I thought being a new parent would be the hardest part of the job. I was wrong. While pregnant with my son and waiting for my girls to end their day at City & Country School in New York City, I asked another mom, “What is the best parenting advice you ever received?” Her answer was the greatest quote I ever heard on the subject. Continue reading
“Look at your beautiful mom. She brightens everybody’s day with that smile.”
I was 9 and Kathy was 8 and we were sitting in what passed for the backseat of our blue MG convertible. We watched through the big glass window at 7-eleven as our mother chatted and laughed with the guy behind the counter. He was beaming. Our dad’s comment came from the driver’s seat as we waited for her. Continue reading
Note to my readers: Just over an hour after posting this article, Senator Ted Cruz announced his withdrawal from the Presidential Race. Cruz could handle the slings and arrows from Trump, but apparently my middle cinnamon roll blog was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 😉
I almost always steer clear of the political scene, because most people firmly believe what they believe and we are either slamming our heads against walls with our arguments, or we are preaching to the choir. But a very politically charged subject came up last Sunday in a Ted Cruz rally and I just can’t let it sit there.
Originally published on February 26, 2016 on http://mommydrinkswineandswears.com/
I came home from school in the fourth grade and presented my mother with a self-portrait clay figurine, complete with my favorite blue dress and long blonde hair. It fit in the palm of her hand. My sister gave her a shiny and expressive black and white tuxedo cat. We proudly beamed and our mother cried as she prominently placed them on a shelf in the living room.
On every gift-giving occasion, my kids ask me what I want, to which I always respond, “Make me something!”
They roll their eyes and say, “No, REALLY!”
“Yes, REALLY!” And I really, really mean it. Continue reading
My stomach is already in knots. Thomas and I are headed to the Arleta DMV for his 8:00 AM driving test. I choke up as he quietly lists his “rules of the road” while merging onto the 170 freeway. He is sixteen and already the best (unlicensed) driver I’ve ever ridden with, but there is still a whirling dervish in my belly.
It took us over two months to book this appointment. We tried the online route, only to discover Thomas’ license number and/or information was “invalid,” so we called the “help” line. Try that sometime when you’re bored, have nothing but time and a real hankering for the sound of a ringing phone. It’s fun.
Next we get a visit to the “no-appointment” line at the DMV, yay!
I have consistently failed at parenting. By the time they were 6 months old, all three of my babies had rolled off the bed and bonked their heads. FAIL.
They all got diaper rash, ate French fries and cookies that had fallen on the floor and watched bad TV. FIZZLE.
Sugar is DRUGZZZZ.
Wassily Kandinsky – “Cadence” (1924)
I am a timpani. You are a skilled percussionist, expertly wielding your mallets. Rumors of instrumental mastery excite and intimidate me and as you approach me for the first time, I search for a symphonic focal point. I am weakened by the heat of your hand near my husk enticing me with anticipatory upbeats.
I am breathless.
You lure me with precision in timbre, sonority, style and placement, tempting me with rhythmic perfection. You play me like you know me and as you carry me to a higher musical sphere I begin to surrender to each perfect and previously unexposed profound moment.
I am mesmerized. Continue reading
Is it okay if I call you Mark? My reason for writing is kind of personal, so calling you Mr. Zuckerberg seems cordial and detached. I have a story to share with you. A story about how you changed my life. Continue reading
A couple of days ago I posted a petition for federal legislation that would end corporal punishment in schools in the United States. And I am again scraping my jaw from the floor. I have received comments ranging from a simple “Why?” to comments suggesting I ingest a sizable helping of excrement. I don’t know why I should still be shocked by these responses, but I am. Continue reading
I have two cars and four people on my insurance policy, three of which are under the age of 25 and, God help me, one of those is a 16-year-old boy. Yeah. My insurance premium is a million dollars a month. (Note to preschool-applying, college-funding parents of still-in-utero offspring: earmark a portion of your income for the Apocalypse, AKA, teen driving years). Continue reading