If you’re anything like me, saving money is something that you think about doing a lotmore often than you actually do it. Thanks, Target! I have recently realized however, that my kids’ toy cars are nicer than my actual car. So I decided it was time to really buckle down in order to buckle in to an upgraded vehicle. For this, I turned to the experts. Seemingly every financial Tom, Dick and Suze I read had the same advice: give up expensive coffee drinks if I want to get ahead on saving money. In theory, this seems reasonable. Buying these drinks isn’t a necessity, especially when I have a perfectly good coffee maker at home. How hard could it be?
In a different life, or perhaps it was mine but it was just so long ago that it doesn’t quite seem real, I was sexy and cool. I used to play the guitar for 3-4 hours each day, I was accepted into a top acting school in NYC, I would draw and write. I volunteered to walk shelter dogs and sew baby clothes. I read a zillion books, had lots of friends, was always up for an adventure. I was interesting, funny.
Now? What am I? Who am I? How did I get so lost? Let me explain. Ten years ago I got married. Six years ago I had a baby. I have heard legends about these magical, unicorn women out there who are able to maintain that sexy vibe all throughout those first years of being a mom. Well played in your sexy nursing bras and knickers! I applaud you, you sexy bitches. However, that ship sailed without me. My main focus when purchasing nursing bras was raw nipples, not making sure I looked hot in them. So with that in mind, my post-baby bras looked something like hideous, beige, padded, uniboob-creating nightmares. The sexiest I managed to get during that time was roaming the house looking for my phone with my tits hanging out through the nursing flaps. That was just the beginning of the decline. In the past six years, I became the lowest person on the totem pole. I forgot all about me. I forgot about all of the things I used to do and I forgot all about taking care of myself. What I had become was “Mom”. Period. End of story.
Mother’s Day is rounding the bend and I find myself reflecting upon not only my job as a mother but how my own mom has influenced my parenting. For those of us with a pulse, we can all agree motherhood wasn’t exactly what we had expected. For me, my bundle of joy came with a generous side of anxiety and fear, which was nice. Then truly experiencing things like sleep deprivation and a shift in your relationship with your spouse, also throw a nice fireball into the mix. All of this new love and new fear is just the beginning.
I’m not sure if it’s because my mother had six children, but I never really felt this anxiety from her that myself and other moms talk about these days. I imagine having six kids is like herding cats. It was chaotic to say the least but even in the chaos, she did not flip her shit like I do with my one and only. How? Maybe with six kids you learn a new level of disassociation. I’m not sure. I can’t ask her because she’s dead. Continue reading →
Social Media can be a tricky thing. It can make you laugh, it can make you cry and it can make you viciously angry. Chatting with my women-folk about the ups and downs of social media, we all agreed that the worst feeling social media brewed inside of us was the feeling of being inferior. Life isn’t perfect but some have the gift of portraying it that way. I am not one of those people. Here’s some insight to how to look past the perfection and be ok with the messy.
HOW SOCIAL MEDIA PORTRAYS LIFE
You’ve all seen it. The picture of the incredibly decorated cakes, sitting atop a counter that has absolutely no clutter whatsoever. The counter itself looks like it costs more than my entire kitchen (and probably does). The children are donning the latest fashion trends from the boutique you’ve never even entered because you can’t afford it. Their hair is coiffed in a fashion that looks professional. Everyone looks happy and in love.Continue reading →
“New Year, Better Me” is my New Year’s resolution. Like most, I’m not great at keeping all my resolutions. I tend to fall off the wagon easily since most resolutions tend to, well, suck. My plan includes meditating more, journaling and (drum roll please) reshaping my Mom Bod. The first two items on the list are easy, it’s the third that will give me trouble.
People constantly say that you should love your body no matter how it looks. I am thankful for my body. But love it? Meh. It’s amazing that I gave birth and that my body was capable of that but damn, babies can do a number on a body! So for me, this is about being healthier and losing a few pounds (and allowing me back into all the clothes that I have outgrown). Continue reading →
I remember the day I hit my breaking point. I hesitantly entered the conference room and there he was, Napoleon in khaki floods, staring at me with laser beam eyes, his face full anger and disgust. After the one-hour, fun-filled abuse fest, I was going to shuffle ball change out of that dank, old TV Station in nowheresville, NJ, never to look back.
Working for a Sociopathic Narcissist has its benefits if you are fresh in your career. Mostly, any new boss after that one will seem nurturing and sane. Secondly, the Sociopathic Narcissists are usually quite intelligent so you can learn a lot from them if you can handle the heat. And most importantly, working for a Sociopathic Narcissist prepares you to become someone’s bitch and I hate to say it but becoming someone’s bitch pretty much sums up parenthood.
Planning and plotting the education of one’s offspring in the city of Los Angeles feels like navigating a dark labyrinth, filled with venomous snakes, deep ditches and fire bombs being tossed at you from unknown locations so you never know where you are supposed to be looking as to not die a firey death. Reggio, Montessori,Waldorf, Public, Private, Charter, Experimental, Progressive, Immersion, Preparatory, Jewish, Catholic, Methodist, predominantly White, predominately Black, predominately Asian and super-diverse are just some of the things you have to educate yourself on in order to understand what is right for your child.
As I reflect back on what was the insanity and ridiculousness I lived while being educated by nuns, I always come back to the one monumental positive I took away from my all-girls school, the positive that has made my life what it is today. And that is, no one ever said I couldn’t do something because I was a GIRL. In fact, no one ever mentioned any sort of limitations because of one’s sex ever because it was a non-issue. We did everything boys did, we just did them without them. We went to school makeup-less, with wet hair, in unflattering uniforms, eating cookies and laughing about things we probably wouldn’t have spoken about while walking in between buildings if boys had been around.
Here are my Top Seven Reasons Why Single Sex Education Rules the School –
You can eat whatever you want
You can order cheese fries topped with bacon and literally talk with your mouth open while eating them and yes, it’s still gross but no one really gives two fecks. You could get pizza, fries, a salad, a chicken sandwich, ice cream and soda for lunch and no one was like, “Eww, you’re a cow”. My friend’s daughter told me she had friends in school who would barely eat because they were embarrassed to do so in front of boys. WTF is that? That ain’t right.
Getting ready for school meant maybe showering
Hours of hair and makeup? I think not! A top knot and some Zinc Pink and I was on my way baby! I did spend quite a bit of time searching for one, matching regulatory knee sock every.stinking.morning. Which brings me to my next point.
I know I grunted and groaned about this one because there was not much personal expression in green and blue plaid skirts and knee socks but seriously, no one was like, “Ugh, I wish my navy blue blazer was as nice as her navy blue blazer” because all of the navy blue blazers were equally ugly as shit. Also, no one got to dress slutty and isn’t that really what we all want for our girls? A place where you don’t feel like you have to dress in shorts shorter than your ass or don a tube top to go and learn Geometry? I know it’s all I can hope for.
You dated after school and on weekends. There was no boy distraction in class, no breakups in the cafeteria, no lusting after Jake Ryan in study hall. Study Hall was time for us to discuss what boys’ penises looked like and maybe sometimes, just sometimes, we might have studied, but never in the Library because that’s where we planned our keggers and talked about what penises looked like while some of us gasped in horror.
Conversation was not censored
We would discuss why our nipples got hard when it was cold outside while we tossed tampons between each other while pondering if pubic hair got gray when you got older. Do you think girls talk about this stuff in front of boys when they are fifteen? They don’t because after school when the boys came around, we talked about music and where we were gonna score some beer for the weekend. It was liberating to be able to be yourself and to talk about things that were on your mind and to know that you would all laugh hysterically and you never had to put the filter on except when a teacher passed you by.
When you attend an all-girl school, you usually have an all-boy school close by. When one of you has a dance, it’s like an explosion of wonder. All of these coeds in one place! It’s magical and special and fun! They’d have their proms and we’d have our prom and they’d have their games and we’d have ours and everything was done in multiples which meant for a robust social life, not gonna lie.
7. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
When we’d see a man or a boy on campus in Grade School we used whisper under our breath “Sound the alarm!” and it would really make us giggle. They looked funny, awkward, almost like intruders when they came around. Later, in High School they were allowed to visit us in the parking lot and in the cafeteria after school, so it became a lot more natural but if one stepped on campus before 2:30pm all hell would break loose. We’d run to the window like there was a fireworks display or a three-headed unicorn.
We were one thing and they were another but we were not inferior to them in any way, shape or form and the most important thing our all-female staff did was never mention that we might come across that notion in the outside world. I went to college where I learned about girls’ insecurities regarding participating in class and eating in front of the opposite sex or not studying something because “Engineering is for Boys”. I always grabbed these conversation bulls by the horns and I debated and lectured these young ladies as if I were Gloria Steinem on a hot day because I was given that foundation of being a secure, strong woman who did not doubt herself because she had a vagina. Also, I was able to school everyone in my dorm suite regarding aging pubic hair. That, if for nothing, is a great reason to consider an all-girls school.