Write-On Mommy

My New Blog -- Come Visit!

2008-04-23T20:22:00.002-04:00

Miss me? I miss this blog, too, but I'm all blogged out over at ParentSociety.com. Check out my rants and raves over the latest news >> All the News That's Fit to Parent.

And Laundry to Do Before I Sleep...

2008-03-18T10:39:00.004-04:00

I'll spare you the excuses for why I haven't blogged in way, way too long. Let's just say I've been an overworked blogger-slacker trying not to miss deadlines, or let the laundry pile up too high. Haven't missed a due date yet, but I can't say the same about the heaping pile of dirty clothes.

But alas, I'm back and while I can't promise a masterpiece post this time around, I can at least give you this adorable pic of J.J. rockin' out, and a couple of quick updates:

- We've officially entered the "why" stage... read my blog about it here. FYI: I was the Milestones blogger for GeoParent.com for the month of February -- check it out. See? I've been blogging, just not here. And I've actually just landed another paid blogging gig where I get to make fun of stupid stuff in the news from a parent's perspective. I'll let you know when it's up and running.

- I've enjoyed playing the "Easter Bunny" card for the past couple of weeks, as in "J.J., you have to listen to mommy because the Easter Bunny is watching to see if you're behaving." Pathetic, I know, but I'm milking it for as long as I can since I can't start playing the Santa card again until November. Hey, whatever works, right?

- J.J. is officially pre-registered for Pre-K. I say pre-registered because despite the hour and a half it took to fill out paperwork, that's only the first stage of getting him into the Catholic school program near my house. Next, I have to sit by the mailbox (it could be this week, or it could be as late as May, they said) and make sure I'm among the first 20 parents to rush over to the school to return the real registration form they mail out. It's like waiting for college acceptance letters all over again. Aarrggghhh...

- And, yes, you read right -- J.J. is starting Pre-K in the fall! I can't believe how fast he's growing up. He's really like a little kid now. Scratch that... he's like a short old guy. A snippet from a recent conversation:
Me: "J.J., wait one second and I'll get that coloring book out for you."
J.J.: "OK, mommy. In the meantime, I'll just play with this."
I truly forget I'm talking to a 3-year-old sometimes.

Well, it's been nice blogging for you again. In the meantime (see where he gets it from?), I'm going to play the "I need to get back to work" card. Back soon...

A Brooklyn Kid at Heart

2007-11-29T23:45:00.000-05:00

So yesterday was my birthday and as JJ will tell you, "Mommy's old." Yes, I'm officially old, but not the kind of old that 31-year-olds say they are because they miss long drunken nights and carefree days slept away. Old because on my 31st birthday, I also became a homeowner. So I'm old in the sense that I finally feel like a grown up. Old because I'll no longer live in the place I grew up, the place where my mom and grandparents raised me.

You see, I technically never left home. Sure I have my own apartment in my mother's two-family house. But before that, it was Nanny and Pop's house -- they took us in when I was 5 and my parents split. When they both passed away, I knew they'd be happy knowing I'd live the best years of my life in the home they built, so I stayed. I got married and had the great grandchild that they never got to meet. It was here that Pop's namesake took his first steps and said his first words, and just yesterday, asked how come he's never met the Nanny and Pop he sees in old pictures. "They're in heaven," my mom told J.J., and he looked up as if he understood.

Because I've never physically moved off of good ol' 41st street, I still sometimes feel like the kid who used to run outside on Saturday mornings to play box ball, punch ball, red light/green light, and all those other fun Brooklyn kid games, and race back inside only when I heard the sound of Frankie's ice cream truck in the distance. Sometimes at night, I still hear Pop calling me back because I wandered a few feet too far from our stoop. And I see Nanny's content smile as she read her books every time I visit my mom downstairs and she's doing the same thing. And once in a while on those rare Sunday mornings that my mom or sister starts cooking the gravy early, it smells like Sunday morning 25 years ago, when Pop would fry up the meatballs in his white T-shirt. It's been great living here, but I'm a grown up now, and it's time to say goodbye.

So off I go with the great responsibility to create the kind of home for J.J. that I've always known. The kind of inviting place that keeps you, and nurtures you, and protects you (and drives you just a little crazy, but you can't help but love it anyway). The kind of home my grandparents gave me.

Overheard this morning...

2007-10-29T15:25:00.000-04:00

While I was getting dressed this morning, I eavesdropped on this conversation between Pat and J.J.:

Pat (talking back to the TV screen): "This guy A-Rod really stinks!"

J.J.: "A-Rod stinks! The Yankees are awesome."

Pat: "That's right, J.J. The Yanks don't need that stinky A-Rod!"

J.J.: "And Mommy's awesome, too!"

Pat: "Yes, J.J., Mommy is awesome."

How awesome is that on a Monday morning?!

What Makes Your Baby Tick?

2007-10-18T22:23:00.000-04:00

Does he prefer to chill out, go exploring, or meet new people? I tackle this very topic in the current issue of Parenting.

Check it out and let me know what you think! And for those of you who know J.J., although he exhibited all of these traits at one time or another, can you guess which one best describes his first year? Here's a hint... Starting in the womb, his feet went a mile a minute, and never slowed, even while I was in labor. He somehow wriggled out of his clothing in the hospital, learned that his legs could control his bouncy chair at about one month, and rolled over at two months. And we've been movin' and groovin' every since...

What's That Called?

2007-10-15T16:28:00.000-04:00

It's official -- I've entered into the question stage of parenting. We're not quite at the "why?" stage yet, but J.J. has developed a voracious appetite for inquiring about EVERYTHING around him. Some real examples:

- What's that J.J. called? (when looking at a picture of himself as an infant)
- How do you spell elephant? (along with questions, JJ is also now spelling simple 3-letter words, but doesn't quite get that "elephant" is too hard to spell out with our limited fridge magnet collection)
- Where are we going? (asked every 30 seconds on the 30-minute ride home from school -- every day)
- What does a hedgehog eat? (yes, these are actual questions, folks, and many times such as this, I've been stumped)
- What does 'question time' mean? (when I told him "question time is officially over" after answering the 627th question of the day)

I have to admit that while I'm so excited that J.J. is showing such interest in the world around him (he loved his first museum visit, as pictured above!), all of these questions are exhausting me. I start the day very patiently, trying to carefully craft explanations that his growing mind will comprehend, but then the questions start coming at rapid-fire speed and by the end of the day, I resort to "ask daddy" or worse, I pretend not to hear him at all.

Then I wonder, if maybe he's pulling a role reversal and quizzing me the way I do to him when I want to show off his smarts to family and friends. Yes -- that's it -- revenge for all the "Old MacDonald" and "A-B-C" performances I've made him do. What do you think? Is that possible? Maybe he's secretly recording my non-answers to mock me on YouTube with his friends at nursery school? Or, could it be I'm just losing my mind from all his inquiries?! And, If I can't answer him at age 3, how am I going to handle grammar school homework, or the birds and the bees?

It seems I've got some questions of my own (now I see where J.J. gets it from). Actually, they're more like the rhetorical ramblings of a woman who's coming to grips with the fact that she doesn't have all the answers after all. If you happen to know what hedgehogs eat, however, I'd love to know.

B-T-S Jitters

2007-09-04T20:05:00.000-04:00

I always loved school, but I don't think I ever slept the night before that first day back after a long summer. What would my new teacher be like? Would my friends be in my class this year? Who would come back with a dorky haircut or looking really cute? Last night, I had one of those all-too-familiar tossing and turning nights.

I honestly didn't think I'd experience that anxiety again, but sending my 3-year-old off to school for the first time was nerve wracking to put it mildly. What if he screams inconsolably when it's time for me to leave him there? Will the teacher remind him to go potty (and if not, will he be brave enough to speak up)? How will he act with the other kids, and what if they're way more aggressive than he is? Ahh, school days.

But to my surprise, J.J. walked right in, marched into his classroom and started checking out the toy shelf. He paused to say hi to his new teacher, and quickly gave me a kiss. I hung around, filling the teacher in on J.J.'s potty habits, where I stashed his sippy cup in case he had trouble with the regular cup, etc. Then I walked back over and watched J.J. figure out a puzzle he pulled out and started working on. I reassured him that he would have a great day, but who was I reassuring? He was already too engaged to pay any attention to me. I snapped a couple of pictures and gave him another quick hug before I left for work and couldn't believe that he barely looked back up at me.

All of the stress leading up to this day was centered on the wailing he'd do, how he'd cling to my hand and beg me not to go. I had hardly prepared myself for just the opposite -- the teacher telling me everything would be OK. And it was... I'm just not so sure I'm OK with it.

Just had to share...

2007-07-26T22:48:00.000-04:00

I got my first time-out today. Yes, that's right.

JJ said "Mommy needs a time-out" because I cursed at the moron who cut us off this morning and nearly sideswiped us. And as we all know, saying bad words on purpose means a time-out.

What I did on my summer vacation... by Write-On Mommy

2007-06-07T10:33:00.000-04:00

Boy, I haven't written that story title in like 24 years. But for all you moms out there who've waited on hour-long lines in 98 degree heat just to have your kid scream for the 45-second duration of the Dumbo ride, I wanted to let you in on a little secret: Kids will have just as great a time doing low maintenance things. You don't have to take them to a magical world of fairytales and fireworks to see enjoyment and excitement on their little faces.

Not knocking Disney because he had an awesome time there with J.J. last year, but the three days in Mouseville left us achy, disgustingly sweaty, and utterly exhausted. It was worth it to see J.J.'s look of awe on "It's a Small World" and to this day, he remembers the Pirate ride and the fireworks.

But this year, we opted for a vacation that promised a lot of lounging, sunning, and even a masssage for me -- yay! And I have to say, Beaches Turks & Caicos gave us just that. We arrived to a welcoming team with cold washclothes, had our bags brought to the room, and that was that. No rental cars, itineraries, tours, or schedules.

J.J., had tons of fun with the Sesame Street characters that actually interacted randomly with the vacationing kids -- that's right, no crowds, scheduled photo times, or pushy assistants telling us to stay in line. And since he loves water, it was nice being somewhere in which staying in the pool or at the beach all day was an option -- no errands to run, dinner to cook, or family obligation to call us away.

J.J. also experienced a drink at his first swim-up bar (I had to wait 30 years!), and had a whole restaurant sing Happy Birthday to him on our last night there. His favorite parts of the trip though, were the lollipops he had on the airplane, the fun "bus ride" to the resort (aka, the maniac cab driver), watching his portable DVD player in our hotel room, laying on this very own "big bed" (that would be the pull-out couch), and splashing away to his heart's content. If only our adult needs were as simple -- we'd be on vacation everyday!

Then again, that massage was pretty amazing...

Mother's Day for Me Is...

2007-05-13T20:51:00.000-04:00

For me, it's not about sleeping in or getting a mani and pedi. It's not about having my husband cook breakfast (although he did, and it was so sweet!). It's not even about NOT doing laundry on my usual laundry day, although I doubled up yesterday with Pat's help so I'd be free from grass stains and dryer sheets today.

It's about getting woken up at 7:15 a.m. by J.J.'s super-fast footsteps and giant smile. But the best part of my third Mother's Day was what came next -- the first time I ever heard the words "Happy Mother's Day" straight from my child.

To all the moms I know, hope you had as great a Mother's Day as I had!

8 Examples of J.J. Cuteness...

2007-04-19T13:38:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it's good to think about the great mom moments that have nothing to do with major milestones. Like these quirky things J.J. has been doing lately that crack me up...

1. He uses the pronoun "We" to refer to himself. As in: "Can we have a snack?" "We're so handsome." "We don't want to put on pajamas." So cute -- then again, what if he's got a weird Gollum/Smeagol split personality thing going? At least it would get my genes off the hook for his mood swings.

2. His active imagination. He told my husband one day that "mommy's a coyote." Another time I asked him how his day was and he said he was in a rocket ship in outer space. And last week, he woke up in the morning laughing because "mommy's in the hay." I'd love to be in his head for just one day.

3. He likes things to be right. Maybe it's the editor in me, but I think it's hilarious when someone tries to tease him by singing the wrong words to something (i.e. "Old McJJ had a farm...), and he corrects them. "No, Aunt Lynda -- it's Old Macdonald!"

4. The way he'll eat anything as long as it's classified as a snack. If you say, "J.J., let's go have a chicken, peas, and salad snack," he'll run to his high chair. But dinner? Forget it.

5. He figures things out. He put my computer to sleep. He cues up his shows on my DVR. And I think he's starting to understand that letter sounds put together make words. Sometimes he scares me!

6. Talks like an adult. Some typical things overheard in my house: "This doesn't taste good." "I don't think so, Mommy." "Let's relax for a minute." "We can clean up tomorrow." Oh really, now?

7. Sings in a high-pitched voice. Too funny! But he really has a good ear and can follow a tune.

8. Cracks up at random. It's tough to get him to laugh, but the strangest things can set him off and days later, he'll still laugh when reminded. Like when his Aunt Melissa told him that he's going to turn blue from eating blueberries. Gets him every time.

Which kind of mom are you?

2007-03-26T14:37:00.000-04:00

This past Friday, I took a scary step toward enrolling J.J. in a daycare/nursery school program for the fall. I say scary because as luck would have it, a 15-year study about how daycare turns kids into monsters was just released today. Figures, right? But it's all how you read into things. On the flipside, the same study found that these same kids have better vocabularies than their future raised-at-home classmates -- see how CBS covered it. And, actually, the most important point of both articles was this: "The researchers said the increase in vocabulary and problem behaviors was small, and that parenting quality was a much more important predictor of child development." So why is this making major national headlines, I ask?

For one, it's preying upon the sad but true notion that Moms are guilty by nature, and will click that headline (I did!) to see if they are screwing up their kids. After reading it though, I learned the real truth: No matter how you parent, there will be someone wagging their finger at you for making the wrong choice, and ultimately putting a label on your parenting style. So which type of mom are you? "Crazy Overprotective Mom" (a.k.a. absolutely no Happy Meals for my family!) or "Ultra-Laidback Mom" (she's the one whose kids just knocked you over at the mall while she was chatting on her cell).

I'm not one for labels, so I'd like to think of myself more as "Middle of the Road Mom," although I admit at times I've veered off course in both directions. When it comes to basic safety, I'm definitely a bit more on the cautious side. If I see a small toddler playing near a construction area, for example, I can't help but want to find his mom and smack her upside the head! And although I'm hardly a nutrition nazi, there's no reason in the world why a kid should be eating cheez doodles at 8:15 in the morning. On the other hand, I think sometimes kids need to be exposed to germs, figure out how a puzzle works on their own, play in grass, and indulge in an ice cream cone once in a while.

Look, this is my first go-round at this, so I try not to take decisions about my son lightly -- whether it's putting him into a nursery school program a couple of days a week (we've decided to do it in the fall) or letting him have chocolate (only on special occasions, like in the above pic). Ultimately, I try my best (with my husband's input, of course), to make choices that are both good for J.J., and at the same time give him the chance to enjoy being a kid. In other words, what's good for him, isn't necessarily what's best for him.

Author Paula Spencer explains this notion a little more eloquently than me in this week's My Turn essay in Newsweek:

"You can't go around afraid of everything. It's too exhausting! No matter how careful you are, bad stuff happens (diaper rash, stitches, all your friends assigned to another class). And it's seldom the end of the world."

Amen, sista! I'll have to remember that the first time J.J. acts up in nursery school.

Why I Shouldn't Be Blogging Right Now...

2007-03-15T22:54:00.000-04:00

According to a poll released Tuesday by the National Sleep Foundation (NSF), 60 percent of American women say they don't get enough sleep. And working mothers (72 percent) were the most likely to experience sleep problems such as insomnia. Shocking revelation, right?!

As reported in Newsweek:

"Women spend the last hour before bedtime watching television, doing household chores, or working in front of a computer. All of these activities make it harder to fall asleep."

So guess how I spent my last hour? Editing an article. Answering e-mail. Reading Newsweek online while trying to think of something to blog about (see, I found it!). My Web activity was also interspersed with channel-surfing, watching "General Hospital," and going through piled up mail and papers. And, yes, through it all, I've been exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night, although it was better than the night before. I could pass out right here on the couch with my laptop on my lap. But this is the only "me" time I have in the day. C'mon, working moms, admit it: Wouldn't you rather sacrifice a little sleep than give up your alone time? Once I publish this, though, I have to head to bed. I'm shot.

So off I'll go. And lie there. And lie there some more. That's when I start thinking about all the crap I have to do tomorrow. Then I hear J.J. rustling around and start praying it's not going to be one of those inexplicably bad nights with him. Then I turn over and realize how loud and rhythmically Pat is snoring. Now I have to take off my socks because I'm hot. And then put them back on 10 minutes later because I'm shivering. I finally get comfortable and then I get a sudden uncontrollable itch on my calf. Don'tcha freakin' hate that?! I scratch and scratch just short of drawing blood. The itching stops -- thank God! I roll onto my back and I'm comfortable, except now I have to sit up to fix my ponytail, which is digging into the back of my head. Aarggghhh! Oh forget it. Now I'm up. I might as well see who's on Letterman. Is it too late to pop an Advil p.m.?

G'night.

Drinkin' With Cookie Monster

2007-03-01T22:39:00.000-05:00

Sing it with me: "I'm going on vacaaaation... I'm going on vacaaaation!" Despite my last post, and the fact that it's pouring out and the dripping will begin any minute, we're going away anyway. Screw it! This May, it's off to Beaches Turks & Caicos, the all-inclusive beach resort just like Sandals, but specifically geared to families, complete with Sesame Street characters.

Because in the grand scheme of things, does dropping three grand to go to Beaches really matter? The way I see it is, there are plenty of reasons to splurge:

1. Pat and I will be married five years in September, together 13 years next month. That's way longer than most marriages last these days and it's something to be celebrated dammit.
2. For the first time in our lives, all of our ass busting is financially paying off and we can afford it.
3. If we don't do it now, we're beat for a while. Coming soon... my mom's pending surgery, my sister's wedding prep, looking for our first house, and (hopefully) working on baby #2 next year.
4. It'll be our first real vacation that's just the three of us, in which we're not just visiting other family.
5. J.J. will get to celebrate his third birthday having breakfast with Elmo. How cool is that?!
6. I'm 30 years old and I don't have a passport -- it's time.
7. We'll pay it off in no time (extra hours when my boss goes on maternity leave, Pat's ever available overtime, new freelance assignments -- yes, I was just assigned an article for Parenting Mag!!!).
8. As wonderful as my honeymoon was, part of me was always bummed about not going to Sandals because I was too much of a wuss to fly at the time.
9. I get to have a tan in May for like the first time ever.
10. And finally... Sesame Street characters are much more tolerable after a few all-inclusive Mai Tais.

Coincidence, Conspiracy, or Just That Time of the Month

2007-02-26T22:22:00.000-05:00

Once each month I have a breakdown. And when I calm down, I chalk it up to it having been that "time of the month." But I swear, there are many months when it's not just my out-of-whack hormones that send me into couch-punching cursefests or uncontrollable crying fits (when I'm by myself, of course). It really does seem that the moon and planets align against me and crazy shit always seems to rain down at my most vulnerable time.

Take for instance this past weekend... I was told that we owe the IRS about $3,500 and had to hear that it's "my fault" because I do too much freelance work. As if I should turn down legal, lucrative work opportunities to spite the government. Oh, but we need to buy a house so we have a write-off. Which means I need to keep making money. Do you see where I'm going with this? But it is what it is... and I wasn't all that surprised, and have been socking cash away for this rainy day.

Onto the next day, a snowy one, actually. Here I am trying to calm down a tantrum-throwing J.J. (yes, we've just entered that fun new phase) while sitting double-parked in our car because we couldn't find a spot on my block for a half hour. I manage to get him to laugh only to turn around to see that a traffic cop was writing me a $115 ticket... even though I was in the car... and it was running... and I had no problem moving it... hence why I stayed in the car... but the biatch didn't tell me to move because and I quote, "it's not her job"!!! (Can you hear the fury in my angry typing?!) After I threw a tantrum of my own, the experience helped reinforce the idea that a new house with a driveway would be fabulous. That night, the falling snow was pretty, and J.J.'s excitement over it made me smile.

But when it rains (or snows), it pours. Right now, I'm listening to that pretty snow drip into J.J.'s room. The roof is leaking again. Drip. It's so freakin' (drip) annoying, distracting, and infuriating since (drip) I realize this means I'll be paying for a whole new roof for a house I don't plan to live in much longer (DRIP!). The last three people who patched it up -- yes, this is a reoccuring problem -- said we can't put off getting a new roof if it leaks again, "but you won't have to worry about it for at least five years"). Or in reality, more like six months. Just in time to ruin the vacation plans I finally convinced myself were OK to make, even though I just got slammed on my taxes and should be saving for that house with ample parking.

And to top it off? I just got my period. Wait -- that's good news! Things can go back to normal again. 'Til next month...

I'm Back!!! (And so are the sleep issues... )

2007-02-15T17:15:00.000-05:00

Well, dear readers, if if seems I haven't had all that much free time to blog lately, there's a reason, and his name is J.J. Gone are those sacred 2-3 hour naptimes (his, not mine -- I wish!) on my days off. I know that there are three- and even four-year-olds who sweetly lie down each day at their specified naptime and wake up happy and refreshed, and I was hoping my son would become one of them. But at two and a half, the dream is over.

For one thing, J.J. simply has been refusing to nap for me without a fight (and sometimes, not at all!) for the last couple of months. Although he eagerly napped for his dad and grandmother, with me, he'd whine for an hour, finally fall asleep way too late in the afternoon, and then want to stay up until 10 p.m. or later. What was the point of that?!

So this week, I've taken a stand against common practice and officially declared a no more nap rule. And I'm totally OK with it! Now J.J. and I really get to spend the whole day together. Get this: Just the other day, he finished doing a puzzle, and after doing his celebratory arm-flapping dance (it's hysterical, I swear!) he turned to me and said, "Mommy's turn." How cool is that?! It kind of means I no longer just take care of him -- instead, we hang out. We have conversations, make silly jokes, sing silly songs, and dance goofily around the house. This is what I've been waiting for all along! Sure, I've loved my son since the first minute I saw him, but now he's my best pal, too.

Other napless day perks? Let's see... I don't have to rush home from our morning outings to make sure we're back for naptime or rearrange plans around it. And, here's the best part -- I've gotten my evenings back since my sleepy boy welcomes his earlier bedtime without a struggle. My husband and I feel like grown ups again, with more time to enjoy adult conversation.

If all goes according to plan and my extra evening time isn't a fluke, I just may get back into the blogging game -- that is if I'm not too exhausted from all the puzzles and dancing.

A Blog Writer's Block Haiku (or three)

2007-01-11T21:28:00.000-05:00

Why I haven't posted...

Can't seem to find time
Blog readers stick with me please
I shall return soon...

Plus, I'm burnt...

Can't think of ideas
I lost some brain cells tonight
Armed and Dangerous -- so dumb.

But getting there...

Resolution time:
I will post once every week
Same blog time, same blog channel.

Growing Up

2006-11-14T18:23:00.000-05:00

J.J. will be 2 and 1/2 on November 24th and both my husband and I have not gone away overnight together -- not even once! It's totally my fault. Thinking back, from night one, I've always had an excuse as to why I couldn't spend a night away from J.J. In the first few sleepless, C-section-agonizing days home, I refused my mom's offers for nighttime help, insisting the only way I'd learn how to care for a newborn was to do it myself. The truth is, I know I wouldn't have slept because I'd be up wondering if he was OK.

Once J.J. slept through the night -- lucky us, starting at about two and a half months -- that was our chance to plan an overnight getaway. After all, whomever stayed with J.J. would just have to hang around in the offchance he woke up during the night. But it wasn't even a thought at that point. I reasoned that if we broke our routine, we'd mess up his perfect bedtime ritual. Really, I just couldn't bare the thought of not being there for him. It's bad enough I was already dealing with the guilt of going back to work part-time. What kind of a mother would I be if I acted like some childless woman, following my every whim?

Don't get me wrong. I relished (and still do!) those daytime moments out of the house when someone would offer to watch him for a couple of hours, whether I'd get my nails done or just wander around CVS without a 20-pound stroller, diaper bag, and fussy baby. But nighttime is a whole different story. That's always been my job, and I pride myself in never having taken a personal day.

Then came the dark ages... when J.J. the Conquerer invaded our bed. Now I couldn't possibly leave him with anyone even though there were many nights that I wanted nothing more. After all, he was such a light sleeper, awaking at the slightest noise or movement. And if he called for me and I wasn't there, he'd go into a frenzy. I couldn't put anyone throught that.

Once the dark ages ended and a new age -- a big boy bed renaissance, if you will -- came to pass, peaceful nights returned. Well, mostly, except for the occasional inexplicable crying in the middle of the night. It happened just last night, in fact. We're not sure what causes J.J. to wake up screaming -- a bad dream, a headache, night terrors, the last of those molars coming in? It's anyone's guess, but lying awake last night, I realized that I was coming down with something: a severe case of separation anxiety. Yes, mommies, get it, too.

My case of it stems from what's approaching. You see, this Friday my husband and I will be spending our first night away from J.J. to celebrate my upcoming 30th birthday. The plans have been in motion for weeks now. He'll be sleeping at his grandma's house. I'm bringing his sleeping buddy, Curious George, and his favorite bedtime CD. And we'll really only be gone 24 hours or so, since we plan to head back on Saturday afternoon (can you hear me rationalizing?). Plus he loves spending time with his grandma and is used to taking naps there so there's nothing to worry about...right?

Nothing except of course, that he'll have one of his crying fits, calling for mommy and I'll be 100 miles away partying in Atlantic City, too drunk (hopefully) to drive home. Will all my fun be worth the pathetic look on his face if ever I try to leave him again? Or worse -- he'll curl up on his pillow, his hand on George's head, and sleep the whole night through without asking for me once. That'll mean my little boy's growing up. And I guess that means it's time this almost-30 year old does, too.

Only 54 More Shopping Days 'Til Christmas...

2006-11-01T16:37:00.000-05:00

I am what most would call punctual. An early bird by no means, but certainly never late. And in my deadline-driven life, I'm always more effective when an impending due date is closing in, rather than far off in the distance. I live by the clock and calendar in my capacity as a writer/editor, and can't afford to miss a beat when it comes to fulfilling my little guy's daily demands. In short, (caution: literary reference ahead), a particular line of poetry rings very true in my daily life:

"While at my back I always hear, Time's winged chariot, hurrying near..."

Perhaps that why I'm rebelling against this year's sense of urgency in regards to Christmas shopping season. I hit a toy store this past weekend to pick up some last minute Halloween goodies and I could barely navigate my shopping cart without bumping into some stressed-out parent with a shopping list and a cell phone, trying to find out if little Molly would rather have Bella Dancerella or Polly Pockets under the tree. And although it's against my policy to become one of those parents, I actually thought it would be a good idea to pick up a Christmas outfit for my son so I can start trying to snap the perfect holiday card photo. Guess what? All the nice outfits are SOLD OUT... IN OCTOBER! Are we as a consumer society losing our collective minds?

As much as I've tried to resist the Great Christmas Push of 2006, I can't help but feeling like I've already blew my shot at this year's hottest toys, missed the best sales, and now, as punishment, have to stand in out-the-door lines with the rest of the "last-minute shoppers." Only 54 more shopping days 'til Christmas... It might as well be midnight on Christmas Eve, and the last store in town is about to close.

It used to be so nice to space out my shopping during the month of December -- ya know, after Thanksgiving -- enjoy the holiday rush, and find the perfect gift for a loved one. (That was also back when every gift wasn't mandated to me from a wishlist, but I'll save that for another vent session.) Even if I was still shopping the weekend before the holiday, I was always completely done and wrapped with a day or two to spare. But in 2006, I've already missed the boat. My son may have to wear pastel spring colors in his holiday photo, and my gift recipients will have to settle for gift cards or cheesy I.O.U. printouts of items that are on backorder.

Speaking of which, I've gotta go. If I hurry, I can get in my pre-order for the 2007 Tickle Me Elmo Extreme Anniversary Edition Volume II.

Hack-Fans of the World, Unite!

2006-09-28T23:28:00.000-04:00

I just read EW.com's article, "Is Gene Hackman the Greatest Actor Ever?" and am elated to know that I can safely come out of the Hackman closet now. (And of course, the answer is YES!)

Those who know me well, already know my secret. There's just something about the guy. I have this weird non-sexual "thing" for him. If he's on-screen, I can't look away. I feel like I know him. He's on my list of three people I'd love to have dinner with (along with Paul McCartney and J.J. Abrams). Weird right? Well, apparently, I'm not alone. Here's what the article's author notes:

He snagged a Best Actor Oscar as the hair-trigger narc Popeye Doyle in 1971's The French Connection. He had the range to play both the paranoid, twitchy surveillance expert in The Conversation and the blustery, hambone alpha-male preacher in The Poseidon Adventure. He was Lex freakin' Luthor, for crying out loud!

Ahh, Lex. I think that's when my obsession began, back when I was 6 or so, and first watched his brilliance as the "greatest criminal mind of our time." Genius!

OK, so maybe you're thinking it's a freaky journalist thing. After all, Gene was a journalist himself before breaking into the movies at a late age. (See, I do know a lot about him.) But now I know there are other Hack-fans out there. Check out these reader comments on the EW article:

> "He can play anything, tough, funny tough, sleazy/slimy and sleazy/vulnerable, ditzy, authoritarian, egomaniacal, bombastic, earnest, and wacko. He has NO EQUAL."

> "If Gene Hackman is in a movie or TV show- I ALWAYS watch it!"

> "I think Hackman's alacrity to play different characters makes him INVALUABLE as an actor."

> "It's strange how you don't think of him when you're talking about our greatest actors, but when you think of the films he's done, of course you remember he is."

So now that everyone is starting to jump on the "I heart Hackman" bandwagon, just remember where you heard it first. And step off -- I've got dinner dibs.

"Victory is Mine!"

2006-09-06T12:42:00.000-04:00

If you watch "Family Guy," you recognize that title as Stewie's mantra as he gets the last laugh over his mom Lois. Since J.J. starting babbling, we've joked that he's just like Stewie, always strategizing, calculating, and chuckling to himself about the chaos he can cause on a whim. Or better yet, we liken him to the velociraptors in "Jurassic Park" that jump at the electrical fences, each time in a different spot, to test for weaknesses.

That's J.J. -- smart as a whip, ultra-observant, never missing an opportunity to explore newfound territory, like a drawer missing a safety latch, a glass of soda left dangerously close to the edge of a table, or the boundaries of my sanity. As a mom, I have to try to stay one step ahead of him all the time, always being "on," never letting him discover my weaknesses, while walking the fine line of allowing him to explore, learn, and develop. And I wouldn't have it any other way. He's really perfect to me in every way imaginable. Well, there is that one thing...

It's the battle I've lost every night for nearly two years. J.J. learned early on of my weakness for his puppy-dog eyes, pout lip, and the pathetic way he'd stand next to my bed with his little head resting near my pillow as he'd wait for me to pick him up and let him sleep between my husband and I. Night after night, I'd put off the impending showdown, reasoning that I really liked when he snuggled up against me most nights, and eventually he'd understand the need for his own (and our) personal space and stay in his "big boy" bed. In reality though, I've had countless kicks to the kidneys, gotten punched in the eye and nose, haven't enjoyed more than a two-hour stretch of uninterrupted sleep, not to mention its effect in the romantic department. I have spent many a sleepless night agonizing over my -- ahem -- sleepless nights, while watching "Family Guy" reruns. Ooh, that Stewie...

Labor Day weekend 2006: The time had finally come when J.J. would have no choice but to sleep in his own room. At least that was our long-weekend plan, one we'd tried before. This time, we put up a safety gate so J.J. couldn't come pitter-pattering into our room at night, explained to him the deal (adding a few measures of bribery including a trip to Toys R Us the next morning if he complied), and braced ourselves -- we knew what was coming.

Screaming. Wailing. Pleading. Pwitty Pwease-ing. Nearly two hours of J.J. preying on my weakness of not being able to ignore his cries. But this time, I had a new secret weapon. The advice of dear friends who assured me that no matter how painful it is to hear your child cry, it would be worth it to him in the end since he'd ultimately sleep better. Oh, and the haunting thought of another friend's daughter who still sleeps with them at age 4. Imagine doing this for another two years?!

Finally the cries turned to whimpers. Then silence. Then snores. Then came morning when we all realized we had made it through the toughest night. I think I hugged and kissed J.J. for about 15 minutes straight. J.J. couldn't wait to tell his Grandma and Nonna what a big boy he was. We had our trip to Toys R Us as promised, followed by night two. Just 10 minutes of crying this time. Then sleepy smiles and cuddling with Curious George. Night three. Not a sound. Just the low hum of our TV. Stewie was on again declaring, "Victory is Mine!"... only no one was awake to hear it.

My Cubicle, Five Years After 9/11...

2006-08-30T15:00:00.000-04:00

The weekend before September 11, 2001 was a new beginning in my professional life. Our small little company, publishers of the best unknown teen magazine out there -- College Bound -- was moving on up to a beautiful corporate office from its previous location above a strip mall. So much potential, so many possibilities.

Then that fateful Tuesday morning came... I was in early that day, around 8:40, excited to start setting up my new cubicle while thinking about what my professional future had in store, when my co-worker started nervously reporting to the few of us early birds that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. What I first brushed off like many people did as a freak commuter plane accident, became the single most defining moment of my generation. As the next few hours, days, and months came, suddenly things were put in perspective. My cubicle decor was hardly a priority.

But life went on, as it inevitably does. By the grace of God, my family members and friends who were there that day survived as so many others hadn't. Such relief and thankfulness was quelled with the death of my grandfather two months to the day after 9/11. Then after the darkness, came the best days of my life. So much to be thankful for, as evidenced by a cubicle that gradually became adorned with photos of my wedding, and then a beautiful baby boy's growth into toddlerhood.

But that's not all that's displayed in my work space. To my left still hangs the yellowed Daily News cover from September 18th, 2001 with the simple headline: "I love NY More Than Ever." And there's the tiny cutout from a Fall 2001 issue of College Bound with a photo illustrating Wagner College's view of the New York skyline -- with the Twin Towers. I remember being glad that the photo had made it into a post-9/11 issue. Just like I'm glad when I catch a glipse of the World Trade Center in old films and TV shows. Images become memories -- and all the digital technology in the world can't erase them.

Now as we approach the five year anniversary of 9/11 and get bombarded with documentary analysis of what went wrong that day, all of those sinking feelings and emotions have started to come flooding back. Who am I kidding? They're always there ready to resurface really. In fact, I can't think of one family or friend get-together in the past five years that didn't circle around to "the 9/11 conversation" -- what were you were doing when the buildings came down? But as September comes, the feelings just weigh a little more heavily, thick like the black smoke that I watched from the drive home on the Verrazano that day in 2001.

Adding to the dread of this year's anniversary came the sudden news that our company would not be publishing College Bound anymore -- on which I've worked since 1997 -- and that many of my dear colleagues were being abruptly let go. Suddenly our thriving office family fell silent, save for the tears and random outbursts -- sounds and emptiness that I hadn't heard around here since that day.

And so once again, just like in 2001, my colleagues and I have to pick up the pieces and adjust to a different world and the guilt of being layoff survivors. While certainly not as life-altering or tragic as the terrorist attacks, I can't help but notice the parallels:
> How this could happen?
> We never saw it coming.
> It will take time to rebuild, but we'll be OK.

The rebuilding has already begun, starting with promises of a better tomorrow and an office redesign. Guess that means I'll be decorating a new cubicle once again. I can't wait to display the latest pics of my son. Ooh, maybe I'll get a funky area rug from Target, and de-clutter my space with cool shelving. I'll still have to find room for my Daily News cover, though... and maybe a couple of my favorite CB Teen issues. I'm not ready to forget.

La Festa

2006-08-30T13:35:00.000-04:00

WARNING: If you're not from Brooklyn, you might not get this.

So I took J.J. to his first 18th Avenue Feast. So it got me thinking what should a first-timer know about the infamous beast -- err -- feast...

* On the first night, the zeppoles are fair game. Beyond that, though, it should be noted that vendors use the same oil for the remainder of the week, and stomach side effects may occur.
* Don't be scared of the guy with the snake around his neck -- he's just trying to make you his friend.
* The high-heeled, big-haired, decked-out kids, teens, moms and grandmas who attend consider this to be a huge event, so be sure to dress accordingly, set your hair, and cake on your makeup.
* And if you need to check yourself, pop into a local store and find a mirror -- the clerks will find it amusing, I promise!
* Enjoy a parade of ethnic cuisine comprised of 12 sausage and pepper stands in an 8-block radius. Side note: Lucy is the queen of the sausages (take that however you'd like)
* A little know fact... Remember that Saturday Night Live skit with the three guys at the bar, bobbing their heads to "What is Love?" and gyrating on any girl who happened to walk by? That skit is performed live every year at the feast. Don't miss it!
* It's a free night out... that will empty your wallet. You'll pay $25 for a T-shirt that says "Italian Power" (until you wash it once), $7 for a Toblerone left over from last year, and $5 to throw a basketball into an oval hoop (check out the side view if you don't believe me).
* Some big game prizes worth noting: a Dean Martin 8x10 in a $2 frame; a red, white, and green horn for your car; a goldfish or hermit crab that will die on the way home.
* Ooh that smell can't you smell that smell? After a while, you can't tell if it's the sausage that's been sitting out in 90 degree heat, the pony ride, or urine puddles in local driveways from the night before.
* It's a musical celebration! The Caleps, Bensonheart's own Little Suzy, KTU (the official goomba station), and illegal CDs for sale everywhere.
* Let's not forget, this is a big year. With Azzure winning the World Cup, there's no telling how much the Italian-themed souveniers will cost.
* Another little know fact... this is a religious feast celebrated on an avenue that has no church, and for which the honored saint wears a wig!

Enjoy la festa!