Andrea Summerville of B'Cara Salon trying to make me look like my eyelashes are naturally long for Park Place Magazine.
“What other rooms would you like to shoot in?” the magazine photographer asked me this morning, sweeping her hand toward my family room.
“Uh, well, this is the room I cleaned,” I said, thinking about the little papers from my shredder strewn pretty much all over my office floor and the dining room filled with remnants of The Great Closet Clean-out of 2010.
When she finished taking my photo on the couch, I let her photograph my kids and me in the living room. I didn’t have to move the tape dispensers, which was nice, and nobody reading the magazine article about me and “Mom 2.0″ will see the Pee Wee Herman doll sitting on the coffee table. Not this time, anyhow. (more…)
Smokey the guinea pig loves Men at Work. When she’s a little fussy, my neighbors play that 80’s band’s hit song, “Down Under,” for her, and their new pet instantly calms down. You remember the song: (more…)
That’s not wordless; it’s four words. Uh oh. Now there are more words. Heck, I might as well keep adding words. How about “Who would like one of these for their front hallway?”
I wrote this six years ago for Parenting magazine (which is why it ends sweet.) Now that my kids are tweens (and — gasp! — one’s almost a teen), I’ve updated my list accordingly below.
10 Signs it’s Winter, Mom
You found three mittens in the toy box – and they’re all lefties.
After a month of constant play, your kids’ Hokey Pokey Elmo can no longer put his whole self in.
You wrestle the baby’s snowsuit on, and then he fills his diaper.
You’d gladly send money to help find a cure for Cabin Fever.
Your toes have finally healed after a summer of being stepped on by your toddler.
The sun goes down hours and hours before your kids do.
You wish the stroller had four-wheel-drive.
Don’t worry. The groceries stay nicely refrigerated in the car where you forgot them.
You’ve heard the two words that put fear in the hearts of all mothers: Snow Day.
Hugs are warmer when they’re wrapped in feety pajamas. (more…)
That’s what I wrote in my Facebook status this week when several friends suggested that I post the color of my bra to raise awareness for breast cancer. I did it in solidarity to my sisters — friends, family members and others — who’ve battled breast cancer. Also, to appease the breast cancer gods because, you see, I had radiation to my chest and I am, therefore, at a high risk for breast cancer. (more…)
Yesterday, my mother had yet another box of crap waiting for me. This time, it was filled with six-inch tall cards depicting various sports, clearly a collection I’d decided to invest in after seeing a commercial for them during re-runs of The Brady Bunch. After I let my kids root through them, I plan to recycle them, because I no longer care about high jumpers from 1979 in short shorts. Well, it depends on the high jumper.
But there was also a drinking glass that reads:
Swift Clouds
Division 4
North West Bergen Soccer Association
1978 Champions (more…)
At least my house wasn’t on fire. My neighbor’s house wasn’t on fire, either, but that didn’t stop the fire department from bringing out the big trucks for what turned out to be an overworked motor on the house vacuuming system. As they pulled up in front of my house around three yesterday afternoon, I thought what every busy mother would think: Please don’t block my driveway. (more…)
By the time the boys in front of me at church yesterday got to “forgive us our trespasses,” they really needed it. The older one, likely a college kid, was digging his fingers into his younger brother’s hand throughout much of “The Lord’s Prayer,” a time when we’re all supposed to join hands and ask to be delivered from evil. But on the last day of the holiday break, at least for his high school-aged brother, perhaps they were both being a little evil. I know the feeling. (more…)
