“Jackie,” it whispered as I stood in the kitchen, snacking on a carrot that was about as satisfying as a dab of toothpaste.

“You know you want one.”

My stomach was churning, but I refused to walk over.

A half dozen Allie’s donuts inside the box. Mocking me. A day after the doctor told me I had gained a few pounds. They weren’t meant for me. They were just a sweet gesture from my husband while he was in North Kingstown.

They were lined up with their cute frosted, sprinkled heads. Bright pink, blue and yellow. Darling AND delicious, like decorated Easter eggs. They were waiting for me to bite into their moist, chewy, doughy selves.

Having one of these donuts is not considered snacking. It’s like an out of body experience.

Something happens to you. You realize that if you could eat them all day (without blowing up and going into cardiac arrest), there would be no need for men. I adore my husband. But this stuff is… like… buttah.

I mean, when it comes down to it, all we really need in life (aside from our loved ones) are frosted mounds of dough with holes in the middle. Sure, place me on a treadmill. Give me a few rounds of Tylenol from the sugar high. Make me run around the block while holding a box.

The satisfaction you get from biting into these unbelievably sweet, but not disgustingly sugary hole-less dough-balls, is like something I simply can’t write out loud.

But, like I told you, I went to the doctor’s and found out that I’ve gained a few pounds over the past year. Not a good thing when you’re 42.  Not 22, sweet Ms. Swift. 42.

So I promised myself to cut back on certain things. No, I’m not going on a fast.  Unfortunately, I eat AROUND THE CLOCK and always have. I jog and do Pilates too.

But unfortunately, I tend to eat a little too much. Which has caused me to get that roll around the middle when I try to squeeze into last year’s jeans. And shorts. And anything without an elastic waistband. And yes, I have that “crack” problem when I bend down too far in jeans.

My problem is, my whole life, I’ve exercised AND had a fast metabolism. I’ve pretty much been able to eat whatever the heck I want. Until now.

Your metabolism at 42 is like watching a tortoise chase a Tootsie Roll. It’s so slow, it’s torturous.
I once when on a protein diet. My body was in agony after six hours. I cracked and had one slice of bread. One slice. I GAINED weight that very night.

I mean, really?

Oh, what happened to the box of donuts?

It’s in the recycle bin now. The donuts? They are long gone.

What? Who? Me?

Oh, I wanted them. I craved them like Gossip Girl craves her first Gucci bag.

But guess what?

I did not eat a single donut.

I snacked on an apple.

Then hard candy.

Then 18 chocolate chips.

With a shaky hand, I cut the decorative dough-balls into squares.

Then I placed them on a platter. Opened the sliding glass door.

And gave them to all the kids playing in my backyard.

Whatever you do, you’re a rock star. And I think you can relate to this mom who wrote in to my Ask Mom OnlineRI column with a dilemma that many mothers face: Should you quit your job? Look for another one?

And, how do we balance it all?

Please find my two cents here.

So you take some Tylenol. Tell your kids you can’t play Uno, because Mommy doesn’t feel well. An hour goes by, and the pain doesn’t go away. So like a total mommy martyr, you try to go on with your day.

You do the laundry. The dishes. You take out the trash. Answer 25 emails. Plan a conference call. Approve a proof.

Then it hits you. This is no ordinary headache. You feel like a pile of donkey bombs.

Time to fake a smile and…when no one is looking, do the inevitable.

Grab your iPhone, lock yourself in the bathroom and………..

…oh yes…..Google your symptoms.

You type in, “Headache, fatigue, nausea, dizziness.”

57 different illnesses pop up. You are on page 1 of 25.

“Son of a..”

“Lyme disease.”

Oh my.

Son of a… that’s it. I whisper to myself, “I totally have Lyme disease.” (Sounding a lot like that woman in St. Elmo’s Fire.)

I take off my clothes and check for a tick, a bull’s eye rash. Anything.

Nada. Phew.

“Sinus headache.” Maybe that’s it. But there’s no mucus.

“Swine flu” NO.

“Flu.” But I’m not coughing. And my head doesn’t hurt there, it hurts HERE. Guuaaa.

“Appendicitis.” No pain there either. Thank God!

“Gastrointestinal virus.” All the symptoms add up, except for violent vomiting. I’m not puking, I just FEEL like puking.

Can’t be that. Or that.

Holy…no…not that either.

I pull out the thermometer.

I’m actually BELOW normal.

No one else on this beautiful earth except ME and all my female relatives has a regular temp of 97.1. It’s just not right.

I must be really, really bad. If I go to the doctor, he will probably laugh at me because I have no temp.

It must be my hormones. Or that pizza I had Friday night. But it’s MONDAY. Maybe it’s the water? Maybe I accidentally drank the plant water?

Wait, all of my symptoms show that it could it be, “Meningitis.”

I better make some calls.

But there’s no rash. Phew.

I call the doctor. He can’t get me in until later in the week.

Of course not.

I know me, and I am so going to be OK by the time the appointment comes.

Then one of those pop-up ads shows up. “Brain tumor.” And this is nothing to laugh at. But the pathetic part is I’m starting to get scared.

Everything that’s showing up in this Google search is starting to scare the Beetlejuice out of me. Plus, I’m actually starting to think I feel ALL of the symptoms listed, even though I’m lying down.  And I know for a fact that I’m not bleeding internally. Or vomiting. Or having a stroke.

So I take some Advil. I go to bed early.

And realize it was just a virus.

I promise myself to NEVER….EVER.. Google my symptoms again.

But I know I’ll do it. I totally will.

I know you know what I’m talking about.

But, could you do me a favor? Could you please try not to do every little thing for everyone else, just this one day?

You know what I’m talking about.

Because you deserve it. And you can go back to doing it all the next day. And the next. And the next.

Do what you want and really try to enjoy the day.

Find out what mom REALLY wants this Mother’s Day in my latest AskMom OnlineRI.com column here.

This one’s for you, girls! XO

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY! – Jackie

And a heart that burns.

Not from too much cake, but for the party to last a little longer.

Not for the presents, but for the present, to last…just a little bit longer.

I’m still reeling from the entire experience. Thirteen amazing women. All with a story to share. Original stories shared in celebration of motherhood. Of its struggles. Its highs, its lows, and everything in between. My mom and dad were so sweet, they flew in for the show! An early Mother’s Day gift!

And I got to see a ton of familiar faces, from my family to Rhody Blogger friends (Tera Norberg, Carina Aggor, Melissa Pezza, Jen Senecal, Chelley Martinka, Jodi Williston to name a few). I’m so grateful.

Today, I feel so sad to say goodbye to my show sistahs.

Together, we giggled. We cried. We laughed until we almost peed. From auditions to rehearsals, we shared our insecurities. Our worries. Funny vents. Silly side stories. Then show day, the butterflies. Natural remedies. The fears. The hairspray. And oh so much more. We gave motherhood a microphone.

We are friends 4-eva. We are LTYM sisters.

We got to be a part of something that was simply magical.

You know the saying, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts”?

When I think about the Listen to Your Mother show, this old (and not quite accurate saying) couldn’t be more true. (And yes, Kirsten, this made me think of you and your piece!)

The whole experience, from audition to final show, was so much greater than the sum of the parts. And each cast member, although amazingly talented on their own, shined a little brighter when we performed as a group. One presenter flowed to the next, sharing something different. Something special. A part of themselves. Even people from the audience could tell you that there was something wonderful…a roller-coaster of emotions (in a good way)…going on in that auditorium.

I just have to say a special thank you to all my show sisters, for their courage and tenacity. Their wisdom and words.

Thank you, (in no particular order) Kelly Baraf,  Jennifer Ciplet, Laura Rossi, Jessica Severson, Carla Molina, Alicia Kamm, Kirsten DiChiappari, Lauren Jordan, Stephanie Lazenby, Brianne DeRosa, Lexi Magnusson, Phyllis Kim Myung, and the poetic queen, Marian Kent.

Thank you, co-producers and co-directors, Laura Rossi and Carla Molina, for creating an incredible ensemble and experience, and for performing such memorable pieces too. And for seeing the real me, quirks, fast-talking, self-deprecating, whisper-yells and all. Thank you for giving me a chance to say my piece (and my peace) on stage. I love you all!

Listen to Your Mother Providence show co-producers and co-directors (and cast members), Laura Rossi and Carla Molina. My sistahs!

I’m so honored to have these kinds of friends, old AND new.

The women involved in Listen to Your Mother Providence may be “new” people in my life, but the connection we’ve made as part of this national reading series that takes place on May 4 feels like we’ve been friends for a long time.

Listen to Your Mother Providence takes place May 4 at 2 p.m. at the Providence Public Library.

I’m honored and humbled to be part of the inaugural Listen to Your Mother Providence show, an event taking place in 24 cities across the country that gives Mother’s Day a microphone. These women are so talented. So creative. And one of my sayings (especially since becoming a mother) is: “Girls may compete with one another, but women EMPOWER one another”. As far as this cast is concerned, it couldn’t be more true! This “empowerment” is clearly shown by the women behind the local show. Women I’m so grateful to have in my life, LTYM Providence co-producers and co-directors, moms and bloggers, Carla Molina Martins www.allofmenow.com and Laura Rossi Totten, www.laurarossipublicrelations.com.

I invite you to read my latest Ask Mom OnlineRI.com column to learn more about Listen to Your Mother, which takes place Saturday, May 4 at 2 p.m. at the historical Providence Public Library Auditorium. Tickets are still available and all the links are available here: OnlineRI.com Ask Mom

Join us in celebrating Mother’s Day a little early, in a new and “empowering” way!

OKAY. So here it goes:

- An Award? You know how Ben Stiller’s parents in Meet the Fockers kept his 13th place ribbons and awards? I actually won something for real(z)! And it’s not 13th place! IT’S FIRST PLACE! No way? WAY! My book, How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker, took home a FIRST PLACE AWARD in the 2013 Great Southeast Book Festival! Woot Woot. Or Toot toot! Yes, I was very shocked, and very excited. I celebrated with a bowl of Hershey’s kisses and a couple Coronas. 

- Thursday, April 25 - I’m joining an array of local authors at Barnes & Noble in Warwick for a LOCAL AUTHORS Night! If you want to meet 12 authors in one place, you NEED to stop by! It starts at 6 p.m.! More details here!

- Saturday, May 4 - I’m honored to announce that I’m part of the Listen to Your Mother Providence cast. It’s a show, but not really. Because it’s a reading. Think Vagina Monologues without celebrities…and without the word “vaginas”. It’s a national reading series that gives Mother’s Day a microphone. Listen to Your Mother is featured in 24 cities across the country. I’ll be writing about it more soon. I’m honored that I made the cast for Providence’s inaugural show, May 4 at 2 p.m. at the Providence Public Library. I’m shocked, humbled and floored to be a part of this amazing cast. All I can say is bring a box of tissues and wear a mini-pad. You’ll be laughing and crying, laughing and crying for 90 minutes. More details and ticket info here!

Not 9 weeks or 9 months. But NINE years old. How can it be? Yesterday, she weighed less than 8 pounds. She was just a bun in the oven when we moved here. And now she’s almost as tall as my mother-in-law. (A sweet, petite thing, but still!) OK, so she may choose fancy T-shirts over Fancy Nancy sticker books, soccer balls over Sponge Bob and she may not suck her thumb any more. But she’s still my youngest.

Thankfully, she still likes her mother. (When she’s not getting a talking-to.) As long as I’m not dancing to Madonna or doing football cheers in front of her, she still likes her mom. But, my baby is growing up. And it’s wonderful and worrisome all at the same time. (I’m going to have a tough time when she turns 13, let me tell ya.) I’m so proud of my girl. She’s independent, funny and strong. But I’m having a really hard time seeing her get so big so fast. Happy number 9, S!

I am still in shock. Shocked that something like this could happen. Shocked that innocent people were injured. That three people died, including a child the same age as one of my own.

I almost feel guilty that no one we knew was hurt. That friends of ours left before the explosions went off. That I was busy celebrating something as trivial as a birthday. That I had worked at the Boston Marathon…right at the finish line… years ago. Then I learned that friends of friends were injured. Severely injured. And more lives were changed. These were people like us. People whose lives will never be the same. People who will forever be affected by this horrific event.

Challenged Athletes Foundation.

I think we’re all changed forever. No matter where you live. No matter where you were when it happened. You can see it in people’s eyes. That familiar look of disbelief. Fear. Shock.

We chose to turn off the TV most of the time while we were away. We wanted to protect our kids. But we checked our phones, our laptops, and tuned in at night.

All I could think about throughout the week was an amazing organization that I worked with years ago called The Challenged Athletes Foundation® (CAF). I got to know leaders and athletes from CAF when I was the PR Manager for global running company, Brooks. I had the honor of working with athletes who defied the odds and then some. CAF is a world leader in inspiring individuals with physical challenges to get involved – and stay involved – in sports.

I saw men and women with one leg, one arm, walk, run and win races. I learned about their stories, their lives, the limbs they lost and the records they broke.

Although I haven’t worked with CAF in years, their mission has never left my heart. Especially now, knowing that there are so many at the finish line, from athletes to spectators, who are on a long road to recovery. For those injured and their families, I hope that they realize that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Although healing will take time, there is hope. Especially with organizations like CAF, I strongly believe that one day, we will see them run again.

But, I can’t possibly put these recently discovered dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Oh no. It’s an unwritten rule that after the dishwasher (that was so on sale that it sounds like a helicopter landing in your kitchen) has been running for 31 minutes, it’s too late. If you dare put the new dirty dishes in the already-running dishwasher, you might ruin the entire wash. Not to mention fogging up your glasses and accidentally tripping over your dog. Not on morning mommy brain.

Just the other morning, I took one look at the clock and panicked. A quick sniff under my tank top and I realized I REALLY needed a shower. The “new” dishes were left in the sink and starting to really pile up. But the dishwasher was running. So I decided to ignore them and get on with my day.

Like a mosquito buzzing around my ear, that pile of dishes annoyed me all day. Haunted me.

After dropping off the kids and running 10 errands, I saw even more “new” dirty dishes pile up. But I honestly didn’t have time to empty the dishwasher. I had to run out again.

I wrote a reminder on my iPhone (to myself) to get to the dishes done as soon as I got home.

I taxied the kids to school, worked, sent 27 emails, two conference calls, visited my grandmother who just got out of the hospital, bought all of my daughter’s birthday gifts, ran another two errands, came home. Worked some more. Shot baskets with my son.

I got distracted and caught up in something else. Then I had to pick up the kids again. Vacuumed. Served dinner. Signed homework. Answered emails.

When the kitchen was empty and I couldn’t take it anymore, I finally decided to do the dishes.

Had to let the dog out first. Then rinsed the dishes again.

I spent more than seven hours thinking about that piled high sink of dishes.

It took me less than 7 minutes and 30 seconds to empty the dishwasher and put the “new” dirty dishes in the dishwasher.