Chicago Moms Blog

My Looks Are Fading and It's Okay With Me

...cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

“My looks are fading.” She said.  It wasn’t meant to illicit pity, nor was she fishing for a compliment. It was a statement of fact, a pragmatic woman who is looking for a few fillers in the creases around her mouth and a dab of botox around the corners of her eyes.

Yes, your looks are fading, so are mine.

We’ve known each other our entire lives, we’re staring at 39, we’ve fed babies and watched our perky breasts settle into sad parodies of their former selves. Our waists have stretched and mostly flattened out again, but, still we are looking at forty. She  is fearful, I am free.

You see, she was the pretty girl, I was the entertaining one.

Click HERE to continue reading on Los Angeles Moms Blog....

Mommy Blogging: It's not Just Unicorns and Roses

...cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Recently I was on a talk radio show with a few other guests and one mom jumped in with, "just to be clear. I am not a Mommy Blogger." Disdain dripped from each syllable. A little too perkily I jumped in the fray, "I am a Mommy Blogger." and the otherwise uneventful hour continued.

It was only later in the evening that I realized my fellow blogger was trying to distance herself from me. She didn't want to be known as just a Mommy Blogger. She wants to be more than just a Mom. She wanted to be taken seriously; she wanted to play with The Big Boys. In my quiet reflective mood I felt sorry for her, and I still do.

Mommy Blogging is more than gardening and fairytales, it runs deeper than meal planning, potty training and fitness plans. Mommy Blogging is post feminist, post Mommy Wars, post partum and post playgroup. Mommy Blogging is all of us, Mommy Blogging can even be for boys. Big Boys too.

CLICK HERE to continue reading on Los Angeles Moms Blog......

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I guess I just assumed it would be later.

For the first time ever, my daughter, Bella Bambina, refused to hold my hand in public. Not because she was angry with me, not because she was in a hurry, not because she was being ornery or contrarian. Just because. Just because she’s nine-and-a-half. Just because she’s growing up.

As she and her brother and I walked down a busy and very public street in Beverly Hills, and as my son sweetly slipped his little paw in mine, my daughter committed her first sin of omission (at least that I know about). She simply did not take my hand. My heart took a little dip. I walked a few more paces without saying anything. Finally, weenie that I am, I couldn’t take it and asked if she wanted to hold my hand. She looked around quickly and then shook her head, no. Not wanting her to realize how hurt I was, I pretended to pretend to pout (meaning I wanted her to believe I was pretending to pout, but in reality, I was sort of pouting) and asked why not? One beat, and then another without an answer. I could tell she was trying to think of some reasonable explanation that I would buy. “I have a book in my hand,” she finally replied. Not one to give up, I said, “Well, why don’t you put it in your other hand?” She just shook her head again.

I let it go, and with it—a little piece of my heart and her childhood.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Earthquakes Are Scarier When You Have Children

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.
When the earthquake hit this morning, Caius, my two year old, and I were sitting on the couch together, pretending to feed each other imaginary food. Cedric, my newborn, was on my bed, napping. As our windows started rattling and the floor shook beneath us, Caius looked up at me, his face filling with fear and confusion. Suddenly realizing what was happening, I grabbed him and leapt towards the bedroom doorway. Telling Caius to stay in the doorway, I ran to scoop up Cedric (who had woken up from the rumbling and was contentedly sucking his fist) and turned around to see my toddler crying in front of me. He had run away from the doorway. Crying and bewildered, he whimpered over the rattling noise, “I’m scared Mama!”

Still clutching Cedric to my chest, I grabbed Caius’s hand with my own free one and muttered, “I know baby. Now get under the table right now.” Pushing him under our dining room table, I scooted in next to him.

I have never moved so fast in my life. And I have never been so scared.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Confessions of an Old School Mom

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.
I was raised in the South in the 60s and 70s when the parenting touchstones were phrases like:

"If you kids don't quit lettin' the air conditioning out the back door, I'm gonna tan your hides!"
"Just stay outside and drink out of the hose - it's the same as the water in the kitchen!"
"No daughter of mine is going to be seen walking down the street in those tacky short-shorts!"
In the world of my youth, "sass" was met with "what for," athletic competitions produced "winners" and "losers" and the reaction to a child addressing an adult by his or her first name was an appalled, open-mouthed stare. In our household, a girl did not call a boy on the phone. Ever. (Girls who called boys were "forward" - one slippery rung above "loose.")

This is how I was raised.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.

Not Ready for my Closeup

... cross posted from our sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog. This story will air Wednesday, July 16, on the CBS Evening News (6:30 PM in most markets).

I’m new around here, so I’m feeling like a bit of a joiner. I eagerly scour every email from the blogging community for ways I can jump into the fray and meet new people and make new connections. Also, I find it hard to say “no” to requests for help if I think I have the means to give someone a hand. Yesterday, these circumstances landed me in my living room at 8AM at the wrong end of a TV camera.

I say “the wrong end” because in my pre-mom career I was behind the camera as a TV producer. To me, that feels like the right end. Still, since I have all this experience, I thought I was prepared. I can give good soundbite, I know enough not to burp or chew on my lip or scratch my ears on camera. When the CBS producer contacted us with a need to interview somebody tomorrow! about women and retirement planning, or lack thereof, I stepped forward. I had less than 24 hours to prepare. It was a challenge!

Click HERE to continue reading at LA Moms Blog.

The Procrastination Gene

... cross posted from our newest sister site, Los Angeles Moms Blog.

After a lovely morning with my friend Lisa where we (somewhat guiltily) snuck off to breakfast and then to Sex and the City, I came home. The sun was shining, the birdies were tweeting in the trees and I'd just picked up a fro-yo with blueberries. Could life be any sweeter?

Then, I saw her. On my front porch sat my beautiful daughter who is home from college, making a pit-stop between San Francisco and Ecuador (from whence I shall will her to return malaria-free). She was reading the paper with that characteristic squinty expression that says so much about the night before.

"Hi, sweetie," I said breezily. When her pained eyes shifted upwards, then refocused on my face, I knew she wasn't feeling particularly swell. But did that stop me? No.

Click HERE to continue reading at Los Angeles Moms Blog.