Believe it or not, your baby will be a tween one day. Oh, it’s coming. My son, yes, my first born child, my baby, is 11. He’s a sweetheart, but growing up fast. And I’m stuck in mommy denial. For starters, we don’t exactly speak the same language. I grew up in Texas spouting Valley Girl 80’s lingo. If you grew up in the 80’s or even 90’s, these phrases are probably familiar to you. (Like totally familiar.)

Awesome

Whatever

Like TOTALLY

Oh my G*d

Chill out

Crackin’ up

Not even

So familiar, you probably, like totally still use them every day, to your kids’ dismay. These less popular slang phrases have faded away thankfully, like acid wash mom jeans:

Radical

Barf me out

Eat my shorts

Gnarly

Tubular

According to my tween son, I’ve been told that I’m a great mom, but it’s evident (especially when I’m dancing in the kitchen to a Bananarama song, that I’m uncool). It is what it is. And to make it worse, there are new versions of slang words kids use now, just in case we need justification for our perpetual un-coolness level.

So, like a typical mom of a tween, I’ve started jotting down “cool phrases” and have a short list of translations. This is something I created for my own mommy sanity level. Be careful not to incorporate these words into your everyday vocabulary when talking to your tween, which can make it even worse. It makes it look like you’re trying too hard. (Think Amy Poehler in Mean Girls.) Just use it as a reference guide and please, by all means, add your own phrases in the comments section. We can use all the help we can get!

(Just to clarify, the phrases to the left are OUT!)

Whatever – Whatevs

Chill out – Chillax

Crackin’ up – Lol

Oh my G*d – OMG

Weird – Wack

Awesome – Sick

Cool – Phat

Adorable – Adorbs

Dude – Dawg

All right – Aiight

Bu-bye – Peace out

Rock it – Own it

Psyched – Stoked

Fabulous – Fashizzle

Done – O-v-e-r

Peace out, dawgs!

Winter is so very here. And after the Patriots’ disappointing loss on Sunday, I think my family went into a state of collective mid-winter post-Patriots shock and pseudo depression yesterday. So, we did what many Patriots fans did. We went to bed in a state of shock. Then we woke up, wallowing in “what-if’s”. We complained, lost sleep, and over-ate to try to forget about the game. Then we got over ourselves and remembered what Martin Luther King Day is all about.

We ordered take-out, played board games by the fire, watched movies, drew pictures and had a blast connecting silly words together with Banana Grams. Where anyone else would see a word like “art,” my husband would add an “f”, and make us all giggle. It reminded me that life is too short to worry about the weather, or a really bad game. I needed to take a step back and appreciate these wintry, cozy days.

Here are 10 cheap tips to help your family beat the winter blahs:

1)      Make hot cocoa. Nothing cheers up kids (and adult chocoholics like me) faster than some good old-fashioned hot cocoa and whipped cream!

2)      Play games. Make sure you have at least two board games in your house that are appropriate for the whole family. If playing “Monopoly” with a five-year-old does not sound inviting, try these: 1) Jenga; 2) Build blocks; 3) Set up a maze of dominos and knock them all down, or 4) Build a fort with blankets.

3)      Build a fire in the fireplace. Have your kids help collect the wood for the fire and let the adults handle the rest!

4)      Go outside. Build a snowman. Go sledding. At least stick your head outside for crying out loud. If there’s no snow, make fun contests like taking turns running around the house; or shooting baskets and playing “P.I.G.” or “H.O.R.S.E.”

5)      Host a playdate. We like our kids to have friends over when it gets a little dull around here. (It also allows you to catch up on dishes.)

6)      Go for a walk in the snow. Take your dog. Pull your toddler with a sled. There’s nothing better than a little exercise and fresh air to combat cabin fever! When you see your 90-year-old neighbor doing it, there is no excuse, so grab your coat and go!

7)      Get lost in a book. My daughter compares reading a good book to “a movie playing inside your head.” And my son loves reading too. If your kids aren’t old enough to hide in their own rooms for a book break, try reading a book together as a family. Take turns if they are old enough.

8)      Bake something. Make cookies, brownies or cupcakes. Pretend to be Buddy from Cake Boss, complete with an apron and a fun baking challenge.

9)      Go offline. Turn off your cell phones, computers and video games for a few hours as a family. Take a break from it all. Do something else like draw, swap stories or make a craft. When was the last time you made something with a carton of milk or a paper plate? Use your imagination!

10)   Host a movie night, complete with popcorn and cookies. Grab all the blankets and pillows in the house and cuddle up together. Before you know it, your kids will be off to college and they won’t want to spend evenings together as a family!

In case you didn’t catch the style news, green is in again. I don’t know about you, but prior to this memo, the closest thing I had to green in my wardrobe was frantically searching for something in the back of my closet the morning of St. Patrick’s Day that had a dash of green in it. Sometimes, I would dig for 20 minutes and end up with a dark olive green tank, circa 1999 or a faded not-exactly-kelly-green t-shirt that I would wear in spite of myself.  So I broke down and bought a new bright green Pashmina scarf this week. Yes, I hid it in my trunk overnight so my husband wouldn’t notice it right away. (Which he did, the very next day, and shook his head when I told him it was on sale.)

Unfortunately, for everyone in my life, it is January. And this means I tend to get into a New England winter wardrobe rut. Meaning I will repeat the same t-shirt, sweater or scarf that I really like over and over again, for weeks on end. Yes, I shower. Yes, I wash my clothes. But I will repeat things until they can practically walk on their own.

My daughter recently brought this to my attention, “Mommy, that looks cute, but are you going to wear THAT AGAIN?”

“Yes….I am.”

I have managed to wear the same look – jeans tucked into black riding boots – every day since Thanksgiving. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I wake up, work out, shower, work and put on my uniform. When I have a meeting, I will wear my “work look” version of this outfit by switching out the jeans for black pants and a dressy shirt and blazer.

I have to apologize in advance because I will probably wear this poor scarf for 17 days straight without even realizing it. Until my daughter peels it off of me and starts wrapping her baby dolls in it.  Go green!

I woke up yesterday, took a look in the mirror and saw something staring back at me that scared the Bart Simpson out of me. A wide rear. A large bottom. As in, “Oh my guuuaaah, Becky, look at her butt. It… is…. SO…….BIG.” Oh, yeah, baby got back. I’m sorry, but this calls for a little link from Sir Mix-a-Lot to get you going: http://vimeo.com/43933877

I’m happy. And I’m healthy, (if you turn the other cheek when I have a chocolate bar in my hand). But something happens when you hit your 40’s, my friend. Your metabolism starts changing. It starts to relax, chill out, and practically stop completely. When I was in my 20’s and even 30’s, I could consume half a chocolate cake, go for a 20-minute jog and burn it off by breakfast the next day. Those days? Those days are o-v-e-r, over.

There you are, just minding your own business, being a mom, still eating the kids’ leftovers, wearing long sweaters, walking the dog, taking a jog or an occasional Pilates class. And boom. Age creeps up on you. On my rear to be more exact. What the?? My sister-in-law said something to me after she turned 40 that really stuck with me like a doughnut on the digestive tract, “You know you’ve hit 40 when you wake up and still feel bloated from whatever you ate the night before.” In other words, that wagon wheel of brie from my sanity brunch a couple Sundays ago? It was with me until last Tuesday.

It’s lunch-time and I can still feel last night’s dessert trying to figure out how it wants to punish me. Will it end up on my back? Under my arms? On my butt? Or maybe it wants to share the love and spread the flab evenly? If I could talk to it, I would say, “Hello, jumbo-size chocolate chip cookie. Yeah, hi. You were really delicious last night. But you see, I took a Pilates class and went for a walk today. So you can go ahead and leave whenever you want. No offense, but I think it’s time to go.” Maybe it will take the hint and sneak out the back tonight? Luckily, I’m making it a goal to exercise more in 2013. And I hope to throw out Chocolate Chip and some of his friends this week. Wish me luck!

Being the daughter of a NASA engineer, I had a good childhood. I was never spoiled but never went without either. I try to instill this in my kids too. My parents taught me something at a young age that has stayed with me like spilled wine on a shag rug: “Never buy something unless it’s on sale.”

This means when you walk into a department store, look for the sale rack. When you’re in a high-end boutique, walk straight to the back and check out what’s on sale. At stores like Target, anything goes. Unfortunately, buying things from the sale rack has cost me more than I’ve bargained for through the years. I have more “orphan” blouses that I never wear (that go with nothing else in my wardrobe) but purchase anyway because they’re on sale. I buy certain investment pieces like handbags and boots at full price, which gives me enough guilt to fill the entire first floor of Nordstrom. I justify this guilt by wearing those pieces over and over again until they can practically stand on their own.

So this week, I head to a store I’m not familiar with to buy three “girly” birthday gifts for my daughter’s friends. I’m trying to plan ahead for a few upcoming kids’ birthday parties, and one mom tells me when it comes to her daughter, this store is, in so many words, the “fashizzle”. So, I decide to try it out. I walk into this store I’ll call “J,” and it feels like I’ve walked into a tween girl’s room on steroids. I find myself surrounded by bright sparkly things from faux-fur pens to PJ pants, monster winter hats to bling-a-ling tee-shirts. Anything and everything an 8-year-old girl doesn’t know she wants until she innocently steps foot in this place. “Thank goodness my daughter is not with me,” is all that goes through my mind. The plan is to walk in, buy three gifts and walk out. Unfortunately, there is a large sign right near a wild winter hat bin that changes everything. “Every item in the store – 40% off.” OK, I’m done. Take my brain out, this mama wants to shop. In my mind, that sign could have read, “You’re an idiot if you don’t buy something.”

Ah, yes, you see, I’m not only addicted to a good sale. But I’m a marketer’s dream. I like stuff that’s colorful and cute…and I like it even more when the cute and colorful items are on sale. Thanks, mom and dad. My husband shakes his head every time I come home with stuff that I purchased just because it’s on sale. I’ve gotten better through the years, but I still suffer from minor “sale” issues.

I start walking around, in a whirlwind, picking up be-jewel-a-fide journals, hats, erasers, pens, etc. As if the word “sale” has unlocked the “logic” button in my head. For no particular reason, I bought my daughter a giant green “oops” eraser the size of my hand because it was on sale. Granted, she already has enough erasers in her desk to last her through high school.  I walk out 45 minutes later with adorable presents for three soon to be 9-year-olds, plus a jumbo eraser, a winter Mohawk hat and a sparkly soccer tee for my daughter.

I hide everything in my trunk, ponder my purchases, and justify that only three of the items are not gifts. I can’t help it. I have no shame when it comes to a good sale!

So I finally got together with some dear girlfriends I hadn’t seen in a long time recently. Two live out of state, so it was like a lunar eclipse. We all happened to be in Rhode Island at the same time, so all the stars aligned, and we knew we had to plan it. It was a riot catching up and venting together. In a matter of five hours, we consumed an entire wagon wheel of brie, two insane-in the-membrane cheese dips, a gallon of cut fruit, some wine, chocolate and a quiche the size of my face. It took about 20 emails, a few Twitter messages, several phone calls and some major back-and-forth schedule-maneuvering to make it happen.  But we did it. We didn’t cancel. We didn’t re-schedule. We didn’t let our own crazy lives, from toddlers to teens, get in the way. We made it happen. We didn’t let another year go by without catching up. We knew we had to take advantage of this precious window of sanity-by-brunch opportunity. And boy, did we have some nearly pee-in-your-dressy-jeans moments.

My husband recently got together with a dozen buddies for a Patriots game guys’ night. I swear it took them one email and they were all tailgating. It’s so unfair. The sad part is, had I whipped up a get-together this fast, I’d build up enough of my own manufactured mommy guilt to fill Providence Place Mall.

OK. I adore all my women friends. But why in the name of Jennifer Garner is it so hard to plan things with other women? I realize there are times when schedules get crazed. When we have no free time. When kids get sick. And the sitter’s out of town and our guy isn’t available to watch the kids. But I feel like we could all use a little kick in the rear in this department. Can I get an Amen?

I had lunch with some girlfriends recently and of course, mid-salad, the inevitable topic came up. Giving birth. I’m sorry, but if you know what it’s like to bring a baby into this world, you have the right to talk about it for the rest of your life. And if your baby has a head the size of a honeydew melon, you can justify bringing it up at any meal. (Within reason, of course.) Let’s just say I wouldn’t recommend bringing it up often to husbands, brothers, brothers-in-law, uncles, fathers, fathers-in-law, nephews, and grandfathers. Generally, any man within earshot. All you have to do is mention “maternity gown,” and you can easily clear any room of testosterone. Now, I know that men play a huge part in our children’s lives. (It all starts with a bottle of wine and ends with a 40-week-long hangover.) I just think there are times when they appreciate us not going on and on as often as we do. 

But we can’t help ourselves! It’s like we all bungee-jumped over the Grand Canyon in hospital Granny panties!

Whisper “contraction” over brunch with girls, and within seconds, there is a trickle of head nodding, “no way,” “you have GOT to be kidding me,” “uh, huh”, and giggles and cackles. Not cankles, CACKLES, as in cackling or laughing loud because you can’t control yourself (in a good way) when you’re around girlfriends. Through the years, I’ve heard cackle-out-loud stories of natural birth, C-sections, water birth, working through labor (as in working-in-the-office-during-labor-labor), false labor, 40 hours of labor, breech birth, and even those who went from hospital door to delivery table holding a precious new baby in less than 20 minutes.

Giving birth is beautiful. It’s also extremely painful. I feel like a rock star for doing it twice! And I can’t resist a good venting session with girlfriends who have endured such a life-altering experience. Especially when we have NO IDEA what to expect (hospital Granny panties and all) until we go through it.

When was the last time you had a laugh-out-loud labor story swapping session with the girls?