Da funk

I am in a funk. It has nothing to do with not finding Ryan Gosling in Skaneatles. Hormones are partially to blame along with receiving some really sad news. I just needed to spend a day in bed. That is impossible when you have three kids. My daughter was up at 7 a.m. this morning. The rest of my family, having stayed up late watching a movie slept until 11 a.m. (Can you even imagine how awesome that would be?) My daughter dosed off on the couch around 10:30. I was about to nap with her when my phone started blowing up. It wasn’t actually blowing up. That’s what the cool kids say when they get a lot of calls. Isn’t that gnarly? What? They don’t say gnarly anymore? I give up. Anyway, my mother, son and husband were calling me. My husband and son were (Wait for it) UPSTAIRS. My 6-year-old woke up, realized I wasn’t in my bed and sounded the alarm. “Dad, I can’t find Mom anywhere.” My husband, assuming our child looked beyond one room, advised him to call grandma. Perhaps I went there? Now, my Mom was worried. She sent a text:


Let’s pause for a moment to digest the ridiculousness of the situation. Heaven forbid I go anywhere without leaving a detailed note and a map. Our house isn’t that big. They could have just yelled my name. I suppose I should be grateful they didn’t call 911. The neighbors would really have something to gossip about.

Anyway, I needed a pick me up today. Since doing Meth is frowned upon I logged on to AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com. The s*** on this site always makes me laugh and it doesn’t rot your teeth. Here are a few of my favorites:








(Pics courtesy: AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com)

Dinosaur Days

I have been an emotional wreck lately. Sure, some of my instability can be blamed on hormones. However, it also has a lot to do with the fact that my baby will soon turn 13. I will be the mother of a teenager.

It really started to sink in over the past few days while cleaning the basement. I came across a huge bin of dinosaurs. My son loved every kind of dinosaur. He knew everything about them. I can easily say we had hundreds of dinosaur toys. As I picked up each toy I could see him crouched on the kitchen floor, a Tyrannosaurus in one hand and a Brachiosaurus in another. I could hear his high pitched voice roaring as he banged the dinosaurs together. I have been holding on to these toys for years, but it is time to clean house. As hard as I tried, I could not freeze time. He is growing up whether I like it or not.

I gathered a small container of dinosaurs to keep. They may never get played with again. Perhaps, I will pull them out every few years and reminisce. I am sure he will laugh at me and, like he did tonight, say “Mom get rid of those.” I can’t. He is almost as tall as me. His voice is deeper. We have adult conversations, but I still hear a 4-year-old. I cannot let go completely. I never will. In my mind he will always be the little boy playing with dinosaurs on the kitchen floor.

After I wrote this post a friend linked this article on Facebook. It is beautifully written and on point. Have a box of tissues handy. You will need them.

A Letter to Future Me: Remember How Much You Loved Them

Getting rid of that jiggle

My arms tend to keep waving when I have stopped.  I looked on Youtube to find some good exercises to tone these muscles.  Most of the trainers are really enthusiastic. Translation: annoying.  I found this video useful as long as you keep the sound muted. 

BlogHer ’12

My whirlwind trip to New York didn’t go quite as I planned. My cab was involved in an accident, a homeless man coughed on me as I walked past Bryant Park and I didn’t marry Ryan Gosling.

I also had a small mishap in the bathroom. It figures that I would choose the stall previously occupied by a woman who clearly ate too much fiber for lunch. Of course, after I finished my business the toilet wouldn’t flush. I tried hitting the button repeatedly with my foot. Nothing. I couldn’t walk out of the stall with a long line of women waiting outside. It took flailing my arms like Lady Gaga’s backup dancers to get the damn sensor to work.

Overall, I would say my trip to BlogHer ’12 was a success. I met so many creative, intelligent and funny women. I learned about branding and ways to improve my website. For many women at this conference blogging is a career. It pays the bills and allows them to do the job they love the most: poll dancing! I’m kidding. It let’s them be a mom. I am heading home to be with my babies, but next year I’m staying for the parties. I will be the lady in the middle of the dance floor doing the Roger Rabbit. See ya then!

NYC Bound

I would not describe myself as adventurous. I have no desire to jump out of a plane or climb a mountain. I have been known to drink tap water instead of bottled. Yeah, I’m a bad ass. I also enjoy traveling. Well, I did before I had kids. I had no qualms about jumping on a plane and heading out of town. As a parent it becomes a little more complicated. I have to arrange a sitter, stock the refrigerator and lay out clothes for the kids. My husband isn’t colorblind, but he tends to dress my children like clowns. Then, there is the anxiety and guilt of leaving them. Well, I am going anyway! As we speak I am sitting on a plane heading to New York City for BlogHer. It’s a huge conference of bloggers. Google it. It’s a pretty big deal.


I almost didn’t make it on this flight. My irrational fears of traveling alone nearly got the best of me. Then, last night when I went online to cancel the trip my 2-year-old daughter ran in the room and climbed on my lap. She giggled as she pounded the keys on my laptop before eventually turning it off. Maybe she was trying to tell me something. I wouldn’t want her to be afraid to take chances in life. I want her and my boys to dream big. So, I am on my way. I may hide in the bathroom stall for a while, but I will be there.