http://www.momsmiami.com/xmlblog.php?u=2638 Blog for mama sass en-us Tue, 27 Jul 2010 06:00:00 EST Jul 27 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3214 This summer’s parenting lesson is called “Jessi Slaughter.” Jessi is the online name of an 11-year-old girl from North Florida whose foul-mouthed tantrum on the Internet spawned a viral spiral of disaster. The cyber terrorism unleashed on this little girl and her family started when Jessi posted a video in response to website rumors about her and a band called Blood on the Dance Floor. In her initial five-minute video, the middle-schooler vents over her webcam that she’s prettier and more... This summer’s parenting lesson is called “Jessi Slaughter.” Jessi is the online name of an 11-year-old girl from North Florida whose foul-mouthed tantrum on the Internet spawned a viral spiral of disaster. The cyber terrorism unleashed on this little girl and her family started when Jessi posted a video in response to website rumors about her and a band called Blood on the Dance Floor. In her initial five-minute video, the middle-schooler vents over her webcam that she’s prettier and more popular than her critics. Then she proceeds to drop a series of f-bombs, vowing to “pop a glock” in her tormentors' mouths and make them a “brain slushy,” among other startling threats. The YouTube video spawned a frenzy of Internet rage. Online harassers, aka “trolls,” started picking on Jessi relentlessly. They accessed personal info in her Facebook account and started circulating her real name, phone number, address and links to all her social networking accounts. Pranksters spammed her Facebook and MySpace accounts, had pizzas delivered to her house, phoned her home with death threats, started a Craigslist rumor that she was running a call girl network, triggered a police investigation, spread Internet rumors that she committed suicide and basically tormented her to pieces. Bewildered and hysterical, Jessi continued the train wreck with two more tear-filled videos. In one, her clueless father is on his knees in the background, sputtering mad and screaming at the PC in his daughter’s bedroom ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=scyGo7tkC4I ). He lets loose on his daughter’s nameless, faceless tormentors with net-unsavvy threats that the “cyberpolice” are onto the case and he’s going to “backtrace” them. He uses a series of unfortunate phrases, such as “you dun goofed” and “consequences will never be the same,” which only fed the trolls more fodder, spawning dozens of spoof videos, remixes, photo-shopped photos and memes. Florida’s Department of Children and Families reportedly got involved, responding to tips that Jessi was planning to hurt herself. DCF took her into overnight custody and gave her a psychological evaluation. Her family claims to be afraid to leave the house. I know I’m supposed to feel sorry for Jessi’s parents, but I’m struggling. Jessi’s mom claims in interviews that she has never seen her daughters’ wildly inappropriate videos; that she has no intentions of looking at them and doesn’t really spend any time herself on the computer. Still, the mother’s voice can be heard in the background in one of her daughter’s profanity-laced, tearful appearances. She seems to throw up her arms and walk away. Jessi’s parents act like this backlash was unfairly leveled at their daughter. Maybe I’m being harsh, but if your daughter threatens to shoot someone in the mouth on camera, you shouldn't be blaming this entirely on others. Stupidity and being 11 have gone hand-in-hand since the beginning of time. But with this generation, it's all played out on a worldwide platform. When your kid is spending all her time online and you realize something has gone horribly wrong, it’s a parent's responsibility to learn how the Internet works. No parent can know it all. We need to help each other out. Here are some tips I'd like to share with Jessi's mom. Care to add your own? + The Internet is not the enemy; it’s not your friend, either. It’s a great education and social communication tool, but there are certain sites that just aren’t acceptable for kids. Jessi’s troubles started on StickyDrama, a crowd-sourced gossip website that tweeners really have no business reading, much less chiming in on. Other troll-heavy websites and blog platforms that sped along this disaster: Tumblr, Boing Boing and 4Chan.org. Buzz through your kid’s browser history at least once a week. If these sites pop up, start asking questions. + Kids should not be using the f-word and threatening to kill people, whether they’re online, in the schoolyard or in their homes. + Bragging about yourself usually invites criticism. This is an important lesson in the real world and even more so online, where such boasts about wealth, beauty and popularity often invite attacks by trolls, who will hack into your accounts and try to humiliate you. + Kids this young should not have YouTube or Facebook accounts. If they do then they should be closely monitored. + Web cams should not be on kids’ computers and certainly not in their bedrooms. Sure, they’re great for keeping in Skype touch with a parent traveling for work or a relative who lives far away, but kids shouldn’t have total access to the cams all the time. Jessi is one in a number of “cam girls” who have been celebrated and vilified for their annoying behavior. + If your child posts something that prompts ridicule or angry responses, the best thing you can do is delete everything, stay off the Internet for awhile and hope the trolls will get bored and move on to their next target. + Too much free time invites disaster. Sign this kid up for sports or music lessons. Tue, 20 Jul 2010 06:00:00 EST Jul 20 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3194 In which my two daughters get to the bottom of the birds and the bees through bewildering big talks with mom and long pauses on the part of their father. This past school year, my 11-year-old daughter became intrigued by the genetics lessons delivered by her science teacher. She’d come home gabbing about the heritability of eye and hair color, drawing genetic tree charts to show the probability of green eyes vs. brown eyes in our family. On a walk this past Sunday, my husband overheard our gene-happy... In which my two daughters get to the bottom of the birds and the bees through bewildering big talks with mom and long pauses on the part of their father. This past school year, my 11-year-old daughter became intrigued by the genetics lessons delivered by her science teacher. She’d come home gabbing about the heritability of eye and hair color, drawing genetic tree charts to show the probability of green eyes vs. brown eyes in our family. On a walk this past Sunday, my husband overheard our gene-happy daughter trying to describe the genetics of gender to her younger sister and a girlfriend. The man, she told them, is the one who decides the sex of the child. It is true that men determine the gender of their offspring. When a sperm with a Y chromosome fertilizes an egg, it makes a boy. If the fertilizing sperm carries an X chromosome, it’s a girl. But my daughter’s explanation made it sound like the penis has a mind of its own (she may be smarter than I thought). As a result, my other daughter and her little friend, who happens to have two brothers, were a bit taken aback. My youngest daughter, ever the skeptic, turned to my husband and asked, “Papa, is it true that your penis decides whether a baby is a boy or girl?” To which my husband replied, “Uh, uh, uh ...” “Wow,” their friend said to him. “You wanted two girls?!” Tue, 13 Jul 2010 06:00:00 EST Jul 13 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3179 Amid all the bitterness and hype, there’s one thing I found very telling in the LeBron-A-Thon. When the 6-foot-8, 2x NBA MVP known as King James had trouble making up his mind on the morning of “The Decision,” he called his mom. We all know what happened next. LeBron James dumped Cleveland, stood up New York and Chicago, and chose Miami in front of 10 million people on live national television. Cleveland fans burned his jersey. His former team's owner called him a coward. Sportscasters labeled... Amid all the bitterness and hype, there’s one thing I found very telling in the LeBron-A-Thon. When the 6-foot-8, 2x NBA MVP known as King James had trouble making up his mind on the morning of “The Decision,” he called his mom. We all know what happened next. LeBron James dumped Cleveland, stood up New York and Chicago, and chose Miami in front of 10 million people on live national television. Cleveland fans burned his jersey. His former team's owner called him a coward. Sportscasters labeled the whole media circus an obnoxious public relations disaster. Sure they’re pissed. With all the speculation, second guessing and secret sourcing, there’s one thing the talking heads and sportswriters underestimated: the power of mom. Gloria James was single and only 16 when she gave birth to LeBron. They seem to share the kind of steely connection that comes from years of me-and-you-against-the-world living. She wears a jersey that says “LeBron’s Mom” on the back. He has her name tattooed on his right bicep. She still refers to him as “my baby” and “Bron-Bron.” James said his mother told him that morning that he should do what makes him happy. That’s what every mom ultimately wants for her child, but pretty darn unselfish advice coming from someone who has spent almost her entire life in Ohio. LeBron James wants to win big. He knows his two buddies in Miami, Chris Bosh and Dwyane Wade, can make that happen. His mom approves. So do his childhood friends, who help run his marketing team and will probably follow him to Miami. Cleveland may think it has a right to feel spurned. But, to me, it sounds like this well-spoken 25-year-old is being loyal to all the people who really matter. Some of my friends find it Norman Bates creepy that a grown man is still seeking advice from – or hiding behind the skirts of – his mom. But as someone married to a mama’s boy, I’ve decided that, even with all the frustrating drama such a relationship brings, men who deeply adore and trust their mothers are ultimately our friends. They’ve been raised to value and respect women. "She gets all the credit in the world for helping me become the man who I am today. Yep," LeBron James once told 60 Minutes . After LeBron’s grandmother died when he was an infant, he and his teen mom were on their own. Reports say they lived in a condemned house. Then, between the ages of 5 and 8, LeBron moved more than 12 times. His mom supposedly made some bad choices – had trouble holding down steady work, hooked up with a man convicted of cocaine trafficking … When she realized she couldn’t provide the stability he needed, she sent her son to live at times with coaches and friends. But she was, by all accounts, always involved in his life, always in the stands when he went on to play (and earn a 3.5 GPA) at a Catholic high school in his hometown of Akron. Now a father of two boys with his high school sweetheart, LeBron marvels at his mother’s strength. “I may be able to figure out how to make a jumper or dunk a basketball, but I cannot figure out how you raised me by yourself,” he told her when accepting one of his MVP awards. “Wow.” That doesn’t mean he and his 41-year-old mother always see eye-to-eye. He once yelled at her to “sit her a** down” when she jumped up and tried to attack Boston Celtics star Paul Pierce after Pierce blatantly fouled LeBron in a playoff game. And who knows what words were exchanged between mother and son when Internet rumors claimed this spring she had an affair with one of his teammates. Their relationship may be complicated. But, at the end of the day, the Most Wanted Man in Basketball knows that the only fan he can truly count on to stick by his side has been there his entire life. Tue, 06 Jul 2010 06:00:00 EST Jul 6 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3139 I was going to write a blog called When Dads Lose Their Sense of Humor in honor of the father who went ballistic last week when I suggested that men don’t always have their parenting act together. Then I realized that all dads are entitled to a certain amount of crabbiness. The guy just needs to get laid. So, I dedicate this week’s blog on The Best DVDs for Sex to “Dad of 2 under 3” – and all the other hard-working, frustrated fathers out there. No, this is not a guide to porn.... I was going to write a blog called When Dads Lose Their Sense of Humor in honor of the father who went ballistic last week when I suggested that men don’t always have their parenting act together. Then I realized that all dads are entitled to a certain amount of crabbiness. The guy just needs to get laid. So, I dedicate this week’s blog on The Best DVDs for Sex to “Dad of 2 under 3” – and all the other hard-working, frustrated fathers out there. No, this is not a guide to porn. (Sorry, dads, you can log off now and go back to not watching your kids.) Every wise mom knows that the key to reclaiming your sex life is cultivating a kids’ DVD collection that will keep the offspring occupied long enough to … well, I said this wasn’t a porn column, you know what I’m talking about. I’ve heard some parents of young children call this “Elmo sex.” You thought that furry red monster was popular because kids like him? I know it seems irresponsible to use TV – not to mention a beloved Muppet – as a make-time-for-sex tool, but research shows that kids should spend no more than two to four hours a day in front of the TV. I’m talking less than two hours here. (Or, in the case of "Dad of 2 under 3," maybe two minutes?) No, for a really good time, what is needed is the War and Peace of kiddie cinema. Short animation is out. G-rated flicks of Gone with the Wind proportions are in. TV shows just won’t cut it – too many opportunities for little minds and feet to wander during commercial breaks. We’re talking about long stretches of uninterrupted time. Because the worst possible thing you can think of is having your kids walk in on you while you and your spouse are having … long stretches of uninterrupted time. This happened to a friend of mine once. She told the kids she and daddy were playing “tent.” I don’t think I can think that quickly on my back, or in any other position for that matter. Can you? So I’m creating this age-appropriate guide that I hope will grow with your own tried-and-true movie contributions. The toddler years: Forget Barney and cartoon shorts like Clifford, Dr. Seuss and Goodnight Moon . They’ll be over before you are. The chief thing to remember when building your Elmo sex DVD collection at this age is to not include anything that will startle or scare. Any potential for terror will send them tearing into your bedroom. The Wizard of Oz , for instance. Those flying monkeys still scare the shit out of me. Finding Nemo also has interuptus potential. While you’re at it, you might as well rule out most of Disney because those sick fu*ks usually kill off mom in the first act. Your only hope: Kids at this age crave repetition. They’ve likely seen their favorite movies 124,264,756 times. Go for the ones they’re most familiar with – Pocahontas, The Little Mermaid, The Lion King, Peter Pan, Cinderella – to lull them into a nice, quiet stretch of time. Ages 5-7: Scary is still out. No Bambi , and certainly no Harry Potter. Ditto for Monster House and its man-eating home and Pirates of the Caribbean , with its skeletons popping out all over the ship. Speaking from experience, even Chitty Chitty Bang Bang should be ruled out. As THE scariest movie character of all time, The Child Catcher even beats Friday the 13th ’s Jason and Freddy Krueger. You also don’t want movies that will prompt a lot of questions or make them cry. That rules out Charlotte’s Web and Born Free . Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory can be creepy. (Remember the psychedelic boat trip?) That leaves Mary Poppins, The Sound of Music (sometimes all you need is that super-long song, So Long, Farewell ) and The Incredible Journey (surely you don’t need more than a 300-mile trek across the country?) Also high on my list for sheer length: Matilda, Babe, Cars and 101 Dalmations . Ages 8-10: Three words: The NeverEnding Story . Some modern movies, such as Night at The Museum and Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium are effective, but the true time-elapsing tools for this age are those epic movies from your own childhood. Have you noticed that all the long, great kids’ movies were created in the 1980s? Maybe our parents were smarter than we thought. Star Trek: The Motion Picture runs a whopping 143 minutes. Some other favs: Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Back to the Future, The Goonies, The Princess Bride, Forrest Gump, Dead Poets Society, Rudy , and E.T. A cautionary tip: Scary is out because kids this age still get spooked. Stand and Deliver has those scenes with the leeches and the dead body. Pay It Forward has that awful stabbing. Even the knife fights in West Side Story sent my 9-year-old scrambling. Tweens and teens: They have the good sense not to open a shut door, but they still have ears. Hearing your parents have sex can really mess you up, so what is needed here are movies that make a lot of noise. Transformers should be at the top of your list. Epic battles occur continuously and there is a lot of shouting. Rocky has long, loud fight scenes. Jackie Chan movies are good, too. If that’s too violent for you, go for Titanic . It takes a long time for that ship to go down. If you’re counting, Avatar runs 2 hours and 42 minutes. Thank you, James Cameron. Tue, 29 Jun 2010 06:00:00 EST Jun 29 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3122 I thought there might be trouble when we incorporated a man into our summer camp car pool schedule. Suspicion confirmed. Last week, he forgot to bring home one of the seven girls. Apparently the soldier's motto "no man left behind" does not apply to 11-year-olds in Girl Scouts Camp. The kid finally realized around 5:30 p.m. that she was the last remaining camper and she called mom. When told about the screw-up, the guy's response was, "But there are so many of them!” He contended that... I thought there might be trouble when we incorporated a man into our summer camp car pool schedule. Suspicion confirmed. Last week, he forgot to bring home one of the seven girls. Apparently the soldier's motto "no man left behind" does not apply to 11-year-olds in Girl Scouts Camp. The kid finally realized around 5:30 p.m. that she was the last remaining camper and she called mom. When told about the screw-up, the guy's response was, "But there are so many of them!” He contended that he was 6 for 7. Fantastic. If you’re talking about a batting average. That same week, one of the moms in the car pool had to go out of the country for work, leaving her three kids at home with dad. I walked into the kitchen one night and found one of my daughters making two sandwiches for her lunchbox for the next day: one for her and one for her friend whose mom was out of town. “There's no food in her house,” my daughter said. No further explanation necessary, especially since this particular father drove off from the Coral Gables Youth Center baseball fields last spring, leaving his twins behind. Yes, it takes a village to raise a child, but only one dad to lose one. Yeah, yeah, I know that many of today’s fathers are changing diapers, getting up in the middle of the night and being more hands-on than previous generations. Still, when most dads are in charge, the kids might as well be home alone. I don’t have to look any further than my own turf to illustrate. I once asked my husband to watch our two toddlers while I jumped into the shower to get ready for a wedding. He promptly fell asleep. When I emerged a few minutes later, the girls had colored each others’ faces and bodies in bright blue permanent marker. Years later, I still detect a tinge. Then there’s the time I came home and my husband was on the phone with poison control because our daughter had guzzled a bottle of shampoo while he was bathing her. Remember Balloon Boy? One guess as to which parent was in charge that day. Remember the YouTube hit “David After Dentist?” Only a father, when encountered with his disoriented and petrified post-dentist child, would think, “Wow, this could make a cool video.” Then there’s the Oregon father who was arrested last year for putting an electronic dog “shock” collar on his children, all under the age of 10. The dad told police he didn’t do it as punishment; he just thought it was funny. A dad’s sense of humor is truly unique, especially when it comes to his kids. There’s a father on my block whose idea of Halloween fun last Oct. 31 was to walk his kids through a vacant house and have people wearing stockings over their faces jump out at them in the dark. Another dad I know years ago dressed up like ET, went outside and tapped on the window while his daughters were watching the movie. These are the dads who keep therapists employed. When dad is in charge the kids could have ice cream for breakfast and cereal for dinner (if they’re lucky to get fed at all). No bedtimes, no baths, no homework. Clothing is optional. The only sure thing they can count on is that, eventually, mom will return. And wake dad up. Tue, 22 Jun 2010 06:00:00 EST Jun 22 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3084 Last week a World Cup referee made a lousy call and “disallowed” a winning goal scored by the U.S soccer team. The rest of the world shrugged its shoulders and moved on. The Americans, however, are still outraged and obsessing over this. (Stick with me because this is more about parenting than soccer.) There’s no doubt the call was a bad one. Instant replays show no reason for the ref to disqualify the goal. But the ref and FIFA – the international soccer federation that runs the World Cup... Last week a World Cup referee made a lousy call and “disallowed” a winning goal scored by the U.S soccer team. The rest of the world shrugged its shoulders and moved on. The Americans, however, are still outraged and obsessing over this. (Stick with me because this is more about parenting than soccer.) There’s no doubt the call was a bad one. Instant replays show no reason for the ref to disqualify the goal. But the ref and FIFA – the international soccer federation that runs the World Cup – has offered no explanation for the call. They probably never will. This frustrates Americans even more, especially since the call has the potential to end the U.S. team’s chances. It’s just not fair. As a soccer fan, I’m pissed. But as a parent, I’m perplexed. The belief that life should be fair seems to be a dominant American trait. Our government and way of life – while not always living up to its grand ideals – is grounded in the belief that everybody should be treated equally and fairly. It’s a noble goal. People die for it. Our public schools aspire to it. We raise our children to fight for it. Yet Europe, Latin America and the rest of the world seem amused by our naivete. Their motto seems to be “life isn’t always fair. Get used to it.” They are amused that Americans just can’t accept the call and get on with their lives. Fight for your rights v. life isn’t fair … which view of the world is right? And which one should we be teaching our kids? It’s easy to dismiss the life-isn’t-fair philosophy as a sign of weakness. We Americans like to think that some things, like fairness, are worth fighting for. And they are. But in some instances, is it better to simply accept that life isn’t fair and get back in the game, instead of wallowing in self pity? If we raise our kids to go through life expecting it to always be fair, how do we prepare them for the inevitable times when it isn’t? When a major earthquake tried to wipe Haiti off the map earlier this year, one of the striking outcomes soon afterward was the ability of the Haitian people to return to some sense of normalcy, moving on with their lives after their initial shock and grief. An American doctor marveled at a young girl’s ability to adjust to a prosthesis after she lost her leg in the rubble. Back in the States, he told a reporter, it takes a month for someone to learn to walk with an artificial limb. This girl was up and moving in a day. Is the ability to accept that life isn’t fair a gift sometimes? And should we give that gift to our kids? A wise boss one time told me that you should pick your battles. Sometimes the harm you do fighting for a cause isn’t worth the outcome. It seems to me that teaching a child which battles to fight for and which ones to let go is the ultimate parental balancing act. You make the call. Tue, 15 Jun 2010 06:00:00 EST Jun 15 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3062 In honor of World Cup mania – and in defiance of certain American soccerphobes – here are 10 reasons every mom should run out and sign her kid up to play soccer: 1. You don’t have to be a freak of nature to excel at playing. Most soccer players are average height and weight. Argentina’s Lionel Messi, generally regarded as the best soccer player in the world right now, suffered from a growth hormone deficiency as a child and is only 5’7” tall. 2. No special talents are... In honor of World Cup mania – and in defiance of certain American soccerphobes – here are 10 reasons every mom should run out and sign her kid up to play soccer: 1. You don’t have to be a freak of nature to excel at playing. Most soccer players are average height and weight. Argentina’s Lionel Messi, generally regarded as the best soccer player in the world right now, suffered from a growth hormone deficiency as a child and is only 5’7” tall. 2. No special talents are required. Sure, natural athletic ability helps, but, more than any other sport, soccer skills can be perfected pretty quickly through practice and hard work. Can you think of a better lesson for a kid? 3. It's truly a team sport . No one player, no matter how talented, can win a game on his or her own. With maybe the exception of the goalie, there’s not much scrutiny focused on one individual, so there’s less pressure to perform compared to, say, baseball, gymnastics or golf. 4. It's inclusive. In the United States, over 40 million children participate. Soccer teams are everywhere – not just in suburbia, but among urban children, immigrant groups and disadvantaged youth. In many communities, teams in the younger grades consist of boys and girls playing together. Children of all ages and varying ability can enjoy the game. Consider U.S. goalie Tim Howard. One of America’s highest-paid soccer players, he has Tourette’s Syndrome. 5. It’s not expensive to play. All you really need is a ball. 6. It’s generally a non-contact sport. 7. It's good aerobic exercise. During a soccer game, kids are constantly running from one end of the field to the other. Research shows regular participation in soccer increases both bone mass and bone density, which improves balance and muscle strength. 8. Soccer is a universal language. No matter where you go in the world, if you kick someone a soccer ball, you have an immediate dialogue. 9. Most professional soccer players are pretty healthy role models. OK, it has its bad boys (led by cocaine-snorting crazy man Maradona), but soccer isn’t plagued by steroid or performance-enhancing drug use like baseball, cycling and many other sports. 10. It’s not elitist. Admission to a Major League Soccer game costs a third of what it costs to attend an NBA, NHL or NFL game. What are you waiting for? Tue, 08 Jun 2010 06:00:00 EST Jun 8 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3043 The first thing I thought of last week when I read that more teen girls are using the rhythm method was ... shit, I should create an app for this and get rich. Too late. Already exists. If your teenage daughter has something on her iPhone called FertilityFriend or MeFertil, start sweating. My second thought was this: We have really failed our children if today's teens think they're safe because they're calcuating their fertility calendars. Remember, these are the same kids who forget their... The first thing I thought of last week when I read that more teen girls are using the rhythm method was ... shit, I should create an app for this and get rich. Too late. Already exists. If your teenage daughter has something on her iPhone called FertilityFriend or MeFertil, start sweating. My second thought was this: We have really failed our children if today's teens think they're safe because they're calcuating their fertility calendars. Remember, these are the same kids who forget their homework, their curfews and when to call home. They're going to remember what days of the month they're fertile? How many teenage girls are diligent enough to track their body temperature every morning with a thermometer and analyze the thickness of their cervical mucus? It takes up to six months of careful tracking before you can get a reliable account of ovulation periods. What teenage guy is going to wait around for that? And what teenage girls have regular periods to track anyway? This is not a method, it's madness. Back in the very brief period of my life when I actually wanted to get pregnant, I tried to use an ovulation tracking kit. Three days later, my head exploded. The rhythm method as a contraceptive has a failure rate of 25 percent. That means 25 out of 100 females using this method get pregnant (compared to a 2 percent failure rate for the pill and a 10 percent failure rate for condoms). Even if these rhythm girls don't get past elementary school math, let's hope they can figure out the odds are not in their favor. And let's say they somehow get lucky and don't get pregnant -- they're still not protected from AIDS, chlamydia and other STDs. Teenage pregnancies have been dropping steadily for the last two decades, but in recent years this trend has flattened out, according to the new CDC report. Researchers are speculating the stall may be due to an uptick in the number of sexually experienced girls using the rhythm method. About 17 percent of the girls reported using it compared to 11 percent in 2002. That may not seem like a huge increase. Unless your daughter was one of those whose rhythm was off. Tue, 01 Jun 2010 06:00:00 EST Jun 1 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3029 I don’t know why everybody is so frantic about Facebook privacy. After spending Memorial Day weekend driving across Florida, I can tell you that people should be more worried about revealing everything on the back of their cars. Just by driving behind someone on I-95 you find out: how many kids they have, what grades their kids get in school, their political leanings, where they stand on the abortion issue, whether or not they believe in Jesus, what they do in their spare time (surf, hunt, hate), what... I don’t know why everybody is so frantic about Facebook privacy. After spending Memorial Day weekend driving across Florida, I can tell you that people should be more worried about revealing everything on the back of their cars. Just by driving behind someone on I-95 you find out: how many kids they have, what grades their kids get in school, their political leanings, where they stand on the abortion issue, whether or not they believe in Jesus, what they do in their spare time (surf, hunt, hate), what rock bands they listen to, their favorite sports teams, where their kids go to college, whether or not they eat meat, what branch of the military they belong to, how patriotic they are, how they feel about the war in Iraq and their opinion on immigration. Why do we feel the need to share so much? There's a reason why Facebook and social networking sites are so popular. We love telling the world who we are and where we stand. But to me, on the highway, it seems like an invitation to disaster. Who knows what nut case is behind you, boiling with road rage because his kid didn't make the honor roll? Plus, you never know who you might offend. Like when you plaster your bumper with “We won” and “Groovy Chicks for Obama” stickers then pull up for that job interview at the same time as your potential boss, the guy whose car reads “Nobama” and “1 million people attended Obama’s inauguration and only 14 missed work.” Do people who put political bumper stickers on their car think they’re going to convince somebody driving behind them to switch sides? And what about all those fish and pro-Christian stickers? Do they think they're converting people while they cruise the Florida Turnpike? Remember those yellow Baby on Board signs? Did people who put those in their back car windows think we’d drive safer around them? So many bumper stickers today seem designed to piss somebody off. It’s our passive aggressive way of getting the last word. Who can respond while you’re speeding away? But sometimes the message backfires. I learned my lesson the hard way. Back when I was a young thing, I had a bumper sticker on my Maverick that read “There’s no such thing as a dumb blonde.” Until one day I left the gas cap on my trunk and a kindly driver pulled up next to me, laughing and pointing. Although I'm a minimalist when it comes to the back of my car, here are a few I've spotted that made me smile: * The police never think it’s as funny as you do. * Without sports, this bumper sticker would be about my honor student. * Less bombs, more art supplies. * God please protect me from your followers. * Egrets? I’ve had a few. * Honk if you love Jesus. Text if you want to meet him. * Never do anything you wouldn’t want to explain to the paramedics. * If we’re not supposed to eat animals how come they’re made of meat? * Stop global whining. * I like my men how I like my coffee…ground up and in the freezer. * Plug the oil leak with Wall Street bankers. * Straight but not narrow. * You probably don’t recognize me without the cape. What about you? Do you have a favorite? And would you display it on your car for all to see? Tue, 25 May 2010 06:00:00 EST May 25 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=3009 I’m so glad softball season has ended before someone could take a photo of my daughters that may jeopardize their chances of sitting on the U.S. Supreme Court. Of course, it’s too late to get rid of pictures of them running track and cross country or playing soccer, flag football and basketball, so I guess they’ll have to settle for U.S. Secretary of State. Single women aspiring to positions of power have always had to deal with whispers about their sexual preferences. But I like to think... I’m so glad softball season has ended before someone could take a photo of my daughters that may jeopardize their chances of sitting on the U.S. Supreme Court. Of course, it’s too late to get rid of pictures of them running track and cross country or playing soccer, flag football and basketball, so I guess they’ll have to settle for U.S. Secretary of State. Single women aspiring to positions of power have always had to deal with whispers about their sexual preferences. But I like to think that by the time my two daughters reach the pinnacle of their careers, their love of sports won’t be viewed as a sign of their sexuality. Of course I’m talking about the 17-year-old photo of Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan holding a softball bat that the Wall Street Journal decided to publish this month. I’m not surprised by the frenzy the photo created – Did the Wall Street Journal run the pic to slyly suggest Kagan is a lesbian? Or was it an attempt to humanize someone in the public light? – or the speculation about which way Kagan likes to swing. It’s been 38 years since Title IX opened up the world of female athletics; it’ll probably be another 38 before people accept that some girls like to sweat as much as they like to have sex with men. What surprises me is that, even though their motivations are different, many commentators on the left and right agree on one thing: If Kagan is gay then she should come out of the closet. They’re saying the same thing about former Secretary of State Condi Rice, who officially made this lesbian sports innuendo month by recently writing an opinion piece in the Daily Beast on why she loves women’s basketball and the WNBA. I’m all for full disclosure in a perfect world. But hate crimes, gay bashings and parents who disown their children don’t happen in a perfect world. We’ve come a long way, it’s true, but gay bloggers are delusional if they think this country is ready to embrace true diversity. Not when you have groups like the so-called American Family Association stating that "no gay person could be qualified to sit on the Supreme Court." Not when parents kick their prom queen son out of their house, as the mom and dad of a gay Flanagan High student did this month. Openly gay Catholic commentator Andrew Sullivan argues in his blog for The Atlantic that "i n a free society in the 21st Century, it is not illegitimate to ask. And it is cowardly not to tell." That’s easy judgment from someone who chose to come out and now makes a living writing from the gay perspective. I’ll agree with him when a free society means that we no longer need closets and that girls can swing bats without being labeled switch hitters. Maybe by then we’ll have enough women on the Supreme Court to make a softball team. Tue, 18 May 2010 06:00:00 EST May 18 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2982 If character is how we act when nobody is looking then how we act when our kids are looking is how we wish we could be. Last week my kids came running in the house because they found a tiny, yellow-breasted bird floundering around with a broken wing in our front yard. "Mama, you gotta help it," they said. I am 45 years old. My days of rescuing abandoned and injured animals are pretty much behind me. I can easily talk myself out of the trouble by arguing that nobody should try to alter the laws of... If character is how we act when nobody is looking then how we act when our kids are looking is how we wish we could be. Last week my kids came running in the house because they found a tiny, yellow-breasted bird floundering around with a broken wing in our front yard. "Mama, you gotta help it," they said. I am 45 years old. My days of rescuing abandoned and injured animals are pretty much behind me. I can easily talk myself out of the trouble by arguing that nobody should try to alter the laws of nature. You know, the Circle of Life … Survival of the Fittest … Plus, dinner had yet to be made, homework hadn’t happened and I was dead tired. I am a cold, hard cynic who knows that life will go on with one less bird in this world. But, in this case, my kids were watching. So I found a cardboard box, made holes in the lid, herded the gray bird into the box and drove the stunned animal and my two kids through Coconut Grove evening rush hour to the Miami Science Museum. Along the way, the girls named the bird "Abigail." They begged me to avoid potholes, at the same time urging me faster to the science museum, where there is a recovery center for injured birds. The center is meant for birds of prey, but it will take other birds in and try to help them, eventually sending those who make it to Pelican Harbor Seabird Station on Northeast 79th Street, where they are released. At least this is the story the girl with the ripped black leggings and boots and feather in her hair told me as she gently inspected the bird. I’m inclined to believe her because it corroborates what another worker at the center told me last year, when my kids and I found another injured bird in Kennedy Park and brought it there in a lunch box. As I registered the bird (a warbler, I learned) in a handwritten log at the science center, I couldn’t help noticing the names of dozens of other people who had brought in birds – an orphaned blue jay, a baby screech owl, an injured tree swallow – and wondered if some of them were parents like me, trying to do right by their kids. I think that having kids sometimes forces you to be a better person. Of course I’m generalizing. Some parents can be incredibly selfish and some people who aren’t parents do amazingly altruistic things. But, when you become a parent, you have greater expectations to live up to. Your child’s view of who you are – fearless, smart, infallible, honest – is so darn attractive that you want to fulfill it. You want to be the hero. You want to look in that mirror they hold up to you and see a person who would save a bird with a broken wing. Tue, 11 May 2010 06:00:00 EST May 11 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2962 Are you one of the fanz of Silly Bandz? Or are you rolling your eyes over these thin silicone bracelets that come in the shapes of animals, fruit, musical instruments and other contortions? I’m a guilty consumer, having spent last weekend calling Borders and Walgreen’s to see if their Silly Bandz stock was in, just so my daughters could line their arms with these colored bands like Nubian pop culture princesses. Apparently I’m one of many because these bands are flying off the shelves. Some... Are you one of the fanz of Silly Bandz? Or are you rolling your eyes over these thin silicone bracelets that come in the shapes of animals, fruit, musical instruments and other contortions? I’m a guilty consumer, having spent last weekend calling Borders and Walgreen’s to see if their Silly Bandz stock was in, just so my daughters could line their arms with these colored bands like Nubian pop culture princesses. Apparently I’m one of many because these bands are flying off the shelves. Some stores have waiting lists. Out of the top 20 Bestseller toys this week on Amazon.com, 13 are Silly Bandz. My daughter’s fifth-grade math teacher became so frustrated with the Silly Bandz preoccupation this week, he issued a ban then snapped a bunch in half in front of his mortified class. I usually fight fads, but since these things cost hundreds of dollars less than the other items my kids have fixated on (iPad, cell phone), I’m kinda relieved I only have to plunk down a fiver to be hero for a day. It’s the least we can do as parents to satisfy our kids’ primal instincts to hunt, gather and trade. Besides, it’s cheap fun. Still, I’m starting to hear the rumblings of a Bandz backlash. I get why schools don’t like them; they can be disruptive. I’m talking about the chronic complainers who are always wringing their hands over the flaws and sins of this generation. How their priorities are all messed up. Here we go again. They can’t write because they only text. They’d rather play video games than read or run outside. They have no patience or work ethic because technology has conditioned them for instant gratification. Their music sucks. They’re selfish. They’re disrespectful. They’re too plugged in. They’re only interested in sex and the latest fashion or music craze. Sound familiar? Seems like everybody over 40 has forgotten what it’s like to be a kid. But for every Justin Bieber and OMG text message, I can find an equivalent painful obsession from the past that reminds us that history does indeed repeat itself. Allow me to refresh your aging memory: Silly Bandz = Jelly bracelets (remember Madonna’s armful in the 80s?) Justin Bieber = Shaun Cassidy Zhu Zhu pets = Furbies American Idol = The Gong Show Low-rise jeans = Parachute pants (which would you rather wear?) Razor scooters = Big Wheels Xbox = Pong Dirty dancing = Disco dancing, Break dancing iPod = Walkman Sexting = Streaking "OMG" = "Gag me with a spoon" Platform shoes = Platform shoes Hip hop fashion = Preppy look High School Musical = Grease Mentos & Coke = Pop Rocks & Coke Crocs = Duck shoes Sudoku = Rubik’s Cube "That’s sick!" = "Radical!" Webkinz = Beanie Babies Adam Lambert = David Bowie Music file sharing (Napster) = Mixed tapes What childhood fad could you not live without? 　 　 Tue, 04 May 2010 06:00:00 EST May 4 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2945 Have you downloaded your mom tunes for this weekend, when Mother’s Day rolls around? Here’s a start. Help me out because there just aren’t many good songs about moms. Stacy’s Mom , by Fountains of Wayne. For the moms who got it goin’ on. Hey Mama , by Kanye West. Sure, he can be a jerk, but he loved his momma. ("Said mommy Imma love you till you don’t hurt no more. And when I’m older, you ain’t gotta work no more.") Superwoman , by Alicia Keys.... Have you downloaded your mom tunes for this weekend, when Mother’s Day rolls around? Here’s a start. Help me out because there just aren’t many good songs about moms. Stacy’s Mom , by Fountains of Wayne. For the moms who got it goin’ on. Hey Mama , by Kanye West. Sure, he can be a jerk, but he loved his momma. ("Said mommy Imma love you till you don’t hurt no more. And when I’m older, you ain’t gotta work no more.") Superwoman , by Alicia Keys. Are you wearing your cape today? ("This is for all the mothers fighting for better days to come. And all my women sitting here trying to come home before the sun.") Mother’s Little Helper , by The Rolling Stones. Because we all need help, one way or another, to get us through our busy day. Show Me , by The Pretenders. Chrissy Hynde’s ode to her child gets me every time. ("Show me the meaning of the word ’cause I’ve heard so much about it. I don’t want to live without it.") Mother and Child Reunion , by Paul Simon. Supposedly this song’s title comes from a chicken-and-egg dish Simon saw on a Chinese restaurant menu. Kinda gross, even though the song is cool. Whitney Houston’s mom sang background vocals, which gives it double mom points. Mama Said Knock You Out , by LL Cool J. What mama doesn’t want to see her child succeed? Your Mother Should Know , by The Beatles. Always thought this one was kinda creepy. Yeah, I know they're talking about music, but what does mother really know? Surrender , by Cheap Trick. A song about how goofy your parents can seem, especially when you discover mom and dad have a life outside your own - even if it is just on the couch. ("Mommy’s alright, daddy’s alright, they just seem a little weird.") Mama Tried , by Merle Haggard. You may not have turned 21 in prison doing life without parole, but if you ever disobeyed your mom you can relate to this. ("No one could steer me right, but Mama tried, Mama tried.") Mama Told Me Not to Come , by Three Dog Night. Remember that party your mom told you not to go to? She was right, wasn’t she? Mothership Connection , by Parliament. Moms in space are da bomb. ("Put a glide in your stride and a dip in your hip. And come on up to the Mothership.") 　 　 Tue, 27 Apr 2010 06:00:00 EST Apr 27 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2908 Pretty much every mom I know would drive anything but a minivan. Can a hybrid minivan change that? Toyota will produce a hybrid Prius minivan in 2011, a Tokyo stock exchange newspaper is reporting. The seven-seater with a lithium-ion battery pack would be the first hybrid minivan in the U.S. It will sell in the mid-$20,000 range, perfect for today’s budget-conscious families. But can our desire to be hip and green overcome our mommy-made anxieties about being terminally uncool? Some major cultural... Pretty much every mom I know would drive anything but a minivan. Can a hybrid minivan change that? Toyota will produce a hybrid Prius minivan in 2011, a Tokyo stock exchange newspaper is reporting. The seven-seater with a lithium-ion battery pack would be the first hybrid minivan in the U.S. It will sell in the mid-$20,000 range, perfect for today’s budget-conscious families. But can our desire to be hip and green overcome our mommy-made anxieties about being terminally uncool? Some major cultural backlash happened between 1996, when soccer moms driving minivans helped elect Bill Clinton, and today, when minivan-driving moms are blamed for everything from over-scheduling their kids to the war in Iraq. About three years ago, I eventually succumbed to peer pressure and traded in my economical Dodge minivan for one of those "crossover" SUVs that are really vans in disguise driven by soccer moms in denial. Even though I could fit two infants, their car seats, a double stroller and our entire extended family’s Christmas presents in the minivan, I couldn’t get over the image thing. Even though I loved the sliding doors and the ease of squeezing my kids in and out of tight parking spaces, my pride got in the way. Something to do with vowing to never be "one of those moms," which ranks right up there with my continuing delusion that I am still 32, can still drink all the wine and beer I want whenever I want, and can still drop everything to dart off and meet a friend for dinner. Minivan bigotry has made van-driving moms the last group OK to hate in America. The urban dictionary describes a "soccer mom" as a middle-aged, upper-middle-class white woman consumed with play dates, driving her minivan with her fancy coffee and cell phone. She thinks her little kids are "angels," but squashes any originality in them, driving them to atheism and alienation. Death to soccer moms in minivans is basically the underlying sentiment. Can a hybrid change all this? I have my doubts. As I see it, the only hope for a new minivan image is a new spokesman. And I have just the man for job. Put soccer dad David Beckham in his tighty whities at the wheel of a minivan. Then we’ll talk. Tue, 20 Apr 2010 06:00:00 EST Apr 20 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2900 South Korea is going to impose a six-hour blackout period every day for kids playing online games. The old me would have found this oppressive. That was before my 9-year-old daughter started running home every day after school to hop on Club Penguin. Now I think the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism in Seoul may be on to something. If you have a child between the ages of 7 and 12, you are probably well aware of this junior cyber-social world where kids assume penguin identities and waddle around exploring an... South Korea is going to impose a six-hour blackout period every day for kids playing online games. The old me would have found this oppressive. That was before my 9-year-old daughter started running home every day after school to hop on Club Penguin. Now I think the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism in Seoul may be on to something. If you have a child between the ages of 7 and 12, you are probably well aware of this junior cyber-social world where kids assume penguin identities and waddle around exploring an icy wonderland, chatting and playing games with their flippered friends. According to my daughter, every kid in her class, not to mention the entire continent, has a membership to Club Penguin. Except for her. It’s not that I hate that she’s not outside playing or using her own imagination (instead of a software designer’s). It’s not that she’s eating up my own Facebook time, hypocrite that I am. It’s mainly that I have to pay for her to join this digital playground ($5.95 a month, $57.95 a year). Non-paying members can still create penguin avatars and play some games, but only paying members can buy clothes, decorate their igloos and go into certain VIP virtual worlds and parties. Although she has befriended classmates on Club Penguin, my daughter’s invitation to befriend others has been turned down because she is not a paying member and therefore not as fun to be with. Most of these restrictions were imposed after Disney acquired the website in 2007 for $700 million. I know the Mouse has to pay off that bill somehow, but does it have to do in on the backs of today’s schoolchildren? My daughter isn’t even 10 yet, but she’s being taught by this stupid game that life is all about keeping up with the Penguins and having the coolest igloo with all the right clothes. One of the goals in this icy website world is to win coins by playing games so you can buy things in the virtual stores. Each month, a new catalog of outfits and igloo upgrades is introduced. Kids too impatient to play a game to earn coins can buy virtual coins with real money. There’s also a Club Penguin online store, where you can buy stuffed "friends" for $9.95, as well as video games, trading cards, puzzles, books and clothes, also sold at Wal-Mart, Target and other stores. I’ve explained to my daughter my objections to Club Penguin, that I can’t in good conscience pay for something I so oppose, especially at a time when I’m looking for ways to save money, not spend it. I point out that some day this penguin will lose its appeal, just like Webkinz did. Meanwhile, I daydream about a ravenous virtual killer whale discovering Club Penguin, starting his hunt with the penguin in the coolest clothes and most tricked-out igloo. 　 　 　 　 　 　 Tue, 13 Apr 2010 06:00:00 EST Apr 13 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2885 Money is a powerful motivating force. Just ask the hundreds of teachers who hit the streets of Miami Monday to protest a bill that would link their pay to students’ test scores. That same day Time magazine reported on a national trend in schools paying children who improve their test scores. Some are having success with it, too, much to the chagrin of critics, who call it bribery. For some reason, we’re OK with talking about salary bonuses, raises and merit pay for teachers and other adults, but when... Money is a powerful motivating force. Just ask the hundreds of teachers who hit the streets of Miami Monday to protest a bill that would link their pay to students’ test scores. That same day Time magazine reported on a national trend in schools paying children who improve their test scores. Some are having success with it, too, much to the chagrin of critics, who call it bribery. For some reason, we’re OK with talking about salary bonuses, raises and merit pay for teachers and other adults, but when it comes to our kids, we get all squeamish about doling out dollars for grades. Call it what you want – reward, incentive, prize – but we pay our children all the time to make them do what we want. From a sticker for using the potty to a cookie for sitting still in church, we are constantly bargaining and offering our kids some type of payback for good behavior. Many parents I know also give their kids money for good report cards. But I think most of us – and the Florida Legislature – have it all wrong. Instead of threatening to take money away from teachers or give money to kids for good grades, it’s parents who should be receiving the performance pay. If we really want to improve a kid’s chances in the classroom, let’s talk about motivating mom and dad. To be more involved. To impress upon their children the importance of a good education. To read to their kids at night. To make sure the homework gets done. To get kids to school on time with breakfast in their bellies and a good night’s sleep in their immediate past. For optimal behavior modification, forget paying off teachers and students. I propose offering tax incentives to parents whose kids improve their behavior and grades in school. Every A on a report card at the end of the school year is worth a $1,000 tax break every April 15. Every time your kid raises his or her performance by a grade, another tax break kicks in. Your kid brings home all Fs or a failing test score? Be prepared to pay a tax on that. What? You don’t think that’s fair? You may want to borrow a few signs from yesterday’s teachers. Tue, 06 Apr 2010 06:00:00 EST Apr 6 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2863 Have you heard about the Prom Night Paddlefest? It happened earlier this month, when Erica DeRamus, a high school senior in Oxford, Ala., got in trouble for violating her school’s dress code by wearing a seafoam green cocktail dress with a jeweled bodice and a tutu-style skirt that was deemed too-too short by the principal. For her skimpy prom dress, Erica was given the choice between a three-day suspension or a paddling as punishment. She took the three days off, but 17 other students – presumably all... Have you heard about the Prom Night Paddlefest? It happened earlier this month, when Erica DeRamus, a high school senior in Oxford, Ala., got in trouble for violating her school’s dress code by wearing a seafoam green cocktail dress with a jeweled bodice and a tutu-style skirt that was deemed too-too short by the principal. For her skimpy prom dress, Erica was given the choice between a three-day suspension or a paddling as punishment. She took the three days off, but 17 other students – presumably all girls because there just aren’t that many X-rated tuxedos out there – chose to be spanked. This sounds not only draconian, but really creepy: under-age girls caught in revealing gowns lining up to be spanked by their principal in the deep south? The porn industry doesn’t need writers with this kind of crap happening in our schools. Principal Trey Holloday says the Rebels Without a Bra violated a school policy that states dresses cannot have cleavage falling below the breastbone or hems more than six inches above the knee. I understand that schools have to play fashion police sometimes. It gets disruptive when Suzie is letting it all hang out during the biology exam. But prom? It's true that Slutty Chic prom dresses are all the rage and that girls today subscribe to the "nothing left to the imagination" fashion creed. But this is a four-hour event that usually takes place off school premises. Don’t schools have enough on their plates without spending time measuring plunging necklines? Shouldn’t that be the parents’ job? That’s not babysitting money those girls are dropping on those $300-$500 gowns; a parent was involved somewhere in the decision-making process. If parents approve of the gown, the school should stay out of it unless the dress is made of Saran Wrap or explosives.　 In my opinion, Erica’s frothy number ( http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2010/04/01/dnt.suspended.over.prom.dress.wbrc?iref=allsearch ) was the picture of modesty compared to what I’ve seen on the backs of most Miami girls. But school fashion rules aren’t what really bother me here; it’s the fact that some schools are still doling out spankings. If reasonable adults can differ on what’s acceptable attire for prom imagine the differences of opinion when it comes to determining what kind of offenses constitute a whooping, not to mention the varying strengths of that beating. How many smacks does a skimpy prom dress deserve? It surprises a lot of people that corporal punishment is still legal in this country. This hits closer to home than you might think. It was the result of a Miami lawsuit heard by the U.S. Supreme Court that actually gives schools the right to use corporal punishment. In 1970, 14-year-old James Ingraham was an 8th-grader at Charles R. Drew Junior High in Liberty City when he got in trouble for leaving the stage in the school auditorium too slowly. He was sent to the principal's office to be paddled. He resisted. Two assistant principals were called in to hold his arms and legs, forcing him to lie face down across a table while Principal Willie J. Wright Jr. administered 20 licks with a paddle. The paddling was so severe, the boy’s mother took him to the hospital later that day and he was diagnosed with a six-inch hematoma on his butt. Seven years later, the U.S. Supreme Court weighed students' rights against a school's need to maintain control and ruled 5-4 in favor of a school's right to use corporal punishment despite parental objection. In Ingraham v. Wright, the court found that the 8th Amendment only protects convicted criminals from cruel and unusual punishment – not students. Despite the decision, corporal punishment is banned today in most juvenile correction facilities in the U.S. It’s been outlawed in Canada, Japan, South Africa, New Zealand and nearly all of Europe. Groups like the American Academy of Pediatrics, the National Association of School Psychologists and the American Medical and Bar Associations have come out against corporal punishment. Yet 20 states, including Florida, still allow it. In 2008, 223,190 children were paddled in American schools, according to the Center for Effective Discipline, a group that opposes the practice. A recent report by Human Rights Watch and the American Civil Liberties Union found that students with disabilities are disproportionately affected by corporal punishment. The groups documented cases that included hitting students with a belt, a ruler, a set of rulers taped together and a toy hammer. There were also instances of pinching, slapping or striking very young children in particular; grabbing children around the arm, the neck or elsewhere with enough force to bruise; throwing children to the floor; slamming a child into a wall and dragging children across floors. Be glad we live in South Florida. Both Miami-Dade and Broward school districts banned school spankings in 1989, when the state gave each county control over the decision. Thinking about moving to northern Florida? Get out the padded underwear. I sympathize with teachers and school administrators because I know kids today are challenging, irritating, even infuriating. Hey, I’m a mom. I know sometimes you just want to haul off and smack ’em. But, as I keep reminding myself, I’m the adult here. I’m the one teaching the lesson. And I know how easy it is to lose control when you are really angry. When I told my two kids I was going to write about schools paddling students, my 9-year-old asked "what’s that?" She looked totally confused when I told her that some principals and teachers spank students for misbehaving. "But mom," she said, "don’t you tell us that’s no way to respond to a problem? That if you hit someone, that’s wrong?" Maybe she needs to appear before the Supreme Court. Tue, 30 Mar 2010 06:00:00 EST Mar 30 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2844 The other day my 9-year-old was reluctant to have a classmate come over to play and she eventually confessed it was because she didn’t want her new friend to know she still plays with Barbies. I felt her doll-induced distress. I, too, kept my Barbie playing in the closet for years after it was deemed babyish by all my pals. I, too, know what it’s like to run around my bedroom, hiding every tell-tale miniature high heel. And, oh, how I still sometimes miss that Barbie Malibu Camper. Say what you will... The other day my 9-year-old was reluctant to have a classmate come over to play and she eventually confessed it was because she didn’t want her new friend to know she still plays with Barbies. I felt her doll-induced distress. I, too, kept my Barbie playing in the closet for years after it was deemed babyish by all my pals. I, too, know what it’s like to run around my bedroom, hiding every tell-tale miniature high heel. And, oh, how I still sometimes miss that Barbie Malibu Camper. Say what you will about Barbie – she has unrealistic, porn-sized proportions, she’s too blonde and too white, she’s to blame for screwing up the sexual identity of generations of girls – but I still dread the day my daughter puts her down for good. In the Barbie World my daughter has created, there are balls and parties and happy endings and high dramas in which nobody gets hurt (except for a few Ken dolls who have lost some limbs, but I don’t ask). This imaginary play goes on for hours. And hours. And hours. My daughter is never happier than when she is alone with her Barbies, acting out a skit that seems to run continually in her mind. I get why people don’t like Barbie. I have friends whose mothers refused to buy them Barbies when they were little. Last year, a lawmaker in West Virginia proposed a bill to ban sales of dolls like Barbie because they influence girls to place too much importance on physical beauty. Lest you think I’m pushing Barbie on my kids or have some warped attachment to this doll, let me tell you that my oldest daughter has never touched Barbie or any other doll. She was more interested in bugs. Nurture or nature? You tell me. I know Barbie isn't the ideal playmate. I am not happy that there still aren't many Barbies of color. And, yes, the doll's breasts, waist and hips are freakish. But I do plenty to make sure my daughter has a healthy self-image and she's just as passionate on the soccer field and track, so I think she'll be OK. What I know for sure is that when she's playing with those dolls, SHE is the one in control. And, speaking from experience, I know she's having the time of her life. Oh, how I remember all those miniature clothes and those cunning little shoes. How I would take them off and on, off and on. How my brother would scream bloody murder when he found his GI Joe clinging to Barbie in the same sleeping bag. How I would wrap scarves around their bodies and pile their stiff hair on their heads . How I would play for hours on rainy afternoons. Just playing and playing and playing. When my husband came back from Haiti recently, he told me about walking through a tent city and recognizing Barbie clothes hanging from one of the ropes holding up a tent. A little girl had carefully washed the clothes and hung them out to dry. He spotted her walking with dolls in her hands, some slung over her shoulders. There were Barbies and baby dolls, their hair disheveled, their bodies naked. The girl was so engrossed that she never noticed him taking her photograph. I think about that little girl a lot lately, but especially when I overhear my 9-year-old playing with her Barbies. Somewhere in Haiti, I know there is another little girl who is just as absorbed in her play. And I hope she keeps playing and playing and playing. Tue, 23 Mar 2010 06:00:00 EST Mar 23 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2828 A friend of mine is working on a marketing campaign to sell toothpaste to women, ages 40 to 60. In a teleconference the other day, a bunch of coworkers chatted about what women in this age group are concerned about. Bad breath? White teeth? "Wait a minute," one 20+ guy said, "aren’t middle-aged women like that worried about losing their teeth?" After suppressing the urge to hunt this young man down with my electric toothbrush, I was deflated. I’m 45. Is that middle aged? Middle aged... A friend of mine is working on a marketing campaign to sell toothpaste to women, ages 40 to 60. In a teleconference the other day, a bunch of coworkers chatted about what women in this age group are concerned about. Bad breath? White teeth? "Wait a minute," one 20+ guy said, "aren’t middle-aged women like that worried about losing their teeth?" After suppressing the urge to hunt this young man down with my electric toothbrush, I was deflated. I’m 45. Is that middle aged? Middle aged is, like, old. At one time, 45 did seem ancient. Forty-five was the elementary school teacher I had with the jiggly arms or one of those brittle Mrs. Robinson types. But haven’t times changed? Aren’t we all living longer, healthier, low-rise jeans lives? At what age do you now hit the middle? The dictionary maintains that middle age is between youth and old age, about 40 to 60. Even more disturbing, some passages go on to describe middle-aged adults as showing visible signs of aging, such as loss of skin elasticity (hence the hanging arm skin), gray hair, waning physical fitness, more body fat, less aerobic performance and a decrease in flexibility and strength. In other words, you’re about to grow weak, sick and then die. I forget my age all the time. In my mind, I’m still young and my teeth are firmly planted in my gums. So I’ve come up with a list of reminders. You know you’re middle aged when … 1. The Publix cashier doesn’t bother looking up when she gets the "check ID" message on her register. 2. The last drugs you took were Tylenol and Pepsid. 3. The morning after hangover lasts into the afternoon. 4. The elevator muzak is playing songs from when you were in school. 5. People call at 9 p.m. and ask, "Did I wake you? 6. You stop yourself from screaming, "Hey, you kids, get off my lawn!" 7. The last furry thing you touched were the aging strawberries in the back of your fridge. 8. You’re older than your doctor, dentist and OB-GYN. 9. Metal detectors on the beach start to sound like fun. 10. You have a party and the neighbors don’t realize it. How ’bout you? Do you qualify as middle aged? Tue, 16 Mar 2010 06:00:00 EST Mar 16 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2804 What’s with all the hubby rehab? First Tiger Woods goes into treatment to learn not to take the Nike "Just do it" slogan literally. Now Charlie Sheen, charged with domestic violence for a Christmas Day fight with the wife, is back in rehab as a "preventative measure." (It’s not clear whether this is to prevent him from overdoing coke and alcohol again or from putting a knife to his wife’s throat one more time.) The misbehaving men are the latest in a long string of husbands... What’s with all the hubby rehab? First Tiger Woods goes into treatment to learn not to take the Nike "Just do it" slogan literally. Now Charlie Sheen, charged with domestic violence for a Christmas Day fight with the wife, is back in rehab as a "preventative measure." (It’s not clear whether this is to prevent him from overdoing coke and alcohol again or from putting a knife to his wife’s throat one more time.) The misbehaving men are the latest in a long string of husbands who have been sent to time out to straighten up and possibly save their marriages. There’s sex addict David Duchovny; Mel "I’m not an anti-Semite, I’m just drunk" Gibson; boozer Keith Urban; Amy Winehouse’s opiate-loving ex Blake Fielder-Civil; sex-starved soccer player Ashley Cole; prescription painkiller addict Steven Tyler; slap-happy Bobby Brown, etc., etc. I could save these guys a ton of money by sending them back to Mrs. Callahan’s class at Blake Private School, where I attended kindergarten in 1971 and learned not to hit, lie or cheat. It’s really that simple. But I know sometimes you have to spell things out for the weaker sex. That’s why I’ve come up with a few tips on How to Avoid Rehab and Be a Better Hubby . Feel free to share these with your man or add some of your own. 1. Surprise us and make dinner, and don’t expect an Olympic medal ceremony afterward. 2. Two stores we don’t want gifts from: Home Depot and Big Lots 3. Toilet seat goes down. 4. Find the babysitter. 5. Groom yourself. 6. "Do you wanna?" doesn’t count as foreplay. 7. Two words: "I’m sorry." 8. Put the kids to bed (before midnight). 9. Deal with your side of the family. 10. Body functions should stay silent no matter how many years it’s been. Tue, 09 Mar 2010 06:00:00 EST Mar 9 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2794 The big hoo haw over the JFK air traffic controller who got busted for letting his young kids clear planes for takeoff is dividing people into two basic camps: Those who thought it was pretty cute and the rest of us who like an adult in charge when they leave the ground. I know, I know, all you “airplane experts” out there keep saying that nobody was in danger; that this has been blown out of proportion because the father was supervising his children and this involved off-gate departure... The big hoo haw over the JFK air traffic controller who got busted for letting his young kids clear planes for takeoff is dividing people into two basic camps: Those who thought it was pretty cute and the rest of us who like an adult in charge when they leave the ground. I know, I know, all you “airplane experts” out there keep saying that nobody was in danger; that this has been blown out of proportion because the father was supervising his children and this involved off-gate departure instructions for airplanes taxiing around the airport. And I admit, the pilots involved do seem amused in the recordings that have been released. Now that the air traffic controller is suspended and probably going to get fired, his twins are horrified that “Daddy’s in trouble because of me,” the dad’s brother-in-law told the Daily News this week. “The guy is the safest guy in the world. He wouldn't do anything that would hurt or put anybody in jeopardy. We all bring our kids to work. That just happens to be his profession,” the brother-in-law said. Sorry, but some jobs just aren’t fit for bringing kids into the workplace, let alone allowing them to man the controls. Along with air traffic controller, I’d say it’s wise to follow the Every Child Left Behind credo if you’re a surgeon, cop, lion tamer, firefighter, emergency response worker, secret service agent, airplane pilot, subway driver or that guy carrying around the briefcase with the atomic bomb button in it. (Come to think of it, I go to work to get away from my kids, so why don't you all just keep those brats at home. It may take a village to raise a child, but do you have to bring him to the office, too?) I don’t care if people weren’t technically at risk in this instance. When you have a job that involves keeping people alive, you’re expected to have a certain degree of professionalism, not to mention common sense. What does it say about this dad’s judgment that he sat his kids down at the controls and let them give commands in their oh-so-cute-but-indecipherable baby voices to a least five pilots, particularly in our current climate of terrorist threats, airplanes dropping out of the skies and pilots overshooting their destinations while on their laptops? We are tense when we’re flying up there, dude, don’t you get it? This dad’s supporters argue that we shouldn’t punish him because he was being an active dad, sharing time with his kids. Are our standards for fathers so low these days that we’re willing to overlook FAA violations because this guy got in some quality time with his kids in the control tower? If this father was hoping to teach his kids about the realities of work then he's probably delivered the best lesson: When you screw up, you lose your job. Tue, 02 Mar 2010 06:00:00 EST Mar 2 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2772 Despite my protests, my dad insisted on calling me "JoJo" for part of my childhood, which I detested at the time because it sounded to me like a dog’s name. (It might also have had something to do with the fact that he would stand in our front yard and yell it at the top of his lungs at dinnertime, but that’s another blog.) The point is that I found the name really embarrassing, which only seemed to make him use it more. For a society that spends so much time agonizing over what to name... Despite my protests, my dad insisted on calling me "JoJo" for part of my childhood, which I detested at the time because it sounded to me like a dog’s name. (It might also have had something to do with the fact that he would stand in our front yard and yell it at the top of his lungs at dinnertime, but that’s another blog.) The point is that I found the name really embarrassing, which only seemed to make him use it more. For a society that spends so much time agonizing over what to name children, it seems to me that we’re pretty flip and quick to settle on nicknames. We bestow mortifying, nonsensical pet names -- Lumpy, Mr. Stinky, Weeman, Bubblebutt, anything ending in the word "poo" -- without a second thought. They’re meant to be signs of affection, but most nicknames sound more like insults. All this name-calling says a lot about human nature, namely that the more we love somebody, the more we love to make fun of ’em. We wouldn’t bother using an embarrassing term of endearment if we didn’t find the person so damn … endearing. Our nicknames for each other are signs of intimacy and solidarity in an otherwise, cold, formal world. According to my unscientific poll, the nicknames we give our children are easily organized into four main categories: Food references: Pumpkin, Peanut, Picklehead, Yummi, Lollipop, Cupcake, Sugar Booger, Brownie, Munchbucket, Babycakes, Snugglebuns, Sweet Pea, Shoog, Shrimpenheimer, Kumquat, Tootsie Pie, Bubblelicious, Jellybean. Body parts or their functions: Boobie, Poopie, Saggy Pants, Pootzer, Munchie, Weiner, Blondie, Pooh, Poochie, Bitty Buns, Sweetie Poo, Poopsie, Sweet Cheeks. Animals: Honey Bunny, Lovey Dovey, Boo Boo Bear, Monkey, Care Bear. Something a Southern Aunt would call you: Sugar Booger, Snug, Snookums, Chook, Squiggly, Angel, Buzzy, Pokie, Bubba, Charmer, Button, Love Bug, Boo Boo … monster (whoops, wrong aunt). Then, of course, there’s the Spanish endearment "gordito," which essentially means "cute, little fat boy." And "Negrita," a pet name for dark-skinned girls. Just like a lot of other nicknames in this world, those two have the potential to really offend when used in the wrong situation. I’ve been thinking about this recently because my kids are now at the tender pre-teen age when they are starting to care very much what others, particularly their classmates, think of them. Should kids’ nicknames be retired or changed at a certain point? Or does the fact that your child finds the name horrifying only make you want to use it more? 　 　 　 　 Tue, 23 Feb 2010 06:00:00 EST Feb 23 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2741 Growing up in Miami, Part II: My 11-year-old daughter jumped up and down in her seat on the way to school the other day, excited to tell me about her new music teacher and how she played her electric violin for the class. The teacher, a young, talented musician, has a thick Cuban accent. "She played a Beatles song for us," my daughter said happily. " Hey You. " Growing up in Miami, Part I , actually happened a few years ago, but I still tease my youngest daughter about the time I checked... Growing up in Miami, Part II: My 11-year-old daughter jumped up and down in her seat on the way to school the other day, excited to tell me about her new music teacher and how she played her electric violin for the class. The teacher, a young, talented musician, has a thick Cuban accent. "She played a Beatles song for us," my daughter said happily. " Hey You. " Growing up in Miami, Part I , actually happened a few years ago, but I still tease my youngest daughter about the time I checked her homework on the first president of the United States and found that the father of our country was identified as Jorge Washington. Think this is a rant against Latins or Miami? I ncorrecto . It’s safe to say most of those people and their complaints left a long time ago. (They’re huddled in Maine and Montana having a lovely winter.) Frankly, I was tickled by both episodes – enough to note them in the journals I keep for my kids. The spiral-bound notebooks are full of moments from their childhoods, which have been spent entirely so far in Miami. For all its many flaws – lack of green space and parks, too few youth sports programs, overcrowded schools, the high cost of living and way-too-stressful hurricane seasons – I happen to think that Miami is a pretty cool place to raise kids. As the children of two white Americans, my kids are a "minority" in Miami, and they're entirely comfortable with that. I'm not saying they have an inkling of what it's like to be an ethnic or racial minority and face racism or discrimination, but they are growing up in a city that is leading this country into the 21st century. One in three Americans is a minority. There are now four states and a slew of cities and counties (including Miami-Dade, Broward and Orange) with so-called "minority majority" populations. By 2050, the U.S. Census people predict that the combined minority population will outnumber whites throughout the country. Maybe then we can retire the word "minority" (because I'm tired of writing it). At the risk of sounding like another bad remake of We Are The World , I like to think that a Miami childhood is preparing my kids for a time when we stop being Us-vs.-Them and become just Us. Last week, my youngest daughter told me one of her best friends – the daughter of a Mexican father and Cuban mother – is "tutoring" her in Spanish while they wait for their after-school trumpet lessons to begin. This is the same daughter who when asked which Baby Alive Whoopsie Doo Doll she wanted for Christmas – black, white or brown – chose the Hispanic model. No surprise there since the Rainbow Coalition has nothing on her Barbie collection. Some white people might perceive this as self-loathing. I like to think it’s self-love, and that my daughter sees a bit of herself and her friends in each one of them. And don’t you know that it’s just you, hey Miami, you’ll do. The movement we need is on your shoulder. Tue, 16 Feb 2010 06:00:00 EST Feb 16 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2723 When my daughters first clued me into Justin Bieber, the latest teen heartthrob, I watched his videos on YouTube with a sinking heart. It wasn’t his squeaky girl voice or the bubblegum lyrics or the Carol Brady haircut. It was that he acted so … adult. I know this guy is supposed to be 15, but he looks 12 and little girls in the target audience who are ga-ga over him are a good two to three years younger than that. Yet there he is, in the video to "One Time," jumping around in his hoodie,... When my daughters first clued me into Justin Bieber, the latest teen heartthrob, I watched his videos on YouTube with a sinking heart. It wasn’t his squeaky girl voice or the bubblegum lyrics or the Carol Brady haircut. It was that he acted so … adult. I know this guy is supposed to be 15, but he looks 12 and little girls in the target audience who are ga-ga over him are a good two to three years younger than that. Yet there he is, in the video to "One Time," jumping around in his hoodie, organizing a rockin’ party and lining up a DJ in an empty house by texting girls and all his buds to come over and shake their groove thangs. In "One Less Lonely Girl," this man-child falls for a young woman who looks like she’s his babysitter. After running into her at the laundromat (where all pubescent boys hang out doing their laundry, didn't you know?), he seduces her with cute notes, a Hershey's chocolate bar and a puppy. By the end of the video, the girl (who is a good three inches taller) is hunched over him as they slow dance together in a dimly-lit room. Huh? About the time that Bieber made my radar, I had to shop for a beginner bra for my 11-year-old. We’re not talking underwire here. She just needs a little fabric so she can stop being self-conscious about the bumps under her T-shirt. Yet as I rifled through the rack at Justice, I was blown away by the number of padded and push-up bras in the start-up section. Huh? It’s funny that our adult culture, so obsessed with trying to appear young, is so eager to force our kids to grow up. If 50 is the new 30 then our children may soon surpass us in age. I took my oldest daughter to a boy's 11th birthday party a few weeks ago and had a flashback to my late teen years when we pulled up in our car. The music was blaring, all the bodies were moving on the dance floor and one of her classmates was snagging a Red Bull from the drinks bin as I walked in. If this is how they’re already getting their kicks in fifth grade, what will they do for fun in high school? Shoot heroin? The trend of children doing things younger and sooner is not lost on marketers, who call this KGOY – Kids Getting Older Younger. This explains why 3-year-olds now play with toys initially intended for middle-schoolers. And why grade-school girls are pining for makeup, body glitter and lotions called "Follow Me Boy." Our kids are leaping from pre-school to puberty and skipping everything in between. They’re using adult language, singing adult songs, dressing in adult clothes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as guilty as the next parent. We’ve all thought it was cute at least once to find our kids lost in an adult situation. The problem now is that this is becoming the norm. It’s not just sexual, either. Whether we realize it or not, we force or kids to act older than their limits all the time. How many moms have you heard brag about their kids starting to read at an early age? Or laugh about their third-grader having a "boyfriend?" As parents, we all need to practice a little self-restraint when it comes to premaure adultification. When did childhood become a bad thing to hurry through? Hey, Shorties, slow down. Hang onto your juice boxes a bit longer. I’ll even suffer through another day at Chuck E. Cheese if it means I can buy you one more year of being a kid. 　 　 　 　 Tue, 09 Feb 2010 06:00:00 EST Feb 9 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2704 Lyk OMG, sheez a TWEEN!!!!! My oldest daughter turns 11 today, which officially makes her a Tweener, that in-between stage that is not a grade-schooler, not a teen – and not at all predictable. Too old for toys, too young for boys, right? People cringe when I tell them this, as if I’m about to climb on the water board of parenting. But I think tweens get a bad rap. Sure, in mob-sized portions they can be terribly shrill, silly and vulnerable to cheap marketing tricks. Their music generally sucks. They... Lyk OMG, sheez a TWEEN!!!!! My oldest daughter turns 11 today, which officially makes her a Tweener, that in-between stage that is not a grade-schooler, not a teen – and not at all predictable. Too old for toys, too young for boys, right? People cringe when I tell them this, as if I’m about to climb on the water board of parenting. But I think tweens get a bad rap. Sure, in mob-sized portions they can be terribly shrill, silly and vulnerable to cheap marketing tricks. Their music generally sucks. They wear neon colors. They’re way too obsessed with the latest cell phone. I, however, have decided to fully embrace this time. Sure, I enjoyed all the "firsts" when she was a baby and the wonder of the toddler years, but, ’tween you and me, I think this is going to be a pretty cool time. Here’s why I (heart) my new tween: * Justin Bieber and the Twilight boys are a heckuva lot easier on the eyes than Barney and those disturbing Wiggles dudes. * She wants to put hearts and flowers and puppies on everything. * She still crawls into my lap and holds my hand in public. * No more temper tantrums. I can handle the drama tween stuff so much better. * The only person she flirts with is herself in the mirror. * She asks me what my favorite color is as if this is the most important question in the world. * She downloads all my apps for me. * She believes in heaven, her parents’ love for each other and the Ouija Board. * She’d rather hang with her BFFs than boys, the computer or TV. * She thinks makeup and heels are still for dress-ups. * She still asks me to read to her. * The economic benefits of being in-between: I don’t have to buy diapers or mini pads! * She wears hot pink skinny cords without thinking twice. * She’s excited about doing a science project. * She reminds me to bring my reusable grocery bags into the store. * She doesn’t shave. * We don’t have to listen to Radio Disney anymore. * She still thinks third base is part of a softball field. * She sleeps in on weekends and if she does wake up before me, she’ll fix herself breakfast. * Now that her feet are as big as mine, we can share sandals and flip flops. Double the shoe wardrobe! Tue, 02 Feb 2010 06:00:00 EST Feb 2 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2686 I’m not one of those women who pretends to enjoy watching football. I’m more in the camp of Susan Sontag, who reportedly said, "Watch the Super Bowl? I’d rather be dead in a ditch." Sontag got her wish six years ago, but I’m still stuck with Super Yawn Sunday. I know, shame on me. I’m perpetuating the sexist view that chicks are anti-sports and too ditzy to get the complicated game. Frankly, I find the slew of "how to enjoy the game with your man" stories in all... I’m not one of those women who pretends to enjoy watching football. I’m more in the camp of Susan Sontag, who reportedly said, "Watch the Super Bowl? I’d rather be dead in a ditch." Sontag got her wish six years ago, but I’m still stuck with Super Yawn Sunday. I know, shame on me. I’m perpetuating the sexist view that chicks are anti-sports and too ditzy to get the complicated game. Frankly, I find the slew of "how to enjoy the game with your man" stories in all the women’s magazines leading up to the Super Bowl offensive. Please don’t try to explain football to me like it’s rocket science. ’Cause it ain’t. And I’m not impressed that you use Roman numerals. Still, Super Bowl parties can be fun if you know how to jazz up those four hours of mind-numbing TV. Some suggestions for this weekend: 1. Get into a pleasant debate with your party hosts about the abortion issue while watching the Focus on Family-Tim Tebow commercial that has women’s groups hollering. The Super Bowl ad by the Christian conservative group features the former Florida Gator and his mother in a "Celebrate Family" message. Pam Tebow claims she ignored a recommendation by doctors to abort her fifth child in 1987. Out sprang young Timmy. Discussion question: Would there be more hunky Hiesman winners if Roe v. Wade had never passed? Follow-up NFL conspiracy topic: Why do you think they changed the name to Sun Life Stadium anyway? 2. Make a drinking game out of hackneyed football talk. Every time you hear someone say, "running game," "power offense" or "Good D," take a shot of Bacardi 151. 3. Have a contest to see who can carve the kinkiest crudité. Count the number of times men in the group make sexual remarks about cucumbers. 4. This year’s Super Bowl commercials don’t sound too promising: $3 million for 30 seconds and all they can give us is that nasty guy from Kiss with the tongue and Don "Isn’t-He-Dead" Rickles? So let’s talk about the ads we won’t be seeing, the ones that got nixed. Like the ManCrunch.com gay dating website commercial that shows two men making out after their hands brush in a potato chip bowl while watching the game. Or the GoDaddy ad that featured a man named Lola. Those commercials ended up in the same rejection pile as last year’s PETA ad, "Veggie Love," deemed too racy because it showed sexy women in underwear getting intimate with vegetables. So let’s get this straight: The TV networks don’t like men having sex with men or women having sex with vegetables. What the heck are we supposed to do during this boring-ass game? 5. Run to the big screen for the halftime show, but don’t go expecting anything on the same scandal scale as Janet Jackson’s 2004 boob bonanza. This year’s entertainment is partially-deaf-child-porn-researcher Pete Townshend and the rest of The Who. Police will be waiting in the wings to protect our children just in case Townshend has a wardrobe malfunction. 6. Take toothpicks from the meatballs platter and stick them in your eyes. 　 　 　 Tue, 26 Jan 2010 06:00:00 EST Jan 26 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2672 I don’t mean to be flip about sexual addiction – who knows if it's a real medical condition or simply a convenient excuse – but why is that guys like Wilt Chamberlain and Derek Jeter can sleep around all they want and be considered healthy, hot-blooded males while married guys who do the same thing are diagnosed and sent to a clinic? I’m talking, of course, about Tiger Woods and the latest unconfirmed reports that he’s checked himself into a rehab center in Mississippi... I don’t mean to be flip about sexual addiction – who knows if it's a real medical condition or simply a convenient excuse – but why is that guys like Wilt Chamberlain and Derek Jeter can sleep around all they want and be considered healthy, hot-blooded males while married guys who do the same thing are diagnosed and sent to a clinic? I’m talking, of course, about Tiger Woods and the latest unconfirmed reports that he’s checked himself into a rehab center in Mississippi for some Scared Limp treatment. While my initial reaction was that any black male who voluntarily enters the state of Ole Miss has mental issues, I’ve decided after not-so-deep thought that Golf Guy’s real problem isn’t that he’s lost his marriage, his sponsors, his reputation, his income or his integrity. He’s not suffering from some psycho-medical condition, either. No, Tiger’s real problem is that he got married. Tiger is not a sex addict. He’s just a rich superstar. He did what any other guy worth almost $1 billion and in the prime of his athletic career would do when presented with numerous, spandex-clad opportunities to misbehave. As CNN solemnly reported in the wake of the murder-suicide of NFL quarterback Steve McNair and his mistress last year, "80-90 percent of pro athletes cheat." (The other 10-20 percent must have pulled groin muscles.) I’m sure Tiger’s sex life as a married man wasn't much different from his sex life as a single man. It wasn’t until he tied the knot that the love of getting it on was getting to be a problem. It’s got to be confusing for poor Tiger. One minute, he’s living every guy’s dream and enjoying the fruits of his money, power and fame. Then – one $1 million ring and two kids later – he’s a sick man trying to recover from his, ahem , drives. Let’s face it, some (OK, a lot of) men are not cut out for settling down. The difference is that most men aren't presented daily with opportunities to make bad decisions. Instead of trying to overcome this terrible illness of not being able to say no when scantily-clad women throw themselves at you night and day, chronic cheaters like Tiger, Kobe Bryant, David Duchovny, Alex Rodriguez, Barry Bonds, Bill Clinton, Eric Benet, Eliot Spitzer, John Edwards, Bill Murray and Russell Brand should save their money and spare us the headlines by simply stepping away from the altar. 　 　 　 　 　 Tue, 19 Jan 2010 06:00:00 EST Jan 19 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2658 Cold weather? A sick child? Natural disasters? Please, somebody, get me a pot roast to make it all better. I have turned into a slow-roasting, pot-pie-making, soup-stirring fiend this month. First it was the cold snap, which had me home-cooking vegetables, roasts and soups low and long in my oven, on my stove and in my crockpot. Then came Haiti’s earthquake. The first thing I wanted to do – after finding a safe, loving home for every one of those children pulled from the rubble – was cook them a... Cold weather? A sick child? Natural disasters? Please, somebody, get me a pot roast to make it all better. I have turned into a slow-roasting, pot-pie-making, soup-stirring fiend this month. First it was the cold snap, which had me home-cooking vegetables, roasts and soups low and long in my oven, on my stove and in my crockpot. Then came Haiti’s earthquake. The first thing I wanted to do – after finding a safe, loving home for every one of those children pulled from the rubble – was cook them a big pot of calalou , the salted-pork-and-vegetable stew a Haitian teacher in West Palm Beach made me and other students in her kreyol language class years ago. I still remember her excitement and delight as the soup pot simmered on the stove for two hours, each bubble triggering a fresh childhood memory she shared with us. Comfort food – aka love in a bowl – has the power to soothe the psyche and invoke feelings of nostalgia, safety and security. Nothing slows life down like a big stockpot smoldering away. When I want to make it better, I head to the kitchen to putter and instinctively turn to the food I remember from growing up in Virginia: grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup on snowy winter days; lasagna on birthday nights; the summer evening reward of a tart pie made of cherries picked from our backyard tree; hot apple cider on crisp fall days; Ginger ale (a treat when I was sick); meatloaf, which I detested at the time and which I find myself making for my own kids. Go figure. Back then, I knew I was safe and loved because that full warmth spreading in my stomach told me it was so. Comfort foods are created by family tradition and region. For my husband, who grew up in an Irish-American home, it’s brisket, mashed potatoes, pot pie, stuffed cabbage, potato-and-leek soup. For my kids, born and raised in Miami…? I can’t help but wonder what my children will be cooking when they go off to college or move into their first apartment and a bolt of homesickness strikes them for the first time. Or when they end up in the kitchen bawling over a break-up with their first true love. Or when they turn to the stove to comfort their own kids. Will it be the picadillo and arroz con pollo I’ve learned to make because they love it so? The reuben sandwiches my daughter craves at the Jewish deli? The flan she requested for her 11th birthday next month? The chili I make practically every month? The frothed warm milk with a dash of Bustelo that lured them out of bed on frigid mornings earlier this month? It's an awesome responsibilty, this creation of tastebud memories. Whatever food they latch onto, I hope the rising steam from it opens floodgates to the past and brings them back to a happy, secure place – the place I’m cooking for them right now, even as the world outside turns cold and cruel. 　 　 　 　 　 Tue, 12 Jan 2010 06:00:00 EST Jan 12 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2635 "Mom, I look stupid! I am not wearing this. You are ruining my life!" There’s something about weather that brings mother-daughter clothing conflicts to a head. All of this seems vaguely familiar, despite my best intentions to not turn into my mother. I can’t believe this child thinks I’m destroying her fifth-grade social life by making her wear long sleeves and sweatpants. That’s nothing compared to the plastic bread bags my mother made me wear. It’s true. My mom would... "Mom, I look stupid! I am not wearing this. You are ruining my life!" There’s something about weather that brings mother-daughter clothing conflicts to a head. All of this seems vaguely familiar, despite my best intentions to not turn into my mother. I can’t believe this child thinks I’m destroying her fifth-grade social life by making her wear long sleeves and sweatpants. That’s nothing compared to the plastic bread bags my mother made me wear. It’s true. My mom would wash the crumbs out of bread bags then make us wear them on our feet, with rubber bands at the top, to keep the snow from falling into our boots on winter days in Virginia. Trying to discreetly get those plastic bags off my feet and into my classroom cubby was one of the toughest assignments of my elementary school career. Now here I am deep in déjà vu, listening to my 10-year-old daughter verbalize how I felt 35 years ago. She insists on wearing flip flops on weekends, even though she can see her breath in front of her face and car exhaust fumes are visible for the first time in frigid South Florida. She’s not into the layering look, even though I’ve pointed out that it is so Selena Gomez. She doesn’t know what un-cool is. On top of bread bags over my feet, I was forced to wear mittens attached by a string that ran around my back and through my coat sleeves (so I wouldn’t lose them). I owned only one pair of Levi’s, which were the only acceptable pants if you wanted to be anybody at Sterling Middle School in 1977. Instead of Adidas SL-76ers, I was forced to wear sneaker knock-offs from Kmart. And the hats. On snow days, I had to wear these God-awful knit caps that flattened the hair to my skull and utterly destroyed the feathered wings I worked so hard to train and lay just right every morning. I want to tell my daughter that I understand her pain. That I’ve been there. But I know she wouldn’t understand. Instead, I reluctantly assume my mother role as Destroyer Of All That Is Cool. I firmly stick to my guns. Through the shouting and the tears, the long sleeves and sweatpants go on. And as I drive away from school this morning, I know they are being ripped off, balled up and shoved deep into a locker. 　 　 　 Tue, 05 Jan 2010 06:00:00 EST Jan 5 2010 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2616 As I was picking up the dental floss picks that my husband leaves on the bathroom floor, I had a thought the other morning: What if marriage had an expiration date? Is any relationship meant to last forever? I mean, if Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins can’t make it work after 23 years and two kids, can any of us? There was a lot of discussion in 2009 about who should and shouldn’t be married. But, gay or straight, the real question for me is whether any of us should be walking down the aisle for... As I was picking up the dental floss picks that my husband leaves on the bathroom floor, I had a thought the other morning: What if marriage had an expiration date? Is any relationship meant to last forever? I mean, if Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins can’t make it work after 23 years and two kids, can any of us? There was a lot of discussion in 2009 about who should and shouldn’t be married. But, gay or straight, the real question for me is whether any of us should be walking down the aisle for infinity and beyond. Yeah, yeah, I know, what about the kids … But let’s consider the body count in the past year alone. Among the high-profile, very diverse unions that publicly dissolved: Karl and Darby Rove, Rosie O’Donnell and Kelly Carpenter, Shaquille and Shaunie O’Neal (for a second time), LeAnn Rimes and Dean Sheremet, Avril Lavigne and Deryck Whibley, Adam Lambert and Drake LaBry, and Jamie Lynn Sigler and Jerry Ferrara. We pretty much have an expiration date on everything else important in our lives – food, driver licenses, car tags, coupons, bottled water, apartment rentals, car leases, GMAT scores – why shouldn’t our relationships be like milk cartons and have a consume-by date before going sour? After all, very few animals mate for life on this planet. (Black vultures are among the few exceptions, but what would you expect from creatures that prey on the dead?) It’s true that one person may not be the best partner for all phases of life. The guy you want in your 20s -- when you’re backpacking the world and need someone to hold your hair while you’re puking after partying all night -- is probably not the fella you want to help you raise kids in your 30s and 40s, or the bloke you want to re-discover the world with in your empty-nester years, or the gentleman you want to sit by the fire and gum down oatmeal with in your 90s. The idea isn’t original. Three years ago, a flamboyant German politician, as part of her campaign platform, suggested that marriage should last just seven years. In Iran, "temporary" marriages allow people to be married for a fixed period of time, ranging from an hour to a century. A renew-or-exit plan would give couples a reason to reassess why they want to be together, and it might lead to fewer people taking their spouses for granted. Other than messy finances, the only drawback would be that, for procrastinators like me, the renewal slip would disappear under all the other papers on my desk until the absolute last, nail-biting minute. Then there would be a real dilemma: pay the water and sewer bill or keep my marriage alive? Disclaimer: The facts and people in this column in no way reflect my beloved, charming, well-flossed husband of 12 years. Tue, 29 Dec 2009 06:00:00 EST Dec 29 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2600 All this talk about the 00’s being the Decade Best Forgotten makes me sad. There’s no denying it’s been rotten. Book-ended by 9-11 and the recession, with a god-awful war in between, it’s been one wallop after another the past 10 years. But I’m trying to find some good in it. Don’t get me wrong. I love wallowing in my misery as much as any other overworked, underpaid, scared-to-death woman on the street. And yet … what troubles me is that the first 10 years of my... All this talk about the 00’s being the Decade Best Forgotten makes me sad. There’s no denying it’s been rotten. Book-ended by 9-11 and the recession, with a god-awful war in between, it’s been one wallop after another the past 10 years. But I’m trying to find some good in it. Don’t get me wrong. I love wallowing in my misery as much as any other overworked, underpaid, scared-to-death woman on the street. And yet … what troubles me is that the first 10 years of my kids’ lives will be remembered this way. After all. I gave birth twice in this decade and those two little girls have helped me smile through the worst of it. Until now, a lot of people remembered the 1970s as the worst decade ever. Granted, those years did bring us the energy crisis, parachute pants, Nixon, perms, mood rings and disco. Yet, as a kid of the ’70s, the decade holds some of my fondest memories: Friday nights at the roller rink, my first kiss, listening to Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 every Sunday, that pair of Levi’s I tried to wear every day, rushing to the TV to watch Evil Knieval try to jump Snake River Canyon. So here, in no particular order and in my kids’ honor, is a list of the good things that came out of the Big Zero years. (Believe me, this was a helluva lot harder than the list of things that sucked.) + No Y2K meltdown. It seems silly to celebrate something that didn’t happen, but do you remember how paranoid we all were at the beginning of the decade, when we stockpiled water, canned goods and toilet paper, waiting for the computer world to crash? There’s a valuable lesson in the long-feared meltdown that never happened: Most of what we fear never comes to pass if we prepare for it. + Obama. We elected our first black president, and a woman fought a credible battle for the presidency. Who woulda thunk it? + Lactose-free milk. I feel better, do you? + Enough technological breakthroughs to make our heads spin. We went wireless; the iPhone revolutionized our way of life (no more toting a camera, cell phone, address book, music library and laptop); Wii rocked gaming; Facebook enabled us to connect with old friends; Google helped us find whatever we were looking for; Wikipedia answered all our questions and the Internet saved us a ton of time by allowing us to print out airline boarding passes at home and shop for the holidays without leaving the house. + Hope for an HIV-free world. Scientists in Thailand reported in September 2009 that they are close to developing a vaccine. Along with the continued development of antiretrovirals and combination treatments, medical efforts have significantly slowed AIDS-related death rates in the United States. + Harry Potter. JK Rowling and her boy hero turned a whole generation on to reading and allowed us all to disappear into a fantasy world of wizards and flying broomsticks. The good guy wins! + Hybrid cars. They became popular and attainable. RIP SUV. + Netflix. No more late-night runs to Blockbuster. + Chai Tea Lattes. Comfort drink of the decade. + Salad in a bag. Dinner will be ready soon, just hand me the scissors. + We stayed together. The divorce rate in the United States in the 00’s dropped to its lowest level since 1970. This may be a result of people living together and not marrying or staying together because of the economy, but it’s definitely good news for children. + Global warmlings got our attention. We developed a new appreciation for the environment and got serious about protecting it, from the gathering in Copenhagen to those trendy recyclable grocery bags we always forget to bring into Publix. + Lost children found: Miracles do happen. This was the decade for finding missing children, starting with Elizabeth Smart, the Utah girl who disappeared for nine months after a religious zealot kidnapped her from her bedroom in 2001, and ending with Jaycee Lee Dugard, the 11-year-old California girl kidnapped and kept as a sex slave for 18 years in a backyard hideaway. In between, there was the 15-year-old boy kept in a Missouri pizza man’s apartment for four years and the Austrian girl imprisoned and sexually abused by her own father for 24 years in a windowless cellar. + All You Need Is Love: It wasn’t the real fab four, but The Beatles: Rock Band music video game helped a new generation discover the Beatles. John, Paul, George and Ringo are cool again. What would you add to the list? 　 　 　 　 　 Tue, 22 Dec 2009 06:00:00 EST Dec 22 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2583 How a book by a quirky English writer reminded me of what I like about being a mom. I just finished reading Nick Hornby's new book, Juliet, Naked , which was like eating generic freezer-case cheesecake: It filled the anticipatory void in my stomach, but left me annoyed over the unremarkable waste of calories. Hornby's three aimless characters are so consumed with self-pity and the waste of their passive lives that I struggled to feel empathy. I know that's Hornby's shtick .... How a book by a quirky English writer reminded me of what I like about being a mom. I just finished reading Nick Hornby's new book, Juliet, Naked , which was like eating generic freezer-case cheesecake: It filled the anticipatory void in my stomach, but left me annoyed over the unremarkable waste of calories. Hornby's three aimless characters are so consumed with self-pity and the waste of their passive lives that I struggled to feel empathy. I know that's Hornby's shtick . The British author of High Fidelity and About A Boy is very much like Mistress of the Mundane Anne Tyler when it comes to the art of detailing daily life. I can appreciate that -- and I even recognize a bit of myself and some of my friends in Hornby's stories about obsessive mixed-tape enthusiasts -- but after the 100th page of navel-gazing, I grow impatient. I have enough lint in my own belly button without worrying about everybody else’s personal debris. This isn’t a book review; I have a point here. There was one passage in Hornby’s book that struck me as super simple, but insightful. Annie, the main character, is a 40ish British woman who feels she has wasted her youth in a 15-year relationship with her boyfriend, the boorish obsessed fan of a reclusive rock musician. Stuck in the doldrums of everyday life and full of “what-ifs,” she is consumed with having a child so she can avoid nostalgia and her melancholy existence. “The cliche had it that kids were the future, but that wasn't it: they were the unreflective, active present,” Hornby writes. “They were not themselves nostalgic because they couldn't be, and they retarded nostalgia in their parents. Even as they were getting sick and being bullied and becoming addicted to heroin and getting pregnant, they were in the moment, and she wanted to be in it with them.” Sometimes the best writers say what you already know, buried deep in your subconscious, but they say it in such a way that you are forced to retrieve the wisdom and dust it off. Turns out -- no surprise -- that Hornby is a father, the dad of an autistic teenage son. I'm sure that, like me, he has plenty of gripes about not having enough me-time. Yet, even though his child's needs are undoubtedly more demanding than mine, we share a great gift given to us by our kids: the Here & Now. We live in the age of distraction. Text messages, voicemail, e-mail, Facebook, cell phones – they could easily devour my day. And yet there are those little people, tugging at my sleeve, calling my name. “Mom, listen to this story I wrote.” “Mom, come play ping pong with me.” “Mom, I’m hungry.” “Mom, LOOK AT ME.” Life unfolds in the present. It’s easy to let that slip away, squandering our time worrying about the future or ruminating about the past. Mindfulness – the awareness of the present – is at the root of Buddhism, Taoism and many Native-American traditions, not to mention yoga. It’s why Thoreau went to Walden Pond; it’s what Emerson and Whitman wrote about in their essays and poems. We might not recognize it on a daily basis, but it’s also the Religion of Being Mom. And we are all disciples learning at the feet of our children. After birth, they are simple creatures, consumed with the art of breathing, eating and pooping. That focus doesn’t stray much as they get older. No one is better at living in the moment than my 9-year-old daughter, who can by hysterical and in tears one minute, singing and skipping the next. When she plays with her dolls, nothing else matters. When she eats a chocolate chip cookie, it has her full attention. Mindfulness meditation has been documented to slow the progression of HIV and treat eating disorders, fibromyalgia and alcohol abuse. A 2003 University of Wisconsin-Madison study found that a short stint of mindfulness meditation produced lasting positive changes in the brain and the function of the immune system, improving resiliency. It seems contradictory that the same miniature humans who create anxiety and stress in my life also can be credited with reducing it. But I have no doubts that they have saved me from my own decadent self-interest. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being single. And I think some people – and the world – are better off not having their lives interrupted by children. It's just a relief to have someone else to worry about. It’s not true that parents don’t worry about the future. On the contrary, we’re consumed by our children and their future health, education and well-being. We’re just not allowed to ponder too long when there are school lunches to pack, homework to help with and soccer games to attend. Sounds terribly boring and mundane, doesn’t it? Not sure I want to read a book about it. But, in the end, it’s a great story. Thu, 17 Dec 2009 06:50:00 EST Dec 17 2009 - 06:50:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2578 Since posting my blog about Elf on the Shelf earlier this week, I have had a bunch of clever moms contact me with their mischief-making ideas. So I'm starting a running list of not-so-messy messes that elves can leave every morning. (We elf-loving moms need all the help we can get.) I noticed my youngest daughter and about four other girls in her class gathering each morning and swapping stories about what their elves did. (They're probably saying, "Guess what my crazy mom did... Since posting my blog about Elf on the Shelf earlier this week, I have had a bunch of clever moms contact me with their mischief-making ideas. So I'm starting a running list of not-so-messy messes that elves can leave every morning. (We elf-loving moms need all the help we can get.) I noticed my youngest daughter and about four other girls in her class gathering each morning and swapping stories about what their elves did. (They're probably saying, "Guess what my crazy mom did last night?!") Anyway, the pressure is on for elf to get wacky! Please add your ideas to the mix. Eight more days to go until the elf madness stops for another year! WHAT THE ELF DID TODAY: 1. Used white snow in a can to spray a message on the sliding glass doors or a window. (This is such a great one, thanks Debbie!) I was afraid to spray this stuff on my door because the can warns not to use it on tinted glass, so I sprayed "I'm watching you" on the bathroom mirror this morning. A little creepy, but that's elf for you. 2. Spelled out "HO HO HO" in toilet paper across the Xmas. tree or floor. 3. Stuck the elf in the freezer. 4. Turned the kids' school uniforms inside out. 5. Put a picture of himself as the screensaver on the family computer. (This is creepy, too, but I love it.) 6. "Drove" the family car to a new spot so it wasn't where we left it the night before. 7. Filled the bathroom with balloons. 8. Opened all the Christmas books and propped them up around the living room. 9. Switched the contents of their backpacks. WHAT ELSE? Tue, 15 Dec 2009 06:00:00 EST Dec 15 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2568 For the past week, I have stayed up way past my bedtime so I can create a new mess in my house each night and hide an elf. Since we bought Elf on the Shelf at a school bookfair earlier this month, it has been my duty to impersonate "Elfis," who supposedly reports back to Santa each night and plays mischievous tricks on children in the household. I’ve heard that in some homes the elf even leaves a gift or treat each night, but our elf experienced a pay cut and furlough this year, so he just... For the past week, I have stayed up way past my bedtime so I can create a new mess in my house each night and hide an elf. Since we bought Elf on the Shelf at a school bookfair earlier this month, it has been my duty to impersonate "Elfis," who supposedly reports back to Santa each night and plays mischievous tricks on children in the household. I’ve heard that in some homes the elf even leaves a gift or treat each night, but our elf experienced a pay cut and furlough this year, so he just trashes the place and hides. I have toilet papered the kitchen, dumped my daughter’s backpack on the floor, hung her underwear on the Christmas tree, opened umbrellas all over the living room, tied red ribbons on every kitchen cupboard. I have hidden the elf in the freezer, a milkshake maker, the manger and high up on a stereo speaker. Every day is a new challenge to come up with some crazy stunt to blame on Elfis. This is like having to play tooth fairy night after night, which – as every parent knows – is a challenging, awesome responsibility. Sometimes I wake up with a start at 2 a.m., realizing that Elfis has not lived up to his end of the bargain. It’s exhausting. Yet some strong parental instinct propels me out of bed before dawn each day to perpetuate what some would call a great big lie to my children. Why do we do it? This year, my kids are on the cusp of disbelief. At ages 10 and 9, their little brains (and many of their classmates) are telling them that Santa Claus does not exist. But, in their hearts, I can see them desperately trying to hang on. To believe. Along with almost every other mom in my kid's class, I agreed to pay $29.95 for the elf this year because I figured he would buy me some time. It seems to have worked. Even though my kids are questioning Santa, they still are excited and mystified by this stuffed, red elf. "How do you think he escapes from the house at night?" my 9-year-old asks. "What do you think he’s going to do tonight?" Are they that gullible and stupid? Are they playing me? Or does some part of them still desperately want to cling to the magic and innocence of childhood? I read about a study the other day that addresses the myth of Santa as a rite of passage. A psychologist at the University of Montreal examined an 1896 study of 1,500 children, ages 7-13, and the same study repeated in 1979. About 45 percent of the children in both studies gradually found out on their own that Santa does not exist. More than 22 percent in the 1896 study admitted to being disappointed compared with 39 percent in the 1979 study. But only 2 percent and 6 percent, respectively, felt betrayed. The professor found that, when they learn the truth, most children accept the rules of the game and go along with their parents in convincing younger children to believe in Santa. In both studies, most children put two and two together as they approached the age of reason and solved the mystery on their own. Their parents confirmed their discovery. Those who didn’t find out from their parents learned the truth from other children. The study found that most 7-year-olds don’t have the cognitive maturity to differentiate between the imaginary world and reality. In other words, their brains won’t let them let go of the myth. The study doesn’t address what happens after age 7, but I think that most kids suspect and whether they dis-believe or not depends on their parents and how long they’re willing to perpetuate The Big Fib. Me? I’m not ready to let go just yet and I have no qualms about lying to my children. As parents, we use lies all the time to calm and comfort our kids. "No, mama is not going to die anytime soon." "No, you are safe and nothing can harm you tonight." There’s a reason you put seedlings in a warm, protected greenhouse to grow instead of the cold, harsh outside world. I admit that some of this is self-serving. Having kids who don’t believe means that I’m that much older and that they don’t need me or my make-believe stories as much. For whatever reason, this year, I’m going to keep feeding the Santa myth with Elfis and everything else in my parental power. There's something comforting, even at my age, about a fat guy in a red suit who dedicates his life to bringing joy all over the world. 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 Tue, 08 Dec 2009 06:00:00 EST Dec 8 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2548 How do you deal with that irrational, sometimes-violent behavior that threatens to ruin the holidays? No, not your toddler’s temper tantrums. I’m talking about the irrepressible, irrational urge that overtakes parents this time of year, when the must-have Christmas toys beckon and the bare-shelf blues set in. The gotta-have-it toy race is on. Have you missed the starting gun? Right now, I’m using all my willpower to resist thinking about MindFlex. This is a new Mattel mental acuity game with a... How do you deal with that irrational, sometimes-violent behavior that threatens to ruin the holidays? No, not your toddler’s temper tantrums. I’m talking about the irrepressible, irrational urge that overtakes parents this time of year, when the must-have Christmas toys beckon and the bare-shelf blues set in. The gotta-have-it toy race is on. Have you missed the starting gun? Right now, I’m using all my willpower to resist thinking about MindFlex. This is a new Mattel mental acuity game with a sensory headset that measures brainwave activity. Players focus their thoughts on a small foam ball to see how high they can levitate it. Sounds pretty cool, eh? Is it $70-$100 worth of cool? Nah, but that doesn’t matter. Neither does it matter that not one of my kids has ever mentioned wanting this toy. I’m convinced that this is the single gift that will flip the exuberance switch on come Christmas morning. Why? Because it’s impossible to find…out of stock on store shelves at Toys R Us, Wal-Mart, Target and Kmart; on back order at amazon.com and all the other shopping websites. I'm really not one of those parents that always has to get my kids the latest and greatest. We don't own a Wii. My kids don't carry iPhones. Yet...I don’t know whether I’ve been suckered into a clever marketing ploy or become victim of my own super-competitive spirit. Pity me. I’m hooked and the holiday must-have buzz is reeling me in for the kill. A few weeks ago, I heard two radio DJs talking about MindFlex on my drive into work. I was mildly intrigued. Then one of them lamented how impossible it was to find this game in stores and online. It was like someone flipped a Bic under my butt. My heart started beating faster. My palms began sweating. It was all I could do to resist slamming on my brakes and flooring it to the nearest Target to get on the waiting list. Since then, I have completed almost all of my holiday shopping with toys I know my kids will love and probably use often. Still, MindFlex keeps nagging at my subconscious, along with Zhu Zhu Pets, New Moon Barbie dolls and the Nintendo Dsi – all gifts on the limited, hard-to-find hot toy list of 2009. The more elusive they are, the more you gotta have ’em. The hunter in me yearns to rise to the challenge. It’s really not fair to judge us. My generation grew up in the height of the shop-to-kill hot toy insanity. Fed by Saturday morning cartoon commercials and the Sears Wish Book, we children of the 1970s and ’80s were subliminally raised to think that the good life hinged on whether a Cabbage Patch doll or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle appeared under our trees. I still remember how painful it was the year I didn’t get that Easy Bake Oven. Surely, I must spare my daughters from such agony. (Remember, there is no Sanity Clause when it comes to parenting during the holidays.) How far are you willing to go for this year’s It Gift? On Black Friday, the mad dash was all about Zhu Zhu Pets, robotic hamsters that go for $8 a pop at WalMart – if you can find them. Demand is so high for these low-maintenance pets -- they don’t poop, stink or die -- that toy stores can’t keep up with orders. Online auction sites are starting to charge $40-$60 for the rodents. The hamster hunt is so intense, there’s even a Facebook fan site that tracks parents’ searches for the toys. What is driving us, really? Our children's happiness? Or our desire to be clever and cool enough to snag what every other parent wants and has failed to find? There’s a fine line between being a generous, well-intentioned parent and becoming one of those Furby-hunting, Wii-stalking, Tickle-Me-Elmo scufflers in the news every year. The rational, responsible parent in me gets that most of the top toys lists are fabricated by the companies that make or sell these toys; that I’m a sucker for even paying attention. It will take everything in my power not to succumb to my doubts on those final days leading up to Christmas, when the impulse buy urges come on strong. But, mark my words, I will prevail. (However, if you happen to spot a MindFlex game out there in the next 17 days, just for the heck of it, please e-mail, text and Tweet me.) 　 　 　 Tue, 01 Dec 2009 06:00:00 EST Dec 1 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2524 Tiger Woods’ wife is learning one of the golden rules of celebrity marriage: People who live in glass houses should not swing golf clubs at their husbands. OK, we can’t be 101 percent sure that Elin Woods was chasing down her husband with a golf club. But every wife in America knows that hell hath no fury like a woman wielding a wedge. There's good reason why the No. 1 golfer finally drove worse than Phil Mickelson early Friday morning, plowing his 2009 Cadillac Escalade into a fire hydrant and a... Tiger Woods’ wife is learning one of the golden rules of celebrity marriage: People who live in glass houses should not swing golf clubs at their husbands. OK, we can’t be 101 percent sure that Elin Woods was chasing down her husband with a golf club. But every wife in America knows that hell hath no fury like a woman wielding a wedge. There's good reason why the No. 1 golfer finally drove worse than Phil Mickelson early Friday morning, plowing his 2009 Cadillac Escalade into a fire hydrant and a tree. Could there be a connection between the low-flying stinger we presume Elin aimed at his head and reports in the National Enquirer and Star magazine that Eldrick had an affair with a New York nightclub hostess? The world's most famous athlete should know better than to try to use a drive to get out of the rough when he should have just stayed home and taken the wedgie like a man. Before I commend Mrs. Woods on her choice of instruments, let me say here that I do not condone domestic violence in any shape or form (woods or irons). Spousal abuse is a serious problem and I don’t advocate violence as a solution for any marital disagreement. Still, you gotta hand it to the girl for coming up with a new use for the attack wedge. What woman hasn’t picked up an object in anger and lobbed or swung it at her husband? Dishes, drinks, frying pans, bowling trophies, overripe fruit, high heels, wedding rings, a full plate of spaghetti Bolognaise - they’re all effective flying tools for making your point when you’re a member of the Mad as Hell Wives Club. Not many women will publicly support spousal smack downs, but when it comes to marital infidelity, even the polite lady gloves come off. Don’t tell me that wives around the world aren’t silently atta-girling Elin Woods and wishing a number of other prominent suffering wives - Elizabeth Edwards, Silda Spitzer, Jenny Sanford, Hillary Clinton - would perfect their swings. History has a habit of forgiving women who lash out at unfaithful partners. For instance, here's a list I quickly assembled now that we're on the topic of... Women Who Beat Down Their Lyin' Cheatin' Men 1. Lorena Bobbit: The knife-wielding wife who cut off her husband’s penis in 1993 testified at her malicious wounding trial that hubby John Wayne Bobbit flaunted his infidelities and raped her after coming home drunk. A jury found Lorena not guilty due to insanity causing "an irresistible urge to sexually wound her husband." 2. Brenda Harvey: Once the missus of "Do It To Me" crooner Lionel Richie, she went ballistic and beat up her husband when she discovered him with another woman (later to become wife No. 2) in a Beverly Hills apartment in 1988. She was arrested for spousal abuse. 3. Ryan Haddon Slater: The now ex-wife of actor Christian Slater hurled a whisky glass at him at the Hard Rock Hotel in Vegas in 2003, reportedly because he went to a topless club. It shattered on the back of his head, requiring 20 stitches. She was arrested for domestic battery, though Slater declined to press charges. 4. Mary Woodson: The one-time girlfriend of singer Al Green dumped a pan of boiling grits on him while he was hiding in the shower after an argument over his refusal to marry her. Al suffered third-degree burns on his back, stomach and arms. 5. Tanya Harding: About five years after she put her ex-husband up to whacking Nancy Kerrington’s knees, the former Olympic figure skater pleaded not guilty to charges that she hit her boyfriend in the face with a hubcap and her fists. 6. Tawny Kitaen: She’s famous as the chick on the hood of the car in the Whitesnake video, but in 2002 she was famous for hitting, kicking and scratching her then-husband, Major League baseball pitcher Chuck Finley, in a Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse in Irvine, Calif. She ended up getting counseling and making a small donation to a battered women’s shelter. 7. Mary Delgado : The former NFL cheerleader and reality TV show contestant was arrested in 2007 in Seminole, Fla., for attacking her fiance, The Bachelor sixth-season star Byron Velvick. The couple got into an argument (supposedly over a delay in wedding plans) and Delgado became violent, striking Velvick in the chest and face, splitting his lip. 8. Daniell Harper: The wife of Indianapolis Colts comeback Nick Harper stabbed her husband with a filet knife as he lay in bed in 2006. She told police it was an accident and that she was mad at him because he refused to speak to her. This came five years after the football player was arrested on a domestic battery charge after police say he hit his wife in the face. Actually, all of these women have it wrong. The best revenge doesn't come from a few bruises or a severed appendage. There's an old saying in golf: Drive for show, putt for dough. If Elin really wants to put the hurt on her man, she'd stop swinging and go for the high-pressure clutch putt: sole ownership of that butt-ugly, $54 million, 9,000-square-foot waterfront estate in Jupiter Island. Tue, 24 Nov 2009 06:00:00 EST Nov 24 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2514 The media has spent a lot of time focusing on women’s lower extremities lately and how they cover them. Pants, breeches, bloomers, trousers – call them what you want, but the world continues to have issues with women who don’t wear skirts. In the Sudan, reporters are still following the tale of a female Muslim journalist dubbed "trouser lady" after she was sentenced to a public flogging earlier this year as punishment for violating Islamic decency laws by wearing pants. (Her punishment... The media has spent a lot of time focusing on women’s lower extremities lately and how they cover them. Pants, breeches, bloomers, trousers – call them what you want, but the world continues to have issues with women who don’t wear skirts. In the Sudan, reporters are still following the tale of a female Muslim journalist dubbed "trouser lady" after she was sentenced to a public flogging earlier this year as punishment for violating Islamic decency laws by wearing pants. (Her punishment was reduced to a few days in jail after a worldwide Internet campaign stirred up outrage, but she insists on wearing pants every day as a one-woman protest.) Before you get all smug about this only happening in non-Western countries, consider that in France, a law that prohibits women from wearing pants and "dressing like a man" is still on the books. California didn’t make it legal for women to wear pants to the workplace until 1995. Just last week, Sarah Palin and bloggers everywhere were aflutter over a Newsweek cover showing the one-time VP wannabe’s legs. If you think the magazine cover shot was an unfair partisan panty play on the part of the liberal media, let me remind you of how obsessed news gathering organizations were with Hillary Clinton’s "Garanimal" pantsuits during her presidential campaign. Just last week, prompted by the Palin short-shorts controversy, a friend told me that a woman trying to get appointed as a judge in this town was told she better wear a skirt to her interviews if she really wanted the job. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a female prosecutor or defense attorney wearing pants in the courtroom. Wait…when was the last time you saw a woman wearing pants to any job interview? Is there a de facto rule that women should show some leg if they want to be treated right? Actually, the Bible does have a passage – Deuteronomy 22.5 – that decrees a woman shall not wear the apparel of a man, but I have to think that was more a statement about gender roles of the time. We've come a long way, baby. Or maybe not. Many Orthodox Jews, Pentacostals and Mennonites believe women and young girls should wear only skirts and dresses. Some women, such as Lady Gaga, avoid the dilemma of what to wear down there by simply wearing nothing more than a bodysuit everywhere. (I don't recommend this.) While I think some pants deserve being banned – skinny jeans on anyone over the age of 16, for instance, or leggings on people who weigh more than 200 pounds – I find this bottom feeding frenzy about as ridiculous as MC Hammer’s parachute pants (another wardrobe choice I wouldn’t mind outlawed). For me, it’s not a matter of religion or a political statement or a power trip when I slip into my faded, comfortable blue jeans every morning. It’s usually because I haven’t shaved my legs. 　 　 　 　 Tue, 17 Nov 2009 06:00:00 EST Nov 17 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2482 Lining your child up for a flu vaccine could be the most humanitarian gesture you make this holiday season. You can drag your kids to all the soup kitchens, homeless shelters and Habitat for Humanity projects you want, but the biggest, most selfless act of kindess you can teach them is to stick out their arm or nose and get a shot or blast of the H1N1 immunization. It’s free – and it more than likely will save the life of another person. That’s because if you aren’t immunized and you get... Lining your child up for a flu vaccine could be the most humanitarian gesture you make this holiday season. You can drag your kids to all the soup kitchens, homeless shelters and Habitat for Humanity projects you want, but the biggest, most selfless act of kindess you can teach them is to stick out their arm or nose and get a shot or blast of the H1N1 immunization. It’s free – and it more than likely will save the life of another person. That’s because if you aren’t immunized and you get this flu, you could easily expose other, more vulnerable children and adults. For people considered "high risk," this flu is a scary, life-threatening virus. And I’m not just talking about a very sick kid with cancer sitting in a hospital room. Obese people, pregnant women and people with asthma are all particularly vulnerable to this strain of flu and its side effects – so are people who live alone and babies who can’t talk yet. If you don’t know at least one person who fits this description then you live in a bubble. Children who get the flu vaccine are not only protecting themselves, they’re helping protect their grandparents, classmates, neighbors, parents and anybody else they come in contact with – including that Santa whose lap they sit on at the mall. When there is less disease in our community, that’s a good thing. That’s how we beat polio, whooping cough, measles and the mumps. The decision to vaccinate is not just an individual choice; it affects all of us. I get why some parents are afraid of vaccines. There are a lot of required shots – and there are just as many he said-she said horror stories passed on about kids having bizarre reactions to them. Nationwide, about 38 percent of parents say they're unlikely to give permission for their kids to be vaccinated at school, according to an Associated Press poll; 72 percent of parents are worried about the side effects. A recent check of 19 Miami-Dade public elementary schools in a vaccination program showed an acceptance rate of only 12 percent. I don’t fault parents for not lining up like good soldiers to have their kids immunized just because their government tells them it’s a good thing to do. We’re Americans. It’s our birthright to question authority. From the English with their tea tax to Nixon’s Watergate, history has taught us that the scariest words a government can say are "trust us." But this time, we need to listen to the scientists. As a journalist, I’ve interviewed dozens of doctors and researchers at the Centers for Disease Control & Prevention over the past 20 years. They are some of the smartest, most diligent, reasonable people I’ve ever met. And they're a lot sharper than Rush Limbaugh and Bill Maher, who have both publicly thumbed their noses at getting swine flu shots. (Since when did we start taking medical advice from talk show hosts and comedians?) If you have any lingering fears about immunizations poisoning your child then I urge you to read this article in Discover magazine, http://discovermagazine.com/2009/jun/06-why-does-vaccine-autism-controversy-live-on . Honestly, I suspect that fear is not the real reason parents aren’t vaccinating their children against this flu. It’s inertia. When you’re bombarded with information, it’s easier to wring your hands and become paralyzed by the debate and do nothing, hoping it just goes away. It takes time and some master scheduling to sift through all the views, make your own decision, get your kids in a car and drive to a doctor’s office or health clinic -- or sign a form and stick it back in your kid's backpack. Here’s a true story that I don’t mind people repeating: I took my two kids, ages 9 and 10, for their nasal-spray flu vaccines last Wednesday, a school holiday. They were nervous. They scrunched their faces up a little when the nurse stuck the tube in their noses. They took one blast in each nostril. Because I have asthma, I got two blasts, too. My pediatrician did not have the regular flu vaccine, but since more than 90 percent of the flu cases this year are being labeled H1N1, I feel we’re protected from any serious threats. I called ahead, but the nurse said we didn’t need an appointment. We walked into the office and were ushered into a room for our blasts less than 5 minutes later. The doctor (who we never saw) charged me $15 per person, an administrative fee I’m going to try to recoup from my insurance company (I know, good luck with that). Then we walked out of the doctor’s office and spent the day window shopping and thinking about Christmas at The Falls. We all sneezed a few times. I felt really tired at the end of the day and my throat was a little sore. The next day, we woke up and went to school and work. We all felt fine and continue to feel fine, almost a week later. Including drive time, the effort took about an hour out of our lives. And that was our gift to you and yours this year, no matter what holiday you believe in. For a list of free vaccination clinics in South Florida, go to http://www.miamiherald.com/news/more-info/story/1328996.html Tue, 10 Nov 2009 06:00:00 EST Nov 10 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2465 Rarely does a day go by that my kids don’t stump me with a sticky question. About a week ago, as I ran around the house turning the clocks back for the end of daylight savings time, my 9-year-old looked up from her Barbies and said, "Mom, what time did the world start?" When I’m in Good Mom Mode, I usually struggle for a smart, authoritative answer. This was easy when they were younger and they threw softballs at me like "Why do I have to go to bed?" Back then, it was just a matter... Rarely does a day go by that my kids don’t stump me with a sticky question. About a week ago, as I ran around the house turning the clocks back for the end of daylight savings time, my 9-year-old looked up from her Barbies and said, "Mom, what time did the world start?" When I’m in Good Mom Mode, I usually struggle for a smart, authoritative answer. This was easy when they were younger and they threw softballs at me like "Why do I have to go to bed?" Back then, it was just a matter of stamina, keeping up with the rapid-fire why-why-whys. I wanted my kids to be curious and question the world around them. I swore never to say, "because I told you so." Then they got older. And the questions got trickier. Here’s a sampler: * If you’re swimming underwater in the pool, are you wet ? * If Nicole’s mom isn’t married, how come she’s having a baby? * Why can’t we divide by 0? * How come all the fish don’t die when lightning hits the ocean ? * Why can’t I pick my nose ? * What’s a threesome? * Who decided it was OK to eat cows? * What does the tooth fairy do with all those teeth? Although it’s tempting to keep pretending that mom is all-knowing, I have been forced to rethink my strategy when it comes to some of these zingers. Now I divide my replies into three basic responses: "I don’t know…let’s look it up…" I like this one because it’s reassuring. It tells kids, "Look, there is an answer for every question. I’ll show you. There is order in this world." Thank God for Google! We’ve found answers online for such puzzlers as: "What causes a brain freeze when I drink a Slurpee?" "Why don’t haircuts hurt?" "What makes a rainbow?" and "Why don’t birds get electrocuted when they sit on power lines?" (I’ve answered enough questions, you look it up.) "Hmm, good question…how much homework do you have again?" Changing the subject or distracting the interrogator is a good ploy when I have a brain freeze, I’m not quite ready to go there yet or I’m uncomfortable discussing this in front of all the people in the checkout line at Publix. This works with such questions as: "Have you kissed anybody else besides Papa?" "Why did Chris Brown hit Rihanna?" "Why doesn’t my teddy bear have a penis – he’s a boy, right?" "Is grandma rich?" and "Why did the Beatles break up?" "Wow, I don’t know. Go ask your father." This is a good stall technique that is slightly more ethical than lying, which I’ve stooped to from time to time in the face of such questions as "Are you Santa?" (Nope.) Sometimes I use this one just to get a good laugh thinking about my husband’s reaction to questions like "So, Papa, what exactly is a virgin?"　 　 　 　 　 　 Tue, 03 Nov 2009 06:00:00 EST Nov 3 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2421 Last week, Southwest Airlines kicked a mom and her noisy two-year-old off a flight from Texas to California because the boy was screaming "Go, plane! Go!" and "I want Daddy!" repeatedly while the jet waited in line for takeoff. Since then, the flying public has squared off in the blogosphere into two distinct factions: The child-haters who would prefer to have crying toddlers stored with baggage in the belly of the plane and the breeders who over-indulge their offspring and can’t imagine... Last week, Southwest Airlines kicked a mom and her noisy two-year-old off a flight from Texas to California because the boy was screaming "Go, plane! Go!" and "I want Daddy!" repeatedly while the jet waited in line for takeoff. Since then, the flying public has squared off in the blogosphere into two distinct factions: The child-haters who would prefer to have crying toddlers stored with baggage in the belly of the plane and the breeders who over-indulge their offspring and can’t imagine why others aren’t blown away by their kids’ cute antics. Just goes to show that those who can, do – and those who can’t, spew their thoughts online. Look beyond the obvious clouds and there is so much more to this debate. I can’t help but think that bratty kids are the easiest target for unhappy adults tired of paying over-priced fares and baggage charges to fly in cramped conditions with lousy, expensive food. This latest tale from the unfriendly skies also illustrates the brazen intolerance of power-crazed airlines, which are making it a habit to violate passenger rights and boot people from their flights for everything from skimpy clothing to looking Muslim. Who will be banned next? The fat guy without the deodorant in seat 23B who brought his own smelly food and chews with his mouth open? The lady who baby talks to her teacup-sized dog and insists on taking him out of his carrier despite my mentioning that I suffer from severe dander allergies and asthma? The over-perfumed old woman who invades my personal space and won’t stop talking about her grandchildren despite the large book propped in front of my face? The college student who sings with his iPod playing so loudly it can be heard 10 rows back? When it comes to air travel today -- with pilots overshooting their destinations while playing on their laptops and air traffic controllers trapping us on runways for hours as flight attendants refuse to let us use their lousy toilets -- who hasn't wanted to scream "Go plane! Go!" while sitting on the tarmac? Everybody has been on the flight from hell at least once. Mine happened in a small, 32-passenger puddle jumper from Tallahassee to Miami in severe turbulence, with an infant crying and an abuela loudly reciting The Lord’s Prayer the entire time. I’ve shared jitneys with chickens in Third World countries that were more pleasant. This is why they invented noise-canceling earbuds. Trap 120 passengers together in a small, confined space for hours and you get a microcosm of society. And we ain’t pretty. It sounds to me like Southwest could have resolved this easily if they had just talked with the mother, who says she was unaware that she was being ejected until the plane returned to the gate for what the pilot described as "a passenger issue." The mom claims she was holding out on feeding the boy until the plane took off because she knew that would calm him down and he’d take a nap. "Please feed him now or we’ll be forced to turn around," might have worked as a nice warning if the waitress-in-the-sky had suggested some common sense. Even "here are some complimentary pretzels, please shut him up" would have been appropriate. Airlines have been dealing with crying babies since the Wright brothers went airborne. I have to believe they have more in their arsenal to rectify this problem than turning a plane around. There are all kinds of tricks for quieting kids on flights. (Nipple shoved in mouth was always my secret weapon.) Lollipops, Play-Doh, new coloring books, Goldfish, Cheerios, favorite songs whispered in the ear, a portable DVD with headphones, little surprises wrapped as "gifts," Benadryl, cough syrup…If you plan on flying with your kid anytime soon, you’d better pack it all – or bring your parachute. 　 　 　 Tue, 27 Oct 2009 06:00:00 EST Oct 27 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2400 I just read something that makes me want to scream. A story in the New York Times takes today’s parents to task for yelling too much at their kids. Child psychologists call screaming the new "spanking." To which my reply is: !*&$#@???+!!!!!? It seems that despite our best parenting intentions – all those child-rearing books we’ve read, all those healthy lunches we’ve packed, all those times we’ve resisted the urge to belt our kids across the room – we are... I just read something that makes me want to scream. A story in the New York Times takes today’s parents to task for yelling too much at their kids. Child psychologists call screaming the new "spanking." To which my reply is: !*&$#@???+!!!!!? It seems that despite our best parenting intentions – all those child-rearing books we’ve read, all those healthy lunches we’ve packed, all those times we’ve resisted the urge to belt our kids across the room – we are still inflicting immeasurable harm on our kids. This is a generation that yells, the report claims, and our children are suffering from emotional abuse as a result. First, let me say that I am tired of society ragging on my parenting abilities. Criticizing today’s parents has become the new sport. I can’t sit through a school meeting or read a magazine without somebody telling me what I’m doing wrong with my children. Makes we wonder how everybody grew up to become such an expert if parents are doing things so dreadfully wrong. Now raising my voice at my kids is socially unacceptable? I can count on one hand how many times I’ve spanked my children. But yelling? Please. There aren’t enough fingers and toes in the world. Sure, I sometimes feel guilty afterward and I know screaming is not always the best way to handle a situation, but let’s be real. Yelling feels good. For that split-second of emotional release, life’s see-saw has tipped in my favor and I am suddenly free of anger’s gravity. And my child has been saved from a royal beating. Seriously, how many kids have avoided a major thrashing because mom decided to let loose with a good holler? You take away my right to yell at my kids and what do I have left? Next year, the newspaper is going to tell me that my kids are suffering psychological trauma because I give them "the look." Being yelled at is not pleasant, I know. But it is part of the human experience. Even Dr. Spock called shouting "inevitable from time to time." In the course of my life, I’ve been screamed at by my parents, my teachers, my coaches, my bosses, my spouse. Learning not to erupt into tears at certain decibel levels turned in my direction was one of life’s hardest lessons. Nobody condones constant braying, but the occasional raising of a voice is unavoidable. A 2003 study in the Journal of Marriage and Family found that 88 percent of the 991 families interviewed reported shouting, yelling or screaming at their children in the previous year. Of the families with 7-year-old children, 98 percent reported having yelled. (The other 2 percent are liars or in a coma.) Parents are not perfect. Like everybody else in this imperfect world, sometimes we lose it. I’ll willfully agree to keep my hands tied when it comes to spanking my kids, but don’t tape my mouth shut, too. 　 　 　 　 　 Tue, 20 Oct 2009 06:00:00 EST Oct 20 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2380 Beware the Ides of March? Forget that. What I fear now is October and this unexplained sudden outbreak of offspring betraying parents. First, the son of New York society maven Brooke Astor was convicted on charges that he defrauded his mother and stole tens of millions of dollars from her as she suffered from Alzheimer’s near the end of her life. Then, here in Florida, the Broward County mayor turned her back on her politician father and endorsed his opponent in the race for mayor of Tamarac, prompting... Beware the Ides of March? Forget that. What I fear now is October and this unexplained sudden outbreak of offspring betraying parents. First, the son of New York society maven Brooke Astor was convicted on charges that he defrauded his mother and stole tens of millions of dollars from her as she suffered from Alzheimer’s near the end of her life. Then, here in Florida, the Broward County mayor turned her back on her politician father and endorsed his opponent in the race for mayor of Tamarac, prompting dad to confront the defiant daughter with a gun. Then best-selling author Dan Brown published his latest thriller, The Lost Symbol , which (not to spoil it too much) deals in part with a son’s betrayal of his father. Even Balloon Boy betrayed his parents – inadvertently perhaps – when he puked on national television, tipping off an already-skeptical public to his parents’ attention-grabbing hoax. (I’m sure Balloon Boy will eventually turn even more on his wacky mom and dad when he grows up and realizes what crap they’ve put him through.) What’s going on? Parents haven’t had to fear this kind of double-crossing from their own flesh and blood since the Menendez brothers killed their rich parents in 1989. Do parents bring this on themselves? Or does this kind of unfaithfulness from sons and daughters come without any warning? 　 Tue, 13 Oct 2009 06:00:00 EST Oct 13 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2349 Sometimes I look back at my school photos and wonder, "What was mom thinking?" There’s the one from second grade, where the big red ball on my ponytail holder is perched atop my head like a giant red cherry crowning a hairy ice cream sundae. There’s the one from third grade where I look like I just rolled out of bed. And why didn’t she put her foot down when I walked out of the house on the day of my high school sophomore class photo, with my bangs fashioned into wings so hairspray-stiff... Sometimes I look back at my school photos and wonder, "What was mom thinking?" There’s the one from second grade, where the big red ball on my ponytail holder is perched atop my head like a giant red cherry crowning a hairy ice cream sundae. There’s the one from third grade where I look like I just rolled out of bed. And why didn’t she put her foot down when I walked out of the house on the day of my high school sophomore class photo, with my bangs fashioned into wings so hairspray-stiff they could stand on their own? Still, after wincing, those old pics make me smile. Selective memory may have me fooled into believing that I was one cool kid, but those class pictures tell the unvarnished truth: I was a geek. Childhood is a fumbling, awkward, funny, dorky time. Where would we be without our old school portraits to remind us of that? Which makes me wonder if today’s kids are going to miss out on that lesson. Last week, my kids brought home the annual, overpriced school picture envelope and, as usual, I chose the cheapest option. But a little box in the corner caught my eye. "Retouching," it said. Apparently Lifetouch – the photo studio that has monopolized school photos for 70 years – now offers a digital retouching option in elementary school. For a single, undisclosed fee, your child’s blemishes can be quietly wiped away. Forget about saying "cheese." Everybody, on the count of three, say … "Airbrush!" It’s not enough that parents today want their kids to be straight-A students with Olympic-quality athletic skills and Carnegie Hall-like musical abilities. Now we’re demanding digital perfection, too. What kind of message does it send to a kid when her mom doesn’t think her face is pretty enough on its own? "Here honey, this photo is nice, but wouldn’t you look so much better if we whitened your teeth, fixed that piece of flyaway hair and erased that mole? Ah, NOW you’re perfect." My kids, like most, love looking at old photos of me and my husband. It’s cool to see that your parents were once young, but cooler still, I think, for them to realize that we, too, were once as silly and unsure of ourselves as they probably feel. What impossible standard would it set if I looked perfectly retouched in every childhood photo? Photos are supposed to be memories, and memories should be real, not edited, don’t you think? Just because Photoshop gives us the power to easily alter our images doesn’t mean we should abuse that power. School portraits should not look like a Vogue cover shoot. Soft focus on a senior portrait? OK. It’s a milestone moment and it’s common knowledge that everybody tries to look their best. Airbrushing every zit and mole on your face? Not OK. That’s who you are at that moment in time. We are imperfect vessels; it’s what’s inside that you need to work on, remember? We as parents need to remind our kids every day that they are amazing human beings in their own right. Everybody needs someone in their life like that; someone who gives you unconditional love, who reminds you to work with what you have – your own unique qualities – and not try to be someone else. "Love thyself, baby, because I love you just the way you are." Don’t worry, there will be plenty of other people in their lives to point out their flaws. It’s bad enough that most women today are chasing the unattainable beauty standard set by doctored magazine covers. Now we’re laying that trip on our own daughters. Last week, an 8-year-old on my soccer team told me she didn’t want to wear shin pads because they made her look fat. "You don’t look fat, you look like a soccer player," I told her. "That scab on your knee? That’s a badge of honor." When we take our team photo, I’m going to make sure ALL the girls are wearing their shin pads – with scabs and crooked smiles to match. Hopefully, years from now, their daughter’s daughter will look at that photo and recognize a bit of herself in that wonderfully imperfect image. Tue, 06 Oct 2009 06:00:00 EST Oct 6 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2336 Should parents do time for tattooing their kids? Most people would agree that parents should be locked up if they physically abuse or punish their children to the extent of leaving marks on the body. But what about tats? No longer taboo in our culture, tattoos still aren’t OK by law in most states on kids under 18. In California, where a father is being charged for tattooing his 7-year-old son, the dad is facing a seven-year prison sentenced for cruel and inhumane treatment of a child. Originally, the... Should parents do time for tattooing their kids? Most people would agree that parents should be locked up if they physically abuse or punish their children to the extent of leaving marks on the body. But what about tats? No longer taboo in our culture, tattoos still aren’t OK by law in most states on kids under 18. In California, where a father is being charged for tattooing his 7-year-old son, the dad is facing a seven-year prison sentenced for cruel and inhumane treatment of a child. Originally, the dad, Enrique Gonzalez, faced a life sentence for a tougher charge of "aggravated mayhem" for having a small gang sign tattooed on his boy’s hip. A judge just downgraded the charge. Gonzalez is a member of the Fresno Bulldogs, a notorious street gang that takes its name from the mascot of California State University in Fresno. Dad and the other gang member who tattooed the little boy were arrested after the father’s estranged wife found a paw print on her son. I’m not a fan of tattoos (too permanent for my taste), but I’ve seen enough episodes of Miami Ink to understand their appeal to some people. I don’t condone tattooing kids, especially with a gang tat. But forget the whole gang part of this story for a minute. Imagine that this kid’s parent is, say, Angelina Jolie, who has about a dozen tattoos all over her body. Are you still outraged? Gonzalez’s defense attorney actually raised an intriguing argument last week when he was fighting the tougher penalty of mayhem, usually reserved for disfiguring beatings, shootings and stabbings. During questioning of the boy’s pediatrician, he brought up the issue of other painful and scarring procedures that parents subject their children to, such as ear piercing and circumcision. Apparently this boy asked his father for the tattoo, saying "I want to be like you." Reminds me a bit of my own daughters begging to have their ears pierced. In my home, we waited until the girls were 9 to punch holes in their ears. I rationalized that they were old enough to make the decision (and take care of their ears). But some people would argue that 9 is far too young to be the age of consent for anything. And what about all those newborns who get their ears pierced? Those girls can’t even speak yet, let alone agree to permanently alter their ears. Even more common: getting your newborn son’s foreskin cut off. Ah, some of us are a little sensitive about this topic, no? (Especially the moms who still remember their new sons’ screams.) Yes, tattooing kids seems barbaric, tacky, abusive. Yet how different is it from these other accepted marks we inflict on our kids’ bodies long before they’re old enough to make any decisions for themselves? Tue, 29 Sep 2009 06:00:00 EST Sep 29 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2315 I’ve always been a bit squirmy about the high prices and accumulation of unnecessary objects propagated by the American Girl Doll Empire, those eerie, look-alike dolls coveted by every girl under the age of 9. The one saving grace for me was the history lesson-book that accompanies most of them. But I do think owner Mattel has pushed its AG branding gimmicks too far with its latest "limited edition" homeless doll. The doll – née Gwen Thompson, school chum to this year’s... I’ve always been a bit squirmy about the high prices and accumulation of unnecessary objects propagated by the American Girl Doll Empire, those eerie, look-alike dolls coveted by every girl under the age of 9. The one saving grace for me was the history lesson-book that accompanies most of them. But I do think owner Mattel has pushed its AG branding gimmicks too far with its latest "limited edition" homeless doll. The doll – née Gwen Thompson, school chum to this year’s "Girl of the Year" Chrissa – came out months ago. But she’s been getting a lot of attention lately because some adults finally read Gwen’s story line and realized the $95 doll in the spotless white eyelet sundress with embroidered accents and matching sandals is living on the streets. Set in modern times, Gwen’s bio reads like this: Her father ran out on the family. Her mother lost her job. Gwen and mum are now living in their car. People have been harping on the mixed message of a homeless doll priced so high that she’s out of reach of most homeless (and other) girls. Some have complained that AG is sublimely teaching today’s girls that dads are deadbeats who desert their families. Others don’t like the unsettling image of rich, spoiled girls "playing homeless." I do think Mattel would be wise to donate proceeds from Gwen sales to a nonprofit that helps homeless children, but my chief concern isn’t the hypocrisy. It’s the idea that we adults feel the need to create such a controlled prescription for play for our kids – and that we think it’s necessary to inject that role-playing with a dose of harsh reality. What’s screwed up about American Girl dolls is that they come with directions: This is who this doll is, this is how you should play with her. Don’t bother using your imagination, we’ve done it all for you. If AG and others worry that our girls today are too sheltered then why stop at homelessness? Why not have a whole reality line of dolls that today’s girls can identify with? We could have Rape Victim Rachel, Missing Child Charisse, Anorexic Ashley, Heroin Hannah, No Health Insurance Britney, Autistic Alice, Incest Victim Mackenzie … Remember when childhood was supposed to be carefree? When parents tried to protect their children from the nasty aspects of life for those few, fleeting years so kids could have the freedom to grow up without Planet Earth resting on their shoulders? What’s wrong with letting kids indulge their imaginations in a fantasy world where life is peachy keen and ends happily ever after? My 9-year-old daughter has created a lovely world for her dolls. In general, life is bubbly and good here. Four years ago, after Hurricane Wilma hit, I did come across her shaking her dollhouse with her hands, yelling at the dolls inside, "Get out, get out, a hurricane is coming!" Occasionally, I hear the dolls having arguments. And a few unfortunate Barbies are missing limbs. But I’m pretty sure those mishaps are the results of accidents and that a doll serial killer is not on the loose, terrorizing my daughter’s bedroom and imagination. I agree that children should not be entirely sheltered from every flaw and hardship in life. They need to eventually learn that other humans are starving, homeless, hurt and scared. But these are lessons that can be taught without forcing kids to turn playtime into the evening news. Our kids are exposed to enough reality in their everyday existence; as parents, our job is to protect them as much as possible from life’s evil, help them filter it, understand it. Above all, our role as parents should be to let our kids be kids. In the 1997 Italian movie Life is Beautiful, Roberto Benigni plays a Jewish father who invents a game to help his son feel less afraid in the Nazi death camp where they are imprisoned. He tells his young son they are playing a survival type of game to win a real tank, that each "challenge" that happens is just a competition to earn more points. He perpetuates this playful thinking, even as he marches off to his death. It’s portrayed as the ultimate act of love – a father wanting to protect his son from the atrocities of life. We don’t need to sell dolls that are homeless to remind our kids that the world can be a scary place. They learn that on their own. After a shooting happened on my street two years ago, I went to tuck my then-7-year-old into bed. I found her wedged between a stack of pillows. "If a bad person looks in the window, maybe they won’t see me in here and try to hurt me," she told me. A piece of my daughter’s childhood (and my heart) was chipped away that night. If she wants to play with her dolls in an imaginary world where nobody gets shot, that’s totally cool with me. Tue, 22 Sep 2009 06:00:00 EST Sep 22 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2293 Do you remember the first time you were ma’am-ed? I do. I was standing in line to use a bank machine at a rest stop on the Florida Turnpike. I was in my late 30s and a cute, college-age guy walked up and dropped the m-bomb on me. "Excuse me, ma’am, are you in line?" I was stunned. In ma’am shock. Here I was thinking about how well he filled out those jeans and all he was thinking about was how long he had to wait while the old dame fumbled with her ATM card. Suddenly, I was thrust... Do you remember the first time you were ma’am-ed? I do. I was standing in line to use a bank machine at a rest stop on the Florida Turnpike. I was in my late 30s and a cute, college-age guy walked up and dropped the m-bomb on me. "Excuse me, ma’am, are you in line?" I was stunned. In ma’am shock. Here I was thinking about how well he filled out those jeans and all he was thinking about was how long he had to wait while the old dame fumbled with her ATM card. Suddenly, I was thrust into the same category as my grandmother and her big-bunned church friends, with their soft, flabby arms and Chanel No. 5-dusted bosoms. "Ma’am?" Isn’t that the title reserved for Queen Elizabeth and female suspects on Dragnet? Actually, what I’ve discovered is that – with the irritating exception of the occasional young, perky sales clerk – I don’t mind the title so much; it’s the tone that sometimes goes with it. I grew up in a "yes sir/yes ma'am" house, so I get the etiquette part. But it seems that most of the "ma’ams" I hear today from an adult's lips are more about patronization in the guise of good manners, not social decorum. "Ma’am" is the new substitute for "sweetie," "honey," "dear" or any other number of loaded, sarcastic words designed to put women in their place. As in, "I’ll try to put this in simpler terms, MA’AM, so your little brain can understand it." It’s the same disingenuous tone I use when I yell, "Get in here, YOUNG LADY," at my daughter when I walk into her messy room. In a certain tone of voice – or under the breath – seemingly innocent titles are not always meant to be terms of endearment. This summer, when Sen. Barbara Boxer (D-Calif.) admonished a brigadier general for calling her "ma’am" instead of "senator," I totally understood. "Do me a favor," she asked. "Can you say ‘senator’ instead of ‘ma’am?’ It’s just a thing. I worked so hard to get that title, so I’d appreciate it." Boxer’s request set off an explosion in the blogosphere, where she was called other, less polite titles. Critics complained she was out of line because "ma’am" is an honorable, traditional address for a woman in the military. Then someone pointed out that a 2001 Department of Army Guide to Protocol dictates that a senator should be addressed as "senator," specifically adding that "when the senator is a woman, use ‘Senator.’ " So was the brigadier general using the ma'am title to honor Boxer (who happens to chair the committee holding the hearing)? Or was he using it to emphasize the fact that, despite her position of power, she is still, after all, just a woman? It's interesting to note that this exchange occurred while Boxer was pressing the general, an Army Corps of Engineers division leader, on why the levees in New Orleans are still not repaired nearly four years after Hurricane Katrina. Hmmmmm, most of you ma'ams know what's going on here. Unfortunately, I can’t demand that people call me Senator. So, to all you confused fellas out there: Go ahead and call me ma'am. Just watch your tone and don't hide behind a courtesy title when you really don't mean it. I'm on to you, sirs. And don't be surprised by what I call you in response ... cupcake. Tue, 15 Sep 2009 06:00:00 EST Sep 15 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2267 I coach a girls’ soccer team and they’re a smart group of 9-year-olds, but every year I have to drill the same simple rule into them: Do not argue with the ref. It’s basic sportsmanship. The ref is always right. Not only does he or she have the sole power and best vantage point for making calls, but bowing to his or her authority is the only way to maintain order in a game. You may not like the decision, but it’s disrespectful (and a losing battle) to insult or challenge game officials.... I coach a girls’ soccer team and they’re a smart group of 9-year-olds, but every year I have to drill the same simple rule into them: Do not argue with the ref. It’s basic sportsmanship. The ref is always right. Not only does he or she have the sole power and best vantage point for making calls, but bowing to his or her authority is the only way to maintain order in a game. You may not like the decision, but it’s disrespectful (and a losing battle) to insult or challenge game officials. This even applies to blatantly bad calls. That’s life, I tell my players, it isn’t always fair. You keep your cool and play on. It’s the honorable thing to do. But everything these young female athletes see tells them their coach is delusional. They think it’s cool and part of the game to yell at refs and throw temper tantrums when they object to a call. They see their parents do it. They see other coaches do it. They saw it happen recently in a women’s collegiate soccer match we attended as a team. And they saw it on network television Saturday night, when tennis star Serena Williams staged her own meltdown at the U.S. Open. Williams was the favorite to win this year, but she blew it with an ugly, ill-timed spew against a lineswoman over what she believed to be an unfair foot fault call. Williams - who had already received a warning at the end of the first set for smashing her racket to the court and breaking it - unloaded a few F-bombs on the lineswoman and threatened to shove the tennis ball down the official’s throat. She was given a point penalty for her outburst, which meant she lost her semifinal to Kim Clijsters. She refused to apologize in a press conference after the game, saying "I was out there and fought and I tried and I did my best." This kills me, not just because Serena forgot she was supposed to be fighting her opponent, not a lineswoman, but because, up until now, I considered Serena Williams one of the most respectable, talented female athletes in the world. I’ve seen her act calm and polite in the face of adversity. I could tell my players, "Watch Serena." No, she didn’t do her best. Unfortunately, Serena joins the growing ranks of spoiled hall-of-shamers who can’t control their sporty tempers: foul-mouthed John McEnroe, chair-flinging Indiana hoops coach Bobby Knight, bat-throwing Roger Clemens, knee-busting Tonya Harding, ear-biting Mike Tyson, head-butting French soccer player Zinedine Zidane … This kind of unacceptable rage shouldn't be tolerated in sports -- or society. I’ve tried to teach my kids that they are the losers when they lose control and lash out in rage. When they were little, they lost their freedom and sat in time out. Now that they’re older, I take something valued away - their iPod Touch or their time with friends. Serena was fined $10,500 for her display. But she lost even more than that this past weekend. She lost my respect. Tue, 08 Sep 2009 06:00:00 EST Sep 8 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2254 Today at noon the President of the United States will speak to schoolchildren about the importance of working hard and the value of a good education. Will your child be watching? Personally, I’m thrilled that Obama wants to deliver this message. As most moms know, we could say the same thing over and over until we’re blue in the face and it wouldn’t carry the same weight or make the same impression on our kids as it does coming from a teacher, a coach or the leader of this country. But nothing... Today at noon the President of the United States will speak to schoolchildren about the importance of working hard and the value of a good education. Will your child be watching? Personally, I’m thrilled that Obama wants to deliver this message. As most moms know, we could say the same thing over and over until we’re blue in the face and it wouldn’t carry the same weight or make the same impression on our kids as it does coming from a teacher, a coach or the leader of this country. But nothing is as simple as it seems, especially here in Miami. I get why some Cuban-Americans are paranoid and fearful of long presidential speeches or policies that hint at socialism. If my grandparents came from a country where everything my family worked hard for was taken away and critics were imprisoned for speaking out, I’m sure I’d be looking over my shoulder, too. But Obama is not Castro. And this is not Cuba. Obama is not using this moment to turn our children into little "socialists." The secretary of education has already explained that Obama’s speech will be a call for students "to take personal responsibility for their own education, to set goals, and to not only stay in school but make the most of it." Any doubters could read the speech itself online on Monday. Of course, I’m not naïve enough to think that politics do not play a part in this speech. Sure they do – just as politics played a part when Republican President George H.W. Bush broadcast a noon-time TV speech in 1991 to students, encouraging them to work hard and say no to drugs. President Ronald Reagan did the same thing in 1988, when C-SPAN aired a Q&A with junior high school students, whose talk with the Republican president included questions about policies like taxes. But – although Reaganomics almost squashed my dreams of graduating from college when my financial aid started to dry up – I still would want my kids to watch Reagan speak. Not only is a presidential speech a historical moment, it’s part of the political process – the same political process that has made this country strong for 233 years. You can disagree with what Obama stands for or says, but don’t cover your children’s eyes and ears. Kids are much smarter than we give them credit for. Whether you agree or disagree with Obama’s tactics, every parent and teacher needs to seize this speech as a teachable moment. It’s the most current of current events. And there’s so much to cover here, from the First Amendment right to free speech to the subtleties of political maneuvering and ulterior motives. Talk about the underlying meaning of Obama’s message with your kids and, if you want, put it in the context of the current national debate on health care. Ask your kids, "Who do you think benefited more from today's speech – schoolchildren or Obama?" It's a fair question to ask. And you might be surprised by your kid's response. A school’s job is to stimulate discussion and help children grow into public-minded citizens. It’s what makes democracy go ’round. As American parents, isn’t it our job to raise not just responsible adults, but smart voters, too? Our government is fundamentally based on public involvement. Opting out should not be an option. Tue, 01 Sep 2009 06:00:00 EST Sep 1 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2232 With my little DNA particles back in school, that means I now have time to have that second cup of coffee in peace, read the entire newspaper and finally shave my legs in the morning. But the best thing about being alone in the house again is that I can start purging all the crap in my daughters’ bedroom. Yes, I am a murderer of toys. With my unsuspecting daughters sitting in class, I can be as brazen as I want, filling 39-gallon Hefty lawn bags with broken Barbies, Lite Brite pegs, Leap Frog... With my little DNA particles back in school, that means I now have time to have that second cup of coffee in peace, read the entire newspaper and finally shave my legs in the morning. But the best thing about being alone in the house again is that I can start purging all the crap in my daughters’ bedroom. Yes, I am a murderer of toys. With my unsuspecting daughters sitting in class, I can be as brazen as I want, filling 39-gallon Hefty lawn bags with broken Barbies, Lite Brite pegs, Leap Frog cartridges, My Little Pony brushes, the bones and organs from a long-dead Operation game, dried out magic markers with missing caps, crayon nubs, about 200 stuffed animals, 1,200 Happy Meal toys, a Polly Pockets roller coaster and – best of all – that creepy doll that blurts out comments when nobody else is around. Like the Grinch before his heart grew, I tote it all off with glee to the consignment shop or the trash pile. A few of my mom friends are horrified that I do this. They act like I am breaking a sacred child-mother bond, betraying my own flesh and blood. One mom I know keeps a box of toys for every year of her child’s life. Of course, she has an attic and a garage – two spaces I don’t. One friend suggested I let the girls pick out what they want to get rid of and sell the rejects at a garage sale so they can be happy knowing that some other child is enjoying them.Yeah, right. Obviously this woman is unaware of the universal kid rule that says no toy is more desirable than the one being taken away by another child. Another mom confessed that she does her toy snatching at night, after her kids have gone to bed. Hmmmm … nope, too risky. No, the only way to reduce toy mountain in a pain-free, non-confrontational way is to do it while they are in school. I don’t have any real guilt over this. I refuse to think I’m inflicting some deep psychological scar on my kids. My philosophy is simple: Mom giveth, mom taketh away. Some things, like junk mail and neglected toys, just deserve to be tossed. When my 9-year-old daughter asks me for the 100th time what happened to her two-seater doll stroller that was the size of a monster truck, I shrug and do my best to look deeply troubled. Then I lie. "Gee honey, maybe Grandma took it on her last visit." Tue, 25 Aug 2009 06:00:00 EST Aug 25 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2203 Feel it in the air? OK, that’s probably a hurricane breeze, but there’s a definite change in the tempo out there. Our summer is ending. Or course it's not official until the end of September. But school has started and, before you know it, we’ll be sweating in our Halloween costumes. I love the fall, but I can’t help feeling wistful as summer wanes and I long for one more homework-less night, one more morning without an alarm clock, one more day running barefoot across the hot sand.... Feel it in the air? OK, that’s probably a hurricane breeze, but there’s a definite change in the tempo out there. Our summer is ending. Or course it's not official until the end of September. But school has started and, before you know it, we’ll be sweating in our Halloween costumes. I love the fall, but I can’t help feeling wistful as summer wanes and I long for one more homework-less night, one more morning without an alarm clock, one more day running barefoot across the hot sand. Here’s my playlist for marking the end of summer. What would you add to the mix? August Day Song, Bebel Gilberto: As melancholy as it gets. ("Just like this rainstorm, this August day song, I dream of places far beyond.") 1979, Smashing Pumpkins ("Junebug skipping like a stone, with the headlights pointed at the dawn. We were sure we'd never see an end to it all…") Summer Romance , The Rolling Stones ("Just a few days and you'll be back in your school, I'll be sitting around by the swimming pool.") September Song, Frank, Ella, Tony, Dean, even Lou Reed. They’re all good, but Chet Baker seems to capture the longing best, and you can sing along in your head. ("Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few…") The E Street Shuffle, Bruce Springsteen ("As them sweet summer nights turn into summer dreams…") Indian Summer, Al Stewart ("The shops are shuttered and the crowds are gone. The souvenir sellers are moving on – like summer lovers.") The Other Side of Summer, Elvis Costello Summer Skin, Death Cab for Cutie ("I don't recall a single care, just greenery and humid air. Then Labor Day came and went, and we shed what was left of our summer skin.") Farewell My Summer Love, Michael Jackson All Summer Long, The Beach Boys Here Comes a Regular, The Replacements ("The summer's past, it's too late to cut the grass.) Summer Days, Bob Dylan ("Summer days, summer nights are gone.") Someday the Waves, Iron & Wine ("Time like your cheek has turned for me. Someday the waves will stop.") Misfits, The Kinks ("You say your summer has gone, now the winter is crawlin' in.") Summer’s Almost Gone, The Doors ("Morning found us calmly unaware, noon burn gold into our hair. At night we swim the laughin’ sea. When summer’s gone, where will we be?") A Summer Wasting, Belle & Sebastian (" I spent the summer wasting, the time was passed so easily…seven weeks of staying up all night.") Indian Summer, Beat Happening ("We’ll come back for Indian Summer.") The Boys of Summer, Don Henley (" Nobody on the road, nobody on the beach. I feel it in the air, the summer’s out of reach.") The Last Day of Summer, The Cure ("But the last day of summer never felt so cold…") Last Day of Summer, Kirsty MacColl ("Oh the days were hot and the nights were long, I must have sung a million songs. But all the words just came out wrong on the last day of summer.") Stolen, Dashboard Confessional ("Another sun soaked season fades away…") David’s Last Summer, Pulp ("Summer leaves fall from summer trees. Summer grazes fade on summer knees. Summer nights are slowly getting long. Summer's going, so hurry, soon it'll be gone.") Night Moves, Bob Seger (" With autumn closing in…") My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion, The Flaming Lips ("They tell us, Autumn's a-coming and soon everything around us will die.") That Summer Feeling, Jonathan Richman ("When even fourth grade starts looking good. Which you hated. And first grade's looking good too. Overrated. And you boys long for some little girl that you dated. Do you long for her or for the way you were? That summer feeling is gonna haunt you the rest of your life.") Summer Fling, k.d. lang ("The smell of Sunday in our hair. You ran on the beach with Kennedy flair.") Maggie May , Rod Stewart ("I t’s late September and I really should be back at school.") We’re Going to Be Friends, The White Stripes ("Fall is here, hear the yell. Back to school, ring the bell. Brand new shoes, walking blues. Climb the fence, books and pens. I can tell that we're going to be friends.") Sunset, Roxy Music ("Sunburst fingers you raise. One last sigh of farewell – goodbye.") Tue, 18 Aug 2009 06:00:00 EST Aug 18 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2183 I was 4 when Woodstock happened. And I haven’t stopped hearing about it since. Really, ever since Time magazine declared the Baby Boom Generation its "Man of the Year" in 1967, I haven’t been able to escape this demographic bulge that keeps reminding me what a great time they had, how special they are, how fearless, how impressive, how trend-setting… How meaningless life is for those born after 1964. As a January 1965 baby, I was one month shy of catching the love train.... I was 4 when Woodstock happened. And I haven’t stopped hearing about it since. Really, ever since Time magazine declared the Baby Boom Generation its "Man of the Year" in 1967, I haven’t been able to escape this demographic bulge that keeps reminding me what a great time they had, how special they are, how fearless, how impressive, how trend-setting… How meaningless life is for those born after 1964. As a January 1965 baby, I was one month shy of catching the love train. Instead, I’ve been relegated to hand-me-down Generation X, more often referred to as "slackers," "whiners" and "the doom generation." And the first thing I have to whine about is how oppressive it’s been to live under the Baby Boomer Tyranny of 50 million teenagers who have refused to grow up. It’s bad enough that we will never be able to party harder than the crowd at Woodstock, which we’ve been reminded of time and again this past month. It's been 40 years since a half-million hippies did drugs and each other on a New York dairy farm set to loud music. The anniversary has been marked with a movie, a postage stamp, peace sign mania and more nostalgia stories and TV shows than you will ever have time to consume. (We get it, it was a cool party.) And, of course, there’s the music, which I admit was pretty groovy and revolutionary in some cases. But since I’ve been forced to listen to ’60s music on every classic rock, rock lite and oldies radio station (not to mention the aisles of Publix) every day of my life, I’m kinda over the whole musical tribute thing. Why the 40th? Is it because most boomers don’t expect to live to see the 50th? Or will we be subject to another round of hippie folklore in 10 years, when we’ll be reminded, once again, that Woodstock happened? Of course, one person’s peaceful idyll is another’s state disaster area. For me, I realized the Me Generation didn’t have much to offer once I reached adulthood. By then, all the boomers had turned into yuppies. Free love promised to kill you. The Space Race was over. And the 20th century's primary champions of idealism and youth empowerment really didn’t want to hear what people younger than them had to say. What did we expect from the generation that won the right to vote, then turned around and voted for Nixon? Yes, we have a lot to thank Big Chillers for: women’s equality, some pretty good drugs, racial harmony, rock-n-roll, social consciousness, Earth Day, gay rights, some pretty good drugs. But, thanks to them, we also saw the Age of Aquarius turn into the Age of Acquisitions. We have a lot to blame them for, too: a divorce rate triple that of their parents, STDs, Viagra, out-of-control drug and alcohol consumption, Charlie Manson and self-help books, not to mention selling out (epitomized recently by the news that Bob Dylan is recording a Christmas album). Post-boomers are going to be picking up the pieces of this four-decade party for a long time. I’ve read a string of self-indulgent stories lately about boomers. There are stories about how boomers are changing retirement (retire already); stories that offer a look inside boomer bedrooms (ah, no thanks) and stories about boomers who refuse to accept old age and insist their grandchildren call them "Boo-Boo," "Poo Poo," "Gigi," "Mima," "Duke" – anything other than grandma and grandpa. There are stories about how boomers invest; how much they like good food and wine; how much sex they’re having in retirement communities; how they like to read big type in their newspapers and how they’ve abandoned formal religion. But, in all these stories, I never hear anybody ask any real questions. Have boomers collectively betrayed their youthful idealism? Have they been self-centered to the point of shortchanging their children? Is the have-it-all generation going to leave anything behind? Instead of answers, prepare yourself for a cultural boom of the geriatric genre. There’s going to be a slew of books, movies, songs and art devoted to boomers discovering old age. We’ve already been given a peek with Olive Kitteridge , this year’s Pulitzer Prize fiction winner, a book about an aging seventh-grade math teacher as she grows lonely, grows bitter, drives her son into therapy and witnesses her husband’s mental and physical demise. Or this year’s Disney-Pixar movie Up about a grouchy, old geezer trying to live up to a promise he made to his dead wife. Yep, that’s right, they’re going to make us follow them right into the grave. Boomers show no signs of passing the torch. We’re going to have to pry it from their lifeless, bony fingers. Last month, a Zogby Interactive poll of 4,811 adults conducted for the Aspen Institute asked about the historic legacy of the baby boom generation. The results: 42% said the baby boom legacy would be consumerism and self-indulgence; 27% said changing values and ending a war. The rest, 32%, were closely split among those who chose "nothing at all," some other legacy or just weren't sure. I was going to call this blog "Die Boomer Die" or, more cleverly, "Dye Boomer Dye." (Tie-dye, get it?) But I decided that was too mean. I actually like some of them. I’m not like those boomer backlash types at BoomerDeathCounter.com who keep a running count of how many boomers are dead and how many are still alive (although it's a quick way for Generation Xers to find good real estate). No, I believe there is one last valuable gift the Me Generation can give us. The best thing to come out of Woodstock was the realization that a large group of people can get together and not fight, scream, riot and kill each other. I’d love to see that mentality carried over to all the town hall meetings being held this summer on healthcare reform. Instead of becoming hysterical about being marginalized or brought before one of those imaginary "death boards," I’d like to see the boomers deal with this healthcare issue rationally, intelligently, cooperatively. It seems to me that the last lesson boomers can teach us is probably the most important: how to die gracefully. Tue, 11 Aug 2009 06:00:00 EST Aug 11 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2155 One of the first things I did when I read that John Hughes had died of a heart attack at age 59 last week was go to my Blockbuster online queue and add The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles to the top of my mailing list. I’ve been subjecting my daughters to ’80s movies all summer and I figured this was a sign that they were ready to move into the teen angst genre. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t. It’s been about 25 years since these movies were made. I’ve grown up,... One of the first things I did when I read that John Hughes had died of a heart attack at age 59 last week was go to my Blockbuster online queue and add The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles to the top of my mailing list. I’ve been subjecting my daughters to ’80s movies all summer and I figured this was a sign that they were ready to move into the teen angst genre. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t. It’s been about 25 years since these movies were made. I’ve grown up, married, given birth to two kids. But, oddly, I still find myself identifying with Hughes’ teen muses, not their dopey parents. The Clueless Parent certainly existed before John Hughes came along, but he breathed life into the caricature. Sure, Hughes was dead-on with what it was like to be a suburban teenager in the 1980s, but he also was on target with his portrayal of how teenagers back then viewed their out-to-lunch, self-absorbed and sometimes undependable parents. Sixteen Candles is about a girl whose distracted parents forget her birthday. In Ferris Bueller’s Day Off , the Sausage King of Chicago’s gullible parents are duped time and again by their charming con artist son; Cameron’s disinterested parents are nowhere to be found. In the 1980s, divorce was just starting to devour a generation of families. It was the dawning of working moms and latchkey kids. The drinking age in most states was being raised from 18 to 21, making beer and liquor that much more of a seductive vice. We were Rebels Without a Cause, Home Alone. The comments about parents are less than complimentary in The Breakfast Club . "I don't think either one of them gives a shit about me," Claire, Molly Ringwald’s character, says. "It's like they use me just to get back at each other." Now that we’re grown and have become parents ourselves, my friends and I laugh about how hopelessly unknowing our own parents were. While they were busy playing bridge, bowling on Friday nights and mixing Harvey Wallbangers, we were sneaking out of the house, drinking beer, smoking pot, having sex. Our parents back then seem like they were B-movie characters in the crazy dramas that were our secret teenage lives. We will never be that clueless, my friends and I vow. But what are our choices? According to Hollywood’s limited parenting roles, we can either be: · Trying-Too-Hard-To-Be-Cool Mom -- The desperate-for-approval boob-job-in-Juicy-Couture type who wants to be a BFF, not a mom, as portrayed by Amy Poehler in Mean Girls . · Lost-In-Mid-Life-Crisis Mom -- The detached, preoccupied mom caught up in her own destruction, a la Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate or Sigourney Weaver's character in The Ice Storm . · Mean Mom -- The cruel, ruthless, crazy kind like Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest . My girls are still a few years from becoming teenagers, but I like to think I can be like Lorelai Gilmore, the sarcastic, quick-witted mom on the WB’s old TV show Gilmore Girls . Lorelai and her teenage daughter Rory banter their way through life. They can talk about anything with each other. Even better, Rory is far smarter and less rebellious than her mother ever was. What a perfect mother-daughter relationship. The only problem is that I can’t talk or think half as fast as Lorelai. And I know that history is destined to repeat itself. My daughters will sneak behind my back and assume I have no idea. I will someday – against my will and despite all my years of experience as a teenager – belong to The Clueless Parent Club. It’s inevitable and probably for the best. All kids coming of age need to have a long enough leash to make mistakes and keep their parents in the dark about some things. It's part of the self-discovery process. Face it, we may have read more parenting books, promised ourselves to keep the lines of communication open and pledged to be different than our own parents, but, in the end, we still have our blind spots. Last year, a survey by the Internet security firm Symantec Corp. found that many parents are unaware of their children’s Internet activity. About one in five U.S. children said they do things online their parents would not approve of. They also reported spending 10 times more time online than their parents think they do. The ultimate clueless parent in the movies – Kate McCallister in Hughes’ Home Alone – goes on vacation and forgets her son. I can actually identify with this a little bit. Once, when my youngest daughter was about 15 months old, I realized that I had misplaced her. The hotel elevator door was closing when I snapped out of my early motherhood haze with a jolt and realized I couldn’t see her little head around me. I became frantic, screaming and lunging for the door, as everybody around me watched with eyes wide. Then I realized that I was holding her in my arms. My kids were much too young to remember this, but, because I have told the story so many times, it feels like a real family memory to them. My youngest loves to remind me of it. "Mom, remember the time you were so crazy in that elevator? When you forgot where I was? When you were so ... clueless ?" Tue, 04 Aug 2009 06:00:00 EST Aug 4 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2129 I’ve heard a lot of tsk-tsking lately about pornography going mainstream, that our kids are growing up all confused and twisted in this hyper-sexualized environment we’ve created. They say we’ve reached a cultural tipping point, where everyday porn has seeped so deeply into the fabric of mainstream culture that it’s no longer seen as a stain. First, there was Playboy magazine founder Hugh Hefner and his three bunnies swinging (albeit limply) on TV with The Girls Next Door . Then came... I’ve heard a lot of tsk-tsking lately about pornography going mainstream, that our kids are growing up all confused and twisted in this hyper-sexualized environment we’ve created. They say we’ve reached a cultural tipping point, where everyday porn has seeped so deeply into the fabric of mainstream culture that it’s no longer seen as a stain. First, there was Playboy magazine founder Hugh Hefner and his three bunnies swinging (albeit limply) on TV with The Girls Next Door . Then came Judd Apatow’s buddy flicks ( The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up ), with their references to porn star Stormy Daniels. (This summer, it's Humpday and Zack and Miri Make a Porno as the latest examples of porn in the multiplex.) Earlier this year, there was Bud Light’s racy Web ad in which a guy tries to buy a six-pack along with his porno mag. It’s pretty funny. (Go ahead, I’ll wait while you watch it, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_BayeiME1Fs .) The porn-goes-public phenomenon, dubbed "porn creep," is most evident in ads from companies such as American Apparel. AA’s ads often feature homemade-porn-quality photos of coy, barely-dressed women. Last year, one of the ads even featured porn star Sasha Grey or, more accurately, Grey’s pubic hairs, along with a pair of inconsequential yellow and white striped leg warmers. (You be the judge: There’s a handy collection of "The 30 Porniest American Apparel Ads" at http://www.bestweekever.tv/2008-8-28/the-30-porniest-american-apparel-ads/ . Sorry dads, the Web page apparently was made before Sasha’s ad.) Even Quiznos can’t keep itself from using sex to sell subs. In a joint Web promotion with Playboy, titled "2 Girls 1 Sub," a video ad shows two women (one is Playboy Playmate Hiromi Oshima) sharing and scarfing down a sandwich while sitting on a park bench in their bikinis. There’s a lot of moaning in the background, which ends with "Mmm … toasty." Of course, those are all things that, theoretically, parents can simply turn off, turn the page or turn to a software filter to keep their kids from viewing. But sometimes it’s no so easy. From Hooters girls to the neon stripper gyrating on the pole in the kids’ video game Guitar Hero to Bratz dolls in their spike heels and fishnets, sometimes it seems that I’m in a death match with the XXX culture for my daughters’ souls. It’s hard to have a healthy talk about the Birds & the Bees when there’s a girl in my kid’s fourth-grade class wearing a thong and my 9-year-old daughter is skipping around the house humming "Don’t trust a ho, never trust a ho," the lyrics from one of this summer’s top pop songs, "Don’t Trust Me," by 30H!3. "The line has gotten really blurred," anti-porn activist Donna Rice Hughes told newspapers in response to the Bud Light Web video. "There’s a whole generation that has been pornified." A brief footnote: Yes, that’s the same Donna Rice snapped in 1987 sitting on the lap of married presidential candidate Gary Hart. Now she’s crusading against online porn as VP of Enough is Enough, an anti-obscenity organization in Virginia. (I’d like to spend more time making jokes about this, but my online porn searches for this blog have set off so many warning bells and filters at my office’s Help Desk two floors below that they’re probably sprinting upstairs right now to unplug me, so I've got to hurry.) Hughes and other media watchdogs are concerned that marketers and the media are increasingly referencing porn. And, certainly, as a culture, we are much more openly sexual than we were 50 years ago. But is it porn? Or are we just more comfortable and playful with sex than our grandparents were in the button-down 1950s? I don’t believe it’s so easy anymore to use the "I know it when I see it" yardstick that U.S. Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart whipped out in 1964. Today, with sex videos only a click away, one man’s porn is another man’s 90-second morning ritual. Lately, the courts have been using "community standards" as the measuring tool for whether sexually explicit materials are obscene or not. Last year, a Florida defense attorney argued in an obscenity trial that porn has become so commonplace – evidenced by the fact that a Google search for "orgy" is twice as common as one for "apple pie" – that his client, a Panhandle-based porn-site operator, could not be considered as behaving outside the societal norm. (The obscenity charges were dropped, though the defendant was found guilty of money laundering.) In other words, your neighbors may espouse one thing publicly, but in private … look out for the leather corsets. In Miami, home to the wildly successful porn website BangBus.com and little girls wearing "Juicy" on their butts, the line hasn’t blurred. It vanished a long time ago. So what’s a mom to do? My guess is it’s much better to talk about porn, or whatever you want to call it, rather than banish it to the back alley. And, as today’s parents, we’ve got lots more ’splaining to do – about sexual liberation, male-female relationships, domination, and the difference between sex as a commodity and sex with someone you love. Today’s atmosphere, for better or worse, only makes it that much more important to get to your kids first when it comes to sex ed. Because chances are your kid will come across IT at some point, no matter how many controls you put in place. (A 2007 study from the University of Alberta found that as many as 90 percent of boys and 70 percent of girls ages 13 to 14 have accessed sexually explicit content at least once.) And who would you rather have teach your son or daughter about sex – you or Sasha Grey in a pair of thigh-highs? (Dads, don't answer that question.) Tue, 28 Jul 2009 06:00:00 EST Jul 28 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2092 I must have sensed someone was standing there when I opened my eyes around 3 a.m. recently and found my 9-year-old daughter hovering silently over my bed. I have to admit, for a split second, she scared the bejeezus out of me. Then, "Mama, can I sleep with you?" I let her slide in between the covers and thought to myself, "Whew, I have not given birth to the Bad Seed, after all." I don’t care how much you tell me you love your child, every parent has a latent, little fear that... I must have sensed someone was standing there when I opened my eyes around 3 a.m. recently and found my 9-year-old daughter hovering silently over my bed. I have to admit, for a split second, she scared the bejeezus out of me. Then, "Mama, can I sleep with you?" I let her slide in between the covers and thought to myself, "Whew, I have not given birth to the Bad Seed, after all." I don’t care how much you tell me you love your child, every parent has a latent, little fear that she’s hatched a pint-sized sociopath. That no amount of good parenting will matter because the innocent crawling into your bed at night harbors some deep-seated desire to be the next Lizzie Borden. Most of us have managed to slide this irrational concern deep into a brain crevice. But then there’s a new slasher movie out every summer to remind us: Size doesn’t matter when it comes to evil. There’s something about the contrast of a sweet, angelic face with the Lord of the Flies savagery lurking beneath that makes these movies the ultimate horror stories. In 9 out of 10 of these movies, you can bet the wicked little thing has sprung from Stephen King’s twisted imagination ("The Shining," "Pet Semetary," "Firestarter"). But this summer, it’s "The Orphan," the story of a seemingly mature 9-year-old girl who causes a number of "home accidents." There’s also young Tom Riddle, the unsettling boyhood incarnation of Lord Voldemort in the new "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince." He may be only 11, but his icy, deadly stare turned me cold. Here, in honor of Hollywood’s killer tykes, are my Top 7 Demonic Child Movies. Have you locked your bedroom door tonight? Regan MacNeil from "The Exorcist," 1973 – Possessed by the devil, Regan abuses priests, breaks out in boils, levitates, and projectile vomits. Sound like a typical Friday night for most families I know. The Davis baby from "It’s Alive," 1974 – Parents of newborns know best: Don’t wake up the baby , especially when he’s a vicious mutant monster who kills when frightened. Damien from "The Omen," 1976 – You know you’re in trouble when the child you are raising turns out to be the offspring of Satan. Have you checked for the 666 birthmark? Carrie White from "Carrie," 1976 – What parents of a teenage girl haven’t wondered if they’re living out this horror classic? Another reason not to let her go to prom. Isaac Chroner from "Children of the Corn," 1984 – Savage preacher boy orders the children of a small Nebraska town to kill all the adults. Avoid play dates with this one. Henry Evans from "The Good Son," 1993 – We have seen the face of evil and it looks an awful lot like Macaulay Culkin on the edge of puberty. Jane from "Mr. Brooks," 2007 – Serial killers who spawn their own offspring should worry about certain inherited traits. Tue, 21 Jul 2009 06:00:00 EST Jul 21 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2080 U.S. Supreme Court Justice nominee Sonia Sotomayor recently cited childhood days spent watching Perry Mason on TV as her inspiration for becoming a judge. Which makes me wonder what TV character will someday inspire my kids? Zack and Cody? Hannah Montana? Carly from iCarly? God help the highest court in the land if it has to rely on this generation of TV viewers to fill its ranks in 50 years. The truth is there aren’t many characters on children’s television who possess any redeeming qualities.... U.S. Supreme Court Justice nominee Sonia Sotomayor recently cited childhood days spent watching Perry Mason on TV as her inspiration for becoming a judge. Which makes me wonder what TV character will someday inspire my kids? Zack and Cody? Hannah Montana? Carly from iCarly? God help the highest court in the land if it has to rely on this generation of TV viewers to fill its ranks in 50 years. The truth is there aren’t many characters on children’s television who possess any redeeming qualities. Where are today’s hunters of truth, characters who struggle against real difficulty, defy the odds and stand up for what’s right? They’re certainly not to be found on all the reality shows that dominate evening television or the vapid content on the Disney Channel or Nickelodeon. Case in point: Episode 10, Season 1 of Wizards of Waverly Place , in which Justin’s date with a hot new older girl is threatened by a zit that his sister compounds by making it come to life. Do you think Perry ever worried about a pimple? I’m all for entertainment for entertainment’s sake. I’m not saying every show on TV needs to have a high-minded moral message or instill kids with career aspirations. But there is a real heroism void on the tube when the top three “Outstanding Children’s Programs” up for an Emmy this year are about kid wizards, a child pop star and a girl who hosts her own webshow. Where are the real family dramas? Give me The Cosby Show, 7th Heaven, Family Ties, Eight is Enough or Little House on the Prairie. Gosh darnit, at this point, I'm so desperate for a wholesome TV role model for my kids, I'd even watch The Waltons . Where are the TV tales that teach kids how to react to real life obstacles, story lines that don't revolve around pre-pubescent kids dating, shopping or ridiculing teachers and parents? Today, when we turn on the TV, we have a choice between the trainwreck marriage of John and Kate Plus 8 , the plastic surgery dilemmas of the Real Housewives of New Jersey or The Secret Life of the American Teenager , an ABC "Family" series that tells teen girls the way to be popular is to get pregnant. I blame cable. When children's cable shows came into being, most of the other channels figured they didn't need to bother reaching out to family audiences. But, with the exception of a few respectable cartoons for pre-schoolers, irreverent banter reigns over integrity on cable channels for kids. I'm tired of my daughters mimicking cynical, smart-mouthed brats who think their pretend-adult lives are the center of the universe. No, we're in the TV age of the antihero. When it comes to career shopping kids, don't reach for the remote. Tue, 14 Jul 2009 06:00:00 EST Jul 14 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2045 Nothing – not even the messiness of giving birth – can prepare you for the grossness of being a mom. Take for instance the photo above. This is a promotional pic for an actual product called the NoseFrida super-baby-snot-sucker. And, yes, it’s a tube that enables mom to inhale mucus straight out of an infant’s clogged nose. Real moms don’t think "blek" when they look at this; they think, "Ah, now why didn’t I think of that?!" Babies leak from both ends,... Nothing – not even the messiness of giving birth – can prepare you for the grossness of being a mom. Take for instance the photo above. This is a promotional pic for an actual product called the NoseFrida super-baby-snot-sucker. And, yes, it’s a tube that enables mom to inhale mucus straight out of an infant’s clogged nose. Real moms don’t think "blek" when they look at this; they think, "Ah, now why didn’t I think of that?!" Babies leak from both ends, and the volume of drool, vomit, pee, poop and boogers only increases as they get older. This thought occurred to me over the weekend, when I was awakened at 4 a.m. by my youngest daughter retching the previous night’s barbecue burger all over my bed sheets – proving, for yet another summer, that a relaxing family vacation is not complete without projectile vomiting. It’s amazing how quickly I have learned to stomach what was once unthinkable. I used to shiver in disgust at the What to Expect passages that suggested biting off your infant’s long toenails and fingernails instead of risking sharp scissors. But, before I knew it, I was sticking my nose up to my baby’s butt to see if her diaper was full, wiping snot with my bare hands onto my pants (hey, there was no Kleenex around) and nibbling half-chewed food off my kids’ plates. Being a mom means you are impervious to odors that send grown men running for gas masks. If your scent is Eau de Momhood it means you can press your nose to dirty sheets and sniff in deep to see if that stain is indeed a pee stain in your toddler’s bed. It means you don’t think twice about scooping up handfuls of chunky upchuck from the backseat of your brand new Volvo XC90. ( Oh, why did it have to be the first day I got it?) My most memorable gross-out experience was when my 5-month-old daughter’s diaper exploded like a grenade while I was shopping at the Galleria Mall, a 45-minute drive from my house. It was as if someone had shaken a giant two-liter bottle of carbonated crap and opened it inside my stroller. When I finally found a bathroom and yanked her slippery body out of the contaminated seat, the mustard-yellow, runny liquid that had engulfed her flew up and splattered my face and dress. It was then that I realized I had no spare, clean diaper to put on her. Just between you and me: Avoid the small sink in the ladies’ lounge on the second floor of Neiman Marcus. Come on, spit it out. What’s your most unforgettably foul mommy moment? Tue, 07 Jul 2009 06:00:00 EST Jul 7 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2026 Sure, I find the idea of wearing a burka oppressive and sexist. That’s pretty much what I think about the five-inch heels and micro-minis I see on the streets of Miami, too. I wouldn’t wear either get-up. But that’s my choice. French President Nicolas Sarkozy used a feminist argument when he announced plans last month to ban the burka in France. The all-enveloping gown is degrading to women, he said to wild applause at Versailles. Burka-wearing females are "prisoners behind a screen, cut off... Sure, I find the idea of wearing a burka oppressive and sexist. That’s pretty much what I think about the five-inch heels and micro-minis I see on the streets of Miami, too. I wouldn’t wear either get-up. But that’s my choice. French President Nicolas Sarkozy used a feminist argument when he announced plans last month to ban the burka in France. The all-enveloping gown is degrading to women, he said to wild applause at Versailles. Burka-wearing females are "prisoners behind a screen, cut off from all social life, deprived of identity." Let me get this straight: The French are outraged that a religion is requiring women to dress a certain way, so now they plan to legislate that women dress a certain way? Somebody needs to tell the president in plain French that you can’t advance women’s rights by moving the rights to dictate their wardrobe from their religion to their government. If the burka gets banned, what’s next? Nun’s habits? The caps and aprons worn by Amish women? Those silly khaki pants with whales on them that some Protestants wear? I agree with President Barack Obama’s statements in Egypt earlier this summer, when he reassured the world that the United States prizes freedom of religion and is not going to "tell people what to wear." But why are we wasting our time talking about a few yards of cloth? There are so many other more important women’s issues in the world. Like rape victims being stoned to death for "dishonoring" their families. And young women being mutilated and attacked with acid for daring to attend school. Or little girls being married off to men three times their age. Let’s not fool ourselves. This isn’t a debate about gender equality or even freedom of religion. Out of the 5 million Muslims in France, only about 5,000 belong to the fundamentalist branch of Islam that embraces the burka, according to French newspapers. The majority of Muslim nations –including the current Afghan regime – don’t require it or the nigab face veil. By all accounts, the burka is waning in popularity, except in some rural areas and pockets of Orthodox communities. No, the reason why the world is so consumed with the small number of women wearing burkas is largely because it’s become an obvious symbol of our own fears and prejudice. The controversy over the burka seems to be excluding the people it most concerns – the women who wear them. As we’ve learned from reading our Twitter updates from Iran, the most profound changes don’t come from Western aggression; they come from within. Tue, 30 Jun 2009 06:00:00 EST Jun 30 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=2003 This Saturday is the Fourth of July, a day in which we’ll mark our country’s 233 years of independence from Great Britain. Celebrate it by giving your kid a little freedom. Take it from this recovering hover mom who still has trouble cutting the cord. I know it’s not easy with Nancy Grace screaming out of the TV about the disappeared child du jour , but teaching your son or daughter to be independent is the best gift you can give. In this age of babyproofed homes, nanny cams and child leashes,... This Saturday is the Fourth of July, a day in which we’ll mark our country’s 233 years of independence from Great Britain. Celebrate it by giving your kid a little freedom. Take it from this recovering hover mom who still has trouble cutting the cord. I know it’s not easy with Nancy Grace screaming out of the TV about the disappeared child du jour , but teaching your son or daughter to be independent is the best gift you can give. In this age of babyproofed homes, nanny cams and child leashes, it’s rare to see a child riding her bike alone, let alone visiting a restaurant bathroom solo. But at what price are we letting our parental Fear Factor strangle our children’s lives? At what point does mothering turn into smothering? In The New York Times Magazine earlier this month, a story about best-selling author Jodi Picoult marvels at her successful "children-in-peril" literary genre. We the public seem to love these stories about terrible things that trip up otherwise perfect families. The children in Picoult’s books are maimed, gunned down, killed in accidents, molested, abducted, bullied and traumatized. A movie based on Picoult’s 2004 book, My Sister’s Keeper , is currently in theaters and promises to wrench every tear from your body with the heartbreaking story of a family whose second child is diagnosed with leukemia. Why do we wallow in such misery, like lumbering pigs drawn to mud so evil and deep it threatens to drown us? This is familiar territory for any mother, not because we’re all victims of tragedies, but because we’ve imagined such worst-case scenarios over and over again. Parenthood is a perpetual state of terror. Somebody once told me, "It’s your job to worry. You’re a mom." This was the part of parenting I didn’t anticipate: the acute fear of losing my kids. But let’s look at the facts: Despite hundreds of thousands of children reported missing in any given year, the Department of Justice says only about 200 to 300 are kidnappings in which children are taken, transported to another location and killed. The vast majority are family abductions. In other words, you’d have to leave your child on the front porch for longer than Bernie Madoff's prison sentence before she stands a chance of being abducted. Feel better? Me neither. My brain tells me not to worry when my daughter walks down my street alone to visit a neighbor. But my heart? It doesn’t start beating again until I know she’s made it there safe and sound. There’s no quieting that fear, but we can keep from passing it on to our kids. Think about it. What a horrible way to grow up, in constant dread of the unlikely. Most of us lived carefree childhoods where we roamed on bikes or on foot for hours without parental supervision. We learned to get ourselves out of binds, win and lose at street kickball, and find our way home in time for dinner. Why are we denying our kids the same character-building – not to mention FUN – experiences? Do we really want our children to grow up thinking that most unfamiliar adults are predators? That stranger rhymes with danger? I know one mom’s idea of independence is another mom’s version of child abuse. We all have different standards. Remember Lenore Skenazy? She was the New York mom who made headlines last year after she blogged about allowing her 9-year-old son to ride alone on the subway. She was called "America’s Worst Mom" in some circles, but she also sparked a mini-revolution among parents who think we’re missing the boat when it comes to teaching kids good decision-making skills and how to live independently. Skenazy has written a new book, Free-Range Kids: Giving Our Children the Freedom We Had Without Going Nuts With Worry . She warns that we’re all going to have neurotic adult children on our hands if we continue to keep them close and out of harm’s way – and those grown kids probably won’t want us around much when they finally do escape. It’s time to let the leash loose. I’m not talking about going AWOL as a parent or abandoning your kid on the subway on your next trip to New York. For starters, let’s just use common sense and let our children do at least one age-appropriate independent thing a week. Allow him or her to: · Go alone to a PG13 movie · Sleep over a friend’s house · Walk to the library · Ride a bike to a neighbor’s house · Go to the bathroom alone in a restaurant · Make his or her own lunch, even if it involves the stove or a sharp knife · Cross a parking lot alone · Climb a tree without supervision What independent act will you grant your child this summer? Tue, 23 Jun 2009 06:00:00 EST Jun 23 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1980 Let’s calm down for a moment. Or, as I like to whisper to my kids when they become wild and irrational, tranquila, tranquila. In the past few weeks, with dozens of cat carcasses littering South Dade, there have been several illogical leaps of logic. That’s understandable. Nobody likes to find her pet mutilated on the front lawn. Still, it seems a bit unfair that the jury of public opinion has been quick to not only convict accused cat killer Tyler Weinman of animal cruelty, but also... Let’s calm down for a moment. Or, as I like to whisper to my kids when they become wild and irrational, tranquila, tranquila. In the past few weeks, with dozens of cat carcasses littering South Dade, there have been several illogical leaps of logic. That’s understandable. Nobody likes to find her pet mutilated on the front lawn. Still, it seems a bit unfair that the jury of public opinion has been quick to not only convict accused cat killer Tyler Weinman of animal cruelty, but also leap to the conclusion that this 18-year-old is destined to become a serial killer because he allegedly abused animals – and that he got this way because he dissected a cat in a high school anatomy class last year. Now everybody from PETA to teenagers with queasy stomachs are using Weinman as the poster boy for banning animal dissections in school. Which brings me to this question: Am I raising a serial killer if I allow my daughter to dissect a cat in high school? (Told you we were leaping.) It is true that, starting in the late 1970s, the FBI began considering animal cruelty a possible indicator of future serial murder. This information is widely touted by the Humane Society. I don’t fault them for that. Their job is to protect animals and that’s a noble cause. But this old-fashioned assumption was based on a very small study of 35 imprisoned serial killers, half of whom admitted torturing or killing animals as children. That’s hardly a scientific cause-and-effect. Since then, the FBI has become a bit more sophisticated. The bureau now points out that less than 1 percent of all murders involve serial killers and that there really isn’t a generic template for those few murderers. Despite the sensational cases you’ve read about in the news or watched at the movies, serial killers are males and females, their race and ethnicity mirrors the general population, and most of them are not social misfits – unless you consider that one teensy weensy problem of wanting to kill people. (Some of them do seem to have abusive, domineering mothers, but let’s not get sidetracked here.) If you want to keep yourself up at night, you can read all about it on the FBI’s website, http://www.fbi.gov/publications/serial_murder.htm . But I’ll boil it down for you here: Whoever killed those cats in South Florida is unlikely to start littering our lawns with human carcasses. Even more unlikely: The connection between dissecting kitty or piggy in science class and wanting to go home and practice on Mittens. I remember the pig fetus I dissected in biology my sophomore year in high school. Actually, I’m still trying to get that formaldehyde smell out of my nostrils. It wasn’t an experience I wanted to repeat – especially because the goggles messed up my big hair and left rings on my face. (Give me a break, it was 1981.) PETA, who I also hold in high esteem, likes to mention a 1997 report from the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine on a study of seventh graders that found that fetal pig dissections fostered callousness toward animals and dissuaded students from pursuing science careers. But, more recently, a 2002 poll by (surprisingly) the Humane Society shows that a majority of biology teachers believe the real thing is a better educational experience than the virtual alternative. The National Association of Biology Teachers supports the practice of dissection when done for legitimate educational purposes, as does the National Science Teachers Association. Sorry guys, I’ve got to go with the teachers on this one. It’s called hands-on education, remember? How many students have gone on to become doctors or scientists after being inspired in science class? Most of these dissections occur only in higher-level science classes. If a student is morally opposed, he or she can opt out. It’s that simple. It’s the law here in Florida and many other states, which all offer dissection kits and computer programs with simulated dissections as an alternative for kids who refuse to cut. With thousands of abandoned and feral cats euthanized annually in Miami, isn’t it wiser to make those lost lives meaningful by giving them a higher purpose of educating young minds? Sorry, but I see more of a moral dilemma with that chicken or cow on your plate tonight. At least that animal would have lived if you hadn’t been so hungry. If my daughter is ethically destroyed by the thought of dissecting a cat when she’s in high school then I’ll honor that decision and let her go for the virtual experience. (Then I’ll weep over my squashed hopes for med school.) If she opts to wield that knife, I certainly won’t worry about her turning into a serial killer ... but, if she does, please don’t blame it on her abusive, domineering mother. Tue, 16 Jun 2009 06:00:00 EST Jun 16 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1954 You might want to put your breakfast bacon down before reading this. Even though I never saw my placenta and my husband, who did, refuses to talk about it, I understand it holds a lot of magic in some distant, primative cultures. It’s not unheard of to bury the afterbirth for good fortune ... or good fertilizer. Even Matthew McConacrazy, who comes from the exotic land of Texas, announced last year that he and his girlfriend planned to bury baby Levi’s placenta under a tree. (My fear would be that... You might want to put your breakfast bacon down before reading this. Even though I never saw my placenta and my husband, who did, refuses to talk about it, I understand it holds a lot of magic in some distant, primative cultures. It’s not unheard of to bury the afterbirth for good fortune ... or good fertilizer. Even Matthew McConacrazy, who comes from the exotic land of Texas, announced last year that he and his girlfriend planned to bury baby Levi’s placenta under a tree. (My fear would be that the neighborhood cats would dig my placenta up and devour it, unleashing all kinds of angry universal mojo on my life.) Even though I recognize and respect everyone's crazy-ass, illogical rituals, a recent Craigslist post from a Jacksonville woman who is expecting her baby this month made my uterus cringe. The woman is looking for someone to dehydrate her placenta and pulverize it in a coffee grinder so she can swallow it in daily capsules. "Unfortunately, I don’t have a strong enough stomach to just eat it," she writes. Is this another urban myth or has the placenta become the new breakfast of super moms? Feeling ravenous after 12 traumatic hours of childbirth? Forget that Whopper with cheese. Go for the nearest and dearest snack food – just make sure it’s not still connected to little Jorge. Please don’t tell me that, along with feeling inadequate because I used painkillers and did not give birth in a whirlpool, I now must feel guilty that I did not scarf down my placenta, which I place on the same culinary scale as cat food. The hungry mom-to-be in Jacksonville is not alone. In the past year, a website called Momlogic also has reported that twin sisters Chrissy and Kathy cooked and ate Chrissy’s placenta, panini-style, after the birth of her first baby. The sisters used the leftovers on pasta. A Google search finds numerous placenta recipes, mostly from Mothering magazine, including placenta lasagne, placenta stew, placenta pizza and placenta jerky. What’s next: An Oprah show with Mario Batali’s placenta meatballs? Placentophagy is practiced by most other mammals partly as a survival instinct to hide proof that a helpless newborn is around. Last time I looked, there were no human baby predators lurking in the delivery room of most hospitals. I don't buy the nutrients argument, either, since most American women have plenty of access to healthy food. It’s true that parts of the placenta are known to shrink the uterus and ease birth stress and pain. Me? I’ll stick to sit ups and Extra Strength Tylenol. Tue, 09 Jun 2009 06:00:00 EST Jun 9 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1930 Just pooped for the fifth time … ahhhh, slept for 12 hours today – woo hoo! … uh oh, accidentally bit mom while nursing, boy was she mad … Imagine if newborns could Twitter. But wait, they can. Unfortunately, there are now a growing number of social networking websites for babies. These sites – Totspot, LittleGrams, Kidmondo – are like Facebook for babies. Parents create online identities for their kiddies and post journal entries or updates using their little one’s... Just pooped for the fifth time … ahhhh, slept for 12 hours today – woo hoo! … uh oh, accidentally bit mom while nursing, boy was she mad … Imagine if newborns could Twitter. But wait, they can. Unfortunately, there are now a growing number of social networking websites for babies. These sites – Totspot, LittleGrams, Kidmondo – are like Facebook for babies. Parents create online identities for their kiddies and post journal entries or updates using their little one’s imaginary voice, essentially becoming ventriloquists for their children. Ugh. I find this even more annoying than moms who talk baby talk whenever they speak to their kids or hold us hostage with never-ending tales of their genius child’s brilliance. (If every child is as gifted as his brag hag claims, solving the world peace question should be a cinch for this upcoming generation.) Call it baby overshare. Usually I’m a defender of all this new social networking. Yeah, Twitter, Facebook and blogs are a bit self-indulgent; they eat up time and sometimes take us away from real human contact. But they’re also cool ways to reach out to people we don't usually see. These are exciting tech times. But that doesn’t mean there will be mistakes along the way. Twittering as your baby is one of them. With the exception of maybe one love-starved grandmother, this tactic is annoying has hell to most of us. And if you’re doing this to friends who are also parents, it’s just plain cruel. We have already lived through sleepless night, diaper explosions and endless questions. Why would you subject us to such torturous minutiae again? If you are ghostwriting a blog for your baby or creating one of these online baby books on steroids, please stop now. Remember, some day your child’s prospective employer may be Googling your kid and the result could be real a career killer. Nobody wants to hire a whiner who craps green and drools. Tue, 02 Jun 2009 06:00:00 EST Jun 2 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1910 OK, she does seem shrew-like. She snaps at her husband on national television. She’s bossy. She may have even fooled around with her bodyguard. But why is Kate, the better half of TLC’s Monday night reality show Jon & Kate Plus 8, getting such a raw deal from the media? While that lame-o, college-dropout husband of hers wins over public opinion despite his alleged infidelity, tabloid magazine covers are crucifying his strong-willed wife as Mommie Dearest with headlines like INSIDE JON'S... OK, she does seem shrew-like. She snaps at her husband on national television. She’s bossy. She may have even fooled around with her bodyguard. But why is Kate, the better half of TLC’s Monday night reality show Jon & Kate Plus 8, getting such a raw deal from the media? While that lame-o, college-dropout husband of hers wins over public opinion despite his alleged infidelity, tabloid magazine covers are crucifying his strong-willed wife as Mommie Dearest with headlines like INSIDE JON'S PRISON and MOM TO MONSTER. What is Kate guilty of? Having the nerve to get French manicures and a tanning bed tan when she should be home wiping butts and mouths? I fail to see why Kate’s trendy haircut or tangerine bikini are signs that she’s a bad mother. They condemn her because she likes to get free stuff. Uh, who doesn’t? Come on, you can’t tell me you didn't get a blip of joy the last time you found those free return address labels in the mail. No, Kate’s only mistake is trying to milk as many freebies and dollars as she can for her kids out of her 15 fleeting minutes of fame. Any self-respecting mom of multiple multiples would scramble to do the same. How else do you feed, clothe and send eight kids to college? (Octomom, who’s looking more and more functional every day, just inked a deal with a British production company to start filming her own reality TV show.) While Kate Gosselin is rushing around, writing books, appearing at speaking engagements, and wiping little butts, her "poor" husband wallows in the uncertainty of what he wants to do with the rest of his life. He certainly now has the means to go back to college and finish his degree, but he shows no signs of pursuing that. Or doing much work of any kind. What woman wouldn’t snap at that? So she runs the household with an iron fist. Is there any other way to run a home with eight kids and a guy who looks and acts all the time like he just smoked two huge doobies in the garage? This is the classic case of an overworked and exasperated mom shouldering more than her share of work while hubbie lays on the couch, dreaming about surfing and forgetting to take out the trash. Marriage only succeeds when two adults work at it, and this union seems to be missing one. Tue, 26 May 2009 06:00:00 EST May 26 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1887 Was I the only person who didn’t watch the finale of "American Idol" last week? Viewership is actually on the decline, but you wouldn’t know it by the buzz at work and my kids’ school. Although I’m usually too exhausted to turn on the TV most weeknights, and the show thankfully came on after my daughters’ bedtime, I had to pass for other reasons. Namely, that the country’s biggest pop spectacle is a big fat portent of cultural doom. I start to feel morning sickness... Was I the only person who didn’t watch the finale of "American Idol" last week? Viewership is actually on the decline, but you wouldn’t know it by the buzz at work and my kids’ school. Although I’m usually too exhausted to turn on the TV most weeknights, and the show thankfully came on after my daughters’ bedtime, I had to pass for other reasons. Namely, that the country’s biggest pop spectacle is a big fat portent of cultural doom. I start to feel morning sickness all over again when I think that my kids are growing up with the idea that you can "rock" your way into becoming a pop star if you look and dance just so, and happen to be able to parrot some good cover tunes. Where’s the originality? If we had left it up to AI, we probably never would have experienced David Bowie. Or Jimi Hendrix. Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Billie Holiday, John Lennon, Bjork, Mama Cass, Morrissey and Mick Jagger, to name a few musical greats who don’t fit neatly into the general culture’s bland ideals of "talent." If video killed the radio star, then AI fans are a bunch of necrophiliacs who took it one step further. Can you imagine what the AI judges would say to jazz legend Louis Armstrong today? Simon: "Nice try, buddy, but you sound like gravel in a blender." Paula: "Ha, ha, good one, Simon. BTW, what’s up with those cheeks?" Randy: "Yo, dog, New Orleans is on the line and it wants you back." AI ranks up there with malls, chain restaurants, Starbucks, Guitar Hero and other icons of sameness. It’s the soul-less "Give people what they want" mentality that has dumbed down our radio stations and newspapers. Idol overkill, coming soon in a concert crapfest near you, is corrupting an entire generation’s ability to appreciate music. Of course, there are other reasons to hate AI. How ’bout the shameless product placement? Let’s all watch host Ryan Seacrest drink an ice cold Coca-Cola ™ and munch cheesy Doritos ™ while sitting inside the all new Ford Mustang ™ convertible and pretend it’s all a coincidence. But, really, the worst thing about letting our kids think AI is cool is that the show is built on a foundation of bullying. It makes entertainment out of hurting and humiliating other people. Sure, there are some talented folks who make it to the finals, but without the clueless, excited and hopefully ignorant people embarrassed and bashed for our pleasure, this show wouldn’t be half so popular. And there’s nothing to idolize about that. Tue, 19 May 2009 06:00:00 EST May 19 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1861 I recently had lunch with a bunch of MFFNs (mom friends for now) and, before long, we had whipped out our iPhones to compare applications. Sharing the latest apps is now the social equivalent to seeking advice on schools or babysitters. It’s taken the iTunes app store awhile to catch on that tech-mamas are probably the customers with the greatest growth potential. What other demographic multitasks as much? Or could use more help? Still, the number of mom-friendly apps is pitifully poor. Sure,... I recently had lunch with a bunch of MFFNs (mom friends for now) and, before long, we had whipped out our iPhones to compare applications. Sharing the latest apps is now the social equivalent to seeking advice on schools or babysitters. It’s taken the iTunes app store awhile to catch on that tech-mamas are probably the customers with the greatest growth potential. What other demographic multitasks as much? Or could use more help? Still, the number of mom-friendly apps is pitifully poor. Sure, there’s the Baby Monitor, which turns your iPhone into a baby monitor so you know when the little one is awake. And BabyTracker, a tool that lets you log the shapes, colors and forms of your baby’s daily dumps. (Word of advice: Keep this one on a separate page from the recipe apps.) There’s even the new Email n’ Walk, which allows a mom to type out an email and watch where she’s walking or driving at the same time. (Store that one with the other amusing-yet-useless tools like the burp and fart apps.) And there’s my favorite of all, Lightsaber Unleashed, which allows you to swing your iPhone around like a Lightsaber. (Every cool mom needs one.) But where are the apps we really need? The app developers should consider what a mom wants: 1. An app that tracks how long you’ve been out on date night and automatically calculates how much you owe the babysitter when you finally stumble home and have trouble multiplying hours x $10 bills on your fingers. 2. An app that researches all the public and private schools, magnet programs, charter schools and choice schools, and tells you which one is the best for your child (and how to get in). 3. An app that comes up with something new to pack in your kid’s lunch every morning. 4. An app that sends electric shock waves through your husband when he starts to think about another woman. 5. An app that provides an answer to some of those killer kid questions like "Mom, did you ever smoke pot?" 6. An app that gets your kids to clean their rooms, go to bed on time, get their elbows off the table, say "please," and get their homework done. Oh wait, this one has been created. It’s called Nag Mobile. (Honest, look it up.) 7. An app that sends electric shock waves through your husband when he starts to snore. 8. An app that finally tells the truth to the question, "Does this outfit make my butt look big?" 9. An app that answers the phone when your mother-in-law calls and carries on a pleasant conversation. (I, of course, don’t need this because I adore my MIL.) 10. An app that sends electric shock waves through your husband when he forgets your birthday, wedding anniversary, and to take out the trash. Tue, 12 May 2009 06:00:00 EST May 12 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1835 Anybody who takes a child to the grocery store gets the power of TV marketing. Saw it on the Disney Channel, Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon? Gotta have it. I can tuck something new and healthy into my kids’ lunchboxes, but they don’t consider it cool unless they’ve seen it in a TV ad. I try to give them a shot of healthy skepticism every time I see ads for fast food, candy and unhealthy snacks. I mock ad gimmicks, rolling my eyes with exaggeration at all the tomfoolery so they get the... Anybody who takes a child to the grocery store gets the power of TV marketing. Saw it on the Disney Channel, Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon? Gotta have it. I can tuck something new and healthy into my kids’ lunchboxes, but they don’t consider it cool unless they’ve seen it in a TV ad. I try to give them a shot of healthy skepticism every time I see ads for fast food, candy and unhealthy snacks. I mock ad gimmicks, rolling my eyes with exaggeration at all the tomfoolery so they get the "isn’t-this-nonsense?" message and, hopefully, someday subscribe to it. You got it, honey, Tricks are for kids. But these are the odds: mom vs. Tony the Tiger, the Burger King king, the Lucky Charms leprechaun, Captain Crunch, the latest McDonald’s Happy Meal toy, the Fanta Girls, a "fruity" leather that leaves a tattoo on the tongue, and a new sour candy appropriately called "Toxic Waste," not to mention all of the latest cartoon hero junk food peddlers. Even Shrek has his own cereal now (16 grams of sugar, no fiber). Nothing like being undermined by a green ogre with a fake Scottish accent. It’s time to crack down on junk food TV ads, just like we did for cigarette ads and other products deemed a public health risk. Yeah, I know all about individual responsibility. Sure, parents can always say "no" when their kids ask for such crap or simply turn off the TV. But this isn’t a problem just for lame parents. Not when even eat-right guru/bestselling author Michael Pollan is caught in a Yabba Dabba Don’t moment reaching for the Fruity Pebbles for his own kid, as he admitted this past weekend in The Miami Herald . Just as we don’t allow certain subjects to be shown or advertised during "family viewing" time, junk food should not appear on TV stations that target young kids or on networks during the early morning or evening, when sex and violence is (supposedly) limited, too. I’m the last person to call for censorship. But I also believe that smart consumerism is a skill that’s taught, not something you’re born with. We need to train our kids to spot insincere and deceptive marketing techniques ( No sweetie, Fruit Loops is not fruit . No, Chester the Cheetah is not your friend and Cheetos don’t qualify as a cheese-dairy product .) That takes time. And it’s not a lesson that comes easily to a three-year-old, especially when such ads are sandwiched in between American Dragon and Jimmy Neutron. Junk food ads account for two-thirds of televised food ads shown when children are likely to be watching, according to a new study of 11 countries. Researchers found that junk food ads mainly featuring fast food, confectionery and high-fat dairy foods increased during times young people were most likely to be watching. Germany and the United States led the way at 90 percent. If you’re looking for a cause-and-effect, look no further than a study published last year in the Journal of Law and Economics. The report estimates banning junk food ads from children’s TV would reduce the number of overweight kids in the United States by 18 percent. Researchers linked obesity rates to the amount of time spent viewing fast-food ads, finding that viewing more of the commercials raises the risk of obesity in children. Last year, the United Kingdom became the first industrialized nation to ban TV ads that encourage young children to consume junk food. What are we waiting for? It’s been more than a year since McDonald’s, Coca-Cola, General Mills and other major food and drink makers agreed to adopt new voluntary rules for advertising, saying they’d devote at least half their ads directed at children to promote healthier diets and lifestyles. Sorry guys, it’s not working. Self-regulation for these companies is a lot like asking a 6-year-old to control himself when faced with the toddler-eye-level wall of candy at every store’s checkout line. Tue, 05 May 2009 06:00:00 EST May 5 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1803 It figures that just when the Gringo in me has become totally at ease with the whole cheek kiss thing, along comes a pandemic to put the kibosh on public puckering. It took me years not to freeze like a deer in the headlights when one of my Latin friends swooped into my personal space for the greeting peck. I’ve come to accept that even important and somber discussions must halt so any newcomer to the group can have her turn smooching every single one of us. I’ve even made peace with the serial... It figures that just when the Gringo in me has become totally at ease with the whole cheek kiss thing, along comes a pandemic to put the kibosh on public puckering. It took me years not to freeze like a deer in the headlights when one of my Latin friends swooped into my personal space for the greeting peck. I’ve come to accept that even important and somber discussions must halt so any newcomer to the group can have her turn smooching every single one of us. I’ve even made peace with the serial kissers, those women who mwah me even though they mwahed me just an hour earlier. (Can they really be that happy to see me again?) In a single day in Miami, I will share a kiss with at least two dozen women and men, none of them my husband. I’ve taken glee in exporting this Miami tradition to the far Outer Reaches of our keep-your-distance country just to mess with the people who live there. Places like Virginia, Iowa and Orlando, where uninvited kissing and touching are usually grounds for a cocked rifle. I’ve come to really like the cheek kiss as a way to cut the social edge and let some people know I really do enjoy seeing them. If you begin a conversation with a cheek kiss then you are starting with trust and mutual appreciation. At least that’s how I now view it. Then the Swine Flu came along and authorities started quarantining kisses. Halting the cheek kiss was one of the earliest recommendations from health officials in Mexico. At a news conference last week announcing the elevated pandemic level, World Health Organization Chief Margaret Chan suggested it was time for Europe, too, to rethink the traditional three kisses on the cheek. Even Lebanon has issued an edict discouraging the traditional Arab peck-on-the-cheek greeting, although no one has come down with the virus there. In this country, Dr. Richard Besser of the Centers for Disease Control suggested we wash our hands a lot then immediately followed it up with advice to avoid greetings kisses. Even closer to home, the Archdiocese of Miami has stopped until further notice the shaking of hands in the sharing of peace at every Mass. But at my Latin-dominated Catholic church, the handshake of peace has always been an invitation for something more intimate. Members of my parish spend every Sunday smooching everyone within lip reach of their pew. Epidemiologists call the precautionary no-kiss rule “social distancing.” The idea is simple: If you keep people who have the virus away from others, you can stop the chain of person-to-person transmission. CNN’s chief medical correspondent has twittered that we should rule out all nonessential kisses and instead “el-bump,” or bump elbows, as a greeting. Uh, right. I don’t know about you, but that’s the one part of my body I reserve for opening public restroom doors. And now you want me to start rubbing it up against other people? Even with the growing panic, I still don’t see too many people here signing off of the kiss program. It’s going to take a lot more than a silly little unsavory-sounding flu to stop the enthusiastic lips of Miami. Tue, 28 Apr 2009 06:00:00 EST Apr 28 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1782 At the tender age of 8, my daughter has already learned one of the hard facts of female life. There just aren't enough johns in this world. We recently raced a stampede of women to get to the restroom in a big public library only to find a wall of moms and daughters already waiting in a long line for the loo -- praying, crossing their legs and glaring at the men who zipped in and out of their stalls next door. Waiting in line when nature calls is a pisser we all try to avoid, some better than others. Case... At the tender age of 8, my daughter has already learned one of the hard facts of female life. There just aren't enough johns in this world. We recently raced a stampede of women to get to the restroom in a big public library only to find a wall of moms and daughters already waiting in a long line for the loo -- praying, crossing their legs and glaring at the men who zipped in and out of their stalls next door. Waiting in line when nature calls is a pisser we all try to avoid, some better than others. Case in point: Lisa Nowalk, the crazed astronaut lady who drove from Texas to Florida and used Depends so she wouldn’t have to stop for bathroom breaks. Why are women still suffering from porcelain inequality in this day and age? In regards to race, separate but equal was ruled unconstitutional 55 years ago. Yet here we women stand, with our intricate internal plumbing, waiting in vain outside of inadequate public crappers to complete a compelling biological function. This could be easily corrected. Give us more pots to piss in. But even with potty parity legislation in Florida and other states, higher ratios of women’s toilets are not materializing, usually because the laws aren’t being enforced. Like many women, I waged my own little one-woman potty rebellion when I was single, ducking into men’s bathrooms in bars and concert halls to void where prohibited. But when you have a little girl in tow, this ceases to be a swell idea. It’s not like we’re all in there powdering our noses. In fact, a researcher at Virginia Tech found that women frequently spend twice as long as men in the restroom (89 seconds versus 39 for the guys) because they have more clothes to manipulate, they often have children with them or they take the time to groom themselves. That doesn't include the fact that we use toilet paper or have other business on a monthly basis. If you're a mom with potty training obligations, add another 10 tick-tock minutes. Studies also show that men are less likely to wash their hands after using the bathroom, which must save a few seconds right there. While we’re busying singing "Happy Birthday" twice under the running water, the guys are just wiping their hands on their jeans and splitting. In a wee victory this month, New York City now has two major ballparks - the new Yankee Stadium and the Mets Citi Field - with more toilets for women than men. But I can't hold it any longer. I’m starting my own potty scorecard, with waiting lines and cleanliness carrying the most weight. I'm tracking the best and worst on-the-road commodes for moms in South Florida. What would you add to the list? SOUTH FLORIDA’S SIT OR SQUAT REPORT Tawdry Toilets: Dadeland Mall Food Court, Miami International Airport, Kennedy Park in Coconut Grove, Home Depot, Publix, Florida Turnpike Rest Stops The Gold Standard: The downtown Miami-Dade Cultural Center, Tarpon Bend, Village of Merrick Park, Starbucks, Pottery Barn, Houston’s on Miracle Mile in Coral Gables, Barnes & Noble, Wolfsonian-FIU museum, Regal Cinemas South Beach Tue, 21 Apr 2009 06:00:00 EST Apr 21 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1756 There’s no beating around the bush on this topic, so I’ll dive right in: Have you noticed that nobody under the age of 40 has pubic hair anymore? We’re talking mass deforestation. Waxing, shaving, sugaring, lasering. It’s no longer just for porn stars. Brazilians and landing strips are passé. It’s all about neatening your nether regions. Pubic hair – for men and women – is so 2007. I have to admit this makes me chuckle a bit. I mean, when I was growing up, this... There’s no beating around the bush on this topic, so I’ll dive right in: Have you noticed that nobody under the age of 40 has pubic hair anymore? We’re talking mass deforestation. Waxing, shaving, sugaring, lasering. It’s no longer just for porn stars. Brazilians and landing strips are passé. It’s all about neatening your nether regions. Pubic hair – for men and women – is so 2007. I have to admit this makes me chuckle a bit. I mean, when I was growing up, this used to be the kind of thing you did with a razor to torture the first girl who fell asleep at your slumber party. Now it’s suddenly desirable? Where have all the pubic hairs gone? Don't we need them? (Don't force me to Google for the answer because I'm afraid the website results will get me arrested.) If you think about it, our society would really have a blank spot if we mowed over all those pubic hairs from our past. Without a pubic hair, we would never have had Clarence Thomas and Anita Hill. Without pubic hairs on bathroom soap, we would never have laughed so hard at Gilda Radner as SNL’s Roseanne Roseannadanna. And without pubic hairs and their DNA, half the crimes on CSI Miami would never get solved. Pubic hair has never been so publicly acknowledged – or shunned – as it is today. A few months ago, there were ads all over my Coconut Grove neighborhood for a new waxing salon. The signs showed a bikini bottom with what appeared to be a small Yorkshire Terrier growing out of the sides of the bathing suit. Tasteless? Hmm, maybe. Effective? Yup. We’re not the only ones waxing poetic. This trend is worldwide, most recently in England, where ladies’ trimmed private parts are fondly referred to as "bald frontbums." (Leave it to the Brits to take something meant to be sexy and conjure up images of Winston Churchill.) The Brits have taken their hairless campaign to the TV, where a new double entendre ad for Quattro bikini razors called "Mow the Lawn" has raised a few eyebrows (apparently one of the few spots on the human body where hair is still allowed). The TV ad opens with a woman stroking a furry cat in her lap. She’s joined by some other women who burst into a rousing chorus of the saucy jingle. Have you mowed your lawn lately? Trimmed your shrubs? Pruned your hedges? Summer’s just around the bend – time to weed your lady garden! An African-American lady sings, "Some bushes are really big!" An Asian lady sings, "Some gardens are mighty small." A white lady sings, "All that’s left for me to see are tulips on the mound." (Get it? Tu–lips. On the mound.) The commercial has fun with images of hedge clippers, a chainsaw (!) and strategically-placed topiaries sculpted into landing strips and hearts. The spot ends with the woman stroking her – now hairless – cat. This is so bad on so many levels yet I still find myself laughing. See the ad here, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvFSgXpyhoM , and let me know if you think lawn mowing duties need to be added to every mom's to-do list. Tue, 14 Apr 2009 06:05:00 EST Apr 14 2009 - 06:05:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1731 Did you hear about the Saudi man who divorced his wife by text message? In a case of 7th century misogynistic ideology meeting 21st century technology, the man was in Iraq when he sent the SMS informing the woman that her wifely duties were no longer needed. He followed up with a telephone call to two of his relatives, the daily Arab News reported. Apparently, under the strict form of Islamic law practiced in Saudi Arabia, a man can divorce his wife by saying "I divorce you" three times. A court in... Did you hear about the Saudi man who divorced his wife by text message? In a case of 7th century misogynistic ideology meeting 21st century technology, the man was in Iraq when he sent the SMS informing the woman that her wifely duties were no longer needed. He followed up with a telephone call to two of his relatives, the daily Arab News reported. Apparently, under the strict form of Islamic law practiced in Saudi Arabia, a man can divorce his wife by saying "I divorce you" three times. A court in the Red Sea city of Jeddah finalized the split – the first known divorce in Saudi Arabia by text message – after summoning the two relatives to check they had received word of the husband's intention, the paper said. Holy cow, if all it took was a "send" button to be a free agent, my husband and I would have been married and divorced and married and divorced at least 100 times in the past 12 years. No word on whether this guy had to text the message three times. But if he really wanted a high-speed, high-tech split, couldn’t he have just copied his two friends on the message? Why waste minutes on witnesses when you can’t even bother with a face-to-face with the (ex-)wife? I find it interesting that Saudi Arabia has no trouble embracing the latest in communication yet still can’t bring itself to view women as anything other than property. Women in Saudi Arabia can’t choose whom they marry and they have no real power to divorce their husbands. Men, on the other hand, can lawfully marry up to four females, including pre-adolescent girls sold into marriage by their fathers. Obviously, this fella hasn’t thought things completely through. Or maybe he has. The Saudi man was reportedly in Iraq to fight with al Qaeda militants against the Iraqi government and U.S. forces in "what he described as ‘jihad',’ " according to the Arab News. If the guy thinks he’s about to become an Islamic martyr and romp in heaven with 72 black-eyed virgins, can you blame him for wanting to be single? Tue, 07 Apr 2009 06:00:00 EST Apr 7 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1709 I had a happy thought about the sucky economy this past week. This might spell the end of the High-Roller Stroller Arms Race. The evil marketing genius who discovered that vulnerable new parents would spend the price of a crappy used car to buy their precious little one a souped-up ride should be trampled and left flattened on the sidewalk by the pimp-my-stroller brigade. These status strollers just get more and more ridiculous. They rank right up there with first-world embarrassments like pet strollers for... I had a happy thought about the sucky economy this past week. This might spell the end of the High-Roller Stroller Arms Race. The evil marketing genius who discovered that vulnerable new parents would spend the price of a crappy used car to buy their precious little one a souped-up ride should be trampled and left flattened on the sidewalk by the pimp-my-stroller brigade. These status strollers just get more and more ridiculous. They rank right up there with first-world embarrassments like pet strollers for yappy dogs and those obnoxious 4WD ride-on toys that parents buy for their tot snobs. People, this is just a box on wheels to push your baby in, right? You can’t tell me that my $49.99 Graco two-piece job can’t get it done like the upscale Stokke Xplory stroller ($999-$1,199). Sure, the dinky Norwegian post-modern, ten-speed-looking version raises a kid closer to his loving, materialistic parents, but it also looks like a car seat balancing on an IV pole, and it has no giant storage bins or cupholders. Where am I going to put my Pabst Blue Ribbon? As in all things criminally overpriced, we must blame Sex in the City. In 2002, Cynthia Nixon rolled out the Dutch-designed Bugaboo Frog ($699) and suddenly swank strollers became an economic indicator on par with a pair of Manolo Blahniks. You weren’t trendy enough – and certainly didn’t love your baby enough – if you weren’t on the waiting list for high-style wheels with German engineering that cost double what the rest of us were schlepping behind. Last year, the Sex movie raised the baby bling bar by flashing shots of the Stokke Xplory at Charlotte’s baby shower. The message to new mommies was clear: If your friends aren’t willing to gift you a grand’s worth of sweet rims then they really don’t care about you. We may have just topped out on this trend. This past year has seen the Kid Kustoms Classic Series Black Roddler ($2,500), with chrome trim fenders, color-coded rims, brake lights, leather upholstered bucket seat, DVD entertainment system, iPod dock and Bluetooth speakers. There’s also the totally impractical, old-fashioned Silver Cross Balmoral pram ($1,995-$3,000), pushed by the likes of Jennifer Lopez, Nicole Richie, Madonna and Sarah Jessica Parker. Will the Dow doom this droolicious buggie madness? Or are we all headed to hell in a Kate Spade Maclaren? Tue, 31 Mar 2009 06:00:00 EST Mar 31 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1693 Lacking cash and patience, I have cooked up a brilliant recession-proof plan for making the most money with the least amount of effort: My backside as a billboard. Notice I said billboard and not bumper sticker. That’s because all this eating on the cheap is widening my ad space. It may not be Juicy, but it’s available. I’m willing to share this arses-for-ads scheme with you, dear friends, because I believe that as moms we offer the best leasing space out there. Think about it. Why should little... Lacking cash and patience, I have cooked up a brilliant recession-proof plan for making the most money with the least amount of effort: My backside as a billboard. Notice I said billboard and not bumper sticker. That’s because all this eating on the cheap is widening my ad space. It may not be Juicy, but it’s available. I’m willing to share this arses-for-ads scheme with you, dear friends, because I believe that as moms we offer the best leasing space out there. Think about it. Why should little girls and their slutty moms be the only ones with writing on their rumps? Why should Juicy Couture, BCBG and Victoria’s Secret get all the free publicity? They should be paying us to advertise their bon mots on our jiggling, aging derrières. The bigger the booty, the bigger the bill. Why waste your advertising dollars on a postage-stamp-sized behind when you can get ample space for multiple listings? Forget Twitter, Facebook and advertising on buses, cabs, radio and TV. Moms and their tushies cover more ground and give you more exposure. Consider the widespread reach of our buttocks: Field trips, Target runs, Disney World weekends, the beach, waxing salons, soccer and baseball games, the birthday party circuit, the public library, the gym, beauty parlors, all those mani-pedi salons, the movies, water parks, Publix, PTA meetings … the pit stops on mom’s to-do list are endless. Fat bottomed girls have made the rockin' world go round for years. It’s about time we cash our Botero butts in. Leasing your posterior isn’t new territory. Just recently, Stephanie Lerner, a New York underwear model, sold her ass for advertising space, reports Ad Lab. "It’s taut, it’s round and it’s perfectly shaped to advertise our product," said CEO Laurence Honey of Mom’s New England Apple Pie Co. But you don’t have to have a model’s tight tush to market yourself. Back in 2005, a casino paid several pregnant women to display temporary tattoos on their rounded bellies, which they agreed to bare at malls and football stadiums. Heck, even my friend Grace in Oshkosh, Wisc., – a self-confessed middle-aged, doughnut-inhaling, back-of-the-pack runner and mother of two – garnered hundreds of dollars in endorsements and ads on her body when she ran in the New York City Marathon five years ago, billing herself as a "slow-moving billboard." Earlier this year, an online beauty products store in England paid 10 men and women to apply temporary tattoos with the company’s Web address on their eyelids. Participants were paid about $149 to wink at people 1,000 times. This kind of pay-per-view thinking holds promise for my own fanny-for-hire project. Along with a name – Moms Doing Da Butt? Tails for Sale? Booties R Our Business? Take A Seat? – we need to work out a per-wiggle charge and consider such questions as whether picking wedgies and scratching should be a plus or negative. Come on, get your butt in the game. Who’s in? Tue, 24 Mar 2009 06:00:00 EST Mar 24 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1657 It was easy to dismiss surrogate motherhood as exploitation when an increasing number of American military wives and impoverished women in India were reportedly turning their bodies into moneymakers last year. Like a scene out of Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, some Third World womb workers were signing contracts with their thumbprints because they didn’t know how to read or write. Pretty disturbing. But you can’t blame lack of education for all the Suburban Sues... It was easy to dismiss surrogate motherhood as exploitation when an increasing number of American military wives and impoverished women in India were reportedly turning their bodies into moneymakers last year. Like a scene out of Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, some Third World womb workers were signing contracts with their thumbprints because they didn’t know how to read or write. Pretty disturbing. But you can’t blame lack of education for all the Suburban Sues now looking to reinvent themselves as Baby Makers as they struggle to keep their families afloat. The Palm Beach Post’s Dianna Smith recently reported that South Florida fertility clinics are receiving as many as 20 calls a month from women looking to donate their eggs for $5,000 or carry a stranger’s baby for $25,000 and up. The Palm Beach Fertility Center west of Boca Raton used to have only one catalog of donors. Now there are two binders with a total of 100, including blondes, brunettes, whites, blacks, Asians and Jewish women. "I couldn't find a job. I didn't know how to take care of my babies,’’ said one woman, who is being paid $25,000 by a South Florida couple for her current pregnancy. "The economy is so bad. It's a way for me to be there for my family." I can see the new craigslist job category now: WOMB WORKERS. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Have these women taken a maternity leave of their senses? Or are they smart mompreneurs who have discovered the ultimate work-from-home option? Yes, it’s unsettling to think of a woman’s body as a commodity. But if these women choose to legally broker their own bodies, who are we to question their sanity, if not their ethics? Are we at the point where renting your womb for nine months is an empowering decision if the end result pays for home ownership, healthcare or an education? Most of Europe, as well as 12 states, ban the practice of surrogacy. But enterprising Florida is among four states that have passed laws in the past five years to legalize it, joining more than a dozen others that allow and regulate the practice. Don’t judge a womb renter until you’ve walked a mile in her swollen ankles. Me? I’d rather apply for a microloan. Tue, 17 Mar 2009 06:00:00 EST Mar 17 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1633 You were probably too busy wiping kids’ butts with your pink slip to note that March 8 was International Women’s Day. However, the moment was not lost on L’Osservatore Romano, the semi-official newspaper of the Vatican, which commented on women’s lib in an editorial that declared the washing machine as the most liberating advancement of the 20th century for women. We’re assuming they weren’t talking about the pleasurable perk of jumping on the machine during the spin... You were probably too busy wiping kids’ butts with your pink slip to note that March 8 was International Women’s Day. However, the moment was not lost on L’Osservatore Romano, the semi-official newspaper of the Vatican, which commented on women’s lib in an editorial that declared the washing machine as the most liberating advancement of the 20th century for women. We’re assuming they weren’t talking about the pleasurable perk of jumping on the machine during the spin cycle. The article – entitled "The Washing Machine and the Liberation of Women - Put in the Detergent, Close the Lid and Relax" – was actually a sarcastic commentary on the absurd claims made by modern products. But in the decree that the washing machine has contributed more to the emancipation of Western women than the pill, Roe v. Wade and even the jet engine, artificial heart or personal computer, writer Giluia Galeotti (a woman) set off a big stink. Guess not too many Western types are used to humor from the Holy See. Written in Italian, the tongue-in-cheek probe got lost in translation by the time it made it across the pond, with everybody from NPR to The Huffington Post lodging indignation. "Guess if you follow the Vatican’s no-contraception policy, you REALLY need the washing machine to keep up with the mountain of clothes from the mountain of children you’ll have and to give you more free time to create more babies," one blogger fumed. In another response, entitled "Freedom, Thy Name is Front Loading," Emmy Award-winning commentator John Ridley remarked that "to say the washer has liberated the lay-dees is kinda like saying the cotton gin liberated slaves." Let’s seize this moment of mass confusion to come up with our own list of modern-day breakthroughs that have really altered what it means to be a mom. I’m not talking about the vote or "equal pay for equal work." It’s time to honor true life-changing doo-hickeys, such as: 1. Super Target, where I can get chicken breasts and a new bra in one place. 2. The SunPass, so we can knock 30 "are-we-there-yet?" minutes from the time it takes to get to Disney World. 3. Velcro. No more repetitive deep knee bends to tie those annoying laces on kids’ shoes. 4. The disposable diaper, invented by a woman. (This is a documented fact.) 5. Purell, most likely invented by a woman who used cloth diapers. (This is an undocumented fact.) 6. The iPod and earbuds. No more suffering through the same three Kidz Bop songs over and over. 7. GPS. No more fights with hubby over stopping to ask for directions. 8. Caller ID. The most brilliant time-saving device in the world. 9. Salad in a bag. With or without e coli. 10. Spanx, those wearable sausage wraps that get you through your high school reunion looking 10 pounds lighter. Tue, 10 Mar 2009 06:00:00 EST Mar 10 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1604 By now you’ve probably heard how Mattel is tarting up Dora the Explorer to appeal to a tween audience. Instead of animal friends and adventures, she’ll be a "fashionable" city girl in middle school, with a line of accessories and the ability to do online makeovers. Yours for only $59.99. WTF?! (In the spirit of Dora’s beloved Nick Jr. persona, I tried to find a bilingual equivalent to this expression, but the closest I got, without insulting Dora’s mother, was... By now you’ve probably heard how Mattel is tarting up Dora the Explorer to appeal to a tween audience. Instead of animal friends and adventures, she’ll be a "fashionable" city girl in middle school, with a line of accessories and the ability to do online makeovers. Yours for only $59.99. WTF?! (In the spirit of Dora’s beloved Nick Jr. persona, I tried to find a bilingual equivalent to this expression, but the closest I got, without insulting Dora’s mother, was ¿Qué carajo ?) Dora is still hanging onto her giant melon head, but according to a teaser Mattel marketing campaign that has released only a silhouette of the doll, the new Tween Dora will be skinnier and will ditch the boxy shorts for a short tunic when she’s unveiled this fall. No more pre-schooler belly sticking out from her T-shirt. In other words, the fearless outdoorswoman has turned into a materialistic fashionista. Forget Dora the Explorer. Meet Dora the Whora. Instead of saving the day, she’s saving money to buy skinny jeans at the mall. Mattel, which also makes Barbie, apparently thinks tween girls aren’t worried enough about their appearances. In its infinite falling-stock wisdom, the toy giant is hustling to fill the void left by big-eyed, pouty-lipped Bratz girls, the skanky dolls Mattel effectively knocked off toy shelves with a licensing lawsuit last year. Somebody needs to tell toy makers that there are no winners when we ply girls with yet another provocative, scantily clad doll wearing excessive makeup (unless you count all those women who are going to use the new look as a sexy costume this Halloween). Why mess with Dora, one of the few refreshing alternatives in a world of sugary, lobotomized princesses? Girls lose their innocence soon enough – they don’t need a doll to help them. This generation of kids promises to be smarter than their parents and grandparents. Why are their toys getting dumber? It’s not that we parents don’t want our little girls to grow up. It’s just that we don’t want them to grow up that way . Where’s the doll that loves to look under rocks, write in her journal and design her own clubhouse? Instead, we get more of this mall-shopping, TV-watching, midriff-baring, boy crazy vapid girl culture, not to mention yet another Latin stereotype. Dora was a wholesome, outdoorsy non-white girl with spunk, curiosity and intellect. Why stick her in hoop earrings and turn her into a hot tamale? The other troubling aspect of this is that tween marketing campaigns tend to trickle down to much younger girls. That’s why nobody close to Hannah Montana’s age would be caught dead at one of her concerts. Look in the audience and you’ll see mostly idolizing 5- and 6-year-olds. This may be great for building brand recognition, but not so great if you’re trying to build a girl into a strong, confident young woman. Mattel’s peek-a-boo campaign has backfired in some corners, with parents petitioning against changes to Dora, http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/Dora_Makeover . Meanwhile, the company insists Tween Dora will not be "oversexualized;" that the grown-up version includes an online, mystery-solving component. But journalists given a look -- no cameras allowed -- at Toy Fair 2009 report the computerized doll seems to be more about changing outfits and eye and hair color. They also noted the new Dora has platform shoes strapped to her feet. (I guess tree climbing is out.) What’s next? Text messages on Dora’s cell phone to a tattooed, condom-toting cousin? Say it isn’t so. No, Diego, No! Tue, 03 Mar 2009 06:00:00 EST Mar 3 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1575 I thought I had it bad because my husband snores like a jackhammer. Then I read about the poor Coral Springs woman whose husband likes to strangle her in his sleep. File this one under, "You know it’s time for separate bedrooms when …" Alyson Kaplan, 36, told police that she awoke, gasping and feeling pressure on her neck. She heard her husband say, "I'm going to strangle you." This brings new meaning to the old Crystale Gayle song, "Talking in Your Sleep." It... I thought I had it bad because my husband snores like a jackhammer. Then I read about the poor Coral Springs woman whose husband likes to strangle her in his sleep. File this one under, "You know it’s time for separate bedrooms when …" Alyson Kaplan, 36, told police that she awoke, gasping and feeling pressure on her neck. She heard her husband say, "I'm going to strangle you." This brings new meaning to the old Crystale Gayle song, "Talking in Your Sleep." It also raises a tough choice for many wives: Would you rather your husband whisper another woman's name in his sleep or clamp his hands around your neck? The wife told police that for the previous 18 months her husband has been verbally abusive, poking, scratching and threatening to stab her at night while he was supposedly sleeping. During an episode last year, her husband tried to use the drawstrings from her hooded sweater to choke her in the middle of the night. (Note to self: No more hoodies as sleepwear.) Mark Kaplan, 37, a middle school principal in Weston, initially was charged with a felony count of battery. But the Broward State Attorney’s Office dropped charges last week. Prosecutors believe the husband’s claim that a sleep disorder called parasomnia made him do it. The wife, who says her husband has sleep apnea, does not want her husband prosecuted. Let's hope this guy doesn't fall asleep at work. What happens when he's daydreaming?! This should make every woman married to a guy with sleep apnea (which is pretty much every married woman I know) pause -- or at least hide this story from hubby so the nightlight doesn't go off in his head, http://www.miamiherald.com/news/broward/story/923959.html . Turns out this guy isn’t the only one to use the "sorry, honey, I was only dreaming" defense. Back in 1987, a Canadian man was acquitted after experts testified he was actually sleeping when he drove 14 miles to the house of his in-laws, where he stabbed his mother-in-law to death. Does anybody notice a pattern here? Irritable man + sleep = a woman dead. Maybe those old-timers who came up with the marriage rule "Never Go To Bed Angry" knew something they weren't telling us. If Victoria's Secret was smart, it would hang up the sexy lingerie and start marketing body armor. Research shows that people with parasomnia are caught in between a sleep and waking state. They can supposedly do all kinds of things – sleep eating, sleep sex, teeth grinding, even sleep e-mailing – without being aware of their actions. ("Yes, honey, I was sleeping with that woman, but I was asleep , so I didn't know what I was doing.") Most sufferers are males older than 50. My guess is that most men have run out of good excuses by this age, so this is the best they can come up with. The Minnesota Regional Sleep Disorders Center in Minneapolis has reported cases where one parasomniac thought he was a quarterback heading for a touchdown and ran forcefully into his bedroom dresser. In another case, a husband would awake from a dream in which he was protecting his wife from danger, only to find that he had been pummeling her. Sleep disorder experts say, with therapy, this problem can be overcome. Until then? Ladies, I recommend sleeping with one eye open. Tue, 24 Feb 2009 06:00:00 EST Feb 24 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1544 I think I’ve hit upon a solution for world hunger and our climbing unemployment rate. Thank Salma Hayek. A film of the voluptuous actress nursing a starving baby in Sierra Leone recently made the rounds on the Internet. Just about everybody has chimed in about the two-minute booby moment, from nursing advocates who applaud Hayek’s aplomb to others who thought it was plain gross to the predictable crowd of gawking men who want to get in line to belly up to Salma’s bosom. Me? All I see is a... I think I’ve hit upon a solution for world hunger and our climbing unemployment rate. Thank Salma Hayek. A film of the voluptuous actress nursing a starving baby in Sierra Leone recently made the rounds on the Internet. Just about everybody has chimed in about the two-minute booby moment, from nursing advocates who applaud Hayek’s aplomb to others who thought it was plain gross to the predictable crowd of gawking men who want to get in line to belly up to Salma’s bosom. Me? All I see is a brilliant strategy for fighting infant malnutrition and employing out-of-work moms. Let’s outsource our breast milk. As a nation, we could recruit lactating women and parachute them and their mammary glands into developing countries to feed starving children. Think about the possibilities. These busty brigades of women could do more for humanity with their tits than our troops have done with their bazookas for the entire history of U.S. military. Talk about foreign aid. Miracle mammaries to the rescue. All hail the red, white and boob. With Hayek as their spokesmodel, this army of women could save millions of lives in Ethiopia, Haiti, Somalia, Bangladesh and the Sudan. One life-giving breast at a time, they would improve our country’s image throughout the world. And they would fill out one-heck-of-a uniform with their food banks. The World Health Organization says hunger is the gravest single threat to the world’s public health. Poor or non-existent breastfeeding causes 1.4 million child deaths a year. One in five children die before reaching their first birthday in Sierra Leone, where Salma, 42, let a hungry infant latch on to her ta-ta (see the video at http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/Story?id=6804291&page=1 ). Wet nursing used to be an accepted practice in many cultures, including Victorian Britain, where it was common among the rich. Formula milk put an end to all that, although we’re starting to hear more and more about cross-nursing. Last year, a female Chinese police officer was hailed as a hero after breastfeeding several infants orphaned by China’s horrible earthquake. The octuplets of serial babymaker Nadya Suleman are receiving donated breast milk. If you’ve ever read The Grapes of Wrath , you’ll remember the book ends with Rose of Sharon, still grieving her stillborn baby, breastfeeding a starving man. It’s the first unselfish thing the young woman does and, if I recall my high school English teacher’s take on this correctly, the act represents the full circle of human unity, even under the bleakest of circumstances. So how 'bout it? Would you, like Rose of Sharon and Salma, share the bounty and use your mammaries to save the world? Tue, 17 Feb 2009 06:00:00 EST Feb 17 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1515 It started in December, when I was innocently watching the Disturbia DVD. The thriller stars Shia LaBeouf, who I vaguely remembered as the skinny, annoying kid in the Disney Channel series "Even Stevens." Only now Shia is 21, lanky, with a bit of a bad boy lope to his walk. About halfway through the movie, I realized I was thinking a little too hard about young, scruffy Shia. The same age-inappropriate thoughts crossed my mind when I recently saw trailers for Twilight , the new vampire flick... It started in December, when I was innocently watching the Disturbia DVD. The thriller stars Shia LaBeouf, who I vaguely remembered as the skinny, annoying kid in the Disney Channel series "Even Stevens." Only now Shia is 21, lanky, with a bit of a bad boy lope to his walk. About halfway through the movie, I realized I was thinking a little too hard about young, scruffy Shia. The same age-inappropriate thoughts crossed my mind when I recently saw trailers for Twilight , the new vampire flick starring Robert Pattinson as the dreamy Edward Cullen, a wise old soul in the body of a gorgeous 17-year-old boy. (What more could a woman want?) Holy Catwoman, I think I’m growing claws. It’s not that I’m mortified that these kids were born when I was in college or that they are better suited for my pre-pubescent daughters. What terrifies me about having weird sad crushes on guys who have just sprouted Adam’s Apples is that this officially makes me a dirty old woman. It’s sick, creepy. As pitiful as Botox-stiff, overly-gaunt Madonna jumping across cars with Justin Timberlake in the "4 Minutes" video. It all feels a bit off. I’m 44-years-old. I’m a mom. A happily married woman. I should be daydreaming about Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp, not young men half my age. I don’t want to be one of those sorry, middle-aged women who chase their calcium supplements with a tartini and swipe their daughters’ Tiger Beat magazines. Must. Stop. Right. Now. Here, to get these boys out of my system once and for all, is my top 10 list of cougar bait (feel free to add your own): 1. Shia LaBeouf 2. Robert Pattinson 3. Max Thieriot, who was Nancy Drew’s boyfriend in the movie and the hobo boy in Kit Kittredge: An American Girl . (I know, it’s sick, sick.) 4. Josh Peck from Nickelodeon’s Drake and Josh (Have you seen him since he dropped 100 pounds and played a dope dealer in The Wackness ? 5. Zac Efron 6. Michael Phelps 7. Nick Jonas 8. Chris Brown (before he beat up Rihanna) 9. Jesse McCartney 10. Chad Michael Murray Tue, 10 Feb 2009 06:00:00 EST Feb 10 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1480 Sure, Alex Rodriguez and Michael Phelps are probably pretty glum these days, but it’s parents who seem to be taking these superstars’ falls from grace the hardest. Soon after news broke of A-Rod’s alleged steroid use and Phelps’ documented bong hit, there was an audible collective sigh of disgust from parents everywhere. Where have all the good heroes gone? Why can’t these guys behave like proper role models? What will their adoring, young fans think? Tear down the bedroom... Sure, Alex Rodriguez and Michael Phelps are probably pretty glum these days, but it’s parents who seem to be taking these superstars’ falls from grace the hardest. Soon after news broke of A-Rod’s alleged steroid use and Phelps’ documented bong hit, there was an audible collective sigh of disgust from parents everywhere. Where have all the good heroes gone? Why can’t these guys behave like proper role models? What will their adoring, young fans think? Tear down the bedroom poster. Hide the box of corn flakes. But don’t blame some hyped-up sports star for your kid's behavior. No, the real culprits in this hero-worship culture of ours are parents who encourage their kids to idolize over-paid athletes and celebrities. I have no problem with celebrating and seeking inspiration in acts of greatness. People who work hard and demonstrate amazing talent deserve applause. But you’re walking on a river of grass as a parent if you don’t teach your kids that people who perform acts of seeming perfection are not perfect. It’s not like we have to search hard for bad examples. Along with A-Rod and Phelps, this month we have Miley Cyrus pulling her eyes into a stereotypical Asian slant in a shameful Internet photo. As parents, we should be pouncing on these recent displays of human foibles as teachable moments. See, nobody is perfect. People make mistakes. The idea of a hero comes from Greek mythology. It’s a myth . In reality, the same person who does something really spectacular has the capacity to do something really stupid. We’ve all been there. Unfortunately for Phelps and Cyrus, their growing pains are taking place on a public stage. Let she who has never been stoned cast the first stone. It’s easy to blame celebrities for our kids’ problems. But let’s not ignore the research that shows that, above anybody else, kids most frequently name a parent as their top role model. Hero worship is black and white. It’s our task as parents (and role models) to teach our kids that life is mostly all the dramatic colors in between. That the real beauty of being complex, complicated humans is that we’re, well, human. What’s takes heroic effort is learning from a mistake and becoming a better person as a result. Tue, 03 Feb 2009 06:00:00 EST Feb 3 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1452 Jessica Simpson’s career has taken a big hit recently. Not because she was singing at a chili cook-off in Pembroke Pines or because her meathead football player boyfriend Tony Romo allegedly cheated on her or even because President Obama commented on her "weight problem" on national television before the Super Bowl this past Sunday. No, Jessie is in trouble because she was caught trading in her Daisy Dukes for a pair of – gasp – Mom Jeans. Like fanny packs, mini-vans and quilted... Jessica Simpson’s career has taken a big hit recently. Not because she was singing at a chili cook-off in Pembroke Pines or because her meathead football player boyfriend Tony Romo allegedly cheated on her or even because President Obama commented on her "weight problem" on national television before the Super Bowl this past Sunday. No, Jessie is in trouble because she was caught trading in her Daisy Dukes for a pair of – gasp – Mom Jeans. Like fanny packs, mini-vans and quilted purses, high-waisted, unflattering Mom Jeans are supposedly the most obvious sign that a woman has given up on her sexuality. Girl’s Gone Child. She no longer cares. She cooks, she cleans, she wears Mom Jeans. If your waistband could double as a push-up bra or your backside looks flatter than a pancake, you are guilty of wearing Mom Jeans. Tina Fey first coined the term in a 2003 Saturday Night Live skit that celebrated a pair of Mom Jeans as "something that says, ‘I’m not a woman any more. I’m a Mom.’ " Mommy pants sport nine-inch zippers and tapered legs that emphasize muffin tops, camel toes and panty lines. They flatten and widen the behind and hips. They’re usually a crappy shade of blue or black. In the past year, high-waisted pants have been spotted on a number of celebrity hotties – Jennifer Love Hewett, Mariah Carey, Mischa ("Feed me!") Barton, Fergie, Scarlett Johansson, Gwen Stefani, Heidi Klum and Kim Kardashian – who have all failed to glamorize the so-out- they’re-in fashion. They still manage to look like a 40-something mom who thinks a hot date is dinner at Cracker Barrel followed by "Murder She Wrote" on TV. It’s hard enough being a mom today and finding a pair of pants that fall somewhere in the happy medium between Mom Jeans and Ass Crack Jeans. But because us moms are used to being martyrs, I’m willing to accept that bashing moms and their wardrobes is one of the last socially acceptable pastimes. What burns me is that there is no equivalent slam against the horrendous jeans I've seen on some dads. You know what I’m talking about: snug, extra-high-cut blue jeans with a braided belt cinched tightly over a pronounced crotch and a cell phone fastened under the belly. I’ve seen photos of Obama and Matt Lauer wearing these "Urkel" jeans and the pics didn’t spawn half the number of blogs and criticisms dedicated to Jessica Simpson last week. I know it’s too much to ask, but let’s quit the double denim standards. Dudes, hitch up your Dad Jeans and fight fair. Tue, 27 Jan 2009 06:00:00 EST Jan 27 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1423 The first month of the New Year will expire this Saturday. There’s something magical about January and its ability to make you feel like you can start anew. Makes me think about all the second chances I wish I had, especially as a mother: that sharp comment I’d like to take back, a wiser answer to the important question asked the other day. Everybody wishes they had done at least one thing differently, but I’m convinced that regrets burn a little deeper for moms because we know what power we... The first month of the New Year will expire this Saturday. There’s something magical about January and its ability to make you feel like you can start anew. Makes me think about all the second chances I wish I had, especially as a mother: that sharp comment I’d like to take back, a wiser answer to the important question asked the other day. Everybody wishes they had done at least one thing differently, but I’m convinced that regrets burn a little deeper for moms because we know what power we hold. What kid hasn’t grown up to thank (or blame) her mother for how she turned out? I know there’s no sense living in the past, that you can’t go back to zero. But before 1/09 runs out, us moms deserve at least one do-over, don’t you think? If I had to do it all over again, I would have … ... not skipped some of those bedtime stories because I was "too tired" ... written more in my journal about the cute-profound things my daughters said or did before I forgot them ... breathed in that baby scent a little deeper before it disappeared ... not wished so hard for my babies to grow up so life would get easier ... not lost my temper over the potty accident in the van on that four-hour road trip in 2004 ... kept up with organizing the family photo albums from the start ... refused to let the dentist yank out two of my daughter’s baby teeth ... plopped on the floor to play Barbies when my 8-year-old invited me last week ... drilled both kids harder on their multiplication tables last year (and memorized them better myself in 1973) .. put more sunscreen on the girls this past summer ... not worried so much about dirty little feet ... videotaped my wedding so my kids could get a kick out of seeing mom and dad way back when ... encouraged Grandma to retire closer to us ... smiled at my kids more ... taken that Spanish class more seriously when I was pregnant so I could habla Espanol with my kids ... let my daughter linger in my lap longer at breakfast Sunday ... closed my laptop and played Clue with my kids last night How 'bout you? Tue, 20 Jan 2009 06:00:00 EST Jan 20 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1389 The students at my daughters’ small Miami school come from all over Latin America, the Caribbean and the United States, with skin tones ranging from caramel to bronze to honey to the paper white of the little red-headed boy who has to spend five minutes applying sunscreen before PE to keep from turning flamingo pink. I love this variety and I love that my kids are growing up with it. Whenever the subject of race comes up, all I have to do is point to their playground to demonstrate that people cannot be... The students at my daughters’ small Miami school come from all over Latin America, the Caribbean and the United States, with skin tones ranging from caramel to bronze to honey to the paper white of the little red-headed boy who has to spend five minutes applying sunscreen before PE to keep from turning flamingo pink. I love this variety and I love that my kids are growing up with it. Whenever the subject of race comes up, all I have to do is point to their playground to demonstrate that people cannot be easily labeled as "black" or "white" or "brown." I know, I know, it’s an easy out. But when you’re a kid, life should be simple. Then Barack Obama came along and things got complicated. "Mommy, what color is the president?" There’s nothing in the Crayola crayon box to describe the one-man melting pot who becomes our president today. What color is African-Indian-English-German-Irish-Scottish-Welsh-Swiss-French? "Obama is black," I tell them. And now, because my girls are 8 and 9, I wade into the uncomfortable waters of slavery, racism and Jim Crow laws. They seem to get it. After all, they’re learning about the Civil Rights Movement in class. They know that Martin Luther King Jr. is more than a day off from school. Unfortunately, these lessons seem to be lost on some adults I’ve encountered. "I don’t know why Obama is always emphasizing his blackness," a 60-something white woman said to me the other day. "You know, he’s white, too. What about us?" It seems that after centuries of a racist "one-drop" rule in America, everybody wants to claim a piece of this man. Only 44 years ago, our president would have been turned away from a southern lunch counter because he looks "too black." Why, after all these years of pain and progress, should we deny the blackness in Obama, reversing years of historic standards? It's as if some white people want to rob black people of even this euphoric moment. Yes, Obama is bi-racial. The half-Kenyan, half-Kansan politician grew up largely in a white household. But he chooses to identify himself as black – largely because that’s what our world told him he was when he was growing up. "Well, I’m not sure I decided it," Obama said in a 60 Minutes interview last year. "I think, you know, if you look African-American in this society, you’re treated as an African-American." Last year, researchers at the New England Historic Genealogical Society reported that Obama can call six U.S. presidents his cousins: both Bushes, Gerald Ford, Lyndon Johnson, Harry Truman and James Madison. The nonprofit group also found Obama is related to Churchill, as well as Brad Pitt. An Irish rector also claimed to trace Obama’s maternal roots to an Irish Anglican shoemaker from the small village of Moneygall, Ireland, which proceeded to celebrate the election of "O’bama" (anything for an excuse to drink more Guinness)! Although races have been mixing in America since Columbus arrived, it was only nine years ago that multi-racial people even had a box to check on the U.S. Census. Yet the world our kids are growing up in is diversifying at warp speed. Tiger Woods is the super athlete of their generation, Will Smith is their movie star, the Cheetah Girls are playing on their iPods and Dora the Explorer is their cartoon of choice. In an essay called "The End of White America?" published in The Atlantic this month, American music critic Hua Hsu comments on the erosion of "whiteness’’ as the touchstone of what it means to be American, http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200901/end-of-whiteness . In 35 to 50 years, statisticians predict there will be no majority race in the United States. The future, Hsu writes, will belong to people who can successfully navigate a post-racial multicultural landscape. It’s important that we don't forget the sins of our past, but I’m excited to think that Obama’s inauguration today marks a turning point for a future in which race becomes the background noise to a chorus of many voices. I already know what I’m going to say years from now if my grandchild wants to know the color of the president. "Why, honey, it’s obvious," I’ll say. "That color is called American." Tue, 13 Jan 2009 06:00:00 EST Jan 13 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1355 Ever since he single-handedly won last week’s Bowl Championship Series title game in Miami for the University of Florida, the seas have been parting for golden boy quarterback Tim Tebow. Newspaper sports writers and ESPN commentators gush over him. Even those homophobic blowhards who spend their days on sports blogs and Internet forums can’t help slapping Tebow’s tight butt with delight. But there’s one devoted following that few have noted. I’m talking about all the Gator moms who... Ever since he single-handedly won last week’s Bowl Championship Series title game in Miami for the University of Florida, the seas have been parting for golden boy quarterback Tim Tebow. Newspaper sports writers and ESPN commentators gush over him. Even those homophobic blowhards who spend their days on sports blogs and Internet forums can’t help slapping Tebow’s tight butt with delight. But there’s one devoted following that few have noted. I’m talking about all the Gator moms who are ready to auction off their first-born daughters to the T-man. It’s no secret that every Florida mother secretly hopes her daughter bumps into the dreamy quarterback on campus and Tebow falls helplessly in love with said young daughter, eyes locking over blueberry creme frappuccinos at the Library West Starbucks. I know some Gator moms who wouldn’t mind if their sons locked more than eyes with Tebow. Now that Gov. Charlie Crist is off on his marriage-o-convenience, Tebow is Florida’s undisputed most eligible bachelor. (There wasn’t much of a contest because Tebow’s far younger, cuter and doesn’t sport a George Hamilton tan.) The guy is legendary. Still, he didn’t hit my radar until a UF mom tuned me in last month. If, like me, you’re a latecomer to Tebowmania, here’s a primer: At 6-foot-3 and 240 pounds, the 21-year-old junior is a Heisman-winning quarterback with a 3.7 GPA who posts Bible verses on the eye black he wears during big games. The son of Christian missionaries, he spent his last spring break at an orphanage in Southeast Asia, helping 250 Filipinos undergo medical and dental procedures, including circumcision. He’s smart, good looking, modest, passionate and a rumored virgin with a strong work ethic and super-human athletic ability. What’s not to love? Even dads have a man crush on him. Tebow receives 400 speaking requests a month, according to ESPN. There’s even a UF student Facebook group called "I see Tim Tebow around campus and it validates my existence," http://ufl.facebook.com/group.php?gid=19256001864 . Last year, the student newspaper complained he was spoiling coeds for the rest of the male population. That’s about as strong as the criticism gets. Tebow can really do no wrong. His coach calls him the "greatest player of our era." The media thinks he’s perfect. Filipinos thank him for clipping off part of the most sensitive part of their bodies. I won’t bore you with phenomenal passing and touchdown stats. What every future mother-in-law needs to know is that he once told a New York Times reporter, "There’s more important things than football." (He ranks football fourth behind faith, family and academics.) The college recruiting battle for this kid was nothing compared to the cat fight young coeds are now waging to get next to him. Some words of wisdom to all those hussies asking Boy Wonder to sign their panties: Tebow doesn’t want your virginity ladies – unless it will help save a small African country. My advice to this young man is to get away from these girls as fast as possible. Run. Hide. And come out in eight years, when my oldest daughter turns 18. Tue, 06 Jan 2009 06:00:00 EST Jan 6 2009 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1329 I was OK with the school-wide Halloween ban on candy with nuts. I ransacked the shelves at Publix and read the fine print. I even complied with the NO PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICHES lunch rule in my oldest daughter’s class last year because we were told a kid might have a severe peanut allergy. We got the all-clear this school year. The boy isn't allergic to nuts. Still, the no-nut nonsense continues. In fact, we now have a school-wide rule against any nuts. When a teacher politely handed back my "all... I was OK with the school-wide Halloween ban on candy with nuts. I ransacked the shelves at Publix and read the fine print. I even complied with the NO PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICHES lunch rule in my oldest daughter’s class last year because we were told a kid might have a severe peanut allergy. We got the all-clear this school year. The boy isn't allergic to nuts. Still, the no-nut nonsense continues. In fact, we now have a school-wide rule against any nuts. When a teacher politely handed back my "all natural" sugar cookies - along with every other sweet brought in by other moms - last month after the class Christmas party because they were made in a plant where nut products are found, I started to think this nut allergy business was getting, well, a little nutty. I’m not the only one. Harvard professor Dr. Nicholas Christakis questions the so-called nut precautions that are snowballing into societal paranoia in an essay he wrote last month in the British Medical Journal. He complains about an "overabundance of caution’’ and cites an anecdote from his own kid’s school, where a bus of 10-year-olds was evacuated after a stray peanut was found on the floor. For the record, I like nuts. They're part of a healthy diet. And I want my kids to eat them. I trace the beginning of these absurd nut rules to the case of a 15-year-old Canadian girl with a peanut allergy who allegedly died after kissing her boyfriend who had eaten peanut butter on toast nine hours before. Remember this? It freaked out moms everywhere when it was first reported in November 2005. The suspected cause of death was extreme anaphylactic shock due to a peanut allergy . But what wasn’t widely reported was a coroner’s ruling months later that the teenage girl actually died from asthma-linked respiratory failure after she attended a party where tobacco and marijuana were being smoked. (Small traces of pot in the girl’s blood also implied she had smoked a little herself - not a smart move for an asthmatic.) I have my own share of food allergies. But, at the risk of sounding hard-shelled, I think it’s time we started to use a little more common sense when it comes to protecting the very small number of kids who have nut allergies. Of the roughly 3.3 million Americans who have nut allergies, about 150 die from allergy-related causes each year. Of course, it’s never OK for any child to die, but compare that figure to the 50 people who die from bee stings annually. Or the 100 who die after being struck by lightning. Some 45,000 die in car crashes ever year; another 10,000 are hospitalized for traumatic brain injury from playing sports. If we follow the logic of educators and parents who make schools "nut-free zones" then we shouldn’t be putting kids in cars or school buses, and our little dears certainly shouldn't be playing any sports. It’s true that food allergies in children are up. Between 1997 and 2007, the number of kids under 18 who suffered from food allergies jumped 17 percent, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. There are a lot of theories about why this is happening. (My favorite is that today’s kids are leading an overly hygienic lifestyle so their bodies don’t build up proper immunities. In other words, they aren’t dirty enough.) The prevailing thought is that more parents are getting their kids tested for allergies and we’re seeing an increase in mild cases that in the past went undetected. Let's take a deep breath. Instead of blanket rules that demonize nuts, we need to come up with a more level-headed strategy. Why not handle this on a case-by-case basis and, if the situation calls for concern, come up with a rule based on the children's age? When it comes to pre-schoolers, who are constantly sharing and putting their hands in their mouths, it does seem logical to keep nuts out if there is a classmate who is severely allergic. But older kids, say ages 8 and up, are certainly wise enough to be told not to share their PB&J sandwich with little Jose because he might have a reaction. Otherwise, the only epidemic I see happening here is our own hysteria. Tue, 30 Dec 2008 06:00:00 EST Dec 30 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1309 This year was marred by a deep, dark recession, but it was also the year of THE MOM. As proof, I present Amy Poehler, who began ’08 playing a Baby Mama in the movies and punctuated the year by practically giving birth for real on SNL’s Weekend Update desk, filling the Presidential Election with big-belly laughs. They may not have all made us proud, but these women definitely did their best to make 2008 the mother of all years: 10. Dara Torres: Her amazing comeback made ripples when the... This year was marred by a deep, dark recession, but it was also the year of THE MOM. As proof, I present Amy Poehler, who began ’08 playing a Baby Mama in the movies and punctuated the year by practically giving birth for real on SNL’s Weekend Update desk, filling the Presidential Election with big-belly laughs. They may not have all made us proud, but these women definitely did their best to make 2008 the mother of all years: 10. Dara Torres: Her amazing comeback made ripples when the hard-bodied, 41-year-old mother of a 2-year-old daughter became the oldest female swimmer in the history of the Olympic games. The Parkland mom won her first Olympic medal in 1984 (a year before Michael Phelps was born) and beat out 16-year-olds to clinch two silver medals in the summer in Beijing. Did we mention she was 41? 9. The Pregnancy Pact Teens of Gloucester High: They put their school and small Massachusetts fishing town on the map when they began filing into the school clinic to find out if they were expecting. By the time summer vacation rolled around, some 150 pregnancy tests had been administered by the school nurse and a total of 17 girls were knocked up. One teen mom explained the girls were pining for the "unconditional love" of a baby. Others saw it as a wake-up call to national stats that show teen pregnancies are on the rise again for the first time in 15 years. 8. Virgin Shark Mother: A female Atlantic blacktip shark named Tidbit became a medical mystery (or religious miracle, depending on who you talk to) after she was found dead due to pregnancy complications with a deceased pup in her womb. Nothing fishy here: It was determined the shark mom had produced the offspring without the help of a shark father through asexual reproduction in her tank at an aquarium in Virginia Beach, Va. Dozens of suspected shark dudes breathed a sigh of relief. 7. Sarah Palin: Love or hate her, the first female governor of Alaska and the Republican VP nominee put moms front and center, with her Hockey Moms quote, her special needs baby and her mother-to-be teenage daughter. 6. Thomas Beatie: Born a woman and trans-gendered into a man, she/he gave birth to a healthy baby girl in June. Get ready for Pregnant Man, Part II. Beatie announced in November that he’s pregnant with a second child. 5. Angelina Jolie: OK, so she broke the golden rule and stole another woman's husband, but even in a year marked by new celeb moms – Jamie Lynn Spears, Jessica Alba, Nicole Kidman, Gwen Stefani, Ashlee Simpson, Naomi Watts, Christina Aguilera, Nicole Richie, Halle Berry and Cate Blanchett – Jolie was a standout for multiplying at warp speed (she’s halfway to a dozen). She really earns this spot for demonstrating that a mother’s love knows no racial, ethnic or geographical boundaries. 4. Casey Anthony: The undisputed Most Hated Mom of the Year. Police say she not only forged checks and used a friend’s credit card without permission, but she also murdered her 3-year-old daughter, Caylee. The Orlando mom took a month to report her little girl missing. Since then, a nation has followed the bad mom’s tattoo-getting, beer-buying exploits, culminating with the discovery of Caylee’s skeleton near the family home in December. 3. The Yearning for Zion Ranch Moms: More than 100 mothers and their 430 children were removed from the Texas polygamist sect’s remote ranch in April, after a 16-year-old girl there complained of physical and mental abuse. For awhile, these breakaway Mormon sect moms had us buzzing about such big issues as parental rights, religious freedom and – most importantly – lives wasted on bad hair and ugly dresses. 2. Michelle Obama: For her fist bumps and gentle mocking of her presidential spouse, her public props to her mom for helping care for her girls and her careful consideration of schools for her two daughters, the incoming First Lady and working mom wins praise for keeping it real, even when home is called the White House. 1. Mother Nature: In case you forgot that you don’t mess with her, Mother Superior reminded us of her power with a cyclone in Burma, an earthquake in China and a series of deadly storms and hurricanes in Haiti. Here’s hoping those maternal instincts kick in when 2009 rolls in this week. Tue, 23 Dec 2008 06:00:00 EST Dec 23 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1293 I know this is uncharacteristically optimistic, but my wish for you all on the cusp of 2009 is that you know someone who knows someone who knows someone who is happy. I’ll explain: There’s some scientific backing now to the notion that happiness is contagious. You’ve heard the warning that when you sleep with someone you’re actually having sex with all the people they’ve ever loved before? Well, now scientists think glee is passed along in much the same way. Kind of like getting all... I know this is uncharacteristically optimistic, but my wish for you all on the cusp of 2009 is that you know someone who knows someone who knows someone who is happy. I’ll explain: There’s some scientific backing now to the notion that happiness is contagious. You’ve heard the warning that when you sleep with someone you’re actually having sex with all the people they’ve ever loved before? Well, now scientists think glee is passed along in much the same way. Kind of like getting all the positives of a STD without the itch. The study, done by scientists from Harvard and UC San Diego (i.e.: no slouches) and published in the British Medical Journal, found that happiness spreads through social networks of family members, friends and neighbors. The ripple effect extends as much as three degrees, spreading to friends of friends of friends. After following a large group of people for 20 years, the researchers concluded that knowing someone who is happy makes you 15.3 percent more likely to be happy yourself. A happy friend of a friend increases your odds of happiness by 9.8 percent. Even your neighbor’s sister’s friend can give you a 5.6 percent boost. Last year, the same researchers made headlines when they reported that obesity seems to spread through social groups, so that your chances of becoming overweight are greater when your friends and their friends gain weight. A related study, published earlier this year, found that smokers were more likely to give up cigarettes when their family, friends and other social contacts stopped smoking. We should take away two important lessons from this new info. First, along with fat smokers, we should avoid people who are perpetual pessimists. You know the type. If you grew up watching the Banana Splits and Danger Island on Saturday mornings then you will immediately think of (as I do) that Lilliputian character named Glum in The Adventures of Gulliver . You know, the gloomy one who always repeated in a slow, whiny voice, "It’ll never work. We’re doomed. We’ll never make it." When you hear that negative tone from someone in your proximity, you should immediately back peddle. The other lesson is that we should all make an effort to be happy. It will improve the lives of not only those around us, but people we don’t even know. We could make the whole damn world a happier place if we work at cultivating our own euphoria. Gives a whole new context to "Happy Holidays," doesn’t it? So, my new year’s challenge to you all is simply this: Be happy. Tue, 16 Dec 2008 06:00:00 EST Dec 16 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1273 Just when you thought you could suck down candy canes, gingerbread men and that Christmas ham without a second thought, the most famous fat chick of all has to come forward and share with the world that, once again, she has chunked up. Of course, since she is our supreme symbol of female power, when Oprah talks, we have to listen. And put down our second plate of ham. In the January 2009 issue of O Magazine, Oprah shares with 16.6 million of her closest friends that she has "fallen off the wagon" of healthy... Just when you thought you could suck down candy canes, gingerbread men and that Christmas ham without a second thought, the most famous fat chick of all has to come forward and share with the world that, once again, she has chunked up. Of course, since she is our supreme symbol of female power, when Oprah talks, we have to listen. And put down our second plate of ham. In the January 2009 issue of O Magazine, Oprah shares with 16.6 million of her closest friends that she has "fallen off the wagon" of healthy living and is officially fat again, having ballooned to 200 pounds. Since her livin’ large confession, every female blogger I know has weighed in about how Oprah’s well-publicized weight struggles have: 1. Helped the rest of us identify with her 2. Highlighted how sexist the media is to dwell on her girth 3. Made us all realize how Oprah is really a much bigger person (double entendre intended) than we ever imagined to humiliate herself and make this kind of public statement Let me clarify that I like Oprah. Her book club has made a nation read again and her support of Barack Obama had just the right touch. But before she’s a book lover or a political groupie, Oprah is first and foremost a businesswoman. The economy may be down, but when Oprah’s scale goes up, up, up, so does the buzz about her TV show, magazine and the rest of her Harpo empire, which pulls in $345 million. Where would her talk show and magazine be if it weren't for her starvation diets, nutritionists, exercise gurus and medical doctors? Let me point out that it wasn’t the sexist media that first wrote this story; Oprah "broke" it herself. It seems that every time she runs out of a theme for a story or show, all Oprah has to do is dig into another gallon of Double Chocolate Chunk Fudge Brownie ice cream. Dare I suggest that Oprah’s "confession" is nothing more than a well-calculated business decision? Could the secret to Oprah’s success be something as simple as her continued weight struggle? The rest of her life - famous friends, mansions, movies and awards - has become so alien to most of her fans that her yo-yo dieting is the only thing left that makes her human and vulnerable. Would we even like Oprah if she was skinny, too?           Tue, 09 Dec 2008 06:00:00 EST Dec 9 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1243 Because we all could use a fresh start, give your hubby the perfect gift this holiday season. Revirginize yourself. Forget about new breasts and Botox, those are for plastic surgery wimps. I’m talking about serious crotch reconstruction, aka "designer vaginas." Hymenoplasty is a four- to six-hour procedure that reattaches a woman’s hymen to make her appear to be a virgin again. Cost: $1,810 to $5,000. "It's the ultimate gift for the man who has everything," one cosmetic surgery... Because we all could use a fresh start, give your hubby the perfect gift this holiday season. Revirginize yourself. Forget about new breasts and Botox, those are for plastic surgery wimps. I’m talking about serious crotch reconstruction, aka "designer vaginas." Hymenoplasty is a four- to six-hour procedure that reattaches a woman’s hymen to make her appear to be a virgin again. Cost: $1,810 to $5,000. "It's the ultimate gift for the man who has everything," one cosmetic surgery center owner told the Wall Street Journal. You thought getting your pubic hairs yanked out with hot wax was a sacrifice? These women are not only tidying up the yard, they’re closing the garage door. The procedure has long been prevalent in the Middle East and Latin America, but it’s now becoming popular with American women, who are always looking for creative, useless ways to spend a lot of money. The American Society of Plastic Surgeons says vaginal surgery is one of the industry's fastest-growing segments and it’s being hawked without a blush. One New York spa and cosmetic-surgery center has given away free surgeries on Spanish-language radio. A doctor in San Antonio advertises vaginal cosmetic surgery on billboards. A Connecticut doctor offers vaginal-makeover packages for patients that include airfare, limo travel and hotel accommodation. (No, I don’t have his phone number.) If you Google "hymenoplasty" and "Miami," 3,910 options pop up, including an Aventura doc who promises to bring you back to a "pre-sexual" state and a scholarly-sounding Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation Institute in Wellington. Some young brides turn to the procedure to make their future husbands think they’re the first. (Apparently "I rode a bike a lot" or "I fell on the balance beam" doesn’t work anymore.) Nobody seems to be worrying about the ethical conflict this creates in a marriage, although this vaguely sounds like selling a car after you’ve turned the odometer back. Some patients say they are simply trying to improve their sex lives by combining hymen repair with an operation to tighten their vaginas. One patient did it to surprise her husband on a second-honeymoon cruise. That's all good for a night, but I bet this woman didn't think about how she's going to top that one for their 50th wedding anniversary. Can you get that in gold? Tue, 02 Dec 2008 06:00:00 EST Dec 2 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1212 I know it’s naïve, but I was a little bummed when the Obamas recently chose a pricey private school for Malia, 10, and Sasha, 7. I don’t know, I thought that maybe with a national campaign based on CHANGE, we wouldn’t see a repeat of the not- my -kids syndrome. I’m talking about the rich power elite who "believe" in public schools, but would never think of sending their own children to one. Even with all this talk of change, apparently one thing never does: The deep schism... I know it’s naïve, but I was a little bummed when the Obamas recently chose a pricey private school for Malia, 10, and Sasha, 7. I don’t know, I thought that maybe with a national campaign based on CHANGE, we wouldn’t see a repeat of the not- my -kids syndrome. I’m talking about the rich power elite who "believe" in public schools, but would never think of sending their own children to one. Even with all this talk of change, apparently one thing never does: The deep schism between those who have money and those who do not. It’s a simple arithmetic lesson kids learn early. Despite the "just like us" paparazzi shots of the rich and famous doing everyday thinks like pumping gas and buying over-priced coffee, the rich, my dears, are not like us. Make no mistake - your kid’s school is not just about academics. Along with your child’s education, that campus has just as much to do with who their friends are, who they marry and what job they’ll later land with what connection. Yeah, I know the Obamas have a lot of security concerns and public schools don’t offer the same protection as most private schools. But let’s be real. This was not the deciding factor in this choice. It didn’t stop Jimmy Carter from sending Amy (and a strong message) to public schools in the 1970s. The truth is the Obamas’ choice, Sidwell Friends School, stands in sharp contrast to the struggling D.C. public schools, long ago deserted by the affluent and influential. For one, Sidwell has an astonishingly low 9-to-1 student-faculty ratio. Its teachers are given quite a bit of autonomy in creating their class curriculums and they don’t have to deal with a revolving superintendent whose mandates change with each school board election. But the major difference is that tuition at Sidwell runs $28,442 to $29,442 a year. Despite what school choice proponents say, no voucher payment offered to a low-income kid will even dent the annual bill for this place. It’s no secret that research shows the most important determinant of school achievement is family income. In a school with motivated teachers, strong leadership and solid academics, motivated students can do well, regardless of the overall test scores of the school itself. The irony is that affluent kids, whose family circumstances could probably compensate for public school inadequacies, go to the best schools, while poor kids who need the most help have to make do with the least. The worlds grow further apart. Or is that farther? Don’t ask me. I went to public school. Tue, 25 Nov 2008 06:00:00 EST Nov 25 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1174 It’s that time again, when good Christians line up before dawn and contemplate the annual question, "What would Jesus buy?" OK, that’s not fair. Debtmas is now celebrated by compulsive shoppers everywhere, one of those holidays that brings all religions, colors and cultures together into one giant Consumers Gone Wild mosh pit. This year, the thrill of the chase promises to be even more thrilling. In addition to being sleep deprived and suffering from GI disorders brought on by eating too... It’s that time again, when good Christians line up before dawn and contemplate the annual question, "What would Jesus buy?" OK, that’s not fair. Debtmas is now celebrated by compulsive shoppers everywhere, one of those holidays that brings all religions, colors and cultures together into one giant Consumers Gone Wild mosh pit. This year, the thrill of the chase promises to be even more thrilling. In addition to being sleep deprived and suffering from GI disorders brought on by eating too much the day before, Friday’s shoppers will be stressing over the fact that they are spending money they don’t have, with no hopes of earning more in the near future. There’s also this little nugget to worry about: Those shoppers jostling you are not only poor and pissed about the economy; they’re also probably packing heat. Florida state officials recently reported a surge in concealed weapons applications, an increase they attribute to panic over the poor economy. The state is now receiving 25,000 to 30,000 applications a month – a 25 percent increase compared to last year, according to the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services. Makes you think twice about elbowing that chick in the electronics aisle for Guitar Hero III, doesn’t it? Here, in honor of Black-and-Blue Friday, I offer these time-worthy tips to get moms everywhere through this weekend’s scrum: 1. Carry a bat. It keeps doorbuster line-breakers in check. And it’s handy for reaching for Amazing Ally dolls on high shelves. Go for the aluminum variety; it's lighter. 2. This is not family time. Leave hubby and kids at home. They’ll only slow you down. 3. Do shop with a friend, preferably one who is struggling with her weight. She’ll come in handy as a blocker. 4. Don’t share your breakfast with others in line. It will only give them energy to use against you once in the store. 5. Wear layers. It’s true that, as Floridians, we don’t have to worry about freezing in line or sweating in overheated stores, but bulk helps prevent injuries from sharp elbows and 20-pound handbags. 6. That said, forgo trendy scarves and other loose clothing that can be used by others to grab and slow you down. 7. Leave five-inch heels at home. They may not be sexy, but you’ll appreciate those Aerosoles trekking through Super Target and Super Wal-Mart stores big enough to cross state lines. 8. Protect your hands. You’ll need them in three days for Cyber Monday, the biggest day of the year for Internet shopping. 9. Don’t wallow in buyer’s remorse. Remember: The past is the past … unless you’re still paying for it. Tue, 18 Nov 2008 06:00:00 EST Nov 18 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1153 A lot has been written about what Barack Obama’s election symbolizes. For sure, Obama’s ascent as U.S. Prez spells victory for many: African Americans, Democrats, young voters, believers in race-blind politics, liberals, peaceniks, those worried about America’s image abroad, the sons and daughters of single moms … But to me, the ultimate message delivered by Obama’s election – especially for today’s kids – is this: The smart guy wins. Obama has a lot of traits... A lot has been written about what Barack Obama’s election symbolizes. For sure, Obama’s ascent as U.S. Prez spells victory for many: African Americans, Democrats, young voters, believers in race-blind politics, liberals, peaceniks, those worried about America’s image abroad, the sons and daughters of single moms … But to me, the ultimate message delivered by Obama’s election – especially for today’s kids – is this: The smart guy wins. Obama has a lot of traits our society worships. He’s athletic, young, handsome, an articulate orator. But his best attribute is what rests between those great big ears of his. Obama is an open, out-of-the-closet practicing intellectual. He's a powerful symbol to kids of all colors that brains can get you where you want to go. Yeah, professional athletes and movie stars will always turn heads, but the anti-intellectual forces that have gripped America for too long are finally broken. Forget about "Be Like Mike" kids, wouldn’t you rather run the country? John McCain is no slouch. He accumulated years of wisdom serving as a U.S. senator. But, in many voters’ minds, his persona was more about military brawn, not brains. McCain, who graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy, admits he struggled with subjects like math and was ranked near the bottom of his graduating class. Obama, on the other hand, is a graduate of Columbia University and Harvard Law School, where he was a scholar of constitutional law and president of the Harvard Law Review. Some spin doctors unsuccessfully tried to convince people in Small Town America that Obama couldn’t represent them because he was an elite intellectual. As if book smarts acquired at two of the country’s best colleges is a bad thing. Obama is interested in big ideas, big thinkers, big words. An obscure fact from the last presidential debate: Obama spoke at a 9th grade level, while McCain spoke at a 7th grade level, according to Global Language Monitor of Austin, Tex., which analyzes political linguistics. Maybe as a country we'll reach the 12th grade by the end of this administration. Watching the 60 Minutes interview with Obama on Sunday, it was refreshing to hear an intelligent discussion about the economy and our future. He was thoughtful, precise and at ease with making references to American history and policy. When I grow up, I want to be like that. Tue, 11 Nov 2008 06:00:00 EST Nov 11 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1107 I have decided to celebrate our doomed economy. It’s time to find something positive in that stack of bills I can’t pay. I’m not the first to look for a sunny side to the recession. As proof that you can put an appealing spin on just about anything, the trend police are now declaring that thriftiness is in vogue. This time, I think they’re right. The Joe the Plumber presidential ploy may have missed its mark, but the working class call to arms it invoked was an obvious reaction to a... I have decided to celebrate our doomed economy. It’s time to find something positive in that stack of bills I can’t pay. I’m not the first to look for a sunny side to the recession. As proof that you can put an appealing spin on just about anything, the trend police are now declaring that thriftiness is in vogue. This time, I think they’re right. The Joe the Plumber presidential ploy may have missed its mark, but the working class call to arms it invoked was an obvious reaction to a major shift in the mood of this country. There’s a reason why so many people found Sarah Palin’s pricey new wardrobe distasteful. Riding high on all that sodium and salt in a 22-cent bag of Ramen Noodles, American culture is turning on itself and embracing all things frugal. Think of this as Time Out from those dizzy years of excessive borrowing and spending. And if you were cheap before, rejoice in the knowledge that now you don’t have to hide it. Austerity is in, the Recessionistas say. It’s time to flaunt your Wal-Mart underwear. Dig deep and find your inner plumber. It should be noted that I write this while wiping grease onto my sweatpants from a 30-cent hamburger from McDonald’s. And, yes, I’m lovin’ it. There’s something oddly satisfying about doing your own pedicures, packing school lunches, cutting coupons, drinking tap water and brushing your teeth with baking soda. It’s the same stretch-a-buck glee you get when someone compliments you on your shirt and you say, “Oh, this? I got it at Target!” Aren't I smart? Aren't I cheap? Aren't I cool ? I’m not talking about switching from Starbucks to Dunkin’ Donuts. That’s for budget-cutting wimps. I’m talking hard-core penny pinching, the kind my mother practiced in our one-income, 1970s household, where plastic bread bags were washed and dried out to line our boots from the snow, tea bags were used twice and bed sheets were hung outdoors on a clothesline. When you crawled into those stiff, air-dried covers at night, they smelled like the grass cut by my brother, not a $60-a-week lawn crew. If you’re having trouble enjoying the credit crunch, just think of it as a chance to return to the simple life. We all know that, in retrospect, it’s those years spent truly struggling that remain most vivid – and strangely dear – in our minds. Remember back in those early days on your own when a bowl of cereal or a cold can of Spaghettios would do for dinner? Think about how wonderful life could be in a Depression. No more ginormous SUVs taking up two spaces in the Publix parking lot. No more suffering through yet another Miami dinner party listening to someone brag about how much his property has gone up in value. You can stop worrying about your portfolio and start spending more time starving with your family. With no money to spend on movies or a night out, you might even have time to read a book. Think of all the great hardship stories you’ll have to tell your grandchildren. Join me in raising a glass to toast a new era of anti-indulgence. A $6 bottle of Pinot noir never tasted better. Tue, 04 Nov 2008 06:00:00 EST Nov 4 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1074 Listening to my kids and their friends chat about the election, I’ve decided adults should tear up their voter registration cards and let the under-10 set have their say. Here on Nov. 4 – the day the sh** hits the fan – is a tribute to the Presidential Election as spoken from the mouths of babes. These comments were collected from other moms and my own back seat. On division of labor: "I always thought all the presidents were men and all the vice presidents were women." Appearance... Listening to my kids and their friends chat about the election, I’ve decided adults should tear up their voter registration cards and let the under-10 set have their say. Here on Nov. 4 – the day the sh** hits the fan – is a tribute to the Presidential Election as spoken from the mouths of babes. These comments were collected from other moms and my own back seat. On division of labor: "I always thought all the presidents were men and all the vice presidents were women." Appearance is everything: "Joe Biden kinda looks like a Republican, doesn't he?" Appearances, part II: "This guy must be a politician," one 6-year-old holding a Lego man said. "Why?" "Because he’s wearing a tie." Counting votes: "Obama must be winning. I just counted 10 yard signs." On Party disappointment: "Mom, what’s a Republican?" "It’s a member of one of the political parties in our country." "Oh." "Why do you seem so sad? "I thought it was one of the guys from Star Wars." Primary fever: "I don’t want Hillary Clinton to win because I want to be the first woman president." On the economy: "I don't get it. Why don't they just give everyone $100? Then everyone will be rich." On being different: "Mom! Guess what? My best friend is a Republican. What do I do now?" On Sarah Palin: "Gosh, Mom, she sure talks a lot. How does she BREATHE?" Spelling lessons: "Mommy, look. Those people are McCain voters." "No, that's an Obama sign. See? O-Bama. It begins with an O. McCain begins with an M. MMM-Cain. " "O'Cain?" On John McCain: "Mama, why is that man so angry?" Friends in high places: "Why is he calling us his friends? We don’t even know him!" On Joe Biden: "That guy must brush his teeth a lot. He has the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen!" Tue, 28 Oct 2008 06:00:00 EST Oct 28 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1045 Don’t think I’m bashing Facebook because it won’t allow momsmiami.com blogs to be posted on the site due to some arcane, assinine glitch in its new format. No, I grew wary of this time-eating monster long before that. Sometime around the school night I stayed up until 2 a.m. adding photos, gifts, cities I’ve visited, bumper stickers, books, causes and other applications to my profile page. Don’t even get me started on the amount of time I’ve spent hunting down new and old... Don’t think I’m bashing Facebook because it won’t allow momsmiami.com blogs to be posted on the site due to some arcane, assinine glitch in its new format. No, I grew wary of this time-eating monster long before that. Sometime around the school night I stayed up until 2 a.m. adding photos, gifts, cities I’ve visited, bumper stickers, books, causes and other applications to my profile page. Don’t even get me started on the amount of time I’ve spent hunting down new and old "friends" like some giddy teenager trying to collect the most signatures in her yearbook. Then I heard about the guy who killed his wife with a meat cleaver after she changed her Facebook relationship status to single. One dislaimer: This story appeared earlier this month in The Daily Mail, a British tabloid that thinks Victoria Beckham’s footwear is front-page news. Still, there it is in black and white: www. dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1078514/Husband-hacked-wife-death-meat-cleaver-changed-Facebook-status-single.html – courtesy of a link on a friend’s Facebook page, no less. Wayne Forrester, 34, drank alcohol and took cocaine before driving 15 miles to the family home to hack his wife Emma to death with a meat cleaver as she lay in bed. The couple had separated four days before. Forrester later told police he had been provoked by his wife changing her martial status to "single" on her Facebook entry. Pretty shocking stuff. But what was more disturbing were some of the comments posted by Brits reading the story online. "She shouldn’t have changed her Facebook status so soon and thought about the repurcussions of doing so," one guy wrote. Even if you give this reader a break because he lacks basic dental health care, lives in a delusional country that thinks it still matters to the rest of the world and pays taxes to support a royal inbred family, he stepped over the line. But his sentiment, and the sad demise of Emma + Wayne, illustate how easy it is to lose yourself in the World of Facebook, where the temptation to post every little move you make is hard to resist. The world is now divided into Facebook users and non-Facebook users. You non-users may find it hard to understand. My husband, a non-Facebooker, was vaguely amused by my Facebook obsession. Then annoyed. He wanted to know what was for dinner, not what Friend No. 164 was doing today. Now he claims to be totally uninterested in my Facebook life. Although I did catch him checking over my shoulder the other night to see my relationship status. Tue, 21 Oct 2008 06:00:00 EST Oct 21 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=1019 I admit, at first I was tickled with the idea of presidential candidates and their sidekicks making morning View and late-night Letterman appearances. I started looking forward to Saturday Night Live again. Heck, Caribou Barbie's appearance on this past weekend's episode probably drew more viewers than all presidential debates combined. I even laughed at Obama and McCain’s self-deprecating humor at the recent white-tie Alfred E. Smith Memorial Dinner in New York. Presidential candidates... I admit, at first I was tickled with the idea of presidential candidates and their sidekicks making morning View and late-night Letterman appearances. I started looking forward to Saturday Night Live again. Heck, Caribou Barbie's appearance on this past weekend's episode probably drew more viewers than all presidential debates combined. I even laughed at Obama and McCain’s self-deprecating humor at the recent white-tie Alfred E. Smith Memorial Dinner in New York. Presidential candidates reportedly attend this fundraising roast every four years, but we – Joe Plumber Public – haven’t been privy to it until the wonders of YouTube delivered the rip-snorter of an evening to our PowerBooks this month. I felt like the kid who snuck downstairs undetected after bedtime, watching parents get f***ed up and wacky at their dinner party. So this is how adults act when nobody’s looking? But as I watched McCain and Obama, all relaxed and suddenly real in their tuxedos, poking fun at each other, yucking it up with the power elite in the audience and acting like they were on Last Comic Standing , I started to feel like the awkward outsider who suddenly realizes all this fun is at her expense. There was McCain, not coming across as pissy and constipated as usual. And there was Obama, winking back at him. One day they’re in a debate, attacking each other over ACORN, the War and "hidden agendas;" the next, they’re all cozy, har-harring over the same jabs. Will the real presidential candidates please stand up? Should I be worried that these guys are at their most comfortable telling jokes? Who are we electing ... comedian-in-chief? It’s beginning to feel like this election is just part of a staged theatrical performance put on by a small group of super-rich American aristocrats to distract the rest of us from that fact that, no matter which side prevails in November, they all win. I’m starting to think that the surreal comedic turn to this year’s race is inadvertently providing us with a rare window into the basic truth that the privileged few are hoodwinking and screwing the rest of us. Again. Go ahead, have a good chuckle guys. Eat your $32,000-a-ticket dinner while I serve my kids yet another round of Hamburger Helper. I’m still looking for the humor in unemployment, unattainable healthcare and paralyzing gas prices. Yes, I know that the ability to make fun of oneself is a marvelous attribute. Sometimes you just have to laugh. But do we really want the Leader of the Free World busting out knock-knock jokes and one-liners? The presidential campaign has gone pop culture on us and I can’t help thinking we’ve all lost some dignity in the process. You gotta wonder when Rachael Ray, Ellen DeGeneres and David Letterman become part of the political conversation and Barbara Walters’ koffee klatch grills McCain harder than he’s been grilled by anyone in the mainstream media. What’s next? "Live from the White House, it’s Saturday night?" It’s great that the presidential candidates are making themselves more accessible to the viewing public. But I worry that The View and The Daily Show have become the only source of political news for many people. I predict this year’s most popular write-in candidate will be Tina Fey. Maybe after the punchline is delivered on Nov. 4 we’ll realize the joke’s on us. Tue, 14 Oct 2008 06:00:00 EST Oct 14 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=996 In a place where most of the female population sprouts breasts that comprise half their body weight, it ’ s time for some serious tit talk. I ’ ve come to terms with the surgically-enhanced hood ornaments endemic to South Florida. Yes, I admit it can be challenging to be a B-cup in a C-cup city, but that ’ s not where I ’ m coming from. Ladies, we need to set some serious ground rules about when it ’ s appropriate to unleash those puppies and when and where it ’ s necessary to... In a place where most of the female population sprouts breasts that comprise half their body weight, it ’ s time for some serious tit talk. I ’ ve come to terms with the surgically-enhanced hood ornaments endemic to South Florida. Yes, I admit it can be challenging to be a B-cup in a C-cup city, but that ’ s not where I ’ m coming from. Ladies, we need to set some serious ground rules about when it ’ s appropriate to unleash those puppies and when and where it ’ s necessary to tuck the twins away. It ’ s time that you acknowledge that with great breast size comes great responsibility. The inspiration for some divine guidance dawned on me recently as I watched the parade of cleavage receiving Holy Communion at my neighborhood church. Heaven help us if that wafer accidentally drops into the Great Divide on a Sunday morning in Miami. I don ’ t think this is what the choir has in mind when it sings Nearer My God to Thee. We ’ ve all rocked some cleavage now and then. But we need to stop acting like every day is Mardi Gras and we ’ re racing to win all the beads. The average size of the American breast has grown from a 34B to a 36C. Never has the time been riper for some cleavage conversation. Let me start with some ta-ta talking points that I would like to see instituted in the Magic Mammary City: · Working it: Never bring a loaded cleavage to the office. Business women must keep in mind that too much exposed boobage can swing back around and kick you in the butt. Inappropriate. Unprofessional. If you want to be taken seriously, button the blouse. · After-school events: Spectators at soccer, basketball, volleyball and other kiddie events should keep their eye on the ball, not the boobs in the stands. This is not the time to show off your girls, unless they’re wearing pigtails. Your children should not have to compete with your cleavage for attention. · Day Time: Unless you’re sunbathing, to display cleavage in a setting that does not involve cocktails and hors d'oeuvres is a provocation. · Fear of Flying: Think twice before letting the globes spill out when you travel. Twice last year, Southwest Airlines crews asked travelers to modify their clothing, to wear sweaters or to leave a plane because they did not consider the amount of cleavage displayed to be acceptable. · How much is too much? Being attractive doesn’t always mean going for the plunge. Don’t look like you’re ready to wet-nurse the room at the drop of a bra strap. If you emphasize your sexuality too much, that’s all people will see. Let’s be honest. Chances are you know in your heart – right beneath that cleavage – if you’re overexposing yourself. · Date night: Nighttime is the prime time to perk up. Dress your breasts to impress. But remember: Good taste dictates that one should show off breast or leg. Only hookers flaunt both. · How low to go? When your nipples pop out, you’ve gone too far. As a general guide, the later the hour, the more you can display. Tue, 07 Oct 2008 06:00:00 EST Oct 7 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=972 Maybe the Midwest isn’t as boring as I thought. After all, it has The Midwest Teen Sex Show, a racy video podcast hosted by a 20-something mom of three who has taken sex education into her own hands, dispensing birds-and-the-bees info in a humorous, wisecracking way. The three- to five-minute monthly episodes ( http://midwestteensexshow.com/ ), filmed for the past year on a shoestring budget primarily in Waukesha, Wisc., tackle everything that makes teens (and their parents) squirm: masturbation, oral sex,... Maybe the Midwest isn’t as boring as I thought. After all, it has The Midwest Teen Sex Show, a racy video podcast hosted by a 20-something mom of three who has taken sex education into her own hands, dispensing birds-and-the-bees info in a humorous, wisecracking way. The three- to five-minute monthly episodes ( http://midwestteensexshow.com/ ), filmed for the past year on a shoestring budget primarily in Waukesha, Wisc., tackle everything that makes teens (and their parents) squirm: masturbation, oral sex, break-ups, dry humping, porn, the penis, fetishes, the horrors of gym class, condoms, homosexuality and the pros and cons of abstinence. In one episode that attempts to describe an orgasm, the "sex police" search for the elusive G-spot and the clitoris. OK, I’ve probably lost about half of you right there. For many moms, the idea of showing your teenage daughter where to find her clitoris is akin to showing her the "on" button for intercourse. I understand it’s uncomfortable. But take off your mom mantle just for a minute and think back to that moment in your life when you still had the number 1 in front of your age. Remember when everything to do with sex was a big mystery that you couldn’t wait to get your Nancy Drew on and solve? Now would you rather your teenage daughter get her clues from you or that horny boy with the chin hairs who keeps text-messaging her? I for one learned about orgasms in my teenage boyfriend’s basement while watching Jane Curtin on Saturday Night Live . I remember it vividly. In her Weekend Update role, Jane The Ignorant Slut described the big-O as feeling like you’re on the verge of urinating then succumbing to the rush. Does anybody remember that circa 1982 episode? Well, it was a turning point for at least one teenager in suburban Washington, D.C. One of those a-ha – or rather ahhhhhh-haaaaa – moments. The point is that teenagers are going to get their information from somewhere. And unpreachy podcasts like The Midwest Teen Sex Show start the conversation, or at least stop teens from feeling like a freak for having all those questions. In her refreshingly impolite delivery, host Nikol Hasler is the cool, older sister we all wanted. You might not agree with everything she says (any girl over age 8 should be on the Pill; abstinence is unrealistic and boring), but her goal is a healthy one: to create a safe community for the discussion of teen sexuality and prompt family conversations. After all, as the site puts it, "Teen sex. It happens." "We like to call it sex information," Hasler and her sex show compatriots claim on their website. "We’ll leave the formal education to classrooms and textbooks…We won’t pretend to be experts, but hopefully a few of our own embarrassing experiences and insights will keep you out of trouble." On one controversial show, Hasler advises young girls: "If you’re in junior high and dating someone out of high school, he’s a pedophile. Pedophilia is a disease. Would you date someone with cancer?" The comment drew tons of protests from people who disliked Hasler comparing pedophilia to cancer. But I think she made her point. In one TV interview, Hasler says she often receives e-mails from young girls struggling with their sexuality. One e-mail came from a sixth-grader who wanted to know how to let her boyfriend know she was ready to go all the way. Hasler’s response: "You’re not ready to go all the way. You’re in sixth grade." In one podcast, Hasler talks about how scary dating can be. "Practice rejecting yourself in a mirror so it will hurt less," she jokes. The website’s discussion board opens dialogue up about everything from favorite break-up songs to how girls are protecting themselves from getting pregnant. There is no nudity on the site and most curse words are bleeped out. If you’re the mom of a teenage girl (or boy) I urge you to watch and laugh over this site together. Then again, your kid may already be tuned in. Every month, the website attracts about 125,000 viewers. That’s a lot of kids looking for their a-ha moment. . Tue, 30 Sep 2008 06:00:00 EST Sep 30 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=942 October begins tomorrow and – like Christmas decorations that startle and annoy us by popping up in stores by Halloween – the parade of pink products for National Breast Cancer Awareness Month is well underway. You can’t get through Target or Macy’s this time of year without being bombarded by pink can openers, pink mixing bowls, pink vacuums, pink shoelaces, pink candles, pink night-lights, pink visors, pink note cards, pink teddy bears, pink Nintendos, pink Pashmina scarves, pink travel... October begins tomorrow and – like Christmas decorations that startle and annoy us by popping up in stores by Halloween – the parade of pink products for National Breast Cancer Awareness Month is well underway. You can’t get through Target or Macy’s this time of year without being bombarded by pink can openers, pink mixing bowls, pink vacuums, pink shoelaces, pink candles, pink night-lights, pink visors, pink note cards, pink teddy bears, pink Nintendos, pink Pashmina scarves, pink travel mugs, pink running socks, pink cookbooks, pink backpacks, pink golf sets, pink pajamas, pink flower pots, pink-beribboned sweatshirts, pink denim shirts … Even the Philadelphia strawberry cream cheese I bought at Publix on Sunday had a pink ribbon on it. I find all this saccharine pinkness as annoying as those tiny X-ray metal stars they stick to your nipples when you get a mammogram. Wait, before you sic the pink police on me and my sore nipples, let me clarify that I am not an advocate of breast cancer. I understand the importance of awareness campaigns and the need to remind women to schedule their annual screenings. I get the whole sisterhood solidarity thing. And I’m glad breast cancer no longer is shrouded in secrecy and stigma. I can tolerate the infantile and demeaning nature of most of these pink products, even though I find them as dishonest as those perky new moms who gush over the beauty of childbirth. I’ll stomach the cuteness (although I refuse to be a "breast friend.") What I detest is the commercialization. I hate that breast cancer has become the poster child of companies trying to boost their image and profits. Look no further than the 2006 Advertising Age story entitled "Breast Cancer Awareness Strategy Doubles Sales of Campbell's Soup" for motivation. Corporate America is drowning us in a vast pink sea that has become so cloudy with crap that some of the companies that claim to care about breast cancer are manufacturing products that may even cause the disease. More than 300 companies and corporations are now "partners" with the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, the largest grassroots network of breast cancer survivors and activists. The list includes every store and product you can imagine, from 7-Eleven and Yoplait to American Airlines and Pier 1. If shopping could cure breast cancer, surely we would be rid of it by now. I’m not alone in my cynicism. Feminist writer Barbara Ehrenreich first griped about this in 2001, when she wrote about her own experience with breast cancer in a Harper’s Magazine article called "Welcome to Cancerland: A Mammogram Leads to a Cult of Pink Kitsch." A year later, Think Before You Pink, a project of Breast Cancer Action ( http://www.thinkbeforeyoupink.org ), was launched in response to the growing concern about the overwhelming number of pink ribbon products and promotions. The campaign calls for more transparency and accountability by companies that take part in breast cancer fundraising, and encourages consumers to ask critical questions. Think Before You Pink draws attention to "pinkwashers" – companies that promote pink ribbon campaigns while making products linked to breast cancer. In the past, the project has targeted car companies and cosmetic manufacturers like Avon and Revlon. This year, the cause is taking on Yoplait, which urges consumers to buy its yogurt in the name of breast cancer, although it’s made with milk from cows that have been treated with bovine growth hormone. (Numerous consumer groups have questioned whether the synthetic hormone is tied to various health problems, including breast cancer.) Let's support women with breast cancer and the research needed to cure them. But please, before making a pink purchase this month, take off the rose-colored glasses and read the fine print. Tue, 23 Sep 2008 06:00:00 EST Sep 23 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=905 Put this in your virtual shopping cart and charge it: Next time you’re purchasing Oprah’s book of the month on amazon.com or splurging for strappy heels on zappos.com, click over to http://www.cryobank.com/ and order yourself some quality online sperm. California Cryobank is now offering sperm shopping on the Internet. Starting this month, you can find a donor using the handy Quick Search pull-down menu, which lets you hunt by hair color, eye color and ethnic origin. After you’ve found Mr. Right... Put this in your virtual shopping cart and charge it: Next time you’re purchasing Oprah’s book of the month on amazon.com or splurging for strappy heels on zappos.com, click over to http://www.cryobank.com/ and order yourself some quality online sperm. California Cryobank is now offering sperm shopping on the Internet. Starting this month, you can find a donor using the handy Quick Search pull-down menu, which lets you hunt by hair color, eye color and ethnic origin. After you’ve found Mr. Right (Hand), simply order a vial of his semen, which can be FedExed to your door. When I first heard about this new online service, I thought it made perfect sense. After all, most men have been donating sperm online for years now. (Please guys, just remember to wipe off the keyboard when you’re done.) This truly offers the best of both worlds for women: We get to experience the thrill of shopping and still wear our fuzzy socks and sweatpants to bed. Why bother with the emotional highs and lows of match.com? Let’s go straight to the heart of the tick-tocking matter and put our money where are wombs are. Visa and MasterCard accepted. When I searched for a blue-eyed blond white guy this weekend, I found 12 matches, most of them German, British or Irish descent. There were Catholics, a cornucopia of other Christians (Protestant, Episcopalian, Presbyterian), a smattering of atheists or non-denomination types and one Jew. A search for a brown-eyed, brown-haired African American came up with only two possibilities. A brown-haired, brown-eyed Hispanic wasn’t much better, with only six matches. Diversity efforts have obviously fallen short in the collection plate. After zeroing in on your type, you can learn more about each potential donor. Free details include height, weight, education, blood type and whether the guy has impregnated somebody before. (You obviously don’t want to plunk down your hard-earned money on some dude shooting blanks.) You also get to know his occupation. On Sunday, I checked out a library employee, a chemical engineering student, an entrepreneur (yeah, I’ve heard that one before), a teacher, a journalism student (poor doomed schmuck) and a professional musician (think about it – all those creative genes minus the drunken one night stand on the tour bus). You can also download an essay the donor has written and get a look at staff impressions of him. For $14, you can add a facial features report to your cart or, for $28, an audio interview. Other extras include a baby photo and the results from a personality test. You can collect all the guys who catch your eye under your "favorites." When it’s time to view your shopping cart and make a decision, you can buy a vial of the lucky guy’s sperm for $370 to $465. Specimens are dry shipped in liquid nitrogen, with viability guaranteed for seven days from the date shipped. Note to self: What smells worse in the fridge – a vial of spoiled sperm or that expired carton of milk? This could make for a good science fair project when the kid hits fifth grade. Don’t despair if Prince Charming doesn’t materialize on your first search. You can register for e-mail alerts that let you know when new donors come aboard. So to speak. I picture something like those Target card holder e-mails minus the cool coupons. Weary of spending all day at your computer? You’re in luck. There’s also a printable donor catalog for those of us who still like the occasional hands-on experience. Tue, 16 Sep 2008 06:00:00 EST Sep 16 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=878 Did you hear about the Texas school district that beat Miami to the draw this fall and now allows teachers to carry handguns to school? Please don’t tell the publicity-crazed maniacs on the Miami-Dade School Board or guns as back-to-school attire for teachers will end up at the top of the new superintendent’s to-do list. A small, rural school system in Harrold, Tex., is the first school district in the nation to allow its teachers to carry concealed weapons. In its whacked wisdom, the school board... Did you hear about the Texas school district that beat Miami to the draw this fall and now allows teachers to carry handguns to school? Please don’t tell the publicity-crazed maniacs on the Miami-Dade School Board or guns as back-to-school attire for teachers will end up at the top of the new superintendent’s to-do list. A small, rural school system in Harrold, Tex., is the first school district in the nation to allow its teachers to carry concealed weapons. In its whacked wisdom, the school board there said it wants to ward off massacres like the ones at Columbine, Virginia Tech and the Amish one-room schoolhouse in Pennsylvania. It doesn’t matter that longtime residents are hard-pressed to recall a single violent incident in this poor, rural town, where some people don't even bother to lock their doors. The school board decided that pistol-packing teachers were a better form of security than armed peace officers since an attacker would not know whom to shoot first. The teachers supposedly received 40 hours of training from a private security consultant. Let me get this straight: We already expect our teachers to be social workers, nurses, divorce counselors and pseudo-parents. Now we’re going to add sharpshooting to their job requirements? I don’t know about you, but if a crazed gunman were to invade my kid’s school, I’d rather have teacher follow the lock-down procedures and help my child to safety - not whip out a gun and start blazing away like it's the Wild West. I can forgive my kid’s teacher for making a mistake in grading a paper; I won’t be as forgiving if she accidentally shoots my child. Like most states, Texas bans weapons on school property, but the Legislature there carved out an exception allowing school boards to permit people with concealed handgun licenses to carry their weapons. Florida, by the way, bans guns - including those covered by concealed weapons permits - from school campuses. But don’t feel smug and safe just yet. Back in April, Gov. Charlie Crist signed a new law that took effect in July. It basically says employees with concealed weapons permits can keep guns in their cars at work, even if their bosses object. Schools are exempt (for now). But other child-friendly places that you would logically assume also would be exempt are not. When Walt Disney World found a loophole in the new law and told employees not to stow guns in their cars, the National Rifle Association and the bill’s makers went ballistic. The state recently worked out an agreement in which the House of Mouse now allows employees to keep weapons in their cars at offices in Celebration, the resort at Vero Beach and its cruise ship berth at Port Canaveral, among other locations. For the moment, Disney is allowed to continue to ban employees from storing guns in the parking lots of its theme parks and hotels. (Guests, on the other hand, can keep guns in their cars if they have a valid permit, which is a whole other frightening issue.) Like Disney, Universal Studios in Orlando is fighting to preserve the same zero tolerance for employees bringing guns to work. But you may want to rethink that trip to SeaWorld, which proudly supports employees’ rights to store arms in the parking lot. (Just in case they need to run out and grab their guns when those killer whales revolt.) I’m not a big fan of Disney and its high-priced extortion that masquerades as entertainment. But I have to say I bow to Mickey for taking a stand on this one. Then again, if Goofy was allowed to bring a gun to work, maybe those lines at Space Mountain wouldn’t be so long. Tue, 09 Sep 2008 06:00:00 EST Sep 9 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=839 I recently received an e-mail touting Kelly Ripa as the spokesmodel for Electrolux and burst out laughing. Electrolux is a fancy brand of washers, dryers, ovens and dishwashers. For some reason, this European appliance company thinks moms everywhere will identify with an emaciated talk show host when they think about dirty clothes and dishes. One ad shows the celebrity mother of three sitting atop a "turquoise sky" blue front-loading washer and dryer with a pile of neatly-folded laundry in her lap.... I recently received an e-mail touting Kelly Ripa as the spokesmodel for Electrolux and burst out laughing. Electrolux is a fancy brand of washers, dryers, ovens and dishwashers. For some reason, this European appliance company thinks moms everywhere will identify with an emaciated talk show host when they think about dirty clothes and dishes. One ad shows the celebrity mother of three sitting atop a "turquoise sky" blue front-loading washer and dryer with a pile of neatly-folded laundry in her lap. Her bony arms are extended with upturned palms, as if to say, "I woke up before dawn, filmed my morning show, wiped my kids’ butts and did a stack of laundry – easy peezy." The assumption is that you, too, can marry a soap opera hunk and engage in faux-witty repartee with Regis Philbin every morning if you are willing to spend a month’s mortgage on this lovely, albeit odd-colored, washing machine and dryer. Do advertisers really think moms are this shallow? We all know that Kelly Ripa would never risk breaking a nail to sort colors from whites. So now we have to add cute Kelly to our famous moms’ gallery of shameful shillers, which includes: Heidi Klum (McDonald’s), Cindy Crawford (Rooms To Go), Angelina Jolie (Heinz), Reese Witherspoon (Avon), Rachel Hunter (Slim-Fast), Tori Spelling (NutriSystem), Sarah Jessica Parker (Gap) and Gwen Stefani (Hewlett-Packard cameras), among other absurd pairings. I find it so insulting when a company tries to sell a product by plastering a famous mom on the ad, especially when it’s obvious the woman knows nothing about what she’s selling and can’t be trusted. That’s like saying we should elect a man for president just because he sticks a mom on his ticket. Tue, 02 Sep 2008 06:00:00 EST Sep 2 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=813 To: Women who tote around oversized, overpriced purses Re: Why? It’s not that I care that you’re destroying your posture by shouldering that super-sized Lola Patent Hobo ($2,495) or Lanvin Padvoa Sac ($2,160). It’s not that it irritates me (much) when you swing around on your Jimmy Choos and whack me with your over-inflated Yves Saint Laurent “Muse” bag ($1,300). It’s not that I worry that you’re going to pass out from the South Florida heat as you hobble... To: Women who tote around oversized, overpriced purses Re: Why? It’s not that I care that you’re destroying your posture by shouldering that super-sized Lola Patent Hobo ($2,495) or Lanvin Padvoa Sac ($2,160). It’s not that it irritates me (much) when you swing around on your Jimmy Choos and whack me with your over-inflated Yves Saint Laurent “Muse” bag ($1,300). It’s not that I worry that you’re going to pass out from the South Florida heat as you hobble hunchbacked through the streets carrying all that shit in your bloated Prada crocodile “Frame Bag” ($15,090). It’s that after witnessing the big-purse craze for a few seasons now, I’ve come to believe that the women who schlep around with this expensive arm candy are as socially unconscious as the people still driving Hummers. Why? People are losing jobs, houses are being foreclosed on. Nobody is impressed anymore by your ability to flash a four-figure handbag. What satisfaction does it give you to display status over most of the American public, who, frankly, would rather use your car-sized purse as a vomit bag? Big purses are the new McMansions: All show on the outside, empty on the inside. Be careful, that’s not a purse snatcher shadowing you, it’s a creditor. Repeat after me: Do not covet thy girlfriend’s handbag. The NPD Group reports that 44 percent of women ages 13 and over have bought at least one bag in the past year, up from 26 percent just five years earlier. The report goes on to say that women with incomes of $35,000 and under say they are willing to pay $200 for a handbag. The willingness to spend way more than necessary is tied to the trendy belief that handbags are an “investment” and the new signature accessory, the researchers said. They traced the tipping point to 2005, when Doyle New York auctioned off a black crocodile Hermès Birkin with a diamond-covered clasp and lock for $64,800. I blame the Sex and the City girls. Since women started watching this un-reality show, they barely raise a waxed eyebrow over spending $400 on jeans or $675 on a pair of Manolo Blahniks. While we’re at it, let’s also blame Martha Stewart, who should know better after hangin' with the down-and-out in the slammer. Stewart, who arrogantly showed up for court with her own hand-stitched, gold-plated Hermes Birkin bag ($11,000), was spotted recently carrying a new Louis Vuitton brown leather Kasbek bag ($1,750). Maybe this is her idea of cutting back? Like the leading ladies of Hollywood, who seem to think it’s fashionable to weigh less than their handbags, we have fallen victim to a cruel, crafty marketing scheme. But I have a solution. If you see a chick sporting one of these expensive, un-ergonomic handbags, knocking small children over in her wake, just tell her this: “Honey, that bag makes your butt look big.” Tue, 26 Aug 2008 06:00:00 EST Aug 26 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=785 After moms have worked all day, made dinner, washed the dishes, supervised homework, folded the clean laundry, paid the bills and put the kids to bed, men are still baffled why we’re not in the mood for a romp under the covers before the 6 a.m. alarm heralds a return to the hamster wheel of life. Now some scientists in South Miami have come up with a "cure." Hailed as the female Viagra, a testosterone patch is being developed by a South Florida company to help women with low sexual desire, according... After moms have worked all day, made dinner, washed the dishes, supervised homework, folded the clean laundry, paid the bills and put the kids to bed, men are still baffled why we’re not in the mood for a romp under the covers before the 6 a.m. alarm heralds a return to the hamster wheel of life. Now some scientists in South Miami have come up with a "cure." Hailed as the female Viagra, a testosterone patch is being developed by a South Florida company to help women with low sexual desire, according to a story in the Miami Herald’s business section Friday. I bet my stimulus tax rebate that these patch-happy scientists are men. OK, that rebate money is long gone. But I can still see these researchers hanging around the water cooler as they discuss their latest project to get more mileage out of their wives. "Hey, don't tell Madge, but I slipped a sex patch on her last night!" The problem is that, unlike men – whose sexual dysfunction is pretty much tied to one simple apparatus – women lose their sex drive for many reasons. As Eva Ritvo, a psychiatrist at the University of Miami, comments in the story, "It could be depression. Or it could be just our crazy, multi-tasking, exhausted world. And it doesn't have to be either/or." Instead of trying sticker shock, men need to realize that the best foreplay for an overworked mom is when hubby pulls on the rubber gloves and offers to load the dishwasher. Tue, 19 Aug 2008 06:00:00 EST Aug 19 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=751 This has been the summer of girl-on-girl action, and I’m scratching my sunburned scalp over whether this is a good thing. I don't mind my 8-year-old daughter skipping around the house singing “I Kissed a Girl,” this summer’s hit song by pop tart Katy Perry. My daughters and I have already talked about the fact that some boys like boys and some girls like girls. No big deal. I support my gay and lesbian friends, and I'm glad our culture is finally, slowly acknowledging... This has been the summer of girl-on-girl action, and I’m scratching my sunburned scalp over whether this is a good thing. I don't mind my 8-year-old daughter skipping around the house singing “I Kissed a Girl,” this summer’s hit song by pop tart Katy Perry. My daughters and I have already talked about the fact that some boys like boys and some girls like girls. No big deal. I support my gay and lesbian friends, and I'm glad our culture is finally, slowly acknowledging their existence. But I’m a little nervous that this lesbian chic thing is a sexploitation stunt, not a sign of evolutionary acceptance. A quick timeline of the Girls Gone Wild summer: In May, paparazzi caught Lindsay Lohan and professional partier Samantha Ronson in Cannes “Living La Vida Lesbo” (as the NY Post tactfully put it). Since then, the BFF have spent the summer holding hands and canoodling without comment through Miami, New York and Los Angeles. In June, Perry’s catchy girl-kissing tune topped the Billboard Hot 100 chart. For all its liberating playfulness, the song lost any hint of sincerity with the release of the music video, in which a burlesque-like Perry returns to “normal” and wakes up next to a dude at the end. On Aug. 10, the journalist character Brenda on the Lifetime hit TV show Army Wives planted a wet one on fiery redhead Pamela, telling her “there’s a really great alternative” to the Home Alone life of a military wife. Giving new meaning to an afternoon Play Date, Brenda advocated chick-on-chick exploits because husbands “don’t consider it cheating” and “it’s safe, fun and you can’t get pregnant.” Uh, not cheating? What a face slap. As if being with a woman isn't as real as being with a man? On Friday, Woody Allen’s new movie “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” opened in theaters. One of its major marketing moments: A steamy sex scene showing Scarlett Johansson and Penelope Cruz going at it in a red-tinted photo dark room. Both women plays characters in love/lust with the same man. I'm sorry, but none of this is forging new ground for lesbians. Women have been locking lips (and more) on Showtime’s The L Word for five seasons. It’s been 11 years since Ellen DeGeneres appeared on the cover of Time to say, “Yep, I’m gay.” The difference in this summer's girlie games is that most of these women are straight and pretending they're not. And, whether it’s on a South Beach dance floor or on a movie screen, it appears to be largely for the pleasure of a male audience. There’s nothing wrong with being bi-curious. Some form of sexual exploration is part of growing up. Everybody deserves to find themselves. But sexuality isn’t something you can mold or change on a whim – and when it’s done purely for the sake of grabbing attention, don’t be surprised if someone gets burned. As we all know, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Tue, 12 Aug 2008 06:00:00 EST Aug 12 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=721 If there’s a breath of fresh air in the latest stinker about yet another politician who can’t keep his fly zipped, it’s this: Elizabeth Edwards didn’t sit loyally by her husband’s side when John Edwards publicly confessed that he cheated on her. In case you missed Edwards’ televised admission, which coincided with the opening of the Summer Olympic Games on Friday evening (good timing, asshole), the former presidential wannabe was conspicuously solo when he told ABC News... If there’s a breath of fresh air in the latest stinker about yet another politician who can’t keep his fly zipped, it’s this: Elizabeth Edwards didn’t sit loyally by her husband’s side when John Edwards publicly confessed that he cheated on her. In case you missed Edwards’ televised admission, which coincided with the opening of the Summer Olympic Games on Friday evening (good timing, asshole), the former presidential wannabe was conspicuously solo when he told ABC News correspondent Bob Woodruff that he "repeatedly lied during his presidential campaign about an extramarital affair with a novice film-maker." Edwards confessed he diddled – but didn’t daddy – a love child with former NYC party girl Rielle Hunter, as reported by the National Enquirer. By now we shouldn’t be surprised that some self-inflated vote chaser has yet again confused power with sexual privilege. What I found refreshing, however, was the fact that the little lady back at home didn’t materialize behind her husband of 31 years to face the cameras with him in his moment of public shame. No, Elizabeth Edwards, 59 and battling incurable breast cancer, left his tight little Ken-doll butt dangling out there on its own – as it should be. It's asking a lot just to stay married to the dude. Do you have to sit there, pretending to be proud and supportive while he talks about his infidelities with the rest of the world? Mrs. Edwards addressed the issue in a Daily Kos blog (http://dailykos.com/story/2008/8/8/193337/7354/473/564989) and told everybody to bug off. She bucked the trend set by the likes of Mrs. Bill Clinton, Mrs. Gary Hart, Mrs. Newt Gingrich, Mrs. Bob Livingston, Mrs. David Vitter, Mrs. Gary Condit, Mrs. Larry Craig, Mrs. Jim McGreevey, Mrs. Eliot Spitzer and the countless other wronged wives who all faced the press by their man’s side to confront his randy behavior because, as Tammy Wynette opines, " after all, he’s just a man ." When asked why his wife wasn't at his side during the interview, Edwards said: "I have seen these public figures who bring their wives along when they say they've done something wrong; confessing some wrong and the wife -- they bring their wives to stand beside them I guess, to show support…Elizabeth didn't do anything wrong. I…didn't ask for her to be here. I asked for her not to be here. Uh, this is my responsibility; my alone. I have to be the man and take responsibility." Uh, how big of him. Elizabeth Edwards has always been the more progressive member of this political family. She clearly opposed the Iraq war and took a stand in support of same-sex marriages. I'm relieved ole John is bowing out of the Democratic National Convention later this month, but if you put Elizabeth up there on stage, I guarantee she'll get a standing ovation. Tue, 05 Aug 2008 06:00:00 EST Aug 5 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=701 Is it child abuse to stick your kid with a crappy name? A family court judge in New Zealand thinks so and he recently made a 9-year-old girl a ward of the court so her name could be changed from Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii to a nombre he deemed more appropriate. ( http://www.miamiherald.com/news/world/AP/story/616106.html ) "It makes a fool of the child and sets her up with a social disability and handicap," the judge wrote about the girl, whose name he discovered while overseeing her... Is it child abuse to stick your kid with a crappy name? A family court judge in New Zealand thinks so and he recently made a 9-year-old girl a ward of the court so her name could be changed from Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii to a nombre he deemed more appropriate. ( http://www.miamiherald.com/news/world/AP/story/616106.html ) "It makes a fool of the child and sets her up with a social disability and handicap," the judge wrote about the girl, whose name he discovered while overseeing her parents’ custody battle. In New Zealand, the government can block a kid’s name if it’s deemed offensive. The judge was so disturbed that he researched his country’s propensity for bad names and came up with a list of doozies. Among the names rejected: Fish and Chips , Yeah Detroit, Keenan Got Lucy and Sex Fruit . Others that somehow slipped through included Number 16 Bus Shelter and Violence . Don’t feel bad Kiwis. Hollywood definitely has you beat at the unfortunate name game. Sonny and Cher may have started it in the ’70s with Chastity , but today’s celebs have had their fun with Apple and Moses (born to Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin); Blue Angel (offspring of U2’s The Edge); Moon Unit , Dweezil and Diva Muffin (of the Frank Zappa clan) and Moxie Crimefigher (daughter of Penn Jillette of Penn & Teller). Nothing like locking your child’s destiny in before the kid takes his first green poop. As someone who did a lot of hand wringing over my kids’ names, I’m always astounded by parents who were obviously stoned when they named their children. Tagging kids with the right name is a tricky balance between coming up with something unique and not sticking them with something that dooms them on playgrounds and in office cubicles. Names carry some powerful images and memories. I still have trouble associating the name Ian with anybody other than the nose-picking boy in my second-grade class. And how many Britneys and Ashleys can this world possibly stand? Like tattoos, some names just aren’t so cute as time goes by. Save ’em for your dog. Tue, 29 Jul 2008 06:00:00 EST Jul 29 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=676 Hey moms, if you’re suffering from those nagging doubts over which dude fathered your child, there’s now a quick remedy. Amid the packs of Trojans and Vagisil tubes on the shelves of your neighborhood drug store, you can now find the Identigene DNA Paternity Test Kit, the first over-the-counter kit of its kind to be sold in major retail stores ( www.dnatesting.com ). A press release sent out Monday by the manufacturer claims that more than 50,000 people have purchased the paternity test... Hey moms, if you’re suffering from those nagging doubts over which dude fathered your child, there’s now a quick remedy. Amid the packs of Trojans and Vagisil tubes on the shelves of your neighborhood drug store, you can now find the Identigene DNA Paternity Test Kit, the first over-the-counter kit of its kind to be sold in major retail stores ( www.dnatesting.com ). A press release sent out Monday by the manufacturer claims that more than 50,000 people have purchased the paternity test kits nationwide since sales started nine months ago. In Florida, CVS stores started selling the kits this summer. I can see the shopping list now. “OK, honey, here’s what I need on your run to the store: toilet paper, toothpaste, tampons and, oh yeah, don’t forget that DNA test kit so we can finally put those questions to rest ’bout little Ashley.” The test uses DNA samples of saliva or cheek cells. All a curious mom needs to do is swab the mouths of the baby and alleged father and send the samples in a postage-paid envelope to Identigene for processing. Results are available within three to five business days. (You also need consent from the guy you’re swabbing, but since most men I know snore all night with their mouths wide open, you know there’s a way around that.) This could have made life a hell of a lot easier (or not) for Chris Rock, Robert De Niro, Eddie Murphy, Wesley Snipes, Julio Iglesias, Engelbert Humperdinck, Bill Cosby, Michael Jordan and countless other athletes and stars who have been accused of populating our planet like globe-trotting, sperm-planting Johnny Appleseeds. Anna Nicole Smith also could have saved us from scads of tabloid journalism over the disputed dad of Danielynn if she had just picked up one of these kits while purchasing the 10 prescription drugs that ended her life in Florida last year. The kit’s Salt Lake City-based manufacturer says the “peace-of- mind” test results show a probability of paternity greater than 99.9 percent. The kits sell for $29.99. The lab processing fee is another $119. There’s a $319 option available for customers who want to use test results in legal proceedings. Somebody better clue in Iglesias and All The Girls He’s Loved Before. “If I had to take a paternity test for every girl who says I got her pregnant, I would never have any time to sing,” the suave Latin crooner once boasted. Yo Julio, hope you don’t snore. Tue, 22 Jul 2008 06:00:00 EST Jul 22 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=650 I’ve been saving this one up for a searing hot summer day: Sisters, it’s time to send those pantyhose south. I’m not talking about down-around-the-ankles-during-hot-sex-in-a-public-restroom kind of south. I mean, throw those control-top, sausage-wrapping suckers away. It’s OK now. So says the Wall Street Journal and Michelle Obama. It’s suddenly become acceptable to confess what many of us did years ago - shed those nylon casings. Come on, the only females I know who still... I’ve been saving this one up for a searing hot summer day: Sisters, it’s time to send those pantyhose south. I’m not talking about down-around-the-ankles-during-hot-sex-in-a-public-restroom kind of south. I mean, throw those control-top, sausage-wrapping suckers away. It’s OK now. So says the Wall Street Journal and Michelle Obama. It’s suddenly become acceptable to confess what many of us did years ago - shed those nylon casings. Come on, the only females I know who still squeeze into these stifling, sweaty things wear orange shorts up their butts and deliver hot wings to your table. In summer, the only thing pantyhose are good for is tying orchids to a tree in your backyard or smashing your facial features beyond recognition so you can rob a bank. Last month, The WSJ reported that even on conservative Wall Street, women are going bare-legged. About a week later, Michelle Obama made a pantyhose confession on "The View" and told Barbara Walters et al that she stopped wearing pantyhose a long time ago because "it was painful and they’d always rip." Which brings me to another point: Not only are stockings confining and sexist, but they’re too damn expensive and seem to be designed to be worn only once. The hosiery industry, which has been pulling this scam on women for decades, has seen stockings sales this year fall 7.5 percent over the previous year, according to the NPD Group, a New York-based marketing and analysis company. Let's all shed crocodile tears for the makers of a $20+ pair of stockings. I have no problem with the occasional pair of tights or patterned hose when it’s chilly outside. Even thigh-highs are OK now and then to stir things up on date night with hubby. But that’s by choice. No workplace or school - especially in South Florida - should require females to wear pantyhose. In May, Palm Beach Gardens High mandated that female students wear hose to their graduation ceremony or else they couldn’t walk across the stage to receive their diplomas. The school’s administration said it wanted to ensure the girls looked like "ladies." There is a special ring in Dante’s Inferno for people who come up with rules like this. It involves wearing the scratchiest, tightest pair of control top L’eggs that can be found on a 95-degree Florida day. That ain’t no way to treat a lady. Tue, 15 Jul 2008 06:00:00 EST Jul 15 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=512 Like Scared Straight! for wannabe teenage baby mamas, the new NBC reality TV show "The Baby Borrowers" tries to frighten the beejezuz out of young kids by showing them the ugly side of life in the diaper lane. Most everybody has heard about this show by now, but if you haven't, here's a quick recap: Five couples, ages 18 to 20, are put on the fast track of parenthood, starting with a real baby. They go on to take care of a toddler, a pre-teen, a young teenager and even a senior citizen. Along... Like Scared Straight! for wannabe teenage baby mamas, the new NBC reality TV show "The Baby Borrowers" tries to frighten the beejezuz out of young kids by showing them the ugly side of life in the diaper lane. Most everybody has heard about this show by now, but if you haven't, here's a quick recap: Five couples, ages 18 to 20, are put on the fast track of parenthood, starting with a real baby. They go on to take care of a toddler, a pre-teen, a young teenager and even a senior citizen. Along the way, they deal with projectile vomiting, sleepless nights, potty training, juvenile delinquency, couples squabbles … sound familiar? Predictably, by the end of the social experiment, none of the participants want to have children anytime soon. The series ( www.nbc.com/The_Baby_Borrowers/ ) comes with a clear message for teens: You’re not ready to get pregnant. All this is very neat and tidy. The National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy even has a discussion guide that goes with the show ( www.thenationalcampaign.org/media/entertainment-media.aspx ). Now I don’t want to bash the good intentions here and I’m not advocating teen motherhood, but did anybody notice that all of the young couples on the show are sleeping together as they play house in a lovely furnished home on a cul de sac outside Boise, Idaho? Sounds pretty darn attractive to me (except for the Idaho part). I'd like to see a follow-up report on how many of the young women from the show got knocked up while filming it. I’d also like to point out that many state programs modeled after Scared Straight! – the 1978 documentary that tried to scare the beejezuz out of teens by showing them the ugliness of life in prison – proved to be ineffective. A meta-analysis of seven of these programs in 2002 found that "scared straight" programs not only failed to deter crime, but actually led to more offending behavior. If you really want to keep your teenage daughter from getting pregnant, skip the entertainment and scare tactics. Buy her a pack of condoms. Tue, 08 Jul 2008 06:00:00 EST Jul 8 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=593 Looks like Cynthia Rodriguez finally woke up and smelled the café con leche. A quick recap for those who haven’t been able to read this week’s celeb porn rags around the pool: A-Rod is now supposedly hitting it out of the ballpark with Madonna. (Prepare yourself for the "Mad-Rod" headlines.) Wife Cynthia, who became pregnant last year just months after hubby Alex was linked to an exotic dancer from Vegas, filed for divorce yesterday here in Miami. Three-month-old Ella's papi has... Looks like Cynthia Rodriguez finally woke up and smelled the café con leche. A quick recap for those who haven’t been able to read this week’s celeb porn rags around the pool: A-Rod is now supposedly hitting it out of the ballpark with Madonna. (Prepare yourself for the "Mad-Rod" headlines.) Wife Cynthia, who became pregnant last year just months after hubby Alex was linked to an exotic dancer from Vegas, filed for divorce yesterday here in Miami. Three-month-old Ella's papi has been slipping in and out of Madonna’s New York apartment late at night. Some say the visits started the night after his wife gave birth to their second daughter. There are two things that bother me about this story (beyond the fact that baseball’s most over-paid third baseman has given up stealing bases for stealing other people’s wives). 1. Why did his wife wait this long to leave his sorry ass? 2. Where were her girlfriends through all this? This woman has been married to Yankee Doodle Randy for six years. Isn’t it a girlfriend’s role to knock some sense into a woman when her sleazy hubby is two-timing her? (I use the term "two-timing" loosely because, by all accounts, it’s more like "200-timing.") Was anyone brave enough to shake this woman by the shoulders and tell her, "Honey, he’s just not that into you?" Oh well, looks like Cynthia may have found something better than a blunt girlfriend. When news of her spouse's hook-up with the pop tart first broke, she holed up with Lenny Kravitz in his mansion in Paris. Here’s a curious example of Six Degrees of Separation: Kravitz co-wrote and produced the sexy song "Justify My Love" for Madonna in 1990. Coincidence? Or proof that all these celebrities are swapping the same STD? Tue, 01 Jul 2008 06:00:00 EST Jul 1 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=511 You’ve got to hand it to the Spaniards. While peace signs proliferate on clothing and jewelry here in the States, the country of Spain issued the best non-commercial statement for peace when its new Minister of Defense emerged to inspect her troops in a maternity top, seven months pregnant. Carme Chacón Piqueras, who recently gave birth to her son Miquel, is the first woman to head Spain’s armed forces. She's part of newly-re-elected prime minister Luis Rodriguez Zapatero’s cabinet,... You’ve got to hand it to the Spaniards. While peace signs proliferate on clothing and jewelry here in the States, the country of Spain issued the best non-commercial statement for peace when its new Minister of Defense emerged to inspect her troops in a maternity top, seven months pregnant. Carme Chacón Piqueras, who recently gave birth to her son Miquel, is the first woman to head Spain’s armed forces. She's part of newly-re-elected prime minister Luis Rodriguez Zapatero’s cabinet, which for the first time in the country’s history includes more women (9) than men (8). The prime minister has already established he's all about sexual revolution. He’s passed laws against domestic violence, legalized gay marriage, eased divorce laws and required political parties to practice gender parity. During his re-election campaign, he vowed to eradicate sexism, harassment and intolerance. Silencing criticism that pregnancy and the challenges of new motherhood would hinder her, Chacón, 37, took off in her last trimester on a whirlwind tour to visit Spanish peacekeeping troops in Afghanistan, Lebanon and Bosnia. Most people in Spain are largely pacifist. (More than 90 percent support humanitarian and peace-keeping missions, according to a 2005 poll by the Center for Sociological Research in Madrid.) Who says an army has to be all about force? The pic of Chacón reviewing the troops with her baby bump has become the best symbol for peace since photojournalist Bernie Boston shot the 1967 "Flower Power" photo of a Vietnam War protestor placing flowers in a soldier’s gun barrel at an anti-war protest in Washington, D.C. Make babies, not bullets. Tue, 24 Jun 2008 06:00:00 EST Jun 24 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=509 Once a put-down, then a song title, now a movie, the moniker "Baby Mama" sent politicos scrambling for their urban dictionaries after Fox News called Michelle Obama one in an on-screen graphic this month. Although a Fox senior veep later excused the move as "poor judgment," many people saw it as a racist slap or downright inaccurate. (Which it was on both counts, if you ask me, considering the source.) For the record, courtesy of the Oxford English Dictionary, a baby mama is "the mother of... Once a put-down, then a song title, now a movie, the moniker "Baby Mama" sent politicos scrambling for their urban dictionaries after Fox News called Michelle Obama one in an on-screen graphic this month. Although a Fox senior veep later excused the move as "poor judgment," many people saw it as a racist slap or downright inaccurate. (Which it was on both counts, if you ask me, considering the source.) For the record, courtesy of the Oxford English Dictionary, a baby mama is "the mother of a man’s child, who is not his wife or his current or exclusive partner." In other words a … ho . Originated in Jamaican Creole, the term dates back to the 1960s and, more often than not, it’s been used rather unkindly, latent with negative connotations and the stigma associated with unwed motherhood. (True to History of Sexism 101, "baby daddy" qualifies to most as a badge of pride, not a put-down.) American hip-hop culture latched onto the name in 2000 after Outkast dedicated the song "Ms. Jackson" to "all the baby mamas’ mamas." American Idol winner Fantasia Barrino released the song "Baby Mama" four years later. Tina Fey whitewashed the term this year with her comedy film "Baby Mama" about a single career woman who hires a ditzy blonde to be a surrogate mother. The tabloids have helped strip the sting by applying the term to unwed celebrities. The title now muddles in the murky waters of endearment/insult, depending upon who utters it. Fox clumsily waded into the middle of the muck, thinking it was hip and funny, but emerging with mud on its face. (Would the network call Laura Bush "George’s Baby Mama?") Is it time to seize this name and de-fang it, much like gays did decades ago with the word "queer?" We’re here. We’re Baby Mamas . Get used to it. It sure beats being called a housewife. Tue, 17 Jun 2008 06:00:00 EST Jun 17 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=484 I’m not the first one who thinks reality TV is an oxymoron, but TLC’s reality show, "The Secret Life of a Soccer Mom" (http://tlc.discovery.com/tv/soccer-moms/soccer-moms.html) promoted the biggest lie. If you didn’t waste your time watching this one-hour show, which recently ended its first season, here was the premise: An ordinary stay-at-home mom was given the chance to see what her life could have been like had she pursued her career instead of taking care of her family. Moms with... I’m not the first one who thinks reality TV is an oxymoron, but TLC’s reality show, "The Secret Life of a Soccer Mom" (http://tlc.discovery.com/tv/soccer-moms/soccer-moms.html) promoted the biggest lie. If you didn’t waste your time watching this one-hour show, which recently ended its first season, here was the premise: An ordinary stay-at-home mom was given the chance to see what her life could have been like had she pursued her career instead of taking care of her family. Moms with one-time aspirations to be chefs, fashion designers and police officers were given the chance to pursue their dream job for a week. At the end, they could either choose to live the dual life of raising a family and have a career or go back to being a stay-at-home parent. Here’s the lie: Who has a choice?! Contrary to the media’s portrayal of a nasty battle raging between the stay-at-home crowd and working moms, most mothers I know are busting their butts holding down a day job and raising their kids. And this wasn’t a conscious choice. It was an economic necessity. Most of us don’t have the luxury of thinking about the feminist fallout over staying at home vs. having a career. That kind of quandary is left for eggheads in Ivory Towers and writers trying to land a book deal. For the majority of us whose daytime schedules don’t include manicures and lunch with the girls, nothing makes me crazier than our culture’s tendency to pit women in the workforce against homebound moms. More than 70.5 percent of American women with children under 18 work outside the home, according to U.S. Department of Labor stats. That’s a pretty lopsided rivalry. Mommy Wars? Yeah, right. The only real dilemma out there for today’s mom is how to pay this month’s mortgage. Thu, 12 Jun 2008 06:00:00 EST Jun 12 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=446 This was too delicious to resist: A company called Delta Children's Products has come out with a new line of Jonas Brothers/Camp Rock licensed room gear and -- I am not making this up -- the press release for it says "...fans will be able to bring the excitement of the Jonas Brothers to their very own room.'' As if every, red-blooded, pre-teen girl hasn't already brought the excitement of the Jonas Brothers to her bedroom. The "rockin' new line of room decor" includes a camp... This was too delicious to resist: A company called Delta Children's Products has come out with a new line of Jonas Brothers/Camp Rock licensed room gear and -- I am not making this up -- the press release for it says "...fans will be able to bring the excitement of the Jonas Brothers to their very own room.'' As if every, red-blooded, pre-teen girl hasn't already brought the excitement of the Jonas Brothers to her bedroom. The "rockin' new line of room decor" includes a camp chair and ottoman. Great, now your daughter can sit on the JoBros' faces without leaving her room. The press release goes on to urge girls: "Flip over the top of the ottoman and use as a tray, or close it back up and kick up your legs in style!" The guys who wrote this press release during happy hour must have had a blast. The line is available at Target starting June 15, which happens to be Father's Day. Sorry dad, when the room is rockin', don't come a knockin'. Tue, 10 Jun 2008 06:00:00 EST Jun 10 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=445 Am I the only cynical mom who thinks the Jonas Brothers’ public virginity vow is an alarming bunch of boy band crap? As the mother of two daughters, I find this Disney G-rated marketing scheme a bit troubling. I’m prepared to equip my pre-adolescent girls with a bullshit meter for the obvious ploys used by hot-blooded boys since the beginning of time. But how do you train them to see through the pure-as-snow job coming from a tousle-haired teen hottie with a promise ring on his finger? "I got... Am I the only cynical mom who thinks the Jonas Brothers’ public virginity vow is an alarming bunch of boy band crap? As the mother of two daughters, I find this Disney G-rated marketing scheme a bit troubling. I’m prepared to equip my pre-adolescent girls with a bullshit meter for the obvious ploys used by hot-blooded boys since the beginning of time. But how do you train them to see through the pure-as-snow job coming from a tousle-haired teen hottie with a promise ring on his finger? "I got mine made at Disney World. It's pretty awesome," Nick Jonas, 15, told Details magazine, which ran a story on the group earlier this year called "The Total Awesomeness of Being the Jonas Brothers" ( http://men.style.com/details/blogs/thegadabout/2008/02/the-total-aweso.html#more ). His brothers, ages 18 and 20, have been showing off their metal purity rings, too, vowing to save themselves until marriage. Nothing like issuing a challenge to every horny, pubescent girl in the world. Everybody knows that teenage boys only think about three things: 1. Getting laid. 2. Playing sports to make themselves more appealing to girls so they can get laid. 3. Listening to music about getting laid. Even if you don’t think a 20-year-old virgin is … odd, the warning bell should go off when he starts bragging about it in public. The Jonas Brothers are the sons of Kevin Jonas Sr., a former Assemblies of God pastor and contemporary-Christian musician who now serves as one of their managers. Have you ever listened to Dusty Springfield's Son of a Preacher Man ? The only boy who could ever teach me, Was the son of a preacher man, Yes he was, he was, oh yes he was. He wasn't teaching her Bible verses. “They’re good boys. They’re saving themselves for marriage,” a mom at school told me after taking her 10-year-old daughter to the Jonas Brothers concert in March at Fort Lauderdale’s Bank Atlantic Center. Yeah, and “When You Look Me in the Eyes,” one of the band's hit songs, is about the importance of eye contact during public speaking. Mothers, don't say I didn't warn you! The Jonas Brothers’ movie “Camp Rock” debuts June 20 on the Disney Channel. Their new album is due out in July. Remember: The last wholesome pop star vowing to stay a virgin until marriage was Britney Spears. Tue, 03 Jun 2008 06:00:00 EST Jun 3 2008 - 06:00:00 AM EST http://www.momsmiami.com/?a=profile&u=2638&t=blog&blog_id=408 Finally, a leak in the June Cleaver conspiracy. There’s bitchy, edgy mom fun on the Net and it’s a helluva lot more scintillating than packing your kid’s lunchbox at 6 a.m. It’s called In The MotherHood ( http://www.inthemotherhood.com ). The snarky web TV site airs three- to five-minute video clips based on real tales of less-than-perfect mommy moments: supermarket meltdowns, public displays of naughty laundry, over-the-top bake sale moms, play dates from hell. Spoiler: One of my... Finally, a leak in the June Cleaver conspiracy. There’s bitchy, edgy mom fun on the Net and it’s a helluva lot more scintillating than packing your kid’s lunchbox at 6 a.m. It’s called In The MotherHood ( http://www.inthemotherhood.com ). The snarky web TV site airs three- to five-minute video clips based on real tales of less-than-perfect mommy moments: supermarket meltdowns, public displays of naughty laundry, over-the-top bake sale moms, play dates from hell. Spoiler: One of my favorite mini-episodes involves a potty-training accident in a hardware store’s display toilet. Come on, ’fess up. Who hasn’t picked up a child and run after sweetie pie drops a load in aisle 4? What makes the mundane marvelous is the smart, irreverent cast. Comedienne Jenny McCarthy and late-show TV host Chelsea Handler play nothing-in-common sisters. Leah Remini ("King of Queens") is the wisecracking friend; Jane Curtain smirks as the Mom From Hell. In one first-day-of-school flashback, the former SNL Ignorant Slut sports a big 1970s hairdo and groovy blue eyeshadow as she gives her little daughter the blow off. "I have to get to my disco aerobics class so I can get that body back that you and your sister stole from me," she tell the forlorn first-grader. Here’s how the site works: Moms compete by submitting their real-life stories based on a theme. The online mom community votes on its favorite submission, which is then polished by professional writers and developed into a mercifully short and snappy web-based film. There’s also a serious (read: boring) section of chat rooms, games and suggestions for family "fun" obviously created by marketers from the site’s sponsors, Suave and Sprint. Moms whose stories are turned into screenplays have received prizes from the advertisers and have been flown out to visit the set during tapings. Word is the web series has been so popular (16 million streams of online traffic in its second season) that ABC is developing an adaptation of the online serial for TV. Is the real world ready for "Desperate (Diaper-Changing) Housewives?"