DON'T EVER CALL ME A SOCCER MOM!

"Mom, I am beginning to doubt that Santa is real"

2010-05-11T00:25:00.000-04:00

These are the words many parents dread hearing, and today, I heard them uttered from my 6 year old (#2). Actually, the quote was, "Mom, I am having a serious issue. I am having real doubts about Santa. I think the parents bring the gifts and there is no Santa". It was at this precise moment my catholic husband called, and I diverted the topic.

My ambivalence towards Santa is something I feel I must explore and share. Growing up Jewish in America, you can be a bit envious of your friends who celebrate Christmas. (Check out the South park song where Kyle sings, "It sucks to be a Jew on Christmas"...... Santa, lights, carols, a tree, all the traditions seemed so fun. Don't get me wrong, Hanukkah was always fun, but never had the sparkly commercial allure of Christmas. Thus, my sister and I took it upon ourselves to decorate our 80's contemporary home with cheesy judaica, including tinsel on a ficus, which we proudly called our Hanukkah tree.

The jolly man in the red suit, he was a most alluring figure in November and December. There is a place called "Santa Land" in North Carolina, where we owned a second home. That was a fun destination but I do not understand why my parents ever agreed to take us there, afterall, we did NOT believe in Santa. There was a part of me that loved all the Christmas Specials, especially the ones about Santa. Santa seemed cool to me growing up, even though I didn't "believe".

So fast forward to the day I decided to marry a catholic. Since I am fairly a-religious, there were not a lot of issues surrounding our distinctive religious backgrounds when we decided to marry. I knew we would celebrate holidays from both religions, including Christmas. This meant that the day I bore children, I would start the lie of Santa. I have been told by many other ways to look at this tradition as a rite of passage, a telling of Saint Nicholas, but really, I think it's a big fat lie.

And this is really where I start to defend my tribe. At holiday times, I think the Jews got it spot on with the traditions, which are much more respectful to the parents, a jewish tradition, right? You see, for the past 8 years, I do not earn the credit or thanks from my kids for gifts there arrive via magical Santa. Also, I have to hide these gifts somewhere in my house so the kids don't find them---this is no easy task. Yes, Hannukah gifts can be hidden, but better, they can be wrapped and shown in the house where your kids can salivate over them for days. AND, then I field lots of questions, like, why can't Santa bring me Mind Bender? Or, Why did Santa make Zhu Zhu pets with poison in them? or Why doesn't Santa bring gifts to less fortunate kids? and the favorite, Is Santa Real? Happily I can say that I have never actually lied when answering these questions, I just don't give absolute answers. And, on a side note, gifts have more impact when they are opened one a day, than 10 in one day, or one hour........

But back to Santa: I have never told my kids Santa is real, yet I do continue the "magic of Christmas" with half eaten cookies, reindeer noises, and notes from beloved jolly man. And I do this out of respect for my husband's traditions, but now I am faced with a quandry. Do I tell #2 the truth?? Do I perpetuate this lie? I have surveryed my gentile friends (which comprises 99% of my friend base), and I am told to go with it, that one day all kids realize their parents aren't perfect, and that day being the one where they realized their parents lied to them for years and Santa isn't real (nor the Easter Bunny, tooth Fairy, or Leprechauns).

But at 6, I am not sure I am ready to destroy his Santa world.....It is my suspicion that a child got word that Santa is a farce, and shared this on the school bus. It is also my suspicsion that #1, who is 8, has known this for years, but fears that if he speaks up, he will no longer receive gifts? So where does this leave me??? I am not comfortable lying, it's not my bag baby, so I think I am going to destroy #2s world tomorrow and let the chips fall where they may......Ho Ho Ho, perhaps I can find a way to make it jolly........

MY DENTIST WAS A SADIST

2010-04-21T16:12:00.000-04:00

As an adult, I can make decisions about my own "pain management". On this particular day, I chose to inhale nitrous oxide while sitting in my dentist's chair as she drilled away an old amalgam filling. In fact, anytime I am subjected to the dentist (not the hygienist for cleaning), my pain management of choice is nitrous oxide with a dash of traditional novocaine. Because I have the worlds UNHEALTHIEST teeth (we will get to that), I have had the displeasure of seeing many dentists and endodontists over my life time.
Much to my surprise, anytime I am with a new doctor, and request nitrous oxide, they look at me like I have two heads. Once, an endodontist told me he NEVER administers nitrous, so I told him he would NEVER root canal my tooth. Within minutes, a canister of nitrous magically appeared and I was off to la-la land as he dug away at my roots. Now, how is it he NEVER administers nitrous, yet has it conveniently on hand? Hmmmm, not sure what that guy does in his spare time, but I can only say he had to re-treat my canal TWICE and it stills seems problematic after five years.

For the last 20 years, I have had a dentist who I will call Dr. X. I loved going to Dr X!! Dr X ALWAYS provided a walkman with a cassette tape and I ALWAYS chose The Beatles Greatest Hits: 1967 - 1970 (aka: The Blue Album). In case The Beatles weren't enough, he had a trippy mobile (think Miro) hanging from his ceiling which I gazed at happily as I drifted off into nitrous land. One time, Dr. X performed a root canal and I actually fell asleep during the procedure because I was so relaxed!!!

Last year, sadly, Dr. X stealthily retired and he passed me on to the woman who took over his practice. Alas, his son never fulfilled his dream of taking over the practice, instead choosing the career of tennis-pro in Florida. When I met the new Dentist, I was wary.....we had never met and she was about go into my mouth with a drill. Much to my surprise, she passed the Nitrous test. When I told her that I required nitrous before any procedures she didn't even lift an eye brow. We have a great relationship. My teeth suck (lots of work for her) and I get all the nitrous my body can handle in the time allotted on the chair.

Today, I provided my own tunes (Ben Folds, Songs for Silverman) and I happily reclined in her chair, floated around, as she drilled the crap out of my molar. During the procedure I had a sudden thought about my love for the nitrous/novocaine combo. 'Thought' is too mild, let's call it a haunting flashback, to 1984. ----But a quick background: as a newborn, I contracted Salmonella poisoning, and posted a fever for days over 106 degrees F. This high fever, having lasted over 4 days, affected the development of my adult teeth, namely my enamel. Thus, I am prone to the worst sort of tooth decay out there.

Until 1984, I reveled in perfect teeth. I was given sealants and never saw a cavity in my life. It was that year that my braces came off, and I learned the damage done by those metal racks! During my first post-braces appointment, the dentist (call him Dr. S&M) discovered 11 cavities in ONE VISIT. This may sound strange but prior to this time, I was unable to have x-rays because of the metal mouth. Additionally, I was 14 years old, experiencing hormonal changes, and boom, the perfect dental storm occurred. Not to totally destroy me, Dr. S&M spanned the fillings over several visits.

My mom requested that I have novocaine administered on my first filling, but Dr. S&M declined. I specifically recall Dr. S&M telling my mom that the cavity wasn't deep and that novocaine was not necessary. How Dr. S&M was allowed to proceed, I will never know, but he did. That FUCKER drilled my top right front tooth, and I nearly popped out of my body in excruciating and unfamiliar pain. I have since forgiven my mom for allowing this to happen. Dr. S&M WAS NOT FORGIVEN and we never returned to his practice.

After this experience, I met Dr. X, and it was a marriage made in heaven. He introduced me to nitrous AND novocaine, and I have never looked back. I wonder how many of you readers have ever endured a sadistic and evil dentist?

Today I looked into the Crystal Ball

2010-02-27T21:10:00.002-05:00

GG with #3, Christmas 2008

My family's Great Grandmother "GG" passed away several months ago. She was a spitfire woman who never seemed to slow down. She survived cancer, removal of a lung, and a stroke. She had 20 lives, and lived each one with Verve. One time, she wrote a letter to the president of the Dominican Republic because she felt the service in the airport was subpar. She owned a house in Casa De Campo. The president wrote a letter back, personally apologizing for the err of his ways. When GG spoke, you listened, and sometimes bowed down.

This past week, I was reminded of GG in a rather funny way. About 12 years ago, I was apartment/house hunting for a place to live with hubby. GG still had her real estate license, and offered to show us some apartments for rent around the Greenwich area. When I went to meet GG to apartment hunt, much to my chagrin, 77 year old GG told me to step away from my car, as she was driving. So, I parked my sporty car, with air bags and safety features, and hopped into GG's boat: An oldsmobuick cadillac type boat, with no modern accoutrements.

At 77, GG didn't turn her head to back out of parking spaces, never went near the 25 mile per hour speed limit, and certainly didn't check before changing lanes. Who could bother, right?? That shit hurts when your older. Besides, the oldsmobuick cadillac screams "ELDERLY DRIVING, GET OUT OF MY WAY", and that's just what people did--- Not without letting their feelings be known, usually in the form a a bird. Since GG didn't turn her head much, she never saw these expressions of communication, and nor do I think she would have cared. And perhaps her hearing wasn't quite what it once was, because she never seemed to notice the horns, either. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, right? I held on for the ride, prayed, and made it out alive. GG had that driver's license until she was 86, when her stroke took away some freedoms, and even though that ride scared the shit out of me, more power to her.....

This past week, I had the displeasure of driving a car with a donut tire:

The first time was last weekend, 60 miles round trip, to a tire warehouse to replace the tire. Because I am in Vermont, and they apparently haven't heard of Mercedes Benz here (nor the tires that go along with it), I had to take the donut around for another spin back to The Coop. I ventured out a second time today to get a new tire. I drove it 78 miles to have it fixed in NY state where, apparently, they have heard of Mercedes Benz. My quest was successful and the car now has four matching tires:

The process of driving with a donut, especially in snow, is a slow one. A process which, apparently, Vermonters, New Yorkers, and New Jersians have little patience for. At 40 MPH, in a 50 MPH zone, the birds were set free!! Right out of their pick up trucks, SUVs, VW sedans, Hondas, you name it, birds birds birds, oh my! Last week, when I should have been skiing in newly fallen snow, I was driving the donut benz to the background of birds and horns. I decided to channel GG. I mean, if she could deal, so could I. I am not a road rager, so hey, why not laugh? And laugh I did! Perhaps it doesn't sound funny, but the thought of me driving under a speed limit is, and the thought of people getting angry about it, well I was truly laughing so hard, I almost cried. It didn't hurt that I was on the phone (hands free of course) with my HILARIOUS roommate from high school, and she enjoyed the bird procession as much as I did.

Today, I was almost giddy with excitement of the prospect of driving 78 miles with the donut. I have good karma, and didn't think about the fact the 50 mile donut had over 80 miles on it. All I could do was anticipate seeing more birds and hearing more horns. And people did not disappoint. I decided to keep track of the origins of the birds, like an anthropological experiment. The break down is as follows:
New York State (only on the Vermont side): 6 Birds and one horn
New Jersey: 3 birds, no horns, BUT, lots of passing on double yellow lines, an added treat!
Vermont: 1 double yellow line passer, no bird, but this one was was my favorite, because the Vermont license plate read, "FNWYPARK" -- HOW APROPOS for this die hard Yankees fan.

As I was passed, birded, and honked, I imagined myself a little old lady, with grey blond hair, and eyes just over the dashboard. I felt I was looking into my blissfully ignorant future: a future with a drivers license, birds, horns, and occasional Red Sox fans.......It made the moment even happier, GG was by my side!

I am running right toward THE RUNAWAYS

2010-02-10T22:11:00.010-05:00

Oldest siblings will never know what it's like to look up to a sister or brother. And youngest siblings will never know what a pain in the ass a little sister or brother can be. I happen to be the youngest in my small family, and have one older sister. I have to credit my love for all things musical, not only to my Father, but also, to my sister. While she may not agree with my musical taste, my house was ALWAYS filled with the rumblings of her stereo, ALWAYS.

My sister's love for music was the typical source for conflict in my home. My parents had a first floor master suite, and my sister and I rocked the three bedrooms upstairs. Unfortunately for my sister, her HUGE bedroom was right above that of my parents. You see, when my parents bought this particular house, we had a system: every other house they looked at, I got to choose the bedroom, and vice versa for Sis. Well, 45 Valley Lane, in Chappaqua, NY, that was my sister's pick. She did not have the foresight when she was 11 to know that her stereo, and movements around the stereo, would be a constant source of irritation for my highly irritable and volatile father. Sis just saw "BIGGEST ROOM" with "BIGGEST CLOSET" and snatched it up.

Me? I had a tiny room at the end of the hallway. But, this house had a walk-in attic, RIGHT ATTACHED TO MY ROOM!!! The attic was finished, complete with dry wall, sky light, and built in air conditioner, and I ended up with a true suite! The original room became my living room, complete with two foutons, cable TV, Atari, and a CORK WALL where I hung my swim team ribbons, Esprit Catalogs, and pictures of Dave Davies, my true love (and not from the kinks, he was my actual boyfriend when I was 13 and 14). I also had the bathroom right across the hallway, and so in retrospect, I think I scored in that house BIG TIME.....but I digress......

Sis and her music: Billy Squire, Boston, Blondie, Led Zeppelin, Dire Straights, Moody Blues, none of these artists, NONE, held a candle to her true love, Fleetwood Mac AND especially, STEVIE NICKS!!! MY SISTER LOVED STEVIE NICKS, LOVE LOVE LOVE! I am guessing she probably loved Lindsay Buckingham, too...hell, he was hot in his day, right? So, Sis has an idol, Stevie Nicks, but I don't have one??? What's a little sister to do? I couldn't possibly choose the same idol that she had, I mean, that would have made me a copy-cat. I might want all things BIG SIS, but I am no carbon copy to anyone!

This was a conundrum for me at the time. The year: 1982 Age: 11.......HOTTEST SONG ON THE RADIO: I Love Rock N Roll, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. I owned the record album, and listened to it non-stop. That album was total ear candy....my favorite song on it was "Love is Pain", of course it was, I was 11 and in love with 10 boys in my class, that was a real pain. I also loved "Victim of Circumstance" and why wouldn't an 11 year old relate to THAT? Here are some lyrics:

The police are waitin' when the sun came up/ You better move your ass/
Or we'll really get rough

Shit, at 11, I really had to worry about police and where I was
when the sun came up.....
Here's another gem of a lyric that I related to at 11:

I've been laughed at, I've been shut out/
But let there be no doubt/
Never been afraid of chances I been takin'

You see, at 11, I took A LOT of chances
(please note the sarcasm people)......

Point is, I liked the music, and I like Joan Marie Larkin's style.
I was on a quest, I would become all things
Joan Jett! I would find out everything I could about her, and then
emmulate my sis's adoration for Stevie Nicks.
This required some research on my part. Remember, this is
pre-internet, pre-wikipedia, google, etc, research
was actually research-- Like spending time at the indie record
store and learning about your idol from the workers
at the store while shopping for cool black light velvet posters.
I learned that Joan Jett had belonged to a group called the Runaways.
Now, I was really going to be cool, right? I mean, what fucking 11
year old knew about the Runaways? In my world
ZERO!!!  EVERYONE knew about Fleetwood Mac, but the
Runaways?  A Coup de Grace to my sister's love for
Stevie Nicks......

In the sale section was the Runaway's cassette tape: Waitin' for the
Night......Who are The Runaways, you might ask?
Who gives a shit, Joan Jett was a part of them, and I needed to
know them, too. But, the members were: Sandy West, Micki
Steele, Lita Ford, Cherie Currie, amongst others who came and
went due to notorious cat fights.  Ironically, the first track
from the album, "Little Sister"....clearly, I had found my
calling.

My love for Joan Jett endured for years, like 2 of them. By the time
"Glorious Results of Misspent Youth" was released, I discovered
Hip Hop. UTFO's Roxanne Roxanne became my obsession,
and I loved the Roxanne wars that followed. As
Swizz Beatz and Jay Z put it, I was onto the next one.

But Joan Jett's influence never left me....
I still don't give a damn about my bad reputation, oh not, not me
me me me , and all relationships with the opposite sex,
You don't own me.....I was always doin' all right with the
boys, and was shocked to learn that SHOUT was in
Animal House. In the throes of my teens, I hummed
Do You Want to Touch me there???

This leads me to today, 2010, February, THE RUNAWAYS,
it's a fucking movie!!! WHO KNEW?
Well, Floria Sigismondi knew, and I knew, too! It
debuted at the Sundance Film festival and is being released
on March 19th, 2010. Be Still my beating heart.....
who wants to go??

Never Got a ROLLIE AWARD: Macys Parade, installment #2

2009-11-25T07:30:00.008-05:00

That is me with the Sash

That is me with Alex Walko

Me and my bitches-- I mean Clowns

Me, Alex, and Amy

Given that tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, I want to share my memories of my Thanksgiving Holidays during the 1990's. No, I am not going to write about Turkey, stuffing, family............

You see, I was a parade captain in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade for several years. When I resigned from my position at Macy's, I had to give it a serious consideration because of the fact that I would be giving up this privilege. If you put in 6 consecutive years as a parade captain, you receive a ROLLIE AWARD at the annual dinner. The Rollie Award, named for Roland H. Macy, is Macy's version of an Oscar, but the statue is of a clown's head (natch). Because my years as a captain were NOT consecutive (I left Macy's to work for Godiva for one year), I never qualified for a Rollie, BITTER!!!!

The first year I was a captain, I was a clown captain (as opposed to Balloon or float captain). You have to pay your dues: The more seniority you have in the parade, the earlier in the line up you are. Thus, you arrive home earlier than the rest of the participants. Being a rookie, I was in the very last group of clowns, situated in front of Santa Claus.

I was dressed as a traditional clown, with make up and the suit, the whole gig. There was nothing special about my clown group: we didn't have a theme, we weren't on roller skates, and there was no specific activity that needed assigned to us: Wave, entertain, and get to 34th street.

Here was the routine: Arrive in Brooklyn at 4 am to suit up, costume, make up, etc. Bus to 79th street, Wait to march, March to 34th Street, Bus back to brooklyn, then drive in traffic back to CT to see my family.....

Because this is a blog, and I am trying to keep it short, here are my thoughts:

(1) It was EFFING cold out, really EFFING COLD! Screw you Al Roker in your cashmere coat and hat! I am EFFING COLD, get this shit started! He stood there and YUCKED it up, while I froze my ass off.

(2) Being by Santa SUCKS: You have to stand in the staging area on 79th street for 4 HOURS before you start marching! You stage at 6 am, then march at 10 AM, That sucks!

(3) Did I mention, being by Santa SUCKS!!!??? The kids are so OVER clowns at that point, they only cared about Santa, what was my purpose?

(4) Ok, did I mention that being by Santa SUCKS??!!! His float plays Here Come's Santa Claus (the song), some 50's version pre-recorded, and it's on a loop. That's right, I got to listen to Jingle Bells for 4 straight hours!

(5) Oh wait, did I tell you? Being near Santa Sucks......Because you are at the end of the Parade, you have to stop, start, stop, start, stop.....All those Routines down on 34th street actually stop the rest of the parade.....did I mention, it was FREEZING COLD????

(6) Being a clown had a funny side, I never realized......kids HATE clowns, really hate them! Whenever the parade would stop, I would go to the onlookers to wave, say hello, etc, and when I would get near any child under 5, they would immediately scream and cry! Since I was a little batty from being up at 3 AM, and hearing Santa's Song for hours, This became cruelly entertaining, and funny to me.......there, I said it, I confess, I became a little bit of that evil clown that terrorizes you in your dreams. I didn't act evil or anything, but my mere presence scared the shit out of kids, and it was funny!

Did I have the time of my life?? YOU KNOW IT!! BEING A MACYS PARADE CAPTAIN RULES! That is why I did it 5 more times after this year, but you will have to wait for those stories (which get very funny) because I need to save my material.......Check out my blog from October 18th, Popped Wild THing......

I need to reclaim a few words from the POST-PC Era

2009-11-20T10:39:00.011-05:00

Ok, so, this might not be the most PC blog I have ever written, but I really feel like reclaiming a couple of vocabulary words from my past:

Being politically correct is so ingrained in my head, that I don't think about it anymore. I have been successfully brainwashed, bleached, and censored by all the well intended folks that made you feel "bad" for using certain references and terms in your life. In theory, I do agree with some aspects of this movement, but I am also humored by the HOARDES of people who complain about it (including myself now).......This topic is SOOOOOOOO 1995, but recently, I have thought of some words that I truly miss..........

GAY--- There, I said it..... Readers who know me personally are hyper-aware that Gay Rights seem to be unexplainably my biggest cause in life. Nothing gets my panties twisted in a knot like people, laws, etc, that are Anti-Gay community. I truly do not understand why people are against Gay Marriage, Gay couples, gay adoption, gay sex, etc.....Hey, if it makes you happy, and you aren't harming anyone, go for it, do what you like and be who you are (ahem, cough, Oprah, John Travolta, etc)......that being said, I REALLY MISS USING THE WORD GAY! I do, ok? I can't apologize for it...... Here are somethings that I can't call gay, but would really like to:

Sanjaya from American Idol: His hair was so gay

The Pontiac Aztec; That car so gay, I am glad GM stopped making it

Kanye West interrupting Taylor Swift: That was so gay of him, r u kidding?

Obama's Levi jeans, belted with his t-shirt tucked in: what could be gayer

Obama's Beer Summit with the cop and the harvard professor, that was incredibly Gay, and Joe Biden, who is a recovering alcoholic, drinking O'Douls, that was GAY! Why not just drink Pepsi or something?

Yellow Ferraris, or any car that says LOOK AT ME.....that is so gay, when I see them drive by, and you cant help but think of the inverse ratio of penis size to gay car, I want to say, That car is soooo gay!

Ok, you get the point. I totally see why it is offensive, I just miss saying it, JUST SAYIN'

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DOUCHEBAG-- I think that Douchebag can be the perfect word to describe certain people at certain times, sorry! I know it's a bit offensive, but I just love this word! I realize there is a certain movement to bring it back (just go to you tube and you will see several videos, etc), which I fully support......My sister's best friend in High School , we called him Dave Douchebag......you can't just be a douche, you have to be a douchebag.

Examples of douchebags:

(1) The guy sitting front row and John Mayer last night at the Ed Sullivan Theater who was practically falling asleep in his own hands. Hey dude, no one put a gun to your head to make you go, don't be such a douchebag. Have fun for goodness sake!

(2) The guy who had me arrested two weeks after my third son was born, because his nanny almost killed me in a head on collision...the cops even pleaded to give me a break, but he's a douche bag...

(3) People who download albums from recording artists then hit shuffle, wtf ...do you not realize that the song order is deliberate? You're a douche

Ok, get the point, douchebag, a bit un-pc, but I like it a lot

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I could go on and on, there a lot of words i miss, but I have to go now and cut this short, and I don't want all of you to hate me :)

I apologize, Maurice Sendak, for popping your balloon!

2009-10-18T00:23:00.011-04:00

THREE things have inspired this blog entry: The release of Spike Jonze's WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE, this crazy ass story about a kid and a helium balloon, and my visit yesterday to the HAYDEN PLANETARIUM. The convergence of these three events is a bit of a "perfect humorous" storm for me.

DATE: November 26, 1998

LOCATION: 77TH STREET between Columbus and Central Park West

A random fact about me: I was a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloon captain for 5 years. Having given ten years of my life to Macy's as a buyer, my greatest joy there was volunteering in the parade as a Balloon Captain (after putting in time as a Clown Captain). The more time you serve, the better and more high profile your gig. So, in 1998, I was awarded the dubious honor of Captain of the Maurice Sendak's WILD THING balloon (which was making its debut). I WAS BUSTING when I learned my assignment. Being a huge fan of Maurice Sendak's books, I could not believe I had earned this honor. I was also informed that Maurice Sendak would be attending the parade that year just to see his wonderful creation brought to life in this amazing NY tradition.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a big parade fan, just like participating in this one, and it provided great comic material!

Being a Macy's Balloon Captain, in the post- Cat- in - The- Hat - Crashed - into - a - lamp era, had a different feel about it than prior years. The down side was that the safety training was far more extensive than prior years (Thank you attorneys) ....this took eight LONG AND REPETITIVE training preparation meetings, a lot of my personal time, but fully understood. The upside was that Macy's arranged to have the Lamp Posts along the parade route, CPW and Broadway, replaced with ones that had swinging arms. These arms are turned once a year, just for the parade, so that Balloons don't hit them and hurt anyone. OH, one more thing, the physics behind the balloon construction changed. They are no longer built in such a vertical stance, but more of a Superman in the air stance, the aerodynamics also intended for safety.

SADLY, Macy's forgot that the staging areas of 77th and 79th has street lamps, too. And although spectators are not allowed in the area during the parade, the Balloons are launched to 75% height there prior to making the turn onto CPW. And, at 75% height, they can hit street lamps.....DUH!!!!

That particular day in 1998 was horrible weather for balloon captaining.....raining, cold, and windy, the challenge was on for this seasoned balloon captain. As a captain, my responsibilities were to communicate with the handlers, tell them when to lift, which side to lift, when to lower, etc.....stopping, starting, and keep up morale. I am loud and a good motivator, the job is perfect for me. My balloon had around 40 handlers.

In addition to a captain, there is also a Balloon Pilot. My Pilot was a man named MICHAEL....he was the men's suit buyer and also experienced. Michael's job was to guide the balloon in the parade, look at the balloon traffic, blow a whistle, etc....

When it was our turn to unleash THE WILD THING, my thought was to keep it low until we made the turn onto CPW because of the wind. Michael, the pilot, did not agree with me. He thought that Wild Thing should enter the parade with all his full glory. I could not put a stop to the maniacal Michael from Men's Suits.... he commanded Wild Thing higher, higher, higher....handlers confused and dazed, who should they listen to? Captain or Pilot? Who? Who? Who? There is such a long wait on 77th, lining up at 6 am, and not marching until after 8, the handlers are anxious to do their job, and fly that bitch....so full mutiny was in play, and Pilot got his way......

Not 2 minutes later, as we awaited our turn onto CPW, the balloon at full height, BAM BANG BOOM, a gust to PORT (left for you land lubbers) and right into a lamp post...hsssssssssssss....This was such an embarrassment in my captain career, my first time with a pop.....and I let down my man, Maurice. Macy's took stock footage of the inaugural flight at the Stevens Institute in New Jersey, which happened on a bright sunny day. I wonder if those watching the televised version noticed that when Wild Thing was entering Herald Square, the sun broke thru the clouds, and all the buildings changed. Only to go right back to rain and Katie Couric's Joker smile.....

To add to the misery, I had to spend a long time deflating the balloon with the handlers and find a way to get back down to 34th street in the pouring rain, on the parade route (I hitched a ride along with a float, soaked to the bone, and finally made it)....Jesters about, there is always one idiot who sticks their head into the releasing helium to breath it in for a high pitched joke. Little does the idiot know that this is not a party balloon, nor a whip it. It's a serious amount of helium, that will do a lot more than just make your voice high. Sorry Mr. Sendak, I am glad the balloon has not been under my guise since.......

You can read all about it by clicking here

I never think of comebacks ontime

2009-09-28T22:00:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, I drove my son to a birthday party. As I turned right onto a one way street in my sleepy, small, stepford-y, town, an elderly woman was using the center of the street for the sidewalk. She was not crossing the street, but rather, walking aimlessly down the middle. As I turned right onto the street, she was completely unaware that my car was there. She was also clueless that there were other cars behind me wondering why I was not completing my right turn. Much to my dismay, I was forced to give a quick beep of my horn to alert her of my presence, as well as other cars. I hoped she would choose one of the two sidewalks to walk on, and she did........

50 feet later, I found a parking spot, and happily parallell parked the car. As I got out of the car, and man, in his 40's, emerged from a local restaurant and yelled to me, "HEY, WAS THAT YOU WHO JUST BEEPED YOUR HORN AT MY ELDERLY GRANDMOTHER???" . I proceeded to get my five year old out of the car, and he repeated his yelling. I turned around to realize he was talking to me, and said, "Yes, I didn't..." when he abruptly interrupted me and yelled, "WHAT KIND OF PERSON TOOTS THEIR HORN AT AN ELDERLY WOMAN"....to which I replied, "I didn't....." to which he replied, "%$^#(*&^*(&^@" at which point I raised my voice and said, "PLEASE STOP INTERRUPTING ME, I DIDN'T WANT HER TO GET HIT BY A CAR AND SHE WAS WALKING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD"......

I then ushered my 5 year old onto the sidewalk, who asked me, "Why is that man yelling?".....good question, #2, why? Man then yells, "HOW OVERWEIGHT ARE YOU, ANYWAY?" to which I replied, "What??" and he says, "SO HOW OVERWEIGHT ARE YOU?"....I laughed and said, "Funny you should ask, as I just lost 60 lbs." Man then yells, "WELL, YOU NEED TO LOSE 20 MORE." To which I replied, "Actually, I need to lose 50 more, so thank you for only thinking it was 20." and I walked on.

Now, telling me I am fat is no news. I have been overweight for some time now. It took me years to look they way I did last year, and it will take a couple to fix it.....The statement is so unoriginal and uncreative, it makes me laugh at the person who slung the mud. I was once told by a Grand Central Station Line Cutter, that I was fat. When I told him, "I'm pregnant" his reply was, "Well, you are fat and pregnant"....again, that was true. I mean, hey, call a spade a spade, right? Accept who you are.

One issue that annoys me about this whole story is that this angry man was yelling at me, just to yell. He really didn't care why I beeped at the grandmother, and everytime I tried to explain, he interrupted me.

I am dissappointed that I am slow with the perfect comeback....I often think about things I should have said, witty things, that would have worked brilliantly at a time like this......and in this case, I think, perhaps, I would have asked this man if he cared so much for the well being of his grandmother, why wasn't he escorting her to the restaurant, why did he let her walk in the middle of a road where people turn........but alas, all I came up with was my happiness that he obsevered my need to lose only 20 lbs more..........

My Day with a President

2009-08-29T23:08:00.005-04:00

I was recently on Martha's Vineyard. I have travelled and vacationed on this island on a regular basis since I was seven years old. My time spent there is low key, and passes with little fan fare (OK, when I was 12, I was in a game room with Carly Simon, ten minutes before my Mom busted me for chewing gum while I still had braces.....but I digress). This time, however, I felt something different about my trip! Why? Because we were there at the same time as President Obama and his family.

Now, I really don't care how anyone feels about Obama as a politician or person. I am not writing this to debate politics. But one thing I will say is that no matter who is president, I still think there is something thrilling about the prospect of seeing a President, or even meeting them.

Having been on vacation 10 days prior to our excursion to MV, I was blissfully unaware of the fact the the Obamas were vacationing on MV. News and TV are not something I entertain while I vacation. I learned this VIA Facebook thru a friends status update. I was shocked that I would be sharing the Island with the first family, and I was completely annoyed. The thought of the inconvenience I might have to endure on my one day on MV bc of the Obamas was devastating. What if Sasha and Malia decide they want to ride Flying Horses when my kids do, my children would never forgive!

Once we arrived on Martha's Vineyard, I automatically went into Presidential Hysteria! I had to learn everything about his trip from as many people as possible. I wanted to know where he had been, what he was doing, and where he was going. I have no idea how this happened. Our first stop was the drugstore to pick up some things we forgot to bring with us. I asked the cashier, "Did you see him" (no explanation needed)....I was then given a gem of a story, in a local BAH-ston accent, about how her friend lives down the street and the she was going to visit her after work, and the Secret Service was turning everyone away from the road! But not Dottie! She told those Secret Service man where to shove it, that she was going to see her friend Mary, and no one was stopping her. The Secret Service let her pass, of course.

Everywhere I went, I asked people, "Did you see him?". I heard he was at the light house, stories of the motorcade, he was off to BAH-ston the next day to eulogize Ted "I killed a Mary K" Kennedy. I joked with the woman in the needlepoint store that Michelle Obama actually does have time to needlepoint, she just doesn't know it (the needlepoint lady loved the banter) After I was sufficiently satisfied in the answers I gathered, I sat down to relax for a day at the beach at Menemsha. I started to read, but couldn't concentrate, so I dropped my book to work on my needlepoint. My mind started racing............My thoughts were as follows (warning: you are entering my insane stream of consciousness):

I just drove by Chillmark, and that is only a couple of miles away/the Obama's are only a couple of miles away/the Obama's are not on a private beach, are they?/this would be the perfect beach to take the kids: small, off the main track, few people so Obama wouldn't be disturbing too many people/secret service would have an easy time keeping him protected here/I bet he's headed straight for this beach today/Obama can't leave Martha's Vineyard without having Fried Mac and Cheese from The Bite/would his personal chef be insulted if he ate at The Bite?/He's definitely coming here/I know it/He has to go to The Bite/He's coming right to my Beach/OH SHIT, what would I say when he shakes my hand??/What's my main issue? Do I be funny? Bring up serious political issues?? What do you say when you meet the president??/Hmmmm, what's my issue, what's my issue, what's my issue??/He's raising my taxes, do I want to hassle him on his vacation?NAH/Ok, what's my issue??!! I know!!! This has bothered me my ENTIRE adult life, and I am really disappointed on the President's stance on this, I will tell him I don't like his stance on Gay Rights and Gay Marriage, yeah, I know a lot about that issue, I can speak intelligently about it, really stick it to him in a nice way/oh, wait, what if he's taking the girls to FLYING HORSES?? I have to ask him about that too!/Hmmm, Gay Marriage? Flying horses? Gay Marriage/Flying horses?

Well, you get the idea how crazy I am, right? I mean, I am stitching away, and these are my inner thoughts. I decided right there and then I was going to ask Obama why he only believes in Civil Unions, and not marriage for gays, and I was going to insist he not take his daughters to Flying Horses until we left the island! I was geared up and ready! I then asked my husband if he was ready for our meeting with the President! He looked at me like I was nuts, a total non-sequitor from getting mussels and jellyfish out of the water with the kids....hadn't he heard all my inner-thoughts? I was making total sense, TO MYSELF !!!

Anyway, he has issues, and his are more poignant than mine. Mine were a failure, he would get to do all the talking.....but the time was ticking away. There was no sign of him anywhere! An occasional Coast Guard boat went by the beach, but I didn't spy any plain clothed secret service, you know the ones with that doo-hickey in their ears? It was then I realized that I might not get to meet the first family.

By 4 o'clock, I had not given up hope. I decided I would be satisfied if I could AT LEAST see the motorcade. He was in a black SUV Suburban, not a limo, and that would be exciting. My sister reminded me (via facebook) of the time in 1977 when we were in DC and Jimmy Carter's motorcade blew past us. We snapped a photo and have a blurry shot of his hand waving from inside his limo. YES!! A motorcade would be very exciting and my kids would be thrilled as I was when I was 7!

I then showered in Menemsha, and my insane thoughts continued. What if the motorcade came down the dock while I was in my paid, timed shower? Would I run out with a towel on just to see? How would I get a proper photo? What if my kids were still in their shower in the men's room and miss the whole thing? Would I even hear the motorcade from a shower (I decided yes) ? And what if I ran out with wet hair in a towel, would the Paps sack a photo with the headline "Crazy Obama Vineyard fever: woman runs out of shower just to see the motorcade" !! I would be that crazy woman and get to tell all my friends who would laugh and laugh and laugh at this for days! But my 12 minute shower ended, and there was no motorcade.

In fact, I didn't see the motorcade once. As we left Menemsha and headed towards Vineyard Haven for dinner, we pass the road in Chillmark where the Obamas were staying. It was blocked by State Police. That was the only bru-ha-ha we got the whole day! No conversation, hand shaking, no motorcade.

After dinner we headed to Flying Horses for one last thrill before we got back on the 8:30 PM ferry to Woodshole. At this point, I KNEW my wish had come true. No Sasha, No Malia, no fanfare.....my kids would get to ride the carousel, try for the brass ring, eat their cotton candy, and the first family were not going to disturb this special treat. My thoughts and fantasies about meeting the president quickly disappeared. My day was done and I thoroughly enjoyed it!

The one thing I took away from all of this is that you should always be prepared to meet a US President, you never know when it might happen (or not)!

I'M A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND!

2009-08-16T23:28:00.003-04:00

I am spending the next two weeks in Westport Point, MA. This is a small quaint farm/beach town just over the R.I. border and below Cape Cod. Martha's Vineyard can be seen from the beach, and the house I am renting is from 1680. This town has a LOT of history, almost all of the homes are historic. I love it here, and sometimes I think, gee, it would be nice to live in a small town like this.....but then, SCREEECH, I realize, I AM IN MASSACHUSETTS!

Now, there is a lot I love about this state! I have spent good part of my life here, having gone to college outside of Boston and spent many many vacations in this state. I have many friends from Mass. and my husband's family hails from this state, specifically North Adams. Additionally, his family consists of Sumner's, as in, Sumner tunnel, and my third son, Sumner :) I am forever connected to this state, but for some reason, whenever I am here, I feel like a stranger in a strange land.

I have given this feeling a lot of thought lately, and wonder why. And I think it comes down to one basic thing: I HATE the Red Sox! I am a Yankees fan.......that's right! My parents were raised in NY, and even though I was born in Miami and lived there until I was 7, Miami is the sunny haven for New York Jews, like my parents. Although I have lived in several different towns growing up, in my heart, I am a New Yorker.

So what is it about Mass so disturbing for this New Yorker/Yankees fan? It's simple, RED SOX SHIT IS EVERYWEHRE! You can't buy a bag of chips, ice cream, coffee, etc, without the Red Sox logo on it! You can't go down the street without seeing Red Sox something, not for two minutes. There is no respit from RED SOX when I am in Mass!

What I find so strange is that no other team including the Yankees, inundate the rest of the world via marketing on basic products like the Red Sox do. The Yankees don't SHOVE it down any one's throat. You can buy Milk anywhere in the tristate area, and I would challenge you to find anything Yankees on your carton. But go shopping in Mass, and you are hard pressed to find Milk that doesn't have red sox. In fact, I just decided I am going to do a photo montage for the next two weeks of Red Sox shit.......I have to say, I am offended.

My dear friend, D, whom I feel sympathy for on a daily basis, is a true New Yorker, from Queens, and lives in Mass, near Boston. When her son was born, he had RED SOX on his incubator! Seriously, I am not kidding, what is that??? Her Red Sox stories are a true horror, and worth writing a book about because the extent of this inundation is mind blowing.

Tonight I served Ice cream to my kids for dessert, and the cups said Red Sox on them (thanks HOOD)......My kids were equally offended, but still ate the ice cream. Right now, there are probably ten products in my kitchen with Red Sox on them, and I do not support this team. If I were to boycott the products, I would be eating sand, so I have to suck it up for a couple of weeks. But I truly wonder how my ex-pat New Yorkers survive in this state? And do they also feel like something is a little amiss when they wonder out of their homes to see RED SOX EVERYWHERE??

Photo essay to come in the next few weeks......

AND THEY CALLED ME Q-TIP......

2009-08-13T18:02:00.012-04:00

Yesterday, I had the very unusual pleasure of going to SoHo to wander aimlessly with a friend for the ENTIRE DAY! Nowhere to be, no agenda-- just me and my friend who were in the mood for some inspiration NYC style! The day proved to be as perfect as I had expected (even with the rain). Our outing included shopping street vendors for cool stuff, a fascinating visit in a rock-n-roll photography gallery (and conversation had there was equally as fascinating, the owner has taken over CBGB's and is having a party there tonight), a pilgrimage to KIDROBOT (I wore Killa in for the trip), snack at Olive's, a walk up a walk up to a fashion designer's boutique, and much much more......As a parent, I don't have too many days like this, and I really appreciate them when they come along. But my life as a teenager growing up in a suburb on NYC, well, "the city" was available every weekend, for just such an outing..............

My friend is from California, and while she may have had San Francisco at her beck and call, I had Astor Place, the village, soho, and all the cool places in between. Starting at the age of 12, my parents put me on a train to NYC with a friend, for a weekend day, pretty much whenever I asked. And let me tell you, this was a great alternative to the Galleria Mall! Looking back, it wasn't such a big deal......we agreed what train I would take home, and the other stipulation was that I was NOT allowed to take the subway (we are talking 1982/1983 when the subway was not what it is today). Other than that, there were really no rules or regulations to my visits.

So, I collected the money I earned from working at the library, hopped on a train with a friend, and usually spent the day in the village. Destination was 8th street and below, Antique Boutique, and all the stores down Broadway. We always walked through Washington Square Park, and were ALWAYS approached by drug dealers wanting to sell pot to us. Vintage clothes, army/navy clothes, Madonna style clothes, anything neon, this was my goal! At the end of the day, I hopped on my train, right when I was supposed to, and came home safely....my Mom usually picked me up at the train station. And this was how I rolled, a young suburban teen in the 80's-- my parents gave me loads of freedom and I always arrived home safely. Everything was all good until the time, in 1985, I visited the village with my then boyfriend, who was 18 at the time. He was from Michigan and had never been to the city. Well, I was the expert, so I HAD to show him around, right? I am certain my sister was also with me. Same drill, Metro North train into the city, go down to 8th street and do my thing. This time, however, I decided I MUST GET MY HAIR CUT AT ASTOR PLACE. Boyfriend went first, got a good cut, a little edgy 80's but he was preppy at heart. My sister got a female version of flock of sea gulls. I then sat in my chair, and asked for the style du jour, Long on the top, and a little shaved underneath (I know most of you know EXACTLY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT). Here is an image of what I had in my mind

There was CLEARLY a miscommunication between Mr. Astor and I because this very sassy short hair cut is not at all what I came home with. The best way I can describe it, because I don't have a photo here (although I know one exists, and I am wearing my sweet Benetton Cabbage Rose sweater in pale yellow), is someone put a small salad bowl on top of my hair, and took an electric shear, and buzzed cut around the bowl. Was my hair long on top? Yes. Was it short on the bottom? Yes. Did it look like that photo? NOOOOOO. This was a radical change because prior to this cut, I had long hair. Another adventure I had on this particular day was a trip to get a triple pierce in my left ear. My ears were pierced when I was born, and I got a double pierce, condoned by my Mom in 7th grade, but now it's 9th grade, and I was ready for my third! It was this day, in 1985, when my Mom said goodbye to her long blond haired youngest daughter.

I knew I looked different and was DREADING showing my mom what I did. I knew she would have a heart attack, I would get AIDS from the shaver or the ear piercing for sure. The entire train ride home, I was thinking how I was going to avoid being trapped in the car with my Mom while she scolded me on my choices.

My grand plan was put into place: get off train, huddle behind boyfriend and sister, get in car behind the driver's seat, and be safe from Mom's wrath until I got home (where I would run upstairs and stay until my hair grew back long enough to cover my ear pierce, right?).....But my sister betrayed me. During her phone call to tell my Mom what train we were on, she told my Mom what I did, so the second I sat behind her, she said, "YOU CAN'T HIDE MICHELLE, I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!!".

Needless to say, I survived the day, my hair grew back, but not before I was given the nickname Q-Tip by my sister and friends. This nicknamed stuck for a few months, and thankfully went away after my hair grew to a more desirable length. I listen to A TRIBE CALLED QUEST as I write this, and always laugh when I hear the line, "Q-tip is my title.....I don't think that is vital...." Seriously, I laugh and think about my Q-tip hair do EVERY time I hear "Push it Along".

This brings me back to yesterday, on the ride home, I shared this story with my friend. The thought that I was put on a train at the age of 12 astounded us, although at the time, I was more than prepared to be let loose in NYC for the day. Do I think I would allow my own children to do the same when they are 12? Right now I would say No, and it saddens me to say that. Do we live in a different world now, yes, but I actually feel NYC is far safer now than in 1982-1985 (and I am right, i just checked the NYPD statistics, and there were more than double violent crimes per every 100,000 residents in 1985 vs 2007). I sometimes wonder why we don't trust our children more and give them the Independence that we had when we were children. It's a very odd phenomena to me, and I constantly evaluate this issue as my children grow older.

One final note: I was so inspired by SoHo yesterday, I was dying to take my kids there today, take them to Evolution and Kidrobot, so they could see what I saw. I told my friend and she said she was plotting the exact same thing! But, of course, as I said, yesterday was a luxury....today I had to pick my dog up a the vet, take a child to the Dr......etc, etc, etc......

REMEMBER THESE CARROTS?

2009-08-09T20:49:00.011-04:00

Remember these?? Thats right folks, these are carrots! Over the past 10+ years, I have been lured away from this luscious vegetable by it's evil, tasteless step sister, the BABY CARROT

Why did I make this change? Well, for one, I can't resist the convenience of not having to take out a peeler or knife to eat a carrot. In fact, now that I think about it, that is the ONLY reason I switch, convenience! Convenience comes in many forms when it comes to the baby carrot: some are pre-packaged in little packets, easy to grab and go, and good for lunch boxes. Another plus is that when I host a party, I can open the bag and dump them into my plates and bowls without having to wash, peel, cut. I mean, who has time to do that, right?

As a kid, carrots were one of my favorite snacks (that is until the late 70's / early 80's when processed foods took over my house like the people storming the Bastille). I enjoyed peeling them with our rusty metal peeler, the one you had to press with your thumb in the middle to get some leverage.....sometimes I salted the carrots, sometimes I cut them into sticks, other times I ate them whole. Occasionally, I would chop them the short way and indulge in eating little carrot circles. Whatever the form, I loved carrots.

(although, for the record, don't really love the shredded carrot, what a waste)

As a parent, I thought carrots would be a staple of my kids' diets, but truth be told, they eat them occasionally and not with the passion I once did. Still, a minimum of two times per week, I put those nasty little baby carrots on their plates and insist they eat at least three. I go thru periods where the effort (you know, popping open the bag and placing them on the plate) and whining is not worth it and baby carrots exit my house for a month at a time. I personally do not eat carrots anymore because they are high in sugar, and I try not to eat more than 4 grams of sugar with each meal or snack.

Two summers ago, I was at a farmer's market in Vermont, and one of the stands had beautiful heirloom carrots. The bunches were different colors, purple, yellow, orange, a true feast for the eyes. The image looks something like this:

The colors were so alluring, as was the whole LOCALLY GROWN aspect, that I purchased a bunch. Some of the purple carrots are orange inside, taste a little spicy and not as sweet as the orange carrots, they can contain less sugar, a good option for me. I tried these on my kids, but alas, they were not interested. I, however, thought they were delicious and can't find them in my local markets......SHOCKER!

Anyway, the saga of the carrot has continued, until this past Monday, when my friend Tasha gave me a brilliant piece of advice. I was lamenting that my kids will rarely eat vegetables, when she suggested I feed them their vegetables first, prior to dinner, when they are at their hungriest! That same day, I took my youngest son to the market and had him help me choose the produce and he wanted to buy REAL CARROTS! So, I indulged him and bought a bunch, which contained 8 carrots. The whole way home, he was literally CRYING and SCREAMING for a carrot! This was music to my ears. The second I finished unpacking the groceries, I peeled and washed, but didn't cut, a carrot for him. I must say here that my OXO PEELER is far superior to the rusty metal one I had as a kid, and takes no effort to use. He devoured it in seconds and asked for another. His older brothers started to see his joy in his REAL CARROT, and asked for one. Before I served dinner, all three of my boys had eaten TWO CARROTS EACH........a true achievement

Because my bunch contained 8 carrots, I only had two to serve the next day. I knew this would be a fight, so I cut them into sticks and they were equally well received. I will not poo-poo the baby carrot when I see them at my friend's houses, and hey, they still might get served here for social events, but getting re-acquainted with the REAL CARROT has been a true joy and wonder in my house, which is actually quite ridiculous if you think about it. I will keep a good supply of yummy carrots stocked in my house at all times, and start to plot what other veggies I can get into these children!

One final note, carrots and baby carrots have virtually the same nutritional value. I was shocked to learn this as the baby carrot is so tasteless and yucky compared to the REAL CARROT.....who knew?

Breaking up is hard to do

2009-08-08T13:58:00.008-04:00

To the envy of several of my friends, I will be having all three of my children in school 5 days per week starting this September. My 3 year old will be going to preschool for half days with a lunch bunch option three days per week. I recently had to re-evaluate my need for a babysitter given the new circumstances of my situation.

Since my first son was born, I have employed four sitters. The first ended up stealing from me (thank you nanny cam disguised as a smoke detector.....wonder where I ever put that thing). The second is an older woman who still sits for us on weekend evenings, and house sits when we travel, but is a bit too worn from two episodes of cancer and her ripe age of 72 to be running after three boys. She remains an important part of my life, and I love her like the grandmother she is to all of us.

The third sitter (who I am sure will be reading this, but I don't edit my thoughts for anyone) is still employed by us as well, but over the past three years, she has been in and out of school, graduated, got married, etc......I fear my children love her more than me because she is cute and fun. Incredibly responsible and loving, this woman is a gift from god, and a good friend, too.

The fourth sitter, and the one I recently broke up with, is also amazing. But since my needs have changed, I no longer need the 20 hours a week she provides me, and frankly, can use the extra money to put towards my youngest's tuition. This woman, lets call her Mabel, because I love that name, has worked for my family for two years. During this time, I don't think she has ever come late, and maybe called out once. She stays extra time to complete something she was working on, and has never complained about my family to me. She is a very hard working woman, in nursing school, and also works for another family on the days she is not here or in school.

I have been dreading the "conversation", the break-up, where I tell her my family's needs have changed and I am no longer in need of her services. I kept waiting for the right time to break up to ensure she would have plenty of time to find other employment. I was also waiting for the right time of day so she wouldn't be upset the whole day after we break up......

That time came yesterday, as I will be needing her thru this Friday, and then will pay her for the two weeks we are away on vacation. There I was, at our town pool, waiting for the perfect time, when my children wouldn't interrupt, and I could sit her down gently to break the devastating news of our break up. I thought tears and hugs were going to be in order, and I was mentally prepared for all of the drama!!! Much to my shock, her reaction was very blase......"Its ok, Notasoccermom, I figured the time would be coming soon, and in fact, I was going to ask you how much you would be needing me since #3 is going to school..."

CRASH BANG BOOM WHAT???!!!????

In my head, I thought, "wow, she's not upset, and now, I am upset that she is not upset".......When we break up with someone, I think selfishly, we all want to other person to be a little upset, the thought of life without us should be devastating, right? And then we go thru the following thoughts, "why isn't she upset? Does she hate working for me? Doesn't she love my kids? How can she bear to go on?" Outside of my head, I stated that I was happy she understood and would help her to find other employment if she wanted me to. I then told her to enjoy her day with my kids, and went on my way to run my errands for the day.

After about 5 minutes in my car, I got to thinking, why am I upset that she isn't upset? A recent friend broke up with a boyfriend, who has now moved on, and she is livid, how could he move on, shouldn't he be devastated??? And I decided that my being upset that she wasn't upset was selfish and egocentric on my part. Why would I want someone I care for to be upset? Once I realized this, I moved on from thinking about it, and wasting time wondering why she wasn't upset, because really, it's not my business why she isn't upset, right?

Breaking up IS hard to do, but it doesn't have to be so painful if we can put our egos aside.......

And, BTW, if you need a sitter let me know....she is really looking for work to take care of elderly people overnight, so if you need that, too, let me know :)

THE QUESTION ISN'T "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?" THE QUESTION IS "WHAT AREN'T WE GOING TO DO?"

2009-08-07T08:23:00.014-04:00

I am so saddened by the death of John Hughes, as I know many of you are. Looking back on his body of work, I am grateful for growing up with his movies. I have been reading a lot of comments on Facebook about his death, and I am realizing that his work was the pop-culture common thread for our entire generation......wheather you were a jock, beauty queen, mean girl, geek, rocker, smoker, burnout, goth (did I cover all of you yet).....his films spoke to ALL of us.

His films were inclusionary of all teenagers, and his characters gave each and everyone of us a laugh, hope, and an understanding that we sometimes didn't get from anyone else. Here are some of my favorite characters and what I learned from them:

Kenny from Mr Mom: It's ok to love your wooby, and it's hard to give up something you love. Sometimes you have to let go, and it's very brave when you do......

Jake from 16 Candles: Sometimes the hot guy has a heart, he gave me hope to aspire to the unattainable

Samantha Baker, 16 candles: stay true to yourself, don't let anyone knock you down, and you will come out on top

Mike Baker, 16 Candles: Little brothers are a pain in the ass and I am glad I don't have one (had to put that in for Stin)

The Breakfast Club: Make lemonade from lemons, detention sucks, but you can learn from any situation, and at the core, we all have a lot of similarities and can get along, and actually enjoy and embrace our differences

Ferris Bueller: Take life by the balls, love the ones your with, it's ok to take a day off, and call out sick .......this I have done many times, in particular, my husband and I always picked a day in May, before schools got out, to call out sick and play hooky, and go to Six Flags and have some fun with no lines to wait for our favorite roller coaster

Long Duck Dong, 16 Candles: It's ok to be blissfully unaware of how others perceive you....in my adult life, I use the quote, "What other's think of me is none of my business"

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: There's no place like home

I have seen 16 Candles EASILY 200 times........and I don't regret a single minute I spent watching it......

Thank you John Hughes for your humor, sensitivity, and insight......your films will live on. You will be missed by many....

Why I need to Recharge my live music batteries......

2009-08-06T16:41:00.005-04:00

About 3 years ago, when I turned 36, I realized that I was entering a mid-life crisis of sorts. 36 is an important age to me because I vivdly remember my Mom's 36th birthday, I was 9.5 at the time. My Mom seemed pretty cool at the time (and she is) and I remember the birthday and the year, and thinking my Mom was so pretty. But, nonetheless, she was a Mom.

I think, prior to my 36th birthday, I was in survival mode, always dealing with a newborn or toddler. I didn't ever really have time to think about what I was actually doing. On my 36th birthday, my youngest son was 5 months old, I was feeling rested, and things were on cruise control. I finally had time to reflect and breathe. So, when I turned 36, I think I look at myself and like a deer in headlights, realized, HOLY SHIT! I AM A MOM....when the fuck did I have 3 kids???

When I turned 36, my following thoughts were as follows: when is the last time I danced, saw a concert, hung out without worrying what time I had to go to bed, updated my iPod or investigated any new music? All of my thoughts were musically inclined (except, the strong desire to own the car that I wanted since I turned 16 years old, a 1973 BMW 2002....but more about that later)

Being in crisis, I decided to act, not think, just act. I joined every ticket alert possible, and any fan club of a band I wanted to see so I could get better seats......And since then, I have been going to live music shows as much as possible, which would probably tally to 1-2 times per month (if I stretched the quantity to a monthly basis). My live music batteries were on empty and the recharge is a necessary thing for my happiness.

I am very passionate about the music I love, and take this passion to a level higher than most of my friends. That isn't to say that my friends don't love music, but on Monday, when I wanted to compare and contrast Viva La Vida to Prospekt's March, and more specifically, Life in Technicolor vs Live in Technicolor II, the lyrical re-release, my friends looked at me with a blank stare. I also learned that they tend to download songs, and not albums! WHAT???!!! BLASPHEME! (Disclaimer--specifically for my sister--- I used to be a subscriber to "greatest hits" rather than full albums, but that changed a long time ago)

Music Albums (can I say Albums?) are a painted canvas from beginning to end, the order is intentional and the artist means for you to hear it that way. Album Shuffle should be illegal, and I applaud iTunes for implementing it's "Complete the album" service which it started two years ago.............BUT I DIGRESS

Live music gives me a feeling that I don't get from anything else in my life....a feeling of youth, liberation, a total loss from oneself.....In the moments when I am in a concert, I feel completely alive, and don't really care about anything else........Tall Guy in front of me? No problem.....Person singing on the top of their lungs next to me? Who cares...........Girls screaming so I can't hear the artist (ok, maybe), but the point is, if I didn't have live music, I would be a different person. Thankfully, I have a partner in crime who indulges in music the way I do.

Part II to this necessity is always having a pair of tickets in my hand for future months, because I also appreciate the anticipation leading up to a concert, even if it is months away. Presently, I have U2 and Ben Folds on the agenda, and after October 3rd, I am not sure what I will do, but since John Mayer is releasing his new album this Fall, I have no doubt what February and following months will hold for me.

My only regret in life, and I mean only (ok, there is one other, but a bit private), is that I never saved all my ticket stubs as a history of my live music life. Here are some of the artists I have seen live (not including amazing bands that I have seen in clubs, etc)....

Tears For Fears....Frank Sinatra ....Sting ....The Police ....Lenny Kravitz....Dead Kennedys.... James Taylor .....CSN.... The Dead ....Ben Folds ....John Mayer.... Beck.... The Spin Doctors.... Andrew Tosh....Ziggy Marley.... Beastie Boys....... Alicia Keys....... Kanye West....The Allman Brothers.... Billy Pilgrim ..........Paul McCartney .......Billy Joel....... The Black Crowes........ Dave Matthews Band......... Culture Club ...........Howard Jones..... George Thoroughgood......... Stray Cats........... Thompson Twins, Madonna......... Coldplay........... Colbie Callait(SUCKED)....... Weir/Wasserman......... Duran Duran............. G. Love and Special Sauce .....Gipsy Kings .........Jimmy Buffett......... Norah Jones........ N.E.R.D. .....OneRepublic........ Elbow ..........Rhianna ..........Pearl Jam ..........R.E.M. .........The Rolling Stones ............Steely Dan.......... De La Soul.......... Duffy ..............Hall and Oates............... Ringo Starr and the All Starr Band .....Elton John................ The Go-Gos.......... Foreigner.......... UB40.......... PHISH (forgive me)........... Blind Melon ..........Blues Traveler.................... Bear Naked Ladies ...........Black Flag.....Jay Z.....

Looking over this list, it seems too short (some of these bands I have seen over 10 times, etc....) and I am sure I will be adding as my mid-life brain is not what is used to be :) I would love to see your lists! Feel free to comment!

Oh, and the car, yeah, I fulfilled that wish as well :)