NYC Moms

"Mommy, You're Hurting Me"

I have a shy kid.

This week, I took my very reserved daughter to Chelsea Piers for a 4 year-old's gymnastics birthday party.

Upon entering the huge sports complex, she is terrified. She cowers in the corner of the door.

"I don't want to go in," Dylan says, her voice filled with panic.

"Honey, it will be fun. Don't you remember you used to take gymnastics class here? With Joey? Remember?" I enthusiastically remind her.

"No. I don't want to be here."

"Sweetheart. Com'on. Let's go wish Andre a happy birthday and give him his present. If you still want to leave then we'll go. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"No."

I watch other kids from her preschool class, rushing by us, not wanting to miss a minute of the party.

"Dylan, let's go," I plead.

"No."

Don't Judge the Mommy Makeover

My friend whispered it across the table at a coffee shop on W. Charles Street.

What?

She whispered it again.

You got a what?

A boob job.

I was surprised. Definitely surprised. But you know what? I totally get it.

There were things I, myself, expected from pregnancy. I knew it would be hard to give up coffee and wine and other yummy things. I knew it would be difficult to lose the weight after childbirth. I knew I would be very tired.

But I did not expect my body to look like this. I lost my baby weight. I do yoga. Even a little cardio. So where the heck is my former body? Where are my perky boobs? Where is my flat stomach? Why do I still look pregnant when I no longer am?  My bikini days are so over.

My friend Rebecca (the name has been changed) didn't like what she saw in the mirror either. "After I stopped nursing, my boobs were completely deflated into nothing and I didn't feel like a woman... I didn't want bigger boobs. I just wanted the air put back in, so they looked the same as before I had a child."

A few months ago, she paid $12,000 for silicon implants.

 

My Blackberry Baby

I have a beautiful family - my husband, my 3 1/2 year-old daughter Dylan, my 16 month-old daughter Summer and my 3 month-old Blackberry.

I resisted getting a Blackberry for a very long time. I'd wave around my scratched up Samsung phone while super cool girlfriends texted, emailed and googled for directions on their Smartphones, Blackberries and iPhones. I felt a little dated and somewhat shabby. But I told myself that I didn't need their fancy, flashy technology.

I was happy. Or so I thought.

But then one day fate stepped in. My not-so-smart phone took a plunge into the toilet and never recovered. I wish I could say one of the kids did it. I wish I could say it was the first electronics item I had lost to the porcelain throne. That's a no on both of those.

But let's not quibble over the details here. The phone was toast. Time to move on. And the Blackberry called out to me like an irresistible siren.

The Dark Side

Despite my husband's job and talent as a New York City news anchor, we don't watch the nightly news in our home. I do DVR the show. But I don't want my kids hearing about murders and rapes and other tales of life's evils - even if they don't exactly know what these things are yet.

Eventually they will. And that will be soon enough.

But shielding them from the dark side of life is challenging (unless you only expose them to Elmo). That guy never seems to veer into questionable territory.

A few weeks ago I took 3 1/2 year old Dylan and 16 month-old Summer to see a kids' show, "Pigs, Bears and Billy Goats Gruff," billed as an "inventive interpretation" of children's stories. Or maybe it should be called, "How to Make Your Toddler Cry in 10 Minutes." In all fairness, the show is intended for kids ages 4 and up. These actors are quite talented but no Splenda-coating of classic fairy tales here.

If You Knew Katie, Like I Know Katie

So here is my typical Friday. Get Dylan and Summer dressed. Feed the girls breakfast. Take Dylan to preschool. Go meet Katie Couric. Oh, alright. Maybe that Couric part doesn't happen EVERY Friday. But I really wish it would.

I, along with an amazing crew of other bloggers, was invited by the the awesome and tireless Beth Blecherman and Jill Asher to visit CBS News and meet Katie Couric, the first solo female anchor of a network evening newscast.

Of course, I was ridiculously early so I tried to walk super slowly down 57th Street. I noticed Jake's Saloon across the street from CBS News but something told me it's not appropriate to grab a glass of wine before meeting a major media powerhouse. You have to go with your gut on these things.

After a tour of the studio and newsroom, we got to meet HER. I'm sure Ms. Katie Couric has been called "cute and perky" so many times that it just makes her cringe, so I really hate to say it. But she IS cute and perky. Sorry, Katie. And a whole lot of other things too... like authentic, honest, smart, funny, gracious and engaging. She looks incredible for 51. And please, don't admonish me for saying this... because if I met Brian Williams I would assess his looks as well. Ok? So there.

But the most fabulous part of this whole shindig was how much time we got to spend with her. She invited us up to her office, which is so heavenly and serene with white walls, comfy white leather furniture and cool photography, that I wanted to stay for... well, how about forever? We got ourselves settled and then she walks in and sits on the FLOOR. Yup, just all casual like that. I guess that's how she rolls.

Baby Addiction

Motherhood is not necessarily for those in need of an ego boost.

Here is a recent conversation with my 3 1/2 year-old.

Dylan (rubbing my stomach): Mommy, I love your belly.

Me: Aww... Thanks honey. Why?

Dylan: Because it looks like there's a baby in it.

Oh. I see. Well, don't go congratulating me everyone. There's no baby in there. And it use to be flat. I swear. Like in 2002. I have the wedding pictures on the wall! Sigh... I do miss that pre-baby body.

I can remember rubbing my own miniature fingers across my mother's forehead and saying, "Mom. Stop wrinkling your forehead. You are getting lines." My mom said, she would do her best but it wasn't like she was doing it on purpose. Yeah, I get that. Now.

As a kid, I was also just STUNNED that my mother was turning the decrepit, beyond ancient age of 40. How could anyone be so OLD? Hmm... Give me a couple years and I'll tell you myself.

A Trip to the Market

In general, I try to avoid the grocery store with kids in tow. Even a congested produce aisle can be a serene, zen-like experience when you’re shopping sans children. I know some of you moms can bring six kids to the market, remember everything on your list and even knit a sweater while waiting for your sliced deli turkey. But that ain’t me. My back starts to stiffen even before the first whine.

So with much trepidation, I bring 3 ½ year-old Dylan and 15 month-old Summer to Whole Foods with me this week. And I brace myself for the public meltdown. But the girls seem to be in a magical state of content.  And overall happiness. Could be all the free food samples. I roll with it.

By the checkout line, I am nearly euphoric. Until I hear (and you knew something was coming) this:

“I have to poop,” Dylan declares. “Now. I really have to poop now.”

“Honey, we have to pay for our groceries. Can you wait just a second?” I plead.

“Nooooo. I really have to go NOW."

My daughter, Dylan, has a history of needing to poop at slightly inconvenient moments.  Like in the middle of a cell phone store with no public bathroom. Like when the plane is roaring down the runway for take-off and the fasten seat belt sign is brightly lit.  Like in the check-out line at Whole Foods.