You know that your babies aren’t babies anymore. But there’s nothing like staying in a state of mommy denial. (Or daddy denial for all those wonderful fathers out there who celebrated Father’s Day yesterday! Happy Belated Father’s day!) At least for a little while. Like a distant relative used to say (who saw me and my brother once every two years), “They’re growing like weeds!” My two kids honestly are growing like weeds. There, I said it. But they’re still my babies. I see that they’re growing up. I know they’re big. They are 11 and 8, not 2 and 5. I don’t treat them like babies. I get that they are saying things I used to say to my parents (in a way that’s a lot cooler than my 1980s Texas Valley girl slang, thankfully). But I still can’t believe it.  Over the past few weeks, with all their end of school year events & activities, I’ve managed to stay in a perpetual state of mommy denial. And recently, as I unintentionally fried my forehead sitting through my son’s 5th grade end of year celebration, it hit me. Slathering on some sunscreen a few hours too late, I realized to myself, “This is really happening.” My son is actually heading into the 6th grade. I started to tear up a little. I remember 6th grade. It can’t be. He is not a baby anymore. I’m outwardly happy that he’s excited to go to junior high. That he sings along to Flo Rida the way I listened to Madonna when I was 11. (And last week.) But inside, I’m a mess. A wreck. It comes on at the most random times too. I was fixing a peanut butter sandwich the other morning when my son casually reminded me that he was heading to a field trip at the Middle School. The Middle School – where he’ll be going to school at the end of August! “Oh,” I heard myself say. And then, before I could finish cutting my whole grain masterpiece into two triangular wedges, it hit me again. My baby boy is growing up. I dropped the butter knife and sat on the tile. I was embarrassing myself, sitting there all emotional, like ….like Mrs. Cunningham in Happy Days. As I sat, wiping my tears with a totally-on-sale-at-Target-and-not-name-brand-or-soft-in-the-least paper towel, my husband turned to my son and said, “If you know what’s good for you, you better go hug your mom right now.” I embraced my 11-year-old for a few seconds, looked into his eyes and apologized for losing it. Then I started laughing. We all started giggling. I went into the bathroom, blew my nose (with a totally awesome soft tissue that I did NOT buy on sale), washed my hands, and walked back into the kitchen like everything was hunky dory. At least for a little while. Inside, I was still asking: What the heck happened? When did my baby boy become a tween? And when, for the love of Joanie Loves Chachi, did I start crying like Mrs. C?

I’m so thankful that my husband and I no longer have to spend vacations in random airports hoping and praying we land on time in the right city with the right luggage without missing connections because of bad weather. Let’s just say we had our fair share of issues in the frequent flyer department when our son was little. The “red eye” can kiss my behind and so can eight-hour flights with three stops with a baby that gets random bouts of motion sickness during take-off and landing. In honor of those times, we recently popped on a movie that really hits home for anyone traveling – Planes, Trains and Automobiles. You know, the one with Steve Martin and John Candy? I will let this TRAILER speak for itself.

I managed to polish off yet another jar of dark chocolate covered almonds today. It took a few days, but I did it. In my mind, it’s all good. It wasn’t a candy bar. Or a Ho Ho. Or a piece of Death by Chocolate Cake (that stuff is better than ….ya know). Well, maybe not, but, it IS pretty amazing. OK, so I admit it. I’m a chocoholic. When it’s not in my pantry, I tend to get a little desperate. I may head for brownie mix, dry Ovaltine flakes or even unsweetened baking chocolate to get my fix. Some people have their issues. I’m addicted to chocolate. Sue me. At least I eat healthy otherwise. I exercise at least four times a week too. But if I don’t have chocolate every day, you honestly don’t want to be around me. Nor do you even want to have a phone conversation with me. I get a little, how do I put this nicely? Cranky. I once tried to go cold turkey. Eight hours later, my daughter found me sitting in the pantry shoveling down stale crumbs from an old bag of chocolate chips. It wasn’t pretty. So this is where you come in. No worries, I’m NOT asking you to supply my pantry with a week’s worth of chocolate, I promise. I’m not THAT desperate. (It could actually be dangerous.) But I would love it if you could share your favorite dessert recipe for my next book. I’m writing another book with more mommy whines and recipes! To help spread MORE sanity to moms! And the recipes I’m featuring will be DESSERTS! If you have a dessert recipe you’d like to share, one that you like to indulge in when you get together with the girls, please email me today at jackie@ventingsessions.com. It does NOT have to have chocolate in the ingredients. But it does have to be sweet. It could be healthy too! Please make sure to put Mommy Desserts in the Subject. Send in your recipe & it could be chosen for my next book! And you could win a signed copy of my book, How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker. Please enter your recipe soon! And please include your name, home town and email address. If you wish to remain anonymous, please indicate that in your email. Deadline for dessert recipe entries: July 10 at 5 p.m.
I’m still accepting mommy story entries for my book. And because I’m a sucker for moms with busy schedules, I’m extending the deadline for “Mommy Insanity” entries to June 18! Remember, YOUR story could be featured in my next book! Send your entry to jackie@ventingsessions.com. Please include MOMMY INSANITY in the subject line. No entries over 1,000 words. (The shorter, the wittier, the better.) Think back to an experience that you’ll NEVER forget. Something that makes you laugh today. Something that can help other moms feel a little less insane. Please make sure to include your name, home town and email address. Thank you! And as a special thank you, I’d like to re-post one of my favorite SNL skits celebrating chocolate with Tina Fey: The Brownie Husband. https://ventingsessionsdotcom.wordpress.com/2012/03/05/the-brownie-man-can/

There are so many witty and wonderful moms I’ve connected with since launching this blog, it makes me smile. There’s nothing like meeting genuine moms. You know that feeling you get when you meet a fellow mom for the first time and you can instantly tell if she’s a total bi**h? As if her kids’ diapers don’t stink? As if you’re the only woman on the planet that’s a flake at times? Sorry, but it’s true. Hello – like a snotty mom I keep running into in town who pretends I don’t exist? (Oh, I’ll vent about this another time, believe you me.) Well, this mom is not a snot. She’s genuine. She is a friendly mom blogger and her name is Kelly Bevan McIlquham. You may know her as Renaissance Mom. We have a ton in common, including our love of “Just Jack” from Will & Grace. And SNL’s Mary Catherine Gallagher. I could go on and on. Kelly is a mother of three and her attitude is positively contagious. We met via the Blogosphere and she of all people won my book in a recent giveaway from RhodyMamas (two other very awesome blogging mamas I’ve gotten to know who are sponsors of Julie Loffredi’s Give and Glam event. A girls’ night/book signing event I’m participating in with fellow author Raina Smith on June 7 at NYLO Lounge in Warwick, RI.). And I digress, of all people, she won my book. AFTER we got to be bloggy mom friends. Then she asked me to do a guest post! And she did a review/giveaway of my book. How awesome is that? Here is a link to my guest post featured this week on Renaissance Mom. Enjoy – and thanks again, Kelly. You are a SUPER STAR! http://renaissance-mom.com/tag/jackie-hennessey/

You’re a mom. Your body has been through hell in a hand basket. (Not to mention many pairs of God forsaken netted hospital panties.) At some point, your body is done with the whole “Before” and “After” crap. Thanks to Jillian Michaels and other ass-kicking fitness experts, we finally settle on a lifestyle where we feel healthy and happy with our bodies. We run. We walk. We cut back on crap food. We do exercise classes. God knows we try. But what the eff, may I ask, is up with the “Arm Dangle”? You know, that abundance of fat on the inner arm. For this mom who recently turned 41, I didn’t realize that I’d be so young when I would be introduced to the Arm Dangle. No, I thought I would be 88 when my arms would wave along with me. I’d have white hair and teach stretching at the senior center. Every time I’d lift my arm, it would jiggle and smell like Sanka. And all the other blue-hairs would lift their Arm Dangles along with me. No, it was not until I recently saw a picture of myself and had to ask, “Who is the old chick on the right with the fat arms? No, really, whose arm is that? WTF, what’s wrong with this picture?” Then I saw another picture, and yet another, with white mounds of flesh looking like they were stretching out to sea. “Holy tamale, that’s ME!” I will admit I like to eat. Always have, always will. But I exercise a lot too. Someone please tell me what’s happening to my body. And WHY is it necessary for extra flab to gravitate to this random (but oh so obvious) part of my body at this time of my life – especially when the summer is quickly approaching? And cute, colorful sleeveless blouses are finally on sale? Why is it that no matter how much I work out, how careful I am about the food I eat, it’s inevitable that the camera will capture this particular part of my arm in such a way that it looks like both arms are ready to set sail? And no matter how hard I try to crop the photo, these repulsive mounds of useless flesh stretch on and on and on, beyond the crop line. Flash back 1,800 years ago. Say I’m wandering the wilderness with my baby wrapped in animal skin, I can see the use for this excess flab. Subsisting on nothing but berries and bark, that extra body fat could come in handy on day four of an involuntary fast. I could live off of it for several days, weeks even. But what purpose does it serve now and how the heck can I get rid of it? I recently tried a week-long tone up and work out schedule. I was pretty proud of myself. Then in yet another picture, I caught a glimpse of my winged friends. Thankfully, I did find a trick in a magazine that says if you place your hand on your hip, it diminishes the appearance of inner arm flab. Please make a note of this the next time you see a photo of me. It’s my new pose, girl, and I’m stickin’ to it!

I have to shout out a big thank you to all the familiar faces who showed up at my book signing event at Hollies in Barrington last night. You all rock! I co-hosted the fun “Whine, wine, cheese and jewelry” book signing event with one of the most beautiful moms I know, Diane. Yes, she is one of those women who is genuine and effortlessly gorgeous. She doesn’t wear make-up because she doesn’t need it. Her hair is naturally light blonde. She pulls her hair into a pony tail and looks better than any gal that just came from a salon. (Meaning me.) She makes incredible jewelry and I’m wearing her fab metal earrings right now. Aside from the back fat I’ve gained practically over-night since turning 41, I feel awesome in them! Thank you, Diane and thank you, Holly Smith, (the fab owner of Hollies who had to put up with me in my oh-for-the-love-of-Christmas-planning mode over the past few weeks)! You both rock! XXOO

Do you live in Rhode Island? Then you won’t have to drive far! (Or as the locals say, “Faaah”.) I hope you can join me Thursday, May 17, for a mommy’s night out-style book signing & retail therapy event at Hollies gift shop in Barrington from 7 to 9 p.m. My mommy friend, Diane Stratton, is a talented artist, RISD alum and she’ll be showing her gorgeous line of metal-smith jewelry. It’s all about whine, wine, cheese and shopping, my friend. So I hope you can stop by! www.holliesontheavenue.com/

Were you treated like a movie star on Mother’s Day? I’m sure you were, because you deserve it. Happy belated Mother’s Day to you! You GO! So, I woke to sweet hugs and hand-written cards from my 8-year-old, breakfast in bed, balloons, flowers, cards, more hugs (even a precious embrace from my 11-year-old son) and lots of giggles. Then on to a busy but fun day visiting family, including my beautiful 85-year-old grandmother who has a way of lighting up my day despite her reflections on every depressing news story known to man. Bless her heart. I know she can’t help herself. After a long and eventful day driving from one side of the state to the next, I put my children (and husband) to bed, grabbed a cold bottle of beer and proceeded to rent the most appropriate movie to watch on Mother’s Day (without anyone else around, of course), Mommie Dearest. If you ever feel like you’re a bad mom, watch this movie. If you ever feel like you’re getting a little soft in the parental disciplining area, watch this movie. No word of a lie, you will feel like the world’s most loving, giving mother. You will be up there with Mother Teresa. Faye Dunaway is so good at playing a crazy, obsessive and abusive Hollywood mother, I spent the better part of my childhood thinking she actually was insane. (But I know now that she’s just one heck of an actress!) I would like to take this opportunity to say to my children that you can have all the wire hangers you want. All the toys you want. I honestly don’t care how you hang your clothes. Nor do I ever want to see either of you scrub the bathroom floor until your knuckles burn. Because I love you unconditionally. Happy Mother’s Day! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOILKHmZBwc

I want to extend a big thank you to The Savory Grape in East Greenwich, RI for a wonderful book signing and wine tasting event Wednesday evening. Thank you, Jessica Granatiero and Sabrina Solares-Hand. The turn-out left this mom speechless. (In a good way!) So many familiar faces, such fine wine (fittingly sponsored by The Girls in the Vineyard from California), so little time. Thank you! And Happy Mother’s Day!

So I had my first book signing last night at Barrington Books. And I have Jill Smokler to thank for helping me calm my ridonkulous mommy insanity nerves in the days leading up to the event. As a friend and fellow author, Jill reminded me that people will come. I live in this town, and there will be no mysterious illness that keeps them from stopping by. She put me at ease and frankly shut me up when she tweeted about my event, which made me grin from ear to ear. I had been wallowing in my own Nutella-induced mommy insomnia pity party, fearing no one would remember the date, the time or the place. That the rain would damper everything and I would be reading my chapter on the Pains and Pleasures of Playdates to myself and the lovely girl who works behind the counter. That I would be signing three copies – to my husband, daughter and son. But, Scary Mommy was right. Thank you, Jill! They came! The place was packed. And I had a wonderful time chatting and venting (over cheese dip, of course) about my experience of writing and self-publishing How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker! But do you know what really made my night? Not that one of my best friends from high school came with a huge hug and all the support a dear friend needs. Not that one of my best mommy friends showed up 10 minutes before it was over because it was her son’s birthday. Not that so many came with genuine support, asking me to sign copies upon copies of my book. It was when I woke up and found my book sitting in my 11-year-old son’s Hall of Fame display (filled with trophies, autographed footballs and sports memorabilia.) And when he and my daughter hugged me this morning to congratulate me on my first book signing. That’s when I realized this is what it’s all about. I did something that made my kids proud. And that, my friends, is all this mommy needs.