Tag Archives: motherhood

New Author? Don’t Give Up, But Don’t Believe Everything You See in the Movies

30 Tuesday Jun 2015

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Have you ever seen a movie and wondered, “Wow, I could SO do that too”?

The characters make fulfilling dreams look so easy.

I’m a self-proclaimed movie buff, but it really bothers me when a movie (even one inspired by a true story) makes something that can take YEARS for a regular person to accomplish look like a walk in the park.

Like writing a book and landing a publishing contract.

Hello, if you’re a new author, you know what I’m talking about.

I was watching one of my favorite kid friendly movies this winter, Cheaper by the Dozen, starring Steve Martin and Bonnie Hunt, and the mom decides to randomly “send some pages” to her friend who happens to work for a big publisher. Five minutes later, she signs a dream book deal, launches a New York book tour and makes Kelly Rippa laugh in front of a live television audience. Five minutes after that, Oprah and her crew are on their way to her house. (Caricature provided by Pinterest.)

While watching the movie, my kids saw the look on my face and joked, “Wow mom, it’s that easy, isn’t it?”

I wanted to throw a tomato at the screen. But I just grinned and swallowed.

In reality, writing a book in THIS CENTURY, whether fiction or nonfiction, is not a walk in the park. Nor is getting published and getting noticed by respected print and online media, let alone celebrity talk show hosts. It’s actually more ficticious than anything I’ve seen. (Unless you’re a rock star like my blogger-turned-author friend Jill Smokler, aka Scary Mommy, but even she says she experienced some disappointments during her early book tours.) As a public relations professional and self-published author who has worked hard to promote my first self published gift book (How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker) and worked even harder to pitch and land a publishing deal for my subsequent books (coming this fall via Robyn Lane Books), I can tell you first hand that it doesn’t happen “just like that”. I think of writing, publishing and promoting a book as the equivalent of baby steps. Oh yes, What About Bob Baby Steps. (Another movie where the main character, played by Richard Dreyfuss, has a best-selling book and experiences celebrtity pr.) It’s so unfair! All I can say is writing and promoting definitely has its ups and downs, with some spit ups, hiccups and joyous jogging stroller ride-like-the-wind highs along the way.

New authors often spend years waddling around trying to promote their work, even if they’re backed by an agent or publisher.

When it comes to writing a book, there are many bumps in the road that leave even the most optimistic writer disappointed, feeling like they’re about to fall. I have found that many authors, even those represented by spectacularly supportive agents, are choosing to self publish because it gives them more freedom. I self-published my first book with CreateSpace and had a positive experience. But I am so excited to reliquish that duty to my new friends at Robyn Lane Books. 😉

I have a friend (I’ll call her Judy) who wrote a novel and was backed by a well respected agent and chose to self publish because she was tired of waiting so long for her agents to land a publishing deal. Judy was able to market her book on her own and sell it on Amazon. She is writing her second novel and her agent is shopping for a new book deal soon. I just finished Judy’s book and can tell she deserves to be interviewed by Ellen, but I haven’t seen her on the show just yet.

I have another friend (who I’ll call Ava) who was represented by two agents. It took her a long time to learn how to approach and land an agent. While her agents were busy trying to sell her first book, Ava decided to keep writing and self-publish not just one but five additional books in romance and young adult genres. She is one of the most dedicated writers and she says she has a hard time promoting herself. And she used to work in TV!

A little tidbit: As a new author, you have to walk a fine line when it comes to promoting yourself. You have to know when to just “be”. As a 44-year-old mother, I truly believe in connecting with people in an authentic way. Something that inspired me to audition for the Listen to Your Mother Show back in 2013 – and yes, I ended up becoming a cast member, and connecting with some amazing women. If it’s not authentic, what’s the point?

All I’m trying to say, (without breaking your dreams) is if you decide to write a book, go for it. But don’t think it’s going to be as easy as it appears in the movies. (Unless you’re already a celebrity.) 😉 It takes a lot of work. A lot of rejections. A lot of dedication. Discipline. Self-discovery. You’ll experience sweat, stress and cheers. Don’t quit your day job either. Even if you have 2,000-plus Twitter followers and a ton of likes on your page, it doesn’t mean Ellen is knocking on your door. Even if you’re dancing along with her in your family room.

Just keep writing. And keep believing. And one day, maybe, just maybe, Ellen might want to Tweet you!

Remember eleven?

11 Thursday Jun 2015

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As I watch my daughter reach this impressionable age,

A time when everything still seems happy-go-lucky, but your body (and life) starts to change.

It makes me reminisce….

About the time I was living in 11-year-old, carefree bliss.

When you were eleven, did you care what others thought?

Or just go about your day, all smiles, without a second thought?

Ride bikes to the candy store with your friends after softball?

Babysit, walk to school, go to the mall?

Always with your friends, always having a ball.

Climb trees, play house, host lemonade stands,

Make “totally awesome” and oh-so-innocent 11-year-old plans.

Take gymnastics,

Run to dance.

Every once in a while, you’d wonder if the boy in the parachute pants would ever give you a chance.

But boys were still kind of yucky.

And you were still a bit gawky.

And you had no idea nor did you care how others truly “saw” you.

You even had enough guts to dance that dance (by the Go-Go’s) in front of the whole school.

You smiled, giggled and lived life full out.

Your friends were the best and that’s all you cared about.

This was pre-peer pressure and low self-esteem.

You had no idea what was coming at 12, 13 or heavens-to-Betsy, FOURTEEN.

Why? Because you were eleven.

An age when life and your outlook on it was like a little piece of cotton-candy heaven. 🙂 – Jackie

Dear Mom in Aisle 5

27 Wednesday May 2015

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Dear mom in aisle 5, yeah you, with the baby and totally rambunctious toddler.

Dear lordy, do I feel your pain…especially when you beg them to “Get back here right now.”

I understand your strain…when they won’t listen.

I know why you’re not even trying to crack a fake smile.

Or pretend to leisurely walk through the aisle.

Or trying to do anything but LEAVE THE STORE AS SOON AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

With the kids.

And your reusable bags.

And your dignity.

I feel you.

I hear you.

Heck, I WAS you.

I just want you to know that I’ve been there.

We’ve ALL been there.

And it’s OKAY.canstockphoto0273927

You can slap me, but just as the saying goes, I want you to know that this too shall pass.

(Heck, it feels like it passes way too fast when your kids are 11 and 14.)

Even though right now, what you’re going through feels like eternity.

Oh yes, some days, when you have really little ones, the present doesn’t always feel like a gift.

Especially when you’ve had four hours of sleep.

No, the present feels more like a suburban-space ball of snot, chasing and whines. Along with a few hugs, strolls and smiles.

You’re barely holding it together some days, while others you’re on top of the world.

You can throw your middle finger at me, but all I have to say is, hang in there.

Just please have a little faith.

Because one day, they will stop acting like little crazy people.

One day, they will actually stop begging for gum on the way out the door.

One day, believe it or not, they will stop wanting to go with you to the store.

You will no longer feel mortified when you see the entrance sign.

Or worried that people will stare at the mere hint of a whine.

Because one day, you will forget about the sh*tty shopping trips.

The rushing, the trials, the germy licks.

And you’ll stare at the mom with two little tots who act a lot like yours did today.

And you’ll probably give her a wink, a nod, and even a friendly “holy-crap-I’ve-so-been-there-and-I-so-totally-feel-you” wave.

Like I did to you when you weren’t looking today in Aisle 5.

You know you’ve reached Mid-life Mommyhood when…

28 Saturday Jun 2014

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  • As soon as you spot a public Ladies Room, you go…just in case.
  • 9 p.m. used to be the time you’d go out with friends. Now it’s the time you head to bed.
  • When a friend has to cancel plans because her child is sick, you secretly look forward to putting on your PJ pants and watching Netflix.
  • You no longer work out so you can eat more, you work out so you will not feel like cow dung the next day.
  • When you don’t eat right, you pay for it. All. Week. Long.
  • You used to walk into a room of strangers and care what they thought of you, and now you wonder to yourself, “Do I really care about any of these people?”.
  • When you don’t get enough sleep, you wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a frying pan, your eyes turn into slits and you secretly wish you could stay in bed. All. Day. Long.
  • About the time you finally get used to Facebook, you realize “kids these days” are using Twitter more often than FB.
  • You use the term “kids these days” without even realizing it.

Courtesy of http://www.cemcor.ubc.ca/

  • Nursing a hangover takes more than a nap and a cheeseburger.
  • Your new mid-life hangover remedy: Multiply the number of drinks you have by .5 to find out how many days you need to feel normal again. (If tequila is involved, count on doubling that formula.)
  • You wake up in a pool of sweat almost every day.
  • Five hours of continuous sleep is like a God-send.
  • Your neck is sore not because you went hang-gliding but because you “slept on it wrong”.
  • Random injuries keep getting lamer and lamer, and more frequent than you care to admit.
  • You have come to terms with the fact that you can never do jumping jacks again without peeing a little.
  • You wear a panty liner just in case you sneeze.
  • And last but not least: You sneeze loudly just in case you pass gas simultaneously.

 

Doll Heaven?

21 Wednesday May 2014

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There are some things I find necessary for little girls.

Things like bicycles, barrettes and summer dresses.

But bicycles, barrettes and summer dresses…for dolls?

Yes, I’m talking about A. Girl Dolls. I don’t know what it is. Part of me wants to hide in my room and play with these adorable dolls and their very cute and tiny accessories, while the other part of me can’t possible fathom paying for a miniature sofa with coordinating throw pillows so a doll can relax and unwind after a full day of pretend. (Yes, I know many of these dolls represent historical figures and teach great lessons, but when a play bedroom set costs as much as a designer hand bag, I can’t help but vent about it. And yes, in case you’re thinking I’m a total Scrooge…Santa has come through with some very cool American Girl Doll gifts that I sometimes find myself playing with on a rainy day.)

So, when I took my daughter and mother-in-law to the American Girl Doll flagship store in New York City, three full floors of what I can only describe as a doll-museum-meets-Macy’s-on-meds, I thought I’d died and went to doll heaven. Or doll purgatory, given some of the crazy females that surrounded us with spray-on tans, luggage-size European handbags and diamond rings that could give you a black eye if you stood too close. I didn’t know what to think, but I have to say, my daughter was excited. So we were too. 2013-11-30 10.34.46

We thought we’d simply play our part as good tourists, browse around, shop a bit and take some pictures. But as soon as we stepped off the escalator, we caught a glimpse of the second floor main attraction. Walking past aisles of fashionable outfits on mini hangers, we saw a pink sign that read, “Doll Hair Salon”. Walking closer, all I could say was “Oh my…GOODNESS” “Oh my GOODNESS”. There was a long row of stylists working at a mock spa, each standing behind mini salon chairs. And a crowd of little women (and their moms) waiting in line.

I felt like clicking my heels together because I KNEW we weren’t in reality Kansas anymore.

Within minutes, we were sucked into an American Girl Doll-in-Wonderland brain2013-11-30 10.34.40 wash.

A 20-something stylist approached us and asked, “Would you like to make an appointment?”

She wasn’t talking about an appointment for my daughter. Or me. Although,  I could have used a blow-out.

She was talking about my daughter’s doll. Or my daughter’s doll’s hair to be exact.

I never thought I’d live to see the day. My daughter was all smiles, and I was practically choking on my own vomit excitement. If you took one look at her doll, Isabella, from the dirty bare plastic feet on up to its tangly ‘do, you’d know it needed some TLC, Stacey and Clinton style.

After 10 excruciating minutes, the doll’s appointment finally came. Isabella was seated in a mini pleather parlor chair as a stylist brushed out her long dark brown hair. After struggling through a few snarls, the stylist looked directly at me and said, “You see this mini-braid, mom?”

“Yes.” I said, forcing a straight face, still staring at everything around me in disbelief.

“You have to watch out for this.”

“OK,” I said, admiring her combing technique.

“You can’t do mini braids like this anymore.”

“OK….. sorry,” (How could I be so irresponsible!?)

“It causes major damage.”

“OK. I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

Months ago, one of my daughter’s friends made a small braid on one part of Isabella’s hair during a play date.   I was feeling that icky, guilty feeling you get at the dentist’s office when he cleans your teeth after you’ve devoured half a bag of mini-Reese’s peanut butter cups.

But then I reminded myself: This is a doll. You can’t possibly feel guilty for damaging DOLL HAIR.

After all, I didn’t braid it, her friend did.

Right?

And I digress.

I tried to stifle it, but when the stylist started massaging and polishing the doll’s face with a tiny wet spa towel, I couldn’t take it anymore. I started to giggle. Out loud. As I laughed out loud with my mother-in-law and other mothers watching their daughter’s dolls get a full beauty treatment, some cackled along with me, while others were as stone-faced as their five-year-old mini-me’s. Think of a PG version of Real Housewives of New Jersey. With dolls. The RHWONJ-look-alikes  were surrounding us. And none of them were laughing.

I was beginning to feel like Alice. Almost everyone was under 4 10, including my very sweet Italian mother-in-law.

And every display, every piece of furniture was made for a doll.

Everything about our visit was surreal. But fun at the same time. The look on my daughter’s face, as if we had entered a magical kingdom filled with unicorns, made it all worth it.

My daughter was disappointed that our visit didn’t last forever. Unfortunately, we couldn’t fit in an appointment at the faux café upstairs because we had to run to a Broadway show. It was too bad, because I really could have used a shot cup of pretend tea.

MomoPause

30 Wednesday Apr 2014

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I may occasionally break down when I see baby pictures of my kids.

I may have a “moment” when I remember that my son recently became a teenager. Gulp.

I may sometimes obsess over my kids like the “Smother” in TV’s The Goldbergs (minus the 1980’s AquaNet-hair).
But I have a little secret to share with you.
It has taken me a dozen years, 1,000 sleepless nights, 300-some-odd tantrums, hundreds of cups of green tea, a dozen birthday parties, a dumpster-worth of diapers, 457 trips to Target, and thousands of vats of dark chocolate, but I’ve made it through the poop storm of motherhood.
I’ve finally reached MomoPause.

MOMOPAUSE

Not menopause, but MomoPause.
That Sweet Spot in a mother’s life. The calmer years between toddlerhood and true teenagery. (And yes, I made up that word.) That time when you can actually travel with your kids and, oh I’m writing it out loud, ENJOY the trip. When you can go to the bathroom by yourself for five minutes…in peace. That pause where no one pees or poops on you or in front of you.
And….your kids still like you.
I know it may not last long.  It may disappear in the morning. But I’m enjoying every second, let me tell you.
The sweet spot isn’t just a myth.
Oh, it’s real. So fantabulous, I think I may be dreaming.
You know you’ve reached MomoPause when:
–        You can actually carry on a phone conversation without hitting the mute button every five seconds.
–        You don’t have kids hanging off of you, yelling “Mommy, mommy, mommy” every time you go shopping.
–        You no longer get wicked looks from other passengers when you sit your kids next to them on a plane.
–        You can take your kids out to a restaurant and actually finish dinner…together.
–        You have time to wash AND condition your hair.
–        You don’t show up to business meetings with spit up on your sleeve.
–        You wake up to an alarm clock.
–        Your youngest can take a shower by herself (and it doesn’t make you nervous).
–        You can enjoy a family movie that’s not animated.
–        You remember what “quiet” sounds like.
–        Your kids no longer cling to you, but they’re not appalled by you either.
–        You look back on even the most insane mommy moments with a great big smile because you know they were special,  and you treasure all of them, but you’re also relieved that some of the tough years are behind you. Although you realize some very tough years are in front of you, deep inside, you know that because of what you’ve been through, you can get through anything…and it’s not a crime to pause and smell the roses right now. 

Saved by Ferris

14 Monday Apr 2014

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Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is one of my favorite John Hughes’ movies and I was tickled pretty in pink when my kids wanted to watch it on a recent family movie night. We had one of those weekends packed with so many activities (including celebrating my first born’s 13th birthday), we actually needed a touch of “Bueller, Bueller” to help balance things out. And yes, I did break down when I looked through my son’s baby pictures and turned to see a man-child of 13 years standing before me. Oh boy, it’s starting. Thankfully, he’s a good kid. Very sweet. But the fact that he didn’t want to blow out 13 candles in front of his friends made me feel like he’s already 16! My baby! It’s going fast. It’s only a matter of time before we’ll be shopping for college dorm supplies. And I digress. (I’m still in shock that I’m officially a mother of a teen, so thank you for allowing me to keep rambling so I can stay in this state of perpetual mommy denial a little longer.) So anyhoo, I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that my kids “get” Ferris. The “righteous dude” is a witty, playful, grab-high-school-by-the-car-horns genius. We fear him and adore him simultaneously. That unsung hero that none of us, even in our totally-on-sale Forenza jeans and 1980’s bi-level hair-cut, were brave enough to even try to be.

Granted, there are some bad words in the movie. So, being the Mrs. Goldberg momma-bear that I am, I simply pretended to cough or sneeze every time I heard a swear word in the movie. There were a few “Ahh sh**t –COUGH COUGH, and a$$– A-aaaa-chews” moments coming from my side of the couch. At least it’s not a show where zombies rip people’s heads off. (Something my soon-to-be-10-year-old will not be allowed to watch until she’s in college!) There’s nothing horrible. Just a few bad words that seem to automatically come with any 1980’s-something PG 13-rated movie. Aside from that, it was perfect. My kids giggled along to Ferris’s computer-generated “sick” stereo, his hilarious antics, his sister, Mr. Rooney, and Cameron. And they actually learned a few things from Ferris too.

When my daughter woke up the next morning, all I could hear was a faint noise down the hall.

“Mommy. Moooooooooooommmmmmmmmy.”

Her voice started to get a little louder. I was very concerned, so I ran as fast as I could. I found her, face down, lying in bed, wimpering. “Mom, I feel queasy. My stomach hurts.”

“Oh no, honey, are you OK?”

“I don’t feel so good. I feel really faint.”

“Oh no, honey. Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?”

My daughter then lifts her head, turns to me, and with a shhhhhugar-eating grin, says, “Gotcha, mom!”

Son of a!!!!!!

 

 

43 Candles: On Samantha Baker, Farmer Ted and truths on turning 40-something

31 Monday Mar 2014

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You’ve probably seen it circulating on Facebook already. A friend recently sent me the time-wasting-but-I-so-have-to-see-what-this-is survey, “Which John Hughes classic are you?”. Like any curious 40-something raised on John Hughes (R.I.P.) classics, I knew I HAD to open the link and take the survey. I got 16 Candles, one of my favorite movies. I remember seeing Samantha Baker hash it out with her big sister (and Farmer Ted played by the always hilarious Anthony Michael Hall) on the big screen when I was 13. Wow, to think I was as old as my son is now when I celebrated Molly Ringwald’s entire wardrobe and began reciting “Dong, where is my automobile?” “Jake, he’s my boy,” and “I can’t believe my parents forgot my &*^^ birthday,” on a daily basis. Scenes from John Hughes’ classics, from The Breakfast Club to Planes, Trains and Automobiles, became permanently locked in my brain, helping me become the person I am now. (Minus the laugh lines and back fat.)

As I face my 43rd birthday in April, I wish I could wipe the day from the calendar and just carry on as Samantha Baker did on that infamous day. I’m glad I’m alive and I’m thankful for my family and friends and all, but 43? It’s not exactly the most thrilling number. To quote Jake Ryan’s friend, “It’s…void.”

Things to keep in mind when you face 43:

• Teenagers will be calling you “Ma’am” until you’re 93.
• If your family forgets your birthday (like Samantha Baker’s), but remembers to pack carrot sticks, it’ll be a good thing.
• You may have reached total happiness and self-acceptance by age 43, but you will forever be immune to the fact that you’re viewed as an old dorky person in the eyes of every middle schooler in America.
•

With each passing year, you’ll look more and more like Elaine from Seinfeld when you dance in front of your kids

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• In your mind, you’re still a teenager, which means you’ll mentally be 40-something when you’re in your 80s.
• You are as old as your parents were when you were a tween.
• Wearing floral pants is a big no-no at 43 because no matter how cute they look on the mannequin, you know the minute you try them on, you’ll end up looking like Mrs. Roper.
• Your 40th birthday is just as memorable as your 21st birthday, but your 40th is probably the last birthday you will care to celebrate by partying after midnight.
• Going to bed by 10:30 p.m. is no longer a social embarrassment but a celebrated accomplishment.
• They don’t make candles, balloons or cards with the number 43.
• During your annual doctor’s visit, remember to remove all jewelry, shoes and socks before stepping on the scale. Then blame the **&&%$# glass of water you drank before the appointment on the shocking number.
• When you turn 43, your metabolism will slow to a screeching halt unless you exercise every day.
• After skipping a day or two of exercise, you’ll feel like your mind and body are turning to mush.
• Just Googling “heart health at 43” is enough to scare you back into jogging.
• For every sprinkle of salt you add to your plate, you can count on an inch of bloat that lasts for days.

You know you’re over the hill on St. Patrick’s Day when….

17 Monday Mar 2014

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You know you’re over the hill on St. Patrick’s Day when:

  • You have two drinks over the weekend and still feel “hung over” on Monday.
  • Rather than make green cocktails, you make green pancakes for your kids.
  • You end up wearing the same faded and stained green t-shirt (or scarf or sweater) every St. Patrick’s Day because it’s the only ^%^%*& green item you own.
  • You could give two green poops if the *&&^% green item makes you look like a kindergartener.
  • You try to remember to buy something that’s more updated and green for your wardrobe, but you manage to forget, every year.
  • Your version of “tying one on” is going for a jog after Pilates class.
  • You used to bar hop with friends on St. Patrick’s Day, but these days, you’re too exhausted after taxiing the kids around, cleaning the house and doing five loads of laundry.
  • Just watching the cast members of Jersey Shore stay out until 3 a.m. makes you tired.
  • You delete all the Groupons you receive from local pubs because you’d rather stay in and make green cookies with your kids.
  • You consider a soy green tea latte your green drink of choice for the day.
  • You juice green vegetables and pour the mixture in a wine glass to make you feel like you’re partying.
  • You’d like to go see a band and drink green beer, but when you find out the band doesn’t go on until 9:30 p.m., you put on your PJ pants because you know it’s so not going to happen.
  • When you do (miraculously) decide to make plans to go out and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, you get a text from the sitter that one of your kids is sick… five minutes after you leave the house.

I hope you have a fun St. Patrick’s Day…. no matter what you do!

You know you need a juice fast when…

21 Monday Oct 2013

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You KNOW you need a juice fast when…fresh-fruit-vegetable-juice

  • You polish off all the Halloween candy.. a week before Halloween.
  • You’re among the few who caved in and ate a piece of toast after being on the Atkins diet for five hours. (True story, I raise my hand in total shame.)
  • After jogging, rather than cooling down, you join your nine-year-old to a few spoonfuls of Nutella for….protein.
  • You eat your veggies, followed by a piece of dark chocolate. And then a cup of hot chocolate.
  • You eat dessert after every meal. Including brunch.
  • After a tough Pilates workout, you eat everything in your refrigerator that hasn’t expired.
  • You say yes to Garlic mashed potatoes for your side dish every time, without even flinching.
  • You equate a large salad on Monday to your veggie intake for the rest of the week.

In all seriousness, fruit juice fasts aren’t for everyone. Check out my latest AskMom column at OnlineRI.com to see if they’re right for you! Seven Truths About Juice Fasts: https://onlineri.com/articles/ask_mom

On Granny Panties

14 Monday Oct 2013

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This is an oldie, but I HAD to re-post it for anyone who didn’t catch it the first time around!

At what point did I let Granny panties pass as everyday panties? Granny panties, period panties, Nana panties. Call them what you want, but I know you know what I’m talking about. I realize many of you wear adorable matching panties and bras every day of the week and probably can’t believe I’m writing about this. Eff-it, I’m in my 40’s. Deal with it. For the moms who have given up on looking cute underneath it all, I know I’m not alone. You reach a point as a mother where you just say, it is what it is. “I’ve taken a shower, I’ve sprayed my outfit with Fabreze. This pair of panties from the clean clothes pile will have to do.” Now, I believe in working out and staying in shape (aside from good health, I work out so I can eat more and make room for my kids’ leftovers). I also promise myself to take a shower every day. But when it comes to unattractive and mismatched undergarments, I take the cake more than I care to admit. I do try. I have bought some expensive matching under-outfits through the years. I wash them and wear them here and there. But some of the prettiest bras stay tucked neatly inside my drawer for months on end, never to be paired with panties that at least fall in the same color family. I loathe going to that bra store in the mall where there are skinny 20-somethings donning Triple D matching bras and tanks searching the display drawers for the perfect thong. For some reason, they are almost always with their boyfriends and five girlfriends. They are all searching for thongs. Honey, let me tell you and your five girlfriends something. I haven’t worn a thong in 11 years. I’ve tried. But if you dare make me laugh or ask me to jump up and down while I have one on, don’t think I won’t drive home and slap on a pair of mismatched granny panties just so I can feel more comfortable.

You reach a certain point when you become a mother where something has to give. Every Monday, my bra and panties match. Sometimes on Tuesdays too. But by Thursday afternoon, I’m sporting a look underneath it all that makes Tootsie look sexy.

This is an old article about what your panty style says about you, and yes, Granny panties are in here.

You know it’s going to be one of “those” days when….

08 Tuesday Oct 2013

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Have you ever had one of “those” days? No matter how hard you try, nothing goes your way? You KNOW you can turn it around, and things can only get better. But for the moment, you need to just sink into the poop pile and let it settle before having a panic attack?

I woke up yesterday and accomplished so much, I felt on top of the world. I even fit in an early morning jog with my dog followed by a shower, brunch with friends, meetings and conference calls. But today. Today was an entirely different story. Let’s just let the following list tell the story, shall we?

You know it’s going to be one of “those” days when:

–        Your alarm clock goes off, and you forget to hit snooze.

–        You have “mommy” insomnia and slept a whole 3 hours, so you’re BEYOND salvaging the day with a smile, hot tea and Tylenol.

–         You look in the mirror and don’t recognize the crazy lady looking back at you.

–        Your son forgets his water bottle and he has a cross country meet after school.

–        You forget to wash your hair. And it shows.

–        You forget to shower. And you realize that people in the check-out line at the grocery store could TOTALLY smell tell.

–        You can feel a pimple forming in between your eyes. And it not only looks nasty, it hurts.

–        Fabrez-ing your favorite pants isn’t going to cut it another week, so you throw in a wash with ALL of your pants. They all need to be air dried, so you essentially have nothing else to wear except an old pair that don’t fit in the crotch any more.

–        While donning your least favorite outfit, topped with pillow hair, blood-shot eyes and a stain on your shirt, you run into the best-dressed mom in town. And once again, she gives you that “look” that you’re pretty sure could kill a rodent.

–        Your new laptop that’s a whole 80 hours old appears to die in your arms after accidentally falling for a “restore your PC” prompt, and the man from Toshiba’s customer service line says it cannot be saved. So you try not to take your hormone-induced anger out on him even though you do it anyway.

–        Your friend and IT consultant saves the day and your laptop, so all is well, except you totally missed a workout, and hours of work, so now you feel bloated and unproductive.

–        You catch up on work and thank God you were able to salvage all your files, but glancing at the clock you realize the kids will be home in approximately 12 minutes. Son of a …..

–        You call it a day and pray you don’t burn dinner.