“Scary Mommy”: Coming Clean

Posted on March 31, 2012 by

Several times this week I pulled Confessions of a Scary Mommy out of my purse while having relevant conversations with other moms–at a cocktail party, at dinner, at preschool pick up. I am like the kind lady in the laxative commercial: “Constipated? Here’s what I use!”

If there is one thing that’s true of my parenting style it is this–I do it free fall. Although I own many (oh God so many), parenting books do not work and have only made me question every bedtime, mealtime, stroller-time decision I have ever made. I do not use them and I don’t recommend them. There.

This is different. Jill Smokler, the preeminent “Scary Mommy” from her now-infamous website, has written down our thoughts–that is if you are like Jill and me and you have no issues with toddler ear wax,  cleaning butts with ice-cold baby wipes, and letting the other moms win all the mommy “prizes” (jokes on you gals, there actually ARE no prizes after all!).

So when the discussion with a dear mommy friend about having done tequila shots on the beach during spring breaks turns to how on earth are we going to survive having little kids who won’t listen to a goddamn thing we say and even worse: what will we do when they grow up into real people who no longer want to cling endlessly to our legs, arms, heads and hands… What else can I do but consult a real expert? As Jill says, when one no longer needs to lug a diaper bag, “I can actually get away with just carrying a clutch during short outings.”

This sounds truly liberating indeed. Yet, Jill speaks for so many of us who believe we are “done” (DONE, I said!) having babies when she shares:

So why is it when I spot a baby out and about I get the urge to just grab it and run for dear life? The ache in my ovaries is palpable.

Mine cramped up just reading this chapter.

“Girl Repeated” is my favorite chapter. And I mean favorite like Jill talks about having a favorite kid–they’re all really awesome, but this moved my heart one particular day. I have two little girls. I am already seeing glimpses of the young ladies they will be, along with the looming heartaches they will undoubtedly have at some point: periods, popularity, body-image, boys, the girls that like you one minute and snicker about you the next. Jill goes there and comes right back to how we, as moms who were once these girls, hold on to our darlings wanting for them the things we missed: “the date to homecoming and the close group of fun girlfriends and the popularity and the confidence and the acceptance.” And all the while, the wrenching desire to keep them “safe and sound and out of trouble.”

I hesitate to admit, another chapter that resonated with me was the one on cursing. OH HEAVEN, do I have a colorful vocabulary, and I admire a mother that keeps in perspective the desire to curse like a mad truck driver in the presence of her children. I have been known to respond to lost keys, sunglasses, checkbooks and wallets with “Shit!” So much so that I am certain my kids think that’s code for “help me look.”

Scary Mommy advocates using the really bad words at your children. But only in your head.

…Ben’s incessant whining can be blocked out by my silently asking, “Are you ever going to shut your little fucking mouth, you annoying child?” …just asking in my head always makes me feel better. It also makes me a hell of a lot less likely to lose it on them.

As someone who has lost it on occasion, I can say that this experiment does indeed work. And as long as no cartoon bubbles appear above my frazzled pony tail at the end of the day, who’s the wiser?

Jill picks up on something monumental as well–that “an occasional ‘fuck’ flown around” the house is less harmful than many of the things some parents say to their kids.

There are simply no circumstances when words like “fat” and “dumb” and “ugly” are acceptable when directed toward a child. A word like “shit,” on the other hand, is just another word for poop. Really, what’s the emotional harm in that?

This is the type of advice you are not likely to see in other parenting books. My point.

I rarely tell people to buy books that have anything to do with parenting. But if you have a sense of humor, a sweatsuit you’ve worn for at least one week straight, and your pediatrician on speed dial, you will relish this. I wish I could offer up experience with the empathy and humor Jill does on her blog and in this book. As my three-year-old would add, “God damn it.”

Pre-order Confessions of a Scary Mommy, published by Gallery books, before March 31! The book hits stores on April 3, 2012.

{CLOSED}I am keeping it simple. Win your own signed Scary copy by posting a comment below; tell me one of your own scary mommy moments. Contest closes at 11:59 p.m. (ET) April 3, 2012.

I was given an advance copy for review purposes. All opinions are, as always, my own.

Posted in Family Life, Parenting Moments, Review | Tagged , , | 13 Comments

My Glass Is Half Full

Posted on March 27, 2012 by

At about 9:00 p.m. this evening, my husband walked in as Ellie and Henry were running around wildly. Molly was snoring on the couch. He had the opened mail in one hand, and as he walked into the kitchen, he said, “Molly is waitlisted for kindergarten and we owe thousands of dollars in taxes.” (Amount has been edited out to appease my husband.)

Well, hello there. Oh, and yes, it’s Monday.

On my bulletin board above my “desk” (the slab of kitchen counter I call my office), I have a note that says “write about preschool and money!!!!!!” (Yes, I use that many exclamation points when writing notes to myself.) Recently we decided we would not, could not send Ellie and Henry to the same (awesome) private preschool that Molly has attended for two years. The tuition is just too expensive for us now that we have our (more awesome) nanny back full-time, and let’s face it, good God, there are TWO of them!

Manhattan schools are crazy money. We only applied to one private school for Molly’s kindergarten and that was sort of on a whim (tuition is 40 grand). We are counting on this public school thing working out. Molly has gotten some educational perks that her brother and sister haven’t gotten and won’t get. (Don’t tell them, okay?) That’s the fact of our dynamic as a family of five in New York City (and we all know that I am not leaving my city again!).

We love our preschool community. Seriously–they are our friends, and it embarrassed me as well as made me really, really sad to have to tell the director we wouldn’t be sending the twins in the fall. I am still cringe-y about it. Along with the deep disappointment, it stripped away a layer of self-preservation to admit to having “not enough.” Finances are an odd thing to discuss openly, and it turns out I am not so good with that.

The husband and I have had some painful discussions about budgets (ours) and spending (mine). It turns out he knew about my secret love. And I had to end things.

So the past week or so I have been feeling a little proud. I’ve been sticking to my promise to not indulge myself in things I cannot afford and do not need at the moment (really, don’t feel too bad for me, I do not need a thing). I’ve faced this disturbing fact about myself: I shop for distraction from my real problems. And it didn’t kill me.

I am not devastated at the options the twins will have this year–they are turning three. They are awesome and loved and have each other to practice sharing with. There must be a reasonably priced music or art class they can take locally. And I will try to talk to them more.

Hey, it turns out I am actually good at this saving money thing!

And then our tax bill. Once the kids were in bed, we sat on the couch, with the basketball game on the television across the room.

“Well,” I said.

“Well,” my husband said.

“Yeah…”

“No vacation this summer?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmmmm.”

I’m a little worried. Not about vacations. There are things we haven’t talked about yet; I imagine we will. That we’ll have to. So this is life. The constant movements between joy and panic, relief and disappointment. Ours have been measured out in what seem like fair amounts so far. I have been surprised before by the hidden graces that often accompany honest fear. And I am about to fill my glass to the top.

Posted in Family Life, It's All About Me, New York City Living and Coping, Parenting Moments | Tagged | 18 Comments

Bizarre Parenting Moments: The Old Lady and the Elevator

Posted on March 25, 2012 by

You know those moments when your whining, crusty, adorably mismatched family gets in the elevator with an old person and you know it can go one of two ways?

No? Well it can go like this. Elderly neighbor is enchanted, delighted, thrilled by the sticky hands all over the elevator buttons and the alarm that is now going off.  He has raised his four children in this building–boy has it changed over these years–and isn’t it a great place for the little ones? God bless them.

Or this. Complete silence and dirty stares at my children who are dumping cheerios on the floor and stepping on them.

I never expected this one. We were in the elevator coming up to our apartment with the kids, their scooters, the double stroller and everything else we’d been out with for the afternoon. Our neighbor, a sparky long-time resident of our building whom I never see without her lipstick or her walker, was in the elevator with us. She complimented us on the kids–how alike they all are, how fun they are to have on the floor because they’re so “feisty” (referring to every morning when my children run into the hall in pajamas screaming to press the elevator button when their dad and sister leave). This woman has always been friendly, and I like her. She’s sharp and optimistic; I’ve had conversations with her about television shows, the neighborhood restaurants, and of course, the weather. As we approached our floor, she looked at my younger daughter and said, “Oh, look at her! She looks just like you,” glancing at me. Then she added as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, “Poor dear.”

Good job, kind old neighbor. Keeping me on my toes.

Posted in Family Life, It's All About Me, New York City Living and Coping, Parenting Moments | 18 Comments

Explaining The Lady From Dubuque

Posted on March 20, 2012 by

During the intermission from The Lady From Dubuque, my husband, a comedy writer, asked me about Edward Albee and his works. In general. I believe he said: “What the hell is this?”

The play opens with Sam (Michael Hayden) asking “Who am I?”during a drawn out game of 20 Questions. Of course, no one can answer; not one of the characters cares much about anything other than his or her own hurts, including Sam’s dying wife and co-host of the dinner party, Jo (Laila Robins). She addresses the audience in full awareness of the other characters. “Don’t you just hate party games?” This was the point at which my husband was lost.

To answer my husband’s question, I relied on my theater courses from college and graduate school. Crap. What is Albee saying about humanity? That we are so disassociated we speak and speak and never listen? And what was I watching on stage?

The game goes on and it is brutal. Yet the suburban living room, furnished–as I whispered to my husband–perfectly minimalist, provides a sophisticated playing field for this intimate game. The well-stocked bar and well-sodden companions are easy to accept. Until Albee shows us how aggressive our self-absorption is. We are saturated not only with alcohol, friends: we are drowning in our uselessness. The group, including Fred (C.J. Wilson) and his girlfriend Carol (Tricia Paoluccio), Edgar (Thomas Jay Ryan) and Lucinda (Catherine Curtin), is gathered voluntarily, as they seem to enjoy the “guaranteed ridicule and contempt…” that these dinner parties promise weekly; yet, their painful relationships with one another are chosen not for pleasure and comfort, but for sadism and power. They cannot help themselves.

We meet the Lady from Dubuque in the second act. Elizabeth and her companion, Oscar (Jane Alexander and Peter Francis James) take over Sam and Jo’s suburban home, having quietly entered at the end of the first act. Albee’s mild absurdism is crackling with this wonderfully unpredictable couple–delightfully familiar with us and terrifyingly inhuman. Sam asks “Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?” over and over. And over. And over. (My husband was a little annoyed…) We know who they are not. They are not Jo’s family, as they claim to be.

Jo, who is absent for much of the emotional horror show of the second act, sleeping and suffering upstairs in bed, is under Elizabeth’s spell when she emerges down the stairs. We know death has come for her–to take care of her, as Elizabeth says. It pushed and kicked its way in, having tied Sam’s hands behind his back at one point. This is no quiet angel, and she whispers loudly not only to Jo but to us.

This was the discussion we had in the cab ride home (by “home” I mean to a bar for a really strong drink). What was death saying to us? Was it comforting or simply inevitable? Perhaps imperceivable. As expected, we were not paying attention.

When The Lady of Dubuque opened on Broadway, it ran for 12 shows. This revival at the Signature Theatre Company, directed by David Esbjornson, has enjoyed much better reviews. The cast and set are mesmerizing.

I received two tickets to the play from Playtime! for review purposes. Playtime! is the first program to provide childcare during theatrical shows in NYC, and was established to bring parents back to the theater by providing excellent childcare at (or steps from) the theater at an extremely affordable rate. 

As always, all opinions are solely my own.

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Wordless Wednesday: Where Have I Been?

Posted on March 14, 2012 by

This past New York winter–mild, erratic, flighty–was still winter. And all that comes with that–the boots, gloves, dirt salted floors, early darkness and staying inside as much as possible–put me a little off these past few months. More than usual. As well, I was hit hard by going from full-time to part-time help for the kids and by my husband’s brutal 7-day-a-week work schedule that lasted most of this year.

But I’ve missed you guys! I have a lot of longer (you know how I go on and on…) stories to tell you but real quick I wanted to share some of the things we’ve been up to–museums, ice cream, Mardi Gras parties, hair cuts, more ice cream, ballet, traveling by airplane for the first time…

Molly the dancer

Contrary to what this picture seems to illustrate, Molly is doing really well in ballet this year. Having loved (and quit) ballet myself when I was much younger, this makes me very happy.

Winter ice cream

It’s never too cold for ice cream.

Ellie love her beads

The kids’ preschool’s Mardi Gras party is a huge hit because of the beads. And the dancing.

I had the greatest time spending an afternoon with very talented filmmakers and their amazing crew. (I will have so much more about that later on!) Toward the end of the interview, my kids came out to join me on camera–they were missing their pants had American cheese smooshed in their hair. Sigh.

Molly and the dinosaur

I took Molly to the Museum of Natural History on a rainy Friday during her school break in February because it is one of the greatest places in the world, and because I realized what a crappy mom I am for not doing anything educational during her break. Our visit was fabulous. She loved the dinosaur bones, but much preferred the animals “with skin.” Although I broke a cap on my tooth on a piece of candy within the first 15 minutes of our day (has anyone else had to make an emergency call to the dentist from the Spitzer Hall of Human Origins?), it was the kind of day I imagined having with my daughter before I even knew her.

Ellie's first haircut

Oh dear Ellie. So sweet and brave against that scary hair dryer.

March madness

It was 72 degrees here today. More ice cream. No arguments.

First airplane trip

While I will be writing more about our recent trip to Disney World, our first airplane trip with the kids went really well–both ways. Thanks to everyone who recommended portable DVD players!

Completely utterly out

This was a big family dinner our first night on vacation. There are three kids on that bench with me. Fast asleep. A successful day.

Posted in Family Life, It's All About Me, New York City Living and Coping, Parenting Moments, Travel, Wordless Wednesdays | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Freckleface the Musical Is Nothing to Make Fun of

Posted on February 21, 2012 by

I brought my two daughters, age 2.5 and four, to Freckleface the Musical with mixed expectations and a curious mind. Having had not yet read Julianne Moore’s children’s book, Freckleface Strawberry, on which the musical is based, I wasn’t sure how the subject matter of bullying was going to be treated–especially how it would be treated in a musical geared to children of all ages.

The cast is clearly supremely talented and ageless; they are those lucky kind of actors that can forever play teenagers. They gracefully belt out the show’s funny, moving and catchy lyrics while convincingly give life to the colorful characters on stage.

The cast of Freckleface the Musical

The bullying plot line was handled in a very accessible, mild way–the main character, a young school girl named Strawberry, is made fun of (mostly by her friends) for having freckles. There doesn’t seem to be any real malice in the bullying–it isn’t vicious and, having been cruelly and consistently bullied myself as a preteen, I was surprised by the lack of supreme childhood cruelty. And I don’t mean that I wanted to see that. Actually, I was relieved the tone was teasing rather than brutal; it seemed less authentic to me having experienced the latter, but generous given the mixed ages of the audience–and certainly sufficient to spark age-appropriate dialogues between parents and children on all the issues around bullying.

We did buy a copy of Freckleface Strawberry by Julianne Moore after the show; we read it often. As does the musical, the book presents bullying in a cute and comfortable way, which is appropriate for the age group. My children are shy to varying degrees, and I think they relate–in their own ways–to the main character’s wish to become invisible so that no one will stare at her freckles.

Given my own sensitivity to this subject, I am grateful to have a starting point such as Freckleface the Musical for discussions with my own three children who are beginning to enter their own complicated social dynamics, as young as they are (my boy/girl twins are turning three this spring; my oldest girl is almost 4.5).

Reading the mmacbill before the show starts


Reserved Molly meets the star!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For more buzz on Freckleface the Musical, visit MamaDrama on BroadwayWorld.com. (Discount Code: use code MAMADRAMA at the box office or on line for $40 tickets: http://ww.broadwayoffers.com/go.aspx?MD=2001&MC=MAMADRAMA)

I received tickets to the show for review purposes. Opinions are my own.

Posted in Event, Family Life, New York City Living and Coping, Parenting Moments | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Mind Has Its Battles Too

Posted on February 17, 2012 by

One need not be a chamber to be haunted.. -Emily Dickinson

I am in a small and selfish place right now. It is quite familiar to me. That’s what eating disorders are like. They make you think only of yourself and your own problems. For anyone who might have a more generous view of this illness, I’ll rephrase: eating disorders make me think only of myself and my little concerns. They are seductive ghosts.

I will be 42 this year. My life of starving, eating and purging began when I was 12 and lasted until I was 31. I have few relationships that have lasted this long. But my obsession with body image is similar to a bad and broken relationship–I am scared, if not unable, to live without it. When it is quiet, my mind is my own; this reprieve has stretched for marvelous lengths of time. When it is screaming in my ear, very little in my life is calm or lovely. Like its equally menacing sister, depression, an eating disorder visits and turns grateful clarity to resentment before its bags are inside your door.

However brutal this beast has been, I am writing now not about my history or even my recovery (that is a good story, for another time). I am writing just from this moment: my babies asleep (two in their beds, one on the living room floor), the rain hitting the windows, the steady sound of cars on the highway, my mind racing toward the same wall.

Gaining weight during my pregnancies was hard for me–actually it was easy for me as I put on at least 50 pounds each time! But I had a hard time living in a bigger body. (No one told that EVERYTHING gets bigger with pregnancy.) I never felt comfortable and again, shocked when I couldn’t wear my normal-sized clothes coming home from the hospital.

At my twins’ one-year birthday, however, I was back to my normal weight, and for the past almost three years, I’ve done little to manage that. I exercise or I don’t, I eat mostly whatever I want, I drink what I want (wine, please!) and I have had the peace and gentleness to think about body image only from an objective, “oh, yeah, I remember you…” sort of place–as if I’d gotten out of that relationship and could finally recall it with some ease. My body was my friend again. And it was a gift like silence after a storm.

This winter I have gained a few pounds. (Wow, that looks silly in writing. More ridiculous than I imagined, much worse than it sounds in my head.) It means nothing, amounts to nothing, is nothing. And it is all I can think of lately. I wake up to the kids’ screaming, running, grabbing, crying and my first thought is “I wonder what I weigh…”

I am writing about it now because I need to expose myself (no, not that kind of expose myself! Totally different problem). I need to expose my self-centeredness and the illness that creeps in every once in a while. I would rather not say anything here; perhaps keep bitching to my husband, sending him text messages during work that read, “I feel fat. I want to crawl out of skin”; and hope these ugly thoughts and feelings will go back to where they came from–the trouble is they come from my head. It is a challenge upon a challenge to be a mama to three children, a good wife and a generous friend when every other thought is about my size. And it’s not acceptable to me or for me. Because writing is often always my salvation, I am trusting this, along with divine grace, to pull–or yank–me from this fuzzy, wrongly focused place.

I participated in Memories Captured earlier this week and shared in pictures what I am trying to put in writing–sometimes I forget what’s important. Because I am obsessed with a number on a scale.

I had forgotten this fight. I had thought we’d said good-bye for good and I had forgotten how it feels to battle a monster. Perhaps it is here to remind me to fight for myself, to fight for a dignified, effective, outward-looking life. It certainly comes at this moment to show me that there is lasting meaning in the very struggle.

A few silly pictures

Because I always need reminding

of this

Posted in Family Life, It's All About Me, New York City Living and Coping | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments