NYC Moms

The Real Reason Moms Are So Tired

7:30 pm: My girls are in bed. Wow. I can’t believe the girls are in bed!

7:45 pm: Eat candy.

7:50 pm: Watch “Nurse Jackie.” This show is awesome. Carmela + Showtime + drug addicted, philandering nurse = Something decent to actually watch in the summer!

8:20 pm: Damn. “Nurse Jackie” is over. Watch “Gary Unmarried,” a show about a divorced contractor with two kids. Wonder why they don’t just call the show “Gary Divorced.” Wonder when Jay Mohr got so puffy. Wonder why sitcoms are so predictable. Wonder why I’m watching.

8:45 pm: Eat a little more candy but tell myself, it’s ok because I’m totally thinking about working out again.

8:50 pm: Organize recyclables. Decide that’s sort of like working out.

9 pm: Spend 2 hours getting sucked into the blog/Facebook/Twitter vortex. 

11:06 pm: Escape from internet. Definitely going to bed. On my way. But first, flip through Pottery Barn catalog. Ponder why rugs are so expensive when all you do is step on them.

Children Are Welcome As Long As They Act Like Adults

Since New York City apparently now has a rainy season (how many weeks has it been overcast and raining?), I was recently looking for a great indoor activity for my kids. And I stumbled upon the Ernesto Neto exhibit at the magnificent Park Avenue Armory on the Upper East Side.

The exhibit (now closed) was a large scale interactive sculpture - a creative sensory experience for the entire family. There was a ball pit and other areas for children to climb around and different materials for them to experience. 

But only if they acted like adults.

The organizers of the installation repeatedly were reprimanding children (including my own).

"Don't pull on that!"

"Don't jump!"

My Child Alone in a Grocery Store

The other day my husband and 4 1/2 year-old daughter Dylan went to the grocery store.

When they returned I said, "Oh no. I forgot to put tinfoil on the list!"

Suddenly, my husband broke out in a big grin. "I remembered it," he stated proudly.

"That's great, " I responded because it seemed like we were always forgetting something on our grocery trip runs. I never knew it was possible to make so many trips to the supermarket in a given week.

"Yeah, I forgot about the tinfoil until I got to the check-out counter. So I left Dylan there with the cart and raced back and got it."

Wait - what?!

Why Do Girls Love Pink?

I recently crept into my daughters’ room, long after they had fallen asleep, to put away some of their clean clothes.

As I lightly tiptoed through the room, like a super secret Julia Roberts spy agent (you know, if agents specialized in fresh scented laundry instead of boring international con jobs), I suddenly heard a little voice in the darkness.

“I want a pink bed,” says 2 year-old Summer.

“Me too. I want a pink bed too,” chimes in 4 1/2 year-old Dylan.

Seriously? Were they just pretending to sleep so they could catch me off guard when I’m terribly weak from folding laundry and watching too many episodes of "The Millionaire Matchmaker?" 

Despite my desperate yearnings to get back to Bravo and those lonely millionaires, I am quick to promise nothing.

“Girls, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“We want pink beds!!”

“Good night ladies. I love you.”

My Daughter is a Cheater

I was really excited when my 4 year-old started playing games like Chutes and Ladders, Candyland and cards. It's fun to play with her and see her start to really understand how a game works.

Except that she is one big cheater.

At the beginning, she followed the rules, carefully counting out the right number of spaces. Taking turns. Sliding down shoots and climbing up ladders.

But now, the girl plays by her own rules.

If we are playing a simple card game, she rearranges the cards to her advantage.

Chutes have no place in her life.

Is Mother's Day for Me or My Mother-in-law?

Every year before Mother's Day, my husband and I have the same frustrating conflict.

He wants us to spend Mother's Day with his mother, his siblings and their families in New Jersey.

I do not.

I want to spend Mother's Day in New York City with my husband and two children. I don't need flowers. I just want to have brunch at my favorite spot in the village, hang out in the park with my girls and maybe even get a little alone time for some Mother's Day retail therapy. I don't want to be schlepping to New Jersey or anywhere else.

Of course, I feel completely guilty about this - like I'm some kind of selfish oger who doesn't appreciate my mother-in-law. But I do appreciate her.  It's just that I'm a mother now too. And on this one day, shouldn't I get to do what I want?

My Kid Needs a Bathroom. Now.

I have spent most of my life trying to find a place to pee.

I don't know if I have a small bladder or I just drink too much water or I just like to be prepared, but I'm always scouting out public restrooms. Sure, some people knit, some folks play the piano but I find and assess the best ladies' rooms on the island of Manhattan.

So when my daughter Dylan gave up the diapers, I knew I was the woman for the job. I can find that girl a bathroom within minutes. Usually, all you have to do is ask. Who turns down a toddler when they need to pee?

But then one day, we stopped by our locally owned pharmacy and my daughter says, "I need to go to the bathroom. Really badly. Right now."

So I turn to the employees behind the counter and I ask, "Would it be ok if my 4 year-old uses your bathroom? She really needs to go."

Silence. No one even looks up. I look over at my daughter's desperate face and I ask again.

The Suburb Thing

I was recently chatting with one of the moms (who I barely know) at my preschool and the conversation went like this...

"So where are you sending your daughter to school next year?" she asks.

"Well, we're seriously thinking about leaving Manhattan and moving to Westchester."

"Really?!! Really?! Can you PLEASE explain to me why people move to the suburbs? I just don't get it."

"More space. Less grit. You can just jump in your car to go somewhere instead of pushing a double stroller 16 blocks in the pouring, freezing rain. Stuff like that, I guess."

"But if you have to run a bunch of errands, you have to buckle the kids up and then take them out of the car at every stop. Such a pain compared to jetting in and out of stores with your stroller."

"Yeah... I don't know. I guess it could be annoying."

"And you can't walk anywhere. How is it easier?!! It all seems like such a hassle."

"Umm... I really don't know.  I guess the suburbs isn't for everyone," I respond.

Can I Have A Playdate With Your Nanny?

So I'm always feeling the pressure to set up these after school playdates for my 4 year-old daughter Dylan. For sometime, my daughter wanted a playdate with a little girl named Charlotte. So I finally set it up and one winter afternoon, we trucked over to their apartment.

I like playdates at other apartments because THEIR place gets trashed (instead of mine). Of course, I make a polite, good faith effort to help them clean up which pretty much consists of me putting a few toys away in the wrong places.

So as Charlotte and Dylan dived into the glittery princess dress selection, her mother and I were left to talk. I suddenly felt like I was once again going through sorority rush, trying to sound fun and intelligent and worthy all at the same time.

"So do you work?" she asks me.

"Umm... well, I mostly take care of my girls. And then I have a blog. And I write for some other websites. And I used to be a TV reporter. And I like yoga. But I don't knit. A lot of bloggers knit. I guess I'm a blogger. You know, a blogger who doesn't knit."

What kind of dumb answer is that? What is wrong with me?!

Secrets To Selling Your Home

We recently put our Manhattan apartment on the market.

Sure, we thought about selling this summer when real estate in New York City was escalating outrageously fast but then we figured, who wants to make that much money so easily?

So now we’re selling it during a major recession.

Everyone knows when you are selling your home, you don’t need a broker. You just need the right signature scent. Some advocate baking cookies or an apple pie before an open house but those must be people who don’t store half their cookware in their oven.

So I went in search of the perfect candle. I was looking for a scent like, “This is the nicest apartment I’ve ever seen, I’ll pay absolutely anything!” but all I found was a lot of “Island Grapefruit” and “Deep Clover.”

I finally let my daughter pick out the scent, “Vanilla Citrus Zest” because 4 year-olds have an incredible aptitude for what moves real estate.