

Friday, August 31, 2012

Funny Friday - Write Your Own Caption

I'll start..."Don't move. I can get the whole thing in."

Funny Animals

Back-To-School Friday

It's Friday and I've survived the first week of school.  I seriously can't believe I have two 4th graders and a 7th grader. They're SO friggin big (literally...Bob is as tall as I than I am)! 

Some of my kids were more excited than others...

Bob couldn't wait.  She planned this outfit two weeks ago and had a professional blowout in preparation of her 7th grade debut:

The highlight of her outfit?  Her new floral Doc Martins (I think I have a fashionista on my hands...)

Ben wore his trepidation blatantly...

But regardless of the level of enthusiasm for a new year of school, ready or not, here we go...

Here's hoping for a good year and wishing you one too!

P.S.  And good luck to the teacher who gets this...

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Fire! Fire!

This afternoon I left Livi alone in the house for about a half hour.  She's nine.  She can handle it right?  It's not like I haven't tried this before with Ben.

(Click here to read my Momtourage story "How Old is Old Enough")

So I said to her "If there's a fire, call 911 and go to the neighbors. Okay?"

No response.

"Do you hear me?"



"Okay!  I just never know when you're listening!"

So tonight I was broiling lambchops when smoke started pouring out the the oven.  My lambchop was on fire.

As I beat the lambchop with a dishtowel and Scott and I scrambled around the house to open windows  Livi said "Is this one of those times I'm supposed to call 911 and go to the neighbors?"


Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Grapes of Wrath...and Other Tasty Snacks...

"Grapes please."

All my daughter and her playdate wanted were some grapes to snack on while they finished their homework.

Simple enough request.  Heck.  I even had fresh grapes in the fridge.

"No problem." I said.

I went to the fridge, pulled out the bag of grapes and took them to the sink to wash them. Unfortunately, my sink was piled high with dirty dishes crusted in tomato sauce, microwave pancakes and dried out pasta.

Obviously, I couldn’t wash the grapes until the sink was empty and cleaned out, so I opened the dishwasher to fill it with dirty dishes.   It was full of clean dishes.

"Mom?   Can we have some grapes?"

"Yeah.  I just need to wash them.  Hold on."

I pulled out the top tier of the dishwasher to start unloading.   I got two rows of lowballs unloaded when I took out a wine glass that hadn’t successfully made it through the rinse cycle.  Yeah, yeah…I should have hand-washed it.   I get lazy when I drink merlot.

As I lifted the broken glass out, a conveniently large chunk of thin glass dropped off.  I picked it off and went to throw the pieces in the trash.  The wine glass shattered against the side of the trash can turning into hundreds of less conveniently sized shards that jingled over the edge of the trash can, and on to the floor.

So I swept the floor.  And then I mopped it.   Twice.  I got down on my hands and knees and wiped the surrounding floor down finishing up the roll of the paper towels.  No glass was getting past me.

"Mom, are you getting me grapes?"

"Yes! I'm trying! You’ve gotta wait a second.'

I put away the mop and broom and went back to unloading the dishwasher. Dishes, glasses, and silverware all went back into place. I was momentarily stumped by half a salad tong, but I just shoved it into my miscellaneous utensil drawer in hopes the other half would materialize one day when I needed it.

I put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Nice and full. I do take pride in my loading skills.

I figured I should run it before dinner so I wouldn’t have to deal with another dish pile-up when I noticed the “rinse aid” light was lit. AAARRRRRGGGHHH!!!!

I fished around under the sink and found an almost emptied bottle of Jet Dry. I filled the little circular compartment with what was left of the Jet Dry and hoped it was enough.

The light went off and I popped in a cascade swirly cake (which I shockingly had), slammed the dishwasher door shut and pushed “Start.”

Wwwwooooooogggge….Ah, the sound of accomplishment.

Now the sink was empty. Of dishes at least. Lumps of bread crust, soggy cereal flakes, half-eaten apple slices, and crushed tomato bits stopped up the drain.

I picked it clean and sprayed it down with some Lemon Fresh 409. God bless 409.

I was now ready to wash grapes.

I opened the cabinet under the stove-top and poked around for my colander. Nothing. Where the heck is that stupid colander!?



“…what does that mean?” I heard her ask her friend. Her friend shrugged.

I sighed. Exasperated. Grapeless. How hard could it be to give my kid some friggin’ grapes! Why does everything I do around this house have to be so complicated! For ONCE, I’d like to need a grape and be able to HAVE a grape! Immediately! Or at least without having to do 20 other things first!

I was angry. This was so frustrating!

After pillaging through several cabinets and flinging All-Clad pots and cast-iron pans around - finding strange solace in the loud clanging of pots as I slammed into each other and onto the kitchen floor - I found the colander three cabinets later hiding behind a heavy mixer.   I held it aloft - like the Olympic torch signalling the beginning of the games - YES!

I ignored the bits and pieces of dried crap that crusted some up a couple of the holes rationalizing that the colander had been through the dishwasher at some point in the past and was clean.  Hence, any dirt found on the colander was “clean dirt.”

And then I washed the grapes, plunked them wet into clean bowl and victoriously served them. “Yes, my children.  I - your mother - have produced clean grapes for your eating pleasure.  Enjoy them.   Savor them.  These grapes I give to you this day…”

I started putting away the pots and pans on the kitchen floor when Livi asked, “Mom?  Can I have a paper towel?”

I got up to get her a paper towel.  The roll was empty...

Sunday, August 26, 2012

It's Not A Party 'Til The Small Boy Barfs...

My son barfs.  A lot.

He always has.  At 10 months he was already at the Occupational Therapist to be evaluated for a bad gag reflex.

He chokes on everything.  He chokes on chicken, he chokes on blueberries...Hell, he's choked on milk!  And as he's gotten older, it hasn't gotten better.  I'll say to him "Chew, Ben, chew!" and he'll smile at me with a mouth packed with buttered wheel pasta.  And he'll giggle.  Then he'll choke, and out it comes.

He throws up everywhere.  He's thrown up at the market ("Clean Up on aisle 5" was heard shortly thereafter),  he's thrown up at school, he's thrown up at Sea World he's thrown up at Nate N' Als's in Beverly Hills.  But mostly, he throws up at birthday parties sending nervous mothers clasping their babies and running for the hills.

"Is he sick?" They ask trying to sound like they're not calculating how long their child was exposed to mine.

"No.  He just chokes.  A lot."

"Oh." They say and smile nonchalantly.  But it doesn't go unnoticed that the parent and child keep a "healthy" distance from us for the rest of the party.

He can't help himself.  He gets so excited.  There are treats galore; goldfish, pretzels, chicken nuggets, grapes and birthday cake.  He can't get it all in fast enough.  And then there's the running around.  Nothing says "puke" like a belly full of cake and a bouncer.  Especially for someone who'll barf going over a speed bump.

So we keep working on the chewing and the not over-stuffing his mouth, and the learning to sit still for at least a few minutes after we eat.

But right now, we're off to another birthday party.  He's excited.  He'll swim, he'll slide, he'll eat cake and he'll stuff handfuls of goldfish into his mouth. 

And that's when the party really begins...

Originally published 10/19/10

Sunday, August 19, 2012

My Morning as a 'Big' Author at Barnes & Noble. Then I Came Home and Did Laundry

This morning was my reading and signing of "On My Way to the Bath" at Barnes & Noble and it was very exciting stuff.

I had "signage."   (Note: The sign came home with me.  I put it up in my bedroom...over my bed.)

A bunch of my super supportive awesome blogger buds showed up to give me a little support: (from the left: Donna Tetreault of; Matt Steiner of Launch Education; Jenny Feldon of Karma (Continued...); me; and Christina Simon of Beyond the Brochure).

Some adorable boys asked to take their picture with "the real Livi": (that's her brother in the background looking a little neglected...)

And of course I had to take a picture of my book in the front of the store RIGHT NEXT to Jonathan Tropper's "This is Where I Leave You," and over "Fifty Shades of Grey."  (Keep in mind this does not mean that my book is about sex or sitting shiva...)

And finally, the reading. (Watch the hysterical little girl who was turning pages for me.  She was trying so hard to do it right).   Thanks to everyone who showed up and thanks to Barnes & Noble for hosting me!!

Tuesday, August 14, 2012


SO EXCITED!  I'll be reading and signing my new picture book On My Way to the Bath, illustrated by the FABULOUS Michael Paraskevas, at Barnes & Noble at the Grove in Los Angeles, this SATURDAY the 18th at 11AM!  (WOOT!  WOOT!!!!)

The REAL LIVI will be there with me and she'll be happy to sign books for you too as well as give expert advice on how to avoid the tub.

Bring the kids!!!! 

Thursday, August 2, 2012

You Know You're a Mom Blogger When...

I’m couldn’t be at BlogHer ’12 this year because of my kids’ camp pick-up schedule, but it did inspire a post.  It’s been 5 years since I launched MommyLITE and there are some ‘habits’ I’ve noticed I’ve picked up over the years.   I’m not the only I?

You know you’re a Mom Blogger when...

• Your kids have code names.

• You bring a camera to the hospital so you can document your son’s broken arm - after all, a trip to the emergency room is great blog fodder!

• The first thing you do in the morning isn’t make coffee – it’s check your Google Analytics.

• Your daughter tells you in confidence that she just got her period and the first thing you do is blog “OMG! I can’t believe my daughter just got her period!!”

• You have 500 friends on Facebook you’ve never actually met in person.

• Your friends start every sentence with “You’re not going to blog about this, are you?”

• You know code better than your teenage son.

• You use “I’m working on a blog post” to get out of late night sex - even though you're just on Facebook.

• You’re secretly a little jealous of other blogger’s personal tragedies because you know it boosts their numbers.

• You’re a private citizen, but you have a fan page.

• You believe $5.42 is “revenue.”

The Health Benefits of Pets - Even Guinea Pigs!

Just had to share a great article I read today on HuffPo confirming that pets help children on the Autism spectrum with social skills.

I could have told you this years ago, but I think it's fantastic it's finally been proven.  Even more so because it doesn't specify that the pet has to be a dog.  Not that I don't love dogs.  I grew up with dogs.  But our post-divorce living accommodations are small.

He have guinea pigs.  And we love 'em.  Stinky, smelly, fat and fluffy.  Yes.  A guinea pig is a thing of wonder.  They're the perfect pet.  They're so low on the food chain they have no natural defenses.  That is if you don't all pooping on you a 'defensive strategy.'

(2010) Milo comes home!  So tiny!

Bob loves her piggies.  And they love her back.  In that "Are you feeding me now?  That would be great if you were feeding me now!" kind of way.

And there are lots of pet options.  Just before you plunk down any money anywhere for that purebred Romanian, Red-Crested, Dragon-Headed, Garden Lizard - remember there are SO many abandoned animals who need a good home.  And almost EVERY species of animal has a "Rescue."  Just Google the name of animal you want with the word "Rescue" after it.  Trust me, you'll find one.  Yes, probably even a Romanian, Red-Crested, Dragon-Headed, Garden Lizard.

(2009) Bob and Leo (may he rest in peace.  He was a good pig.  Can't talk about those last weeks...but if you want to READ about them...CLICK HERE)

(2009) Yes...she's wearing a sombrero.  What's she gonna do about it?

Friday, July 27, 2012

Starting Over, Again and Again...

While trying to update my archives on (which is ironic because I haven't even completed the site - OR figured out exactly what I want it to be yet!) when I came across this video I made for for a series called "HerStory."  I had totally forgotten about this video.  It's weird looking back on it.  I seem so focused.  Like I know what I want.  What happened??

Lately I've been feeling like I have somehow lost my focus.   Like I don't know what to do next.  And like I haven't actually accomplished anything of value.

I feel like I have spent my entire life constantly over starting from scratch.  And it's frustrating: I was a literary agent-then I left to go into TV starting over in development; I was a Development Veep then I left to start a blog.  I was a blogger then I wrote a book.  Just as one book is done I write ANOTHER book that has NOTHING to do with the first book so it's like I'm a first time author...AGAIN!  And, of course, let's not forget biggest setback of all which I have to live with daily while trying to deal with all the other setbacks...I have a family, then I get divorced.

Starting over sucks.  Especially when it's all you ever do.  You'd think I'd be good at it by now.

I'm confused about in what direction I should go next, so I certainly have no idea how to get wherever the h*ll it is I should be going!  I'm totally lost right now.

I just need to figure out who I am, what I want and where I'm going.  Yeah.  That's it.  So simple, right?  Crap.

With any luck, I'll figure it out one of these days and I won't ever have to start over again. 

Sorry.  I'm ranting.  Maybe I just need an early cocktail hour today.

Does anyone else out there feel like they are constantly reinventing themselves and in the process don't get anywhere?  I could really use some support right now.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Grilled Cheese and Eric Garcetti - What these two things have in common

I'm not political.

Passionate, but not political. 

I don't read enough papers or watch enough news to feel like I can hold my own in a conversation about politics so when people start talking "candidates" for this or that, I shut my lip-glossed mouth and try to look fascinated so people will mistake me for "informed."

Which I'm usually not.  Cuz I'm kinda shallow that way.  After all, we all know, we can't change anything.  Politicians come and go.  They all do the same thing.  Maybe somebody puts up a stop sign somewhere but nothing changes.  Our schools will still be overcrowded; we'll still desperately need teachers; and the traffic will ALWAYS be backed up from LAX to Mulhulland. 

But when I was invited to lunch at Campanile by my (infinitely more informed) friend Daphne Brogdon of to meet Eric Garcetti, one of LA's Mayoral candidates, I accepted.  Mostly because the grilled cheese at Campanile is CRAZY AWESOME and I would drive MILES to eat it! 

Even if it meant tolerating political conversation.  

Me and my super lovely, grilled-cheese-servin' hostess, Daphne - one of the funniest moms I know.  To read about how we met at Comedy Classes at Acme, CLICK HERE.  It's a pretty good story...

But WOW, I was so glad I went.  They lured me into discussions about important city topics using fig and goat cheese as bait - and I bit.

Eric Garcetti - whom the LA Times called "LA's most likeable candidate" - is a three term member of City Council, a Foster Dad, and - more importantly - also really sick and tired of NOTHING ever changing in LA!

Me and Eric Garcetti - LA's "Most Likeable Candidate for Mayor."

He spoke passionately to us about education and tenured teacher issues.  I loved him.   He had an understanding of how to help make our city stronger and was able to show us how if elected he could actually do something about it!  I couldn't help but feel like maybe Los Angeles has a brighter future with this man at our helm. 

So, at the risk of being political and sounding "involved" (Don't worry, I'm not getting "deep" on you) I just want to encourage you to take a look at Eric Garcetti

He just might actually be the key to turning this city and it's schools around. 

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Sleepaway Camp Explained

The mentality of a parent with a kid at sleepaway camp explained...

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Ahh, Summer. And So It Begins...

I hate summer.

Not the whole summer.  Just the beginning of it.

Every year I start from a place of love.  Ready to accept summer's warm embrace.  I run toward it in slow motion like a reunited lover in an airport arms outstretched my face beaming with excitement...then I trip over someone's luggage, and fall face first next to the baggage carousel.

I'm beginning to think Summer has it out for me.

Of course, this year was no different, except for the happy news nobody had lice...yet.

It started with our eventful trip East last week.

My sister said "take the first flight out of LA in the morning.  That way, you're out before the delays pile up and you still have half your day when you get to NY."  Seemed like sound advice.  And she is my big sister.  Don't all big sisters know best?  So we were all up at 5am.  Packed, dressed and groggy as we shuffled like zombies into the taxivan that came for us at 5:30am.

We got to the airport uneventfully delivered by a surly cab driver who refused to accept payment by credit card and had me diggin' for cash, making me realize I forgot to go to the ATM.  Crap.

We optimistically flew threw security and waited at the gate for boarding to begin.  The kids were so excited.  Even Livi, who refuses to admit to ever being excited about anything, seemed to be brewing with anticipation.  Smiles and happy spins bubbling out of her.  Bob of course, was about to burst at the seams - so psyched to be reunited with her summer buddies.  Ben reserved judgement, as always.

In my celebratory mood, I bought coffee cake and hot chocolates for everyone to eat while we waited to board the plane. 

Once we were in the air, the kids were happily occupied with their in-seat entertainment and barely noticed the hours passed as we were flying.  And flying, and flying...for an unusually long time.

Then we heard "Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking...Due to storms in NY air traffic in and out has been halted.  We've circled as long as we we can and we're out of fuel.  We're being diverted to Dulles Airport in Washington DC."


Bob freaked out.  I popped a Xanax.

As we came for a landing, Scott looked at me with horror filled eyes "We're coming in really hard!!"

"WHAT?!  Don't tell me that!"

"Well we ARE!"

"STOP IT!  hate you for saying that!  Now I'm freaking out!"

He shrugged with a "way to go down in flames, babe" look on his face.

We landed in Dulles.  Alive.

Unfortunately, poor Bob fell apart as she grappled with the massive change in her exciting plans.  She kept going up to the ladies at the desk asking when we were taking off.  It was horrible.  She had tears pouring down her face as the amazing ladies at the Virgin America desk took pity on her and patiently explained how the storm WOULD pass and we would be on our way as soon as possible.  Bob was in tears.  WE'RE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT TO CAMP!!!!!!

"We ARE going to make it!   Just not as early as we'd planned."


"We're not going to miss it.  Camp starts tomorrow.  We'll ABSOLUTELY be there by tomorrow!  I PROMISE!!!!"  Then I pinky-swore promised with her - the highest form of promise you can make - and I PRAYED Mother Nature wouldn't make a liar out of me.

As we waited in Dulles for SOME news (ANY news) we ate burgers and fries, stretched our legs I treated the kids to mini-massages at the massage bar.  I'm so generous when I'm medicated.

6 hours later, 10 Isabel freak-outs and a package of tissues to dry the tears, we got news we were clear to fly again.

Once we finally landed in NY at 11pm we went to pick up our bags at the baggage carousel, where SIX other flights were waiting for their bags too.

The kids were exhausted.  I said to Scott and the kids "At least we were up EARLY!  Imagine if we were on one of the LATER flights!!  We wouldn't be here till TOMORROW!"

That's when the lady next to me said "Actually, I took a later flight from LA.  They circled a bit in the air, but we didn't get diverted."

I'm never listening to my sister again.

An hour later we had our bags.

When we got to Hertz and my name wasn't on the reservation board, despite the fact I had reserved AND PAID for my car rental two weeks before.

I interrupted the guy behind the counter who was busy with some other irritated person and asked  "Um...excuse me, I'm a Gold Club member and I pre-ordered my car. I don't see it on the board."

He said "Are you late to pick it up?"

"Yeah.  Our flight was delayed.  We were supposed to be in 6 hours ago."

"Oh.  It was probably cancelled then."

WHAT??!!  Why would you cancel my reservation?  A PAID reservation?!"

"Sorry.  You'll have to wait in line."


I got in line with all the other plebs.  So much for Gold Member treatment.

The clock passed midnight as the kids sat on the floor, trying to entertain themselves but mostly just poking each other, snapping at each other and falling apart.

We got a car and it was 1 am by the time we got to our friend's house and collapsed into the cozy little nests they had built for us anticipating our arrival.

The next morning we awoke to our friends' kids smiles and pancakes.  All seemed right with the world.

We made it to camp in plenty of time and as we cued up in the long line of cars outside camp waiting for it to open.  Kids hung out of car windows, trolled the car line for old friends, and screeched and screamed upon being reunited.

I thought, "Okay.  Totally worth the headache.  This is going to be great!" 

Then suddenly, in what seemed like a flash, summer had begun as I walked to the car to drive away, my legs gave out under me.  Weak at the thought of leaving all three kids behind at camp. 

I hadn't realized, the 6 hour layover was a gift.

What I wouldn't give for another 6 hour layover with them.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Banana Splits for Dinner

This is such a great idea and a beautiful story from my friend at editor, Rebecca Dube, at, about a mom's wish for her dying son.

All they are asking is that we all put aside the broccoli, pasta, chicken, peas, meatloaf, and yes...even chicken nuggets for ONE NIGHT to have banana splits for dinner with our kids - making a lifetime memory with our own children in honor of her son.

Not that I need much cajoling to eat Ice Cream Sundaes, but what a great reason to do it.  I am so there.

Check out the story HERE, cry your eyes out, then plan this with your kids ASAP.

Friday, June 15, 2012

My Evil Nemesis Has Gone Too Far

I have an enemy and he just crossed the line.

There is this really fat squirrel who lives in the bushes outside my house and we've been at odds since last year's fig harvest.

My fat furry 'friend' has a penchant for fresh figs and last fall when our Black Mission Figs ripened on our fig tree it became a daily fight to see who would get the juiciest figs.

What really annoyed me is, he's discerning.  He wouldn't just grab any fig from the tree.  No.  He would wait it out.  Watch them ripen.  Both of us, waiting for JUST the right moment for picking.  I might leave a fig overnight thinking "it just needs one more day to be perfect" and then find it plucked from the tree the next day.  It's half-eaten figgy carcass left on the wall of the stairway, taunting me.

Occasionally, I would get to the fig first.  And I could see him.  Sitting on his fat furry ass on the wall of our stairway outside - giving me the evil eye.

Everyday of fig season was like this.   And I was REALLY pissed. 

I considered running him over with my car.

Well, the summer figs have come in (they are the harvest before the good ones in the fall) and he's trying to gorge himself.  Testing them for ripeness.  Trying to get to them before I do.   Unfortunately, because they're not very good he leaves the partially 'tasted' figs all over the stairway.  He's clearly, plucking, sniffing, and scoffing.  Littering the stairway to my home with rejected figs.  Reminding me, "it's ON!"

But yesterday, Ben slipped on a fig and fell down the stairs.  Luckily, he's fine.  But seriously, this battle has escalated - he's taking out my family members.

Now it's war.

He'd better watch out, cuz I have a full tank of gas.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Instead of packing, I made this video of our hamster, Reggie...

Filmed our hamster on his wheel and put it to music. 

Isn't it kinda a platitude for motherhood?'s over.  Back to packing...

Monday, June 11, 2012

Four Stores and Seven Malls Ago...

I didn't think it was possible, but I hate shopping.  And I have camp to thank for it.

Shopping for three kids for seven weeks of sleepaway camp has pushed me over the edge.

I finally tackled the supply list provided to us by the camp and was more than a little shocked to see the amount of clothing and gear necessary for 3 children to swim all day, play some games and occasionally bathe.

 To give you a better idea - here's just a sampling of what the list suggests three small people need to enjoy their camping experience:

60 pairs of socks
42 pairs of underwear
9 pairs of jeans
18 swimsuits
30 pairs of shorts (9 of which have to be white, 6 red and 9 blue)
60 t-shirts (again, 9 white, 6 red and 9 blue)
36 towels
12 bottom sheets
24 pillow cases
and 12 bottles of sunscreen
and 6 bars of soap

I'm sure there's a partridge in a pear tree in there somewhere.   Although how I'm going to pack livestock is beyond me.

They also suggest each child bring a lacrosse stick, tennis racquet, softball glove, a hockey stick and rollerblades.  Rollerblades!  Seriously?  Where the heck are the kids gonna rollerblade?  In the mess hall?

But I have dutifully made my rounds of every kid's boutique, sporting good store, and Target in a 15 mile radius. And I think we've got everything.  We have purchased t-shirts, swimsuits, gym shorts, sweatshirts, underwear, shin guards, tennis racquets, egg crate mattress toppers, sheets, towels, plastic bins, reusable water bottles, sunscreen and enough socks to foil any plan on the camp laundry's part to de-sockify my children before visiting day. 

My TV room is a piled so high and so deep in camp gear that I'm missing a TV remote and not even bothering to look for it.  It's a needle in a haystack as far as I'm concerned.  I can watch TV when they're gone.

There doesn't seem to be any end in site to the packing and labeling and I'm definitely getting worried I won't get the trunks to camp in time.

To relieve some of my stress I thought it would be funny to hide a plastic cockroach in Livi's bathing suit pile and see what would happen when my nanny - who was kind enough to offer to help me label part of the heap - stumbled upon it.   It was hilarious.   I'm labeling my own clothes now.  

Three more days to finish labeling, piling and get the trunks off and headed East.  Then it's 7 weeks of camp.  7 weeks away from my kids.  7 weeks of silence.


Maybe I can fit myself into one of those trunks.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Fish Funeral

It was only a matter of time.

R.I.P., Rocket, and watch your head on that root in the main line.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Today I am Officially a Children's Book Author!

I am VERY, VERY, VERY excited to announce that ON MY WAY TO THE BATH IS OFFICIALLY ON SALE TODAY!!!!  (I've been waiting for this day for a year and a half!)

" kid's book...great." you think.  And I understand your hesitation.  After all, who wants to read another crappy kids book.  Well, here are just a few of the reviews:

"The precocious, emphatic narration (“I slither off the sofa. I am a snake. I slink, I slide”) and escalating back-and-forth between Livi and her mother will enliven any read-aloud." - Publishers Weekly

Livi may be small, but she knows what she wants, and her determination is to be admired, especially when her real-life skills don’t quite measure up to those of the Livi in her imagination.
- Kirkus Reviews (That's a big trade publication)

This is sure to be a crowd-pleaser in story times, classrooms, and laps everywhere.
- School Library Journal

Even Daily Candy chose it as one of their Top 20 Summer Reading picks!

And if you want a sneak peek, here is the book trailer created by my brilliant illustrator, and friend, Michael Paraskevas:

So buy your copy today! And spread the word if you like what you see!!!  I put a link below to make it oh so easy.  :)

Okay, I'm off to make the rounds of ALL the kids book stores in town and point out my book - like an idiot - to every unsuspecting person I can find!  Wish me luck (and that I don't get arrested!)

xo, Sarah

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