No Day at the Beach

I picked up a gaggle of my oldest daughters' friends from a day at the beach yesterday. They weren't where they were supposed to be, and for a few minutes I couldn't find them. They had wandered off and found themselves (lo and behold) hanging out at a boys lacrosse practice session, a block or two from the lake. When I found them, I was a bit taken aback. There they were in bathing suit tops, "soffee" shorts and flip flops. Their bodies so young and flawless. Not a dimple of cellulite nor a single little fat roll. Their skin still smooth, baby soft and not yet damaged by the sun. Here they are, little girls learning how to walk around in a more womanly skin, and I wonder if they know it. They're still young and innocent in so many ways, but do they know that by wearing their tiny bikini tops and shorts, they are being provocative?

I loaded the group of them into my car, and began my lecture. Half of these girls, I hadn't met, and don't know their families, but I lectured anyway. My main concern was that no one had told a grown-up where they were. But, in addition, they have to be very careful flaunting their stuff around the neighborhood.

A couple girls argued that their moms wouldn't be mad, and for a moment, I thought, can that be true? Sure enough, though, I marched them right back to another girls house,who's mother I had just met, and THANK G-D, this other mom backed me up 100%.

Oh, how I hope I can protect them. But we do have to rely on the good sense of their friend's parents as well. When I'm responsible for someone else's daughter, I have the same expectations of them as I would for my own child. And if I see behavior that is blatantly improper or rude, I don't mind pointing it out. I only hope that the moms of my daughters friends will do the same for me.

Delicious Summer

One of the things I like best about my neighborhood is the lakes and beaches that are here for the residents. For a very reasonable $325 per year, we have tennis courts, basketball courts, playgrounds, well kept common areas, even some community parties. But the best part is the lake. Large and still, with suburban homes surrounding it, our lake is a wonderful place to spend the day.

When the girls were little, we used to spend every summer day on this lovely lake. They learned to swim here, caught tiny tad-poles and smelly snails, we donned safety vests and went canoeing and paddle boating, got more than our share of sunburn, built sand castles and made friends.

We spent the day at the lake yesterday, to celebrate the beginning of summer. It was a perfect day, but bittersweet for me.

This year will be the 5th summer that I have packed my entire family up (okay, we leave the husband at home), and take the girls to overnight camp. Most parents leave their kids there, but I stay up with them, for 8 weeks, working in the arts and crafts department. It's a complete lifestyle change for me, because the girls sleep in bunks, and I sleep in my own private cabin. I do no laundry, cooking, carpooling or major cleaning. My children are occupied, cared for and are having the time of their life. My job is rewarding and fun, I get to get messy and work with a myriad of different craft materials, I supervise a group of about 10 college aged counselors, I get to excercise my creative energy, and spend A LOT of time giggling with one very special girl friend.

The beginning of the summer is always a little tough for me emotionally. For a lot of moms, this is a time to gear up for summer activities, vacations and a slower pace. For me, this time is spent shopping for clothes and socks and bathing suits, labeling everything, foraging through the hall closet praying that I'll be able to find all 9 duffle bags that will need to be packed. Bottom line is, that I am BUSY preparing to move away.

It is this time of year when I look longingly at my flower beds, and feel a tinge of sadness that I won't be home to water and nurture them everyday. I'll miss preparing dinner on our new barbecue, and sitting on our screen porch watching my girls and their friends jumping on the trampoline. I'll miss sipping a glass of wine with my husband when he gets home from work and sharing our stories of the day. I'll miss my morning telephone call to my mom. Not to mention the countless back and forth with my sister. I'll miss General Hospital, (my favorite guilty pleasure), the joy of central air conditioning, my own cooking, carpeting, cleanliness, straight hair, Special K with Red Berries, walking on flat surfaces, my computer, reading stories with Addison at night, manicures, my shower, having someone to snuggle with as I fall asleep, and of course I'll just miss my girls.

It's always sad to leave, and transition into a new lifestyle. But of course we adapt, and our way of life at camp becomes not too bad. Before we know it, 8 weeks fly by and its time to come home and unpack and settle back in.

One of the best things about camp is that moment when we get home. We're filthy and tired, but this is the day I get my life back. I can just be with my girls and appreciate how magnificent they are. Without a summer at camp, I might not understand what a luxurious life I lead. I get to do the cooking. I get to do the cleaning. I get to do the laundry. I get to do the schlepping. And even though, through most of the year, these responsibilities seem thankless, it is at the end of the summer, when I get to do them again, that I can really appreciate how truly blessed I am.

Her story....

She sauntered into the warm soft room. She was so tired, but finally alone. Here she could rest. She didn't feel like eating, so she snuggled down into the soft downy bed she had prepared herself. She liked nighttime best. Nobody watching her. Nobody telling her what to do. Just quiet. This was the time she could take care of her home. But lately, she just wanted to sleep. That feeling in her belly was there again. Sometimes it tickled her, but this time it really hurt. The pressure from the pain was too much, and she tried to push it away. The next she knew, they were there. Four little blind ones. Squealing, and squirming and screaming. Be quiet, she thought, I'm used to having my peace. She approached them, and moved the dirt that covered them, and they latched on. She was able to quiet them. They all slept.

They stayed together, and she realized that this was her calling. This was the reason she was here. She'd make sure to care for them during the day, and at night she would run her errands and bring food home. They would sleep peacefully, and would be safe here in this warm cozy home she was so lucky to find.

They grew so fast. Soon she saw that they looked like her. They liked to cuddle and play. But her favorite thing was to just watch them sleep. They were her world. When her chest became swollen and sore, they would relieve her discomfort, with their sweet suckling.

She was happy, for no one bothered them here. She sometimes heard odd sounds of others chirping away, but in here, it was private. No one could bother them here.

The loud noise shocked her as she fed them that night. This wasn't one of the normal sounds she was used to hearing. This one was closer. She looked up to see him make his way into her home. "No", she thought, "I don't have anything here for you." She screamed, so loudly and fully that she surprised herself with its resonance. As he came closer, she panicked, "you will not hurt my family." She lunged at him , without hesitance, without really thinking about the ramifications. This was her home, these were her children. They will be safe. They will live happy and full lives, and no intruder has the right to take that away from them.

She scratched him first. A long deep scratch along the right side of his face. The shock in his eyes frightened her, and for a moment, she felt sorry for him. The smallest baby whined and she once again was filled with rage. She moved so fast, and with such fury, she didn't give him much of a chance to fight back. She continued to scratch and pull and bite. He moaned and cried for mercy, and finally he was still. He was alive, but so battered, he couldn't move. She slowly walked away from him as he cried for her help and went back to her babies. They snuggled right into her breast and began to feed. She was completely worn out emotionally, but hardly injured. Her babies warm bodies gave her comfort. She fell asleep to the sound of his dying moans.

She awoke in the daylight and to see another visitor come in from the basement of her home. She was so sore and groggy that she didn't react swiftly to this new intruder. He looked around for a moment and then disappeared. Her once safe and private home now felt like a place she could no longer be happy. She tucked her children safely in their beds, and she set off to find a new place to live. She searched and searched for somewhere warm and dry, and finally settled on a fixer upper not too far from where they were currently living. Her spirit lifted, and she was looking forward to telling them the good news that they were going to have a fresh start.

She gleefully climbed up her stairs to her front door, thinking about how happy they were going to be in their new home. As she went to open the door she suddenly heard a loud "SNAP", and then she could no longer move. She couldn't remove her body from the cage that surrounded her. She thrashed along the sides, she scratched at the cold metal walls, she wailed and hissed and screamed, but she was stuck. Her breasts were filling with milk and she knew that her babies were hungry, but she was helpless. She finally fell asleep with the cold metal under her body and her babies' chattering in her mind.

As the sun came up, she heard jubilant voices and activity down below. That moment when she woke up, she had forgotten about her current predicament, and wondered what all the excitement was about. From her high perch, she looked below and saw a group of people, mostly very young, staring up at... her. The realization that she was the source of this excitement made her want to hurt them all.

Soon, she was taken away from her house. Thrown unceremoniously into a hot and smelly trunk. Her chest was so full with milk that when she landed she cried out in pain. And then she was taken away. "Who would take care of my babies?" she thought, "Nobody knows that they are there. How will they eat? How will they bathe? How will they ever grow up without me?" She refused to entertain the thought that they would surely not survive without their mommy.

She was never the same after that spring. She lived a long life in a new place, but stayed to herself, running her errands at night and sleeping throughout the day. She thought about those babies constantly. She would pretend that they weren't dead, as she knew they must be. Instead she lived in a world of fantasy, creating wonderful, fulfilling lives for her children in her mind. She would never forget them, nor would she forget the place that was her first home.





THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO ITS HEROINE, THE RACCOON THAT NESTED IN MY ATTIC. WHAT SHE NEVER KNEW IS THAT HER FOUR BABIES WERE RESCUED THE VERY NEXT DAY. THEY WERE TAKEN TO AN ANIMAL RESERVE WHERE THEY WERE RAISED. WE EXPECT THAT THEY WILL LIVE LONG AND HAPPY LIVES.




Forgive me for this odd and poorly written short story. We've had a lot of raccoon excitement in the house, after discovering last week that a mommy and babies were nesting in our attic.

Since having had her removed, I cannot stop thinking about her and what she might be going through. I had to write the story to clear it from my head.

xxoo....(now, i can finally fall asleep)

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

We went to the orthodontist today, "an emergency" visit to repair a broken bracket. I love these visits (I better, with $9,000. worth of bills hanging over my head) because they have THE BEST magazines in the waiting room. Come to think of it, with the cash flowing through this office, they should be giving pedicures and serving lattes...

Magazine reading isn't something I get to do often. It's a treat and a luxury. So I eagerly step in to Dr. S and J's office, quickly rifle through the stacks for interesting magazines I haven't yet seen, plop myself in a chair and bury my head in delicious peace.

I would like to say I found an interesting article, but truthfully, I believe this particular article found me. It was entitled "Who's in Charge Here " - and illustrated with an image of a mom being dwarfed by her little girl. A quiz was included, to ascertain whether or not the reader acted as a parent...or a friend.

Of course, I thought, "I'm no friend, I'm the mom. I'm the boss."

• "Is it more important for your child to like you or respect you?" Um, a little of both???
• "Do you like the same music?" Well, so what? I'm youthful and fun.
• "Do you confide in your child?" Well, not really; but last night I did tell her a juicy piece of gossip...(okay, I was tired and used poor judgment; and no, I'm not going to share that gossip here)
• "Do you punish your child and then later give them a little treat, to soften the blow?" Oh boy. Guilty as charged. Really guilty.

I'm a softy. I don't like to make waves. I don't like disharmony. So I placate, calm and smooth, much like my flat iron smooths the kinks out of my hair. The problem is, the kinks will always come back, and the iron will eventually damage my hair. Much like my flat iron, my actions are a temporary fix, but larger problems will most definitely ensue.

One of my girls tested me tonight. And I acted immediately. Privileges were taken away, and I firmly and calmly made my point. Her tactics tested but didn't soften my resolve. Anger, tears, apologies, even charming smiles were sent my way to convince me to reinstate her computer and cell phone access.

Then, I spoke. It wasn't easy, and it didn't feel natural. But I told her the following:

I AM NOT YOUR FRIEND. I AM YOUR MOTHER. IT DOESN'T MATTER TO ME THAT YOU ARE ANGRY, BECAUSE YOU NEED TO LEARN TO RESPECT...YOUR PARENTS, YOUR TEACHERS AND MOST OF ALL YOURSELF. I DON'T CARE THAT YOU CAN'T GO ON YOUR MYSPACE, AND IT DOES NOT MATTER THAT YOU CANNOT POST AN "AWAY MESSAGE" ON YOUR AIM. INSTEAD, YOU CAN SIT AND THINK ABOUT WHAT DRIVES ME TO TAKE AWAY THESE PRIVILEGES, AND HOW YOU CAN AVOID THIS IN THE FUTURE.

I very much care what people think about me. I want people to think of me as kind, loving and fun. But I think I've made the mistake of putting my children into this general category of "people". Of course, I recognize they are people. Beautiful, smart, adorable, fun and energetic people. But I am the mother. I am the grown-up. And it's okay for my kids to NOT like me now and then.

I recently participated in a family workshop at our synagogue with my oldest. The subject this month was the holiday of Shavuot, which celebrates Moses' receiving the Ten Commandments. The wonderful instructor likened G-d's commandments to parental rules. A very bright and astute 13 year old girl understood. She said, because of the rules in her home, it gives her a sense of security and love. G-d has given us these commandments to give us that same sense of security and love.

I believe it was "beshert"(meant to be) that this article found me today. I will remember its lesson now and in the foreseeable future, as I parent teens. I hope she'll always love me, because I'll love her (all of them, in fact) forever; but I also hope that once in a while, she won't like me very much. And maybe one day, when she's all grown up, I'll be lucky enough to finally graduate from being her mother and her disciplinarian to just being her mother and, if I'm very lucky...her friend as well.

American Idol is Not for Kids

I am sitting alone on my couch watching the American Idol. I'm completely obsessed with it. When the girls were younger, we would all watch together, and even bicker over who to vote for. Now, 6 years later, they simply don't care at all. Sydney's busy on the computer, Hayley's upstairs, probably talking on her cell, and Addie's busy with another art project.

Am I really the target audience for American Idol? Why is it, that the kids are so disinterested while a middle aged woman (and most of my friends, for that matter) are so eager not to miss a minute? I'm pretty sure, I'm not what they had in mind when they first conceived of the show.

How did I become an undesirable demographic? I swear I thought I'd never be this age. Not that 43 is "so old", but when they start making a big deal about people who are younger than me turning forty, I realize, my ship has sailed!! I already have old people health issues, like high cholesterol. I have hair that needs to be dyed every six weeks or my gray roots make me look skunk-like. And I'm now using the beauty products labeled for "mature skin".

What I remember every day, but I think my daughters couldn't possibly understand, is that I don't feel like I've changed much at all since I was 14. A little more self-confidence and quite a few more pounds, but I look in the mirror and I still see a little girl.

Have you ever met a stranger, who you think must be older than you, and then you come to find out that they are actually 4 years younger? Or, at a high school reunion, do you see old friends and swear, they haven't really changed? When we see strangers, we label them based on their appearance, but with people we know, we see just...them.

I'm sure what people see is a middle aged suburban, soccer mom, but if they really knew me, they'd see a playful, silly, fun-loving, good humored girlie girl. It's all in your perspective.












MATURE MOM V S. GIRLIE GIRL


P.S. VOTE FOR BLAKE :)

One more thing I did this week

Exhausted

Sometimes I get on myself for being lazy. As soon as I take a few minutes of "me" time, I feel the guilt slithering in like a snake about to strangle its prey. But today, I'm physically and mentally spent. As a mom, and I'm sure I'm not the only one, we don't get a lot of time to just "chill". In the past week, I have:

• Hosted a party for 20 people
• Given 8 people birthday gifts
• 4 people mothers day gifts
• Eaten a lot of birthday cake
• Been a hairstylist (i'm a genious with a flat iron)
• Many loads of laundry (but never enough)
• been to the supermarket 4 times
• had a dead raccoon removed from the closet
• celebrated 3 birthday dinners
• dealt with 4 teenage melt-downs
• picked up and dropped off at 8 times at our synagogue
• conference call with the Cantor regarding Bat Mitzvah
• had lots quality time with my family
• did graphic design for stickers and t-shirts related to my business
• cried twice
• found one of my missing Crocs,(thanks to one daughter who cleaned up but throwing it in the bottom of a bag in the bottom of a never used closet)but can't find the other
• Spent 4 hours out of state to picking up leftovers from a recent Camp Snuggly Event
• Spent 14 hours on Saturday working at another Camp Snuggly Event
• Participated in a hebrew school program with my oldest
• Had about 12 kids visiting my yard, now that the Trampoline is in place
• Had countless other children hanging out at the house
• Made 6 jugs of lemonade in one day
• Accompanied one daughter to Storybook Land
• Bathed someone else's child
• Had 2 guidance counselor conferences
• Prepared and cleaned up dinner and desert for 9 girls ages 5 to 13
• Refereed 7 fights
• Started my blog!

Well, I know its not earth shattering. But every once in a while, I need to remind myself that I'm not a slacker. So if no one else is going to pat me on the back, I am going to take this opportunity to do so.

Good for me. And good for every mom. (Waiting mommy's too!)

Giving In

We celebrated Sydney's 12th birthday yesterday. Having spent the day before in NYC and not getting home til well after midnite, left us tired and a little reserved. She decided to forgo (doesn't that look like it's spelled wrong?) the birthday party in exchange for a more elaborate birthday present. This year, the gift was a 15 foot trampoline. Now, I've sworn over and over, that we would NEVER have a trampoline. They're dangerous, for our children and their guests, create an an attractive nuisance (did I mention I was an insurance underwriter in my former life?) and on top of all of that, the next door neighbors have one in their yard. But the girls wore me down. In the end, we decided to go for it, in an effort to get them to spend more time outside and away from more sedentary activities, (i.e. the computer, the tv, etc.).

I'm afraid I'm developing a habit of "giving in" to their wishes and it concerns me. I really have a strong sense of right and wrong, good and bad, but they are always challenging me to look for the compromise.

I have admittedly looked down upon mothers who allow their kids to have a MySpace account, and just a month ago, I gave in, and allowed my girls to "sign in". What I previously considered dangerous, irresponsible and akin to leaving your child in a dark alley in a city ( and I still believe there ARE dangers), I now look upon as a wonderful way for my girls to communicate with friends, express themselves creatively and discover their own identity. Their accounts are "private", which means the only people that have access to their pages are people they invite, and the coolest part is, that I get to be the fly on the wall that I always wanted to be. I can sign in under their names, check their messages, their friends and exactly who and what they are talking about.

Do I always give in? No. I think expensive jeans are stupid, when the Old Navy ones are just fine. When they want a game boy, or ipod or other expensive equipment, they use money they have either earned or received as a birthday or holiday gift. I'm proud to say, we have never had a play station, nintendo, x-box thingy or other video games. When purchasing our last car, we could have upgraded to include a DVD player for the back seat. I believe that your imagination can be nurtured by simply looking out the window. Hayley wants to get highlights in her hair, and I think that at 13, she's got enough years ahead of her to be a slave to hair color, besides, she way too beautiful without. I recently heard about a mom who took her 13 year old and friends for Brazilian bikini waxes. That's outrageous.

I saw the mom of one of the "Barbie Bandits" today on Good Morning America. Remember those two pretty girls who robbed a bank, disguised only with their sunglasses, and then went to get highlights? The mom was devastated by her daughter. She spoke about how she was so involved with her daughter and always tried to teach her right from wrong. She was so sincere, and any mother could relate to her. Her daughter, however, giggled throughout her interview, as if she thought the whole incident was hilarious. She expressed remorse, though acted as if it were a simple little practical joke. At a certain point, even a concerned and caring mom can't control her daughter's choices.

Raising daughters who don't know right from wrong, feel entitled, and have little respect for property and other people is a great fear of mine. I believe that by constantly "giving in", this is what you can create in a person. This is exactly what I define as harder than colic.

I'll try to stay strong, and take each day, (and request) as they come. I'm a softy, but I'll try to picture the "Barbie Bandit" whenever I feel like my foundation is weakening. Once in a while, though, I'll probably give in, but I can assure you, there will be no Brazilian waxing anytime soon.

Brushes with Fame

Yesterday was a day to remember for sure. The morning included the removal of a dead raccoon from my attic (it had been murdered by a fellow raccoon in what I believe was a case of raccoon domestic violence), Gregg's Birthday, a trip to NYC, an assault on our car by a nasty kid at 52nd and 9th, a fabulous italian dinner (with Auntie Wendi) made more complete by cannoli's and tira misu, a walk through Times Square in the pouring rain, a visit to the M&M Store on Broadway (the stupidest store I've ever been in), orchestra seats for all of us to see Legally Blonde, the Musical (in celebration of my daughters birthday which happens to be today) (LOVED IT!!!), Melinda getting voted out (didn't see it, but heard...wow), and a bona fide brush with fame.

As we made our way back to our car after the show,Legally Blonde, the Musical (did I mention I LOVED IT!!!), we passed the theater that houses Hairspray A crowd had gathered at the stage door to greet the cast after the show. When the screaming ensued, we knew it must be someone famous. Who was it? ASHLEY PARKER ANGEL! Oh mi-god! Oh-mi-god! Oh-mi-god you guys! (if you've seen Legally Blonde, you would, like, totally think the oh-mi-god reference was very clever). Anyway, I believe I've heard of him, but really didn't know much about him. But, with everyone screaming and carrying, my sister and I joined in like a couple of 12 year olds. Somehow, we got his attention, and let him know it was Sydney's birthday, and he was so kind, and he let us take a picture. My daughter walked away shaking and in tears, completely in disbelief over her good fortune. What a great birthday present.

Seeing her meet a celebrity (for probably the first time in her life, unless you count Minnie Mouse and the other characters at Disneyworld), made me start to think about chances I've had in my life to meet famous (or semi-famous) people. I spent the 90 minute ride home from NYC recounting my own brushes with fame. I thought I'd share them here. In chronological order.

Wee Willy Weber - Wendi was a audience member at the philly based kids show when she was a little girl. I remember being very young and being plucked out of my mommy's arms and crying when he held me. (I'm not even sure that happened just like that, but I know I cried around Wee Willy Weber) My age: 2 (?)

Bozo I got to be in the studio audience of his show. I wore my brownie uniform, because I thought it might make him notice me. It must of worked, because I got picked out of the audience to play a game with him. My age: 8

Hubert Humphrey - my parents let me shake his hand at a political event. I wore a white and pink floor length gown. He reminded me of my grandfather. My age: 9

Cher (but not Sonny) - We saw them in concert at the Valley Forge Music Fair. Afterwards, we had dinner and there she was in the same coffee shop. She graciously gave me her autograph on a napkin. It was illegible.
She was sitting without Sonny (must have been trouble in paradise by then) and having dinner with a then up and coming comic (who had been her opening act). His name was:



David Brenner - didn't get his autograph. he was, however, wearing a one piece red jumpsuit. Even at the age of nine, I recognized that was a little creepy looking.

John Travolta (HUGE event in my life!) I was a 13 year old girl, John was the twenty four year old star of Welcome Back Kotter. This was before Saturday Night Fever, before Grease, before he was a household name. He was not John Travolta, he was VINNIE BARBARINo. My dad took my friend Janet and some other girls and me to the Variety Club Telethon (hosted by Monty Hall), because we heard that Vinnie was going to be there. I brought a box of pennies that I had saved and a huge poster that said (in crayon) "We Love You, Vinnie". We somehow got to the front of the autograph line, at which time I completely fell apart and professed my undying love for this man, over and over again. I must have been completely hysterical, because he actually leaned over and touched my arm (in an attempt to calm me, I can only assume). He signed the poster, "I love you, too - John Travolta". Just thinking about that still gives me the goosebumps.

Tovah Feldshuh - (movie and Broadway actress) Went with Irisa and a group of her friends to see her in "Peter Pan". We were asked to interview her after the show for a radio program. I was flummoxed, and couldn't squeak out any questions. Irisa however was incredibly eloquent, and I felt like a mute. I somehow never got over that. My age: 15

Kin Shriner - (Scotty Baldwin from General Hospital) -
Wendi and I went to see him at a question and answer session in Atlantic City. Wendi even got to go on stage with him and act out a scene. I choked, in very much the same way as I did when I met Tovah Feldshuh. But I think I got a birthday kiss from him. My age: 18

Nancy Walker

saw her walking down the street in NYC with my parents. She looked very well-to-do. My mother started screaming, "Rhoda's mother! Rhoda's Mother", my father thought she was talking about her friend Rhoda, not realizing she was talking about the fictional character, Rhoda Morgenstern. My age: 18

The Grateful Dead, Tina Turner, Lionel Richie, Robert Hazzard, The Hooters, - (Okay, I didn't actually meet them, but I did work for a caterer and we catered the food service at their concerts. ) (That counts as a "brush", doesn't it?) My age: 20-ish

Charles Barkley and some of his basketball friends- he showed up at a bar I was at. Had no idea who he was, except that a bunch of people were crowding him. Completely went up and made a stupid fool out of myself, telling one of his companions, "You're really tall, you should play basketball". My age: 23

Mario Cantone: (Comedian and actor from Sex and the City)

Earlier in his career, my sister was somehow acquainted with him. We saw him perform at a comedy club, and then drove him to his next show at a different club. We played a silly song parody that I actually taped at a mall recording studio, and he laughed like he really thought it was funny. My age: 26

Miss America 1991 - Marjorie VincentShe was signing autographs at the car show, and since we were there, and since I've been a Miss America Wannabe for as long as I can remember, I couldn't help standing in line to get an autograph. I choked (again...see Tovah Feldshuh and Kin Shriner) When she asked me my name for the autograph, I could barely say it. That's pathetic.

Blair Underwood

- Didn't meet him, but I was on the phone with my sister, when he happened to walk by her office. (At the time she worked at a NY radio station he was visiting). Wendi said, "Gotta go, Blair Underwood just walked by." I said, " You don't tell me Blair Underwood walked by and then just hang up on me, that's not fair." So she grabbed him, and put him on the phone with me. I cannot remember the conversation, probably because I was pregnant with my first at the time. My age: 29

Tammy from The Real World -
Pretty much the same thing happened. My age: 29

Is that guy on the top right Simon Cowell?

Steven Baldwin

- (or one of the other Baldwins, but not Alex) -
We were with my parents, sister, Cousin Karen and kids in NYC. We hailed cab for my parents, which pulled over. As they were slowly making their way into the taxi, Steven Baldwin appears out of nowhere and jumps in. As the car took off, we were hysterical that Steven Baldwin stole the cab from a couple of AARP members. Seconds later, the cab stopped, he got out, and made sure my parents got their rightful ride. My age: 34IT WAS ONE OF 'EM

Jerry Seinfeld - Taking a walk with my sister and my sister-in-law Debi, we looked up and saw Jerry. He was with what looked to be a bodyguard(see photo above) Debi and I started running after him like fools, trying to get a picture. We couldn't. My age: 39

There are more, I'm sure, but I my brained has just been fried.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SYDNEY......

Class Trip

Every year, the kindergarten class gets to go on a class trip to "Storybook Land". Today was my youngest daughter's turn to experience this special rite of passage. I have had the pleasure now of escorting each of my girls on this special class trip, and it is impossible for me not to think about each one today.

To preface, Storybook Land is a mini theme park not far from Atlantic City. It's a magical place. It's been around for about 50 years, and seriously, you get the feeling that nothing has changed in all that time. Cheesy displays of Mother Goose and Fairy Tale Characters pepper the park. For instance, you can get a peak of The Three Little Pigs, that look like they were created by an unremarkable third grader, in the window of their strong brick house. A red button "animates" them when pushed, and a creepy version "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf" plays over and over again from the roof. Imagine any other fairy tale, and there is an equally low-tech display to enjoy.

This is so unlike Disney, which is so slick and stylized, but not all that dissimilar in the feeling you get when you are there. It's nostalgia, pure and simple, and joyful fun for your child. (I highly recommend the trip!)

With my oldest daughter (now 13), when it was time for her first class trip, I eagerly volunteered to be a chaperone. I couldn't believe I was actually chosen for this honor, how lucky can a mommy get? About 40 seconds after I stepped onto the school bus, I realized why no one else volunteered. The sheer decibel of the kindergarten noise gave me an instant headache. I was assigned to 4 children that day, and it was my responsibility to keep them safe. Hayley, her little friend Erica and two boys that had recently come to the United States from China. They were boys, and I was (and still am) clueless how to deal with boys, and even more challenging, they spoke very little English. In fact, when I asked one of the boys if he'd had fun, he responded, "I don't know this word "fun". It was an exhausting and difficult day for this new mommy.

The very next year, my middle daughter (now 12) got to go to her class trip. This time, I had a nursing 3 month old in tow, so I dared not volunteer to chaperone. Instead I followed behind the school bus and met them at the park. This time, her chaperone was a woman I'd never met before, who was more interested in spending time with her friend than spending time with the children. They were both fabulously attractive and well dressed, and I felt like an imposter. In addition, I couldn't keep up so well with my group, having to stop and nurse and change diapers. I ended up leaving early, feeling very disappointed in myself and very ashamed of the fact that I was no supermom, like I really wanted to be.

This year, when my youngest came home with her teacher's note about the trip, I made sure not to volunteer to chaperone. (I'm too smart to put up with that more than once in my life!) But I cleared my schedule so I could follow the bus and meet them there. To be honest, I wasn't all that excited about going. It's a very busy month for me work-wise, and on top of that, my hubby's birthday is tomorrow and my middle daughter's birthday is the next day. I have a bad habit of just wanting to hibernate when things get crazy, and that's how I've been feeling. But as soon as I saw my little girls beautiful little face appear in the entry to the park, a wave of calm came over me. We just had fun together. We got to go on every ride, see all the sights and enjoy gorgeous weather, and be silly with her friends. I'm glad I was able to feel relaxed for the first time in a while, and to just enjoy the day. And I was glad that she and I could share "special time" together. No phones, no computers, just us.

Every time we visit this magical little place, I take a picture of the kids next to humpty dumpty. Today was no exception, and I'm glad to share this photo today. (My little one is on the left.)

BAT MITZVAH GIRL

Today marks the anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah. 30 years, believe it or not. I'd like to thank my oldest friend Irisa for remembering this date, and calling me to wish me Happy Anniversary of Your Bat Mitzvah. (Are there cards for that? There should be. Let's see, Wendi: April 19, 1974; Irisa: October 22, 1977, Me: May 14, 1977. I really don't know any others, but I can recite the first three lines of Wendi's Haftorah).

So, at dinner tonight, I said to the girls (who are both studying for their b.m.'s which will be in March), the following:

ME: Today is the 30th anniversary of a very important event for me. Can anybody guess what it is? (Now they are both intelligent, and sort of educated, so you would think it would dawn on one of them)

DAUGHTER: (to remain nameless) Was this the day you and daddy met?
ME: NOoooooo (please note: that was 18 years ago, I didn't meet him in middle school)
DAUGHTER: Was this the day you went into labor with me? (please note: she is to turn 12 this week, not 30)
ME: Noooooo
DAUGHTER: I know, this is the anniversary of the Holocaust ending. (Um, not quite, but I'm quite impressed that she's thinking that broadly)

So there you go. Apparently the thirty years since my becoming a woman is an unimaginably long amount of time for a young girl. Amazing. Because to me, I can still remember thinking that the day of my Bat Mitzvah would NEVER come. And to me, I can still feel the hurt that the boy I kind of had a crush on spent the time at the reception talking to his "girlfriend" on the payphone. And most of all, I still feel the sting of disappointment and disbelief when I picked up the phone in my kitchen that morning, and I heard my Grandmom tell my Mother, that she couldn't be there at my Bat Mitzvah. (My grandfather had suffered a small stroke just days before.) I remember her telling my mom that her place was with him. Not with us. My mom wore sunglasses the whole day, so no one would see her eyes swollen with tears.

I never realized it before, but maybe that WAS the day I became a woman. Or just a little more grown up. Because in that moment, listening to my grandmother's voice, I realized that she WAS where she was supposed to be, and I really understood her pain. I don't know that a little girl would understand as well. So I guess in a way, I really did grow up that day.

And now I am my mother, planning my daughters' bat mitzvah(s) and praying that my daughters don't have to learn the same lesson that I did.

So there you go.

Happy Mother's Day to Me?

I am at the end of a long and adventurous Mother's Day. We had twenty people over for lunch, and I'd like to thank the kitchen staff at Short Hill's Deli for slicing up some fine meat. (Wendi would like to especially send her gratitude to the Pickle chef, because I think she single handedly nailed about 2 dozen pickles.)

Mother's Day has always been a great source of stress for me. Because we have two mom's, a step-mom and a grand-mom to celebrate on Mom's Day, my Mother's Days wants and needs are always somewhat peripheral to the overall celebration. Each of these mom's have different requirements. My mom prefers to eat out on Mother's Day. My mother-in-law prefers NOT to go out on Mother's Day, because restaurants are so crazy. To complicate matters, we have about 5 additional family birthdays in May. (I usually say that because of all the presents to buy, May is my own personal December).

I just want everyone to be happy. So I usually volunteer to have everyone at my home, just so we can all be together, and so Gregg, the girls and I don't have to run around visiting everyone separately on Mother's day. It's great to have the house full, it makes it feel like a home. But to be honest, my ideal mother's day would be spending the afternoon with my mom and my three girls, (and yes, my sister), just going to the movies or having a girlie lunch together.

Nevertheless, we had a picture perfect day. The best part, and I mean the very best part was the video my girls made me. So precious. I will post it as soon as I figure out how to. But the wrote me a song, and made a little movie. The most rewarding part was seeing them co-operating and being creative together. Besides that, my Addie (age 6) made me some adorable presents at school. Key chains, jewelry boxes, beautiful cards. But I (must admit my favorite gift from her was the beautifully decorated golden crown. I wore it for the better part of the day, and I did feel very much like a queen.

The final and most beautiful part of the day was the walk I took with my husband and my littlest daughter (and the two scruffy mutts). We meandered down to the lake in our neighborhood, and passed a horse drawn carriage clip-clopping its way down the street. (I don't know why). It was miraculous and strange to see such a thing in our little suburban neighborhood. I sat on the park bench at the lake and watched from afar as Gregg and Addie skipped stones into a pond. I didn't have my camera, but I tried to take a picture in my head. The sun shining through Addie's thick wavy hair., Gregg in his shorts, looking not much older than the day we met 18 years ago. He plays so beautifully with his little girl. So much better than I do. I'm not nearly that much fun. But in that moment, she got a memory. A simple few minutes with her daddy. No whining, no crying, no phones ringing, no computer, no telephone. Just pure and unadulterated sweet fun. I want to be able to give them each more of that, I just have to remember to more often.

Okay, well it's late, I'm tired.



That's all!!!

L stands for Loser

Okay, we have established that Wendi is the only reason for me to do this blog. She is my total obsession, clearly. In addition I'm totally spending too much time on this, BLOGTHINGS website that gives little test that tell me all about myself (by the way, according to one test I took, I am a genius in verbal and mathematical ability, but below average in logic...lololol.)

So, anyway, (and Wendi is maybe the only human who will appreciate this), I took a test about where I should travel, and this was my answer....

You Should Travel to China

China can satisfy your craving for many travel opportunities in one trip. You can hang out in modern Shanghai, walk along the great wall, or visit sacred mountains.

What Asian Country Should You Visit?

I may have too much time on my hands

I must be a big bore, because I just found this cool place on the web that has all these silly little quizzes, and then you post them on your blog. Isn't that the most insignificant piece of information you've heard today? I think this may be better than "My Heritage" but maybe not as good as "You Tube". Anyway, surprise, surprise this is the Sex and City Character I am most like:



You Are Most Like Charlotte!
You are the ultimate romantic idealist
You've been hurt before, but that hasn't caused you to give up on love.
If anything, your resolve to fall in love is stronger than ever.
And it's this feminine optimism that men find most appealing about you.


Romantic prediction: That guy you are seeing (or crushing on)?

Could be very serious - if you play your cards right!

Which Sex and the City Vixen Are You?

Colic Was Easier

Okay, this is a new blog, compliments of my sister, Wendi (theblessingthatislia.blogspot.com). I was lamenting last week that now that my daughters are post diaper, nursing, preschool, sippy cup, cheerios, I am now faced with a whole host of new concerns. Boys, for one, friends, peer pressure, school, MySpace, Ipods, Cell Phones, Text Messaging, staying up late, staying up late and text messaging and then going on MySpace, sleepovers...I could go on and on. My most current state of mind is, "wow, colic was easier". Sure, they kept you up all night crying, and it was frustrating, and nothing seemed to help, and it seemed like it would never end; but looking back, it was a time of innocence. We were young parents, trying to be perfect, to do the right thing, and we had this little person who we had a lot of control over. She wore what I picked out, we went to the places mommy and daddy picked. We were never bored, because sometimes just staring at each other was the most exciting part of the day. We had this whole future to imagine. Was she going to be sporty or girlie, tall, short, smart, silly, friendly? Would she be the things I never was? Would she like gym class? Would she be good in math? Would she have a flat stomach and thin thighs? Would she pick up her clothes and not leave them on the floor when she is 14? Would she be tall? Would she be able to turn a cartwheel? Would she be the things I was? Would she love silly showtunes and theatre? Would she like art? Would she be a good sister? Would she have wonderful friends that she treasured? Would she find a wonderful husband? (I did by the way.)

Anyway, this is a new beginning in my life. I now have a teen. Actually three girls, ages 13 1/2, 12 and 6. I'm in up to my elbows, and I'm looking for a handbook. I just don't get to the bookstore that much. I thought journaling my own journey might help me open my eyes. Maybe this blog can be the good friend that's always there, always there to listen. That's why I'm doing this.

I dare not "advertise" this amongst my family and children. I don't want their privacy intruded upon. This is about them, but more about me, and how I deal with motherhood. Quite fitting, I'm sure that tomorrow is Mother's Day.

So for right now, that's it.

xxoo

P.S. I love you Wendi.