Things NOT to say to a pregnant woman carrying twins:

You look gigantic. Are you due this month? (Now the mom-to-be fears she is carrying amazon children.)

You look tiny. You’re a peanut. (Now the pregger mom fears she is carrying midgets.)

Your belly looks pointy, like a dart. (The mom doesn’t know what to think. Now she’s anxious that she doesn’t even know what to worry about.)

Are you getting full-time help? You’re going to need full-time help. (Not unless you’re paying.)

Did you get all the equipment you need? (Umm… no.  Actually, we are in desperate need of a house. We are trying to buy a house first. Wait, what equipment?)

Are you getting a new car? (We might stick with our Toyota Highlander Hybrid for now. Rick is threatening that we need a minivan.  Please don’t side track us. First we need a house.)

Do you need a broker? I have a great broker. (I’ve got plenty of brokers. I’m actually having a shortage of houses.)

Do you know how to take care of twins? (Is that a prerequisite because I think I missed the course.)

You’re going to be tired. (I think I’m tired right now.)

Four is A LOT of kid (I’ve always wanted four. We couldn’t feel more grateful.)

Did Rick want four? (I think he might have held at two. But I keep telling him that the “f” in four stands for FUN. Please don’t tell him any differently.)

Things you SHOULD say to a pregnant woman carrying twins.

You’re glowing.  (It’s bronzer.)

You’re not carrying your pregnancy in your booty.  (At least not yet.)

Your face looks normal. It’s not bloated.  (Does it look young and fresh and 20 something?)

You look beautiful.  (This compliment works for all women – pregnant or not.)

You already have two kids. You’ll know how to take care of two more. It will be easy peasy.  (You’re probably lying but I don’t care. I love you anyway.)

You look like a pregnant Heidi Klum.  (Ok, now I know you’re lying.)

I think I may be in danger of having to rename this blog The Mama TV Diaries. Maybe I should focus more on parenthood. But before I mention my girls, can I talk about the Oscars for a minute?

Rick and I almost didn’t see the Academy Awards because of a fight between Cablevision (our cable company) and ABC. WABC pulled its signal from the air on Sunday morning and things did not look promising.

As it got closer to showtime, Rick and I were pretty bitter. Now being married to Rick is like being married to a spoiler alert. The guy is incredible at picking the Oscar winners. We used to win bags of money at our friends’ Oscar parties.  But for some reason, we don’t get a lot of invites anymore.

So since we couldn’t watch the awards on TV this year, he just told me all the winners. I tried to get him to act out the Neil Patrick Harris opening musical number but apparently my husband has his limits.

Thankfully, 20 minutes into the show, ABC put the Oscars back on the air.  We were thrilled despite the fact that we missed some kind of super awkward Kathy Ireland moment on the red carpet. But we still had plenty of time to wonder why Demi Moore had such a great seat. I actually love Demi Moore but did “GI Jane 2″ come out or something?  What was she doing in like the 3rd row?

I’m so glad I didn’t miss the tribute to John Hughes. Because I love every John Hughes movie and because Judd Nelson was clearly making a silent public plea for help. Let’s all work together to get that guy a makeover or a job or a brush or something.

Messy hair was definitely in. So were movies that I haven’t seen. I’ve only seen two movies in the past year: “The Hangover” and “It’s Complicated” and neither was nominated. “The Hangover” should obviously have won Best Picture. And as my friend Meredith pointed out, “It’s Complicated” was a shoo-in for Best Awkward Middle Aged Sex Scene. Such a better category than Sound Editing.

As far as I’m concerned, it was Sandra Bullock’s night. She looked fabulous with her sassy, shiny locks and I’ve always thought it was a travesty that she didn’t win an Oscar for “Speed.” And Kathryn Bigelow beat out her ex-husband James Cameron for Best Director. Go girl power.

Ok enough of the Oscars. Back to my kids. In the words of Ryan Bingham, who picked up an Oscar for Best Original Song, Dylan and Summer… “I love you more than rainbows.”

I have no idea what that means exactly but it sure sounds sweet.

Because I’ve been wondering what Jerry Seinfeld has been doing for the past 12 years (other than figuring out where to park all his cars in Manhattan), I decided to check out “The Marriage Ref.”

Man – that debut show was hard to find with NBC sticking it in the middle of the Olympic closing ceremonies.  Nothing pays homage to the beauty of the Olympic spirit and nations coming together like a break to focus on a couple squabbling about stripper polls (more on that in a moment).

But in all fairness to NBC, the orchestrators of the closing ceremonies had started pulling out the inflatable beavers and moose so maybe it was time to cut away.

If you somehow missed the 637 promos for this new Seinfeld show, a marriage ref settles a dispute between a husband and a wife after a 3 person celebrity panel weighs in.

Panelists include relationship experts like Alec Baldwin (who has a contentious relationship with ex Kim Basinger and once famously called his daughter a rude little pig) and Madonna (who is twice divorced and fully embracing cougarville).  I’m sure they’ve both sought rigorous therapy and now know how to help other couples avoid similar pitfalls.

So far the marriage disputes are things that come up in every relationship like a husband who wants to keep his dead, stuffed dog as a shrine in the living room, a wife who regularly flosses in bed and a husband who wants to install a stripper poll in their bedroom.  I can still recall that fierce fight Rick and I had over what color to paint our stripper poll.  I still contend that a soft peach would have been just the right shade.

Did I mention that “Today Show” host Natalie Morales makes a sad appearance at some kind of news desk as the fact checker for the show? (I can only imagine the money was very good).  And even Marv Albert worms his way onto the program. I’ll be shocked if Lorena Bobbitt doesn’t make some kind of appearance very soon.

If you’re looking to save your marriage, this show ain’t going to do it. Frankly, I’d put more stock in The Mouthy Housewives to solve your problems.

But I did laugh out loud a number of times. And Alec Baldwin should be on every week because despite his personal failings, he is quite talented. But I’m not sure “The Marriage Ref” has a long shelf life. It just feels too staged and hokey.

But at least I know… the next time Rick and I have a dispute over a dead dog, we now have some guidance on how to reach a peaceful resolution. Thank god for TV.

My husband Rick really likes new gadgets.

Like thanks to some kind of new wireless tech thing in our home…. when I take some pictures on my digital camera and walk in the house, the photos are automatically uploaded to our computer, sent to Shutterfly and delivered to my husband’s email inbox.

I mean what the heck happened to a little privacy for the lady of the house?

Of course I guess this means I can’t take photos of my neighbor who has a knack for walking around in his skivvies while leaving the drapes open. Now I’ll have to set up a painting easel in his front yard to capture these beautiful moments on canvas and frankly, you can imagine how that whole situation could get awkward.

So given Rick’s love for technology, I thought he would be all about this new clock…

It’s supposed to help kids sleep through the night by turning blue at bedtime and then yellow when it’s time to wake up. It sounded perfect for Summer who thinks 6 am is an ideal time to kick start her day, and ours too.

Except when Rick took the clock out of its box and set it up, it didn’t work.

And then he tried again. This time it woke our girls up in the middle of the night with some kind of fairy dust story and music.

We unplugged it. And let it sit there for weeks.

But because a man who’s monitoring his wife’s every digital move doesn’t want to be outdone by a kid’s clock and because Summer still had a penchant for early morning wake-ups, he tried again.

And this time, on a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I noticed that the clock had turned yellow to signify wake up time at 3:38 AM. Hmm…. perhaps it was time for the lady of the house to get involved.

Not that I want to brag (but it is my blog so I can really do whatever I want)… I read the manual, spent a couple minutes setting it and it worked flawlessly.

Well, the clock.

Summer still wakes up at 6 am.

I watched the ice dancers do no jumps and wear outfits that even my preschoolers would turn down.

I watched 53 McDonald’s commercials and truly attempted to work its Olympic champion sweet chili sauce into every meal.

I watched the beautiful and inspiring Canadian Joannie Rochette somehow win the bronze in ice skating after the devastating death of her mother.

I watched the American men win gold in the Nordic Combined for the first time ever yet still,  I could not explain Nordic Combined if you offered me a year of free babysitting. Ditto for curling.

I watched the aerialists somehow defy gravity, doing crazy stunts in the air as their mothers cheered them on. I would be begging my child to take on another sport. Like curling.

I watched Apollo Anton Ono try to bring back the bandana for the third Olympics in a row. You can’t say the guy doesn’t have perseverance. And if he and Bret Michaels can’t do it, then we all have to accept that no one can.

I listened to the announcers say things like, “That one mistake is going to haunt him forever” and “That was the performance of her life” and my personally fave, “He left it all on the ice” 432 times each.

I watched Dick Button as a commentator and really tried to imagine him as a svelte figure skater in 1948. I think I failed.

I watched skier Julia Mancuso prove that even Olympic champions wear tiaras.

I loved the Olympics.

But I have never been so happy to see the closing ceremonies. Because I am tired, people. And cranky. Apparently the Olympics was on for 2 weeks. Can we all agree that it was more like 2 months?

I need my life back. I no longer want to be up at midnight, teary-eyed over a medal ceremony. I want “Gossip Girl,” “Project Way” and “Modern Family.”  I no longer wish to be inspired by television, but only somewhat entertained. I want to sit on my couch and not second guess my decision as a kid to hang out with my friends in the local pizza place after school instead of pursuing Olympic dreams at the ice rink. I just want to be mediocre. And happy.

So let me off the hook for 880 days. And then I’ll embrace the summer games in London. Because who doesn’t love the Brits and gymnastics?  It’ll be bloody brilliant.