Ok. I’m just going to go ahead and say it.

I know it’s not political correct this week but…

If I have to hear “Beat It” one more time, I may have to start popping pills myself.

At first I was totally grooving with all the Michael Jackson songs, just like Jessica. But you just can’t hear “Thriller” 16 times a day and feel sane. You just can’t. The guy was brilliant. It’s totally tragic. But please, at this point, I’m begging for some Kelly Clarkson and Jonas Brothers.

Meanwhile, I think my 2 1/2 year-old is addicted to Red Bull. I mean, I can’t officially prove she drinks the stuff but the girl suddenly can’t fall asleep at night, wakes up ridiculously early and often doesn’t nap.

And she keeps insisting her name is “Sleeping Beauty” which I think is Wikipedia’s exact definition of irony.

Meanwhile, Dylan now demands to be called Ariel.

So screw it, I’m making them call me Snow White.

And if you’re wondering, Snow White is adjusting very well to the suburbs. Why didn’t you all tell me about this place sooner?! It’s SO MUCH EASIER WITH KIDS here. We go to the pool. We have fun at the beach. We enjoy the playgrounds. Dylan doesn’t step in poop (hopefully dog, could be human) while wearing flip flops anymore. No one has to escort us to the bathroom at Whole Foods. If it’s raining, we just GET IN THE CAR.

And 4 1/2 year old Dylan has been wowing the Westchester kids with her exotic urban headdress…

Yeah, I don’t know why she’s wearing that.

Of course, I’m still totally lonely because I don’t really have any friends (you know, except for the ones on TV). At least, the real Snow White had those dwarfs. But look – my neighbor gave me a home baked banana bread!

Which is obviously so much better than pound cake.

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Last week I had to have some minor surgery.

So they told me not to eat or drink anything after midnight. And then my surgery was conveniently scheduled for 5 pm the following afternoon. Which basically means it would take a miracle for me to not gnaw off my own hand or attack someone in some kind of hunger/thirst rage.

I think it’s some kind of brilliant New York Presbyterian Hospital weight loss plan.

By the time we got to the hospital, I was incredibly cranky. But you can imagine I was quickly cheered up by an hour of “Deal or No Deal”  in the waiting room. That show makes absolutely no sense to me. There are suitcases, there’s money, there’s a mysterious banker and that’s when I lose focus.

And there was no way to change the channel. Just Howie.

Just before the surgery, I learned that Farrah Fawcett died which bummed me out because she was so blond and sassy.

And just after the surgery, I found out that Michael Jackson died which bummed me out because he was so white and sassy.  His ever changing looks aside, he was so unbelievably talented. Damn, that guy could move like nobody else. I still can’t quite believe he’s gone.

I decided to leave the hospital before any more celebs took a turn for the worse.

I twittered that I’m going to feather my hair and moonwalk all week in memory. But I can’t layer my locks because after 45 days of rain and humidity, my hair would expand about 4 feet high. And I can’t moonwalk all week because I’d look like a complete idiot.

But just know, in all seriousness, I’m thinking of them and their families (especially their children). Sigh… Those two will be seriously missed.

The very next day, a representative from NY Presbyterian Hospital called me. I figured they wanted to ask me how I liked their Howie Mandel sponsored television.

But they just wanted to make sure I was feeling ok. Did I have any questions or concerns? Or feedback about the hospital?

Really?!

Wow, apparently in our messed up health care system, someone still knows how to do something right.

I told them the next time I wanted to drop a few pounds before a big shindig, I’d totally stop by.

mama bird notes:

Jodi is the winner of Blue Bunny^® ice cream for a year!! Congratulations. And thank you to Blue Bunny for making June here on The Mama Bird Diaries so super delish. We love you Blue Bunny!!

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Despite the insane darkness and unbelievable quiet at night, I’ve actually felt very safe in the suburbs. That is – until the alarm guy showed up.

The guy was just creepy.

First of all, he never peed or had a glass of water in the entire 4 hours that he was at my house which just seems strange and unnatural. How can he properly install an alarm system when he’s clearly completely dehydrated?!

And he kept talking about all the different ways someone could break into a home, most of which had never occurred to me.

And then I realized that THIS guy could break in anywhere.

“So how do they make sure the people who work for the security companies aren’t criminals?” (You know, I was just making polite conversation.)

“You think I’m a criminal? It’s just the beard,” he responded.

Actually it’s because you’re SUPER creepy.

“No, no, not you! I just mean – in general. Because all you guys know everyone’s security codes, the easiest way to break in, that kind of thing,” I explain.

“We have thorough background checks. More extensive than the FBI,” he says.

Yeah, right.

“Oh, that’s great! Umm… I’m just wondering, how do I change my security code?” I ask.

The alarm guy did finally leave and that night I did not put on the alarm.

I was way too nervous to actually use it.

I thought I would accidentally set it off and wake the girls. And I’m far more afraid of awake children in the middle of the night than some dumb burglar.

mama bird notes:

You can still win Blue Bunny^® ice cream for an entire year! Just leave a comment at the end of this post. Good luck ice cream lovers.

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Well, you all really did make me smile. So thank you.

And yes, it was my birthday. As a surprise, my husband got a babysitter (imported from the city) and we went to see “The Hangover.”

It was a hilarious diversion (did that guy get a BJ in an elevator?!) and I love that Bradley Cooper.

And don’t think I jumped on the Bradley Cooper bandwagon when “Wedding Crashers” came along. I watched him when he was on “Bobby and Jack” back in 2005.  Bobby and What? Old school WB, baby.

I’m happily married but sort of jealous that Jennifer Aniston maybe, possibly, could be dating Cooper.

I mean, who gives a crap about John Mayer. So he sings. Whatever.  But Cooper? Way cuter.

Meanwhile, when I’m not resenting Jennifer Aniston, I am settling into suburban life. I just got my first Westchester pedicure in preparation for a Bar Mitzvah last weekend. I knew all those 13 year-old’s would totally be checking out my toenails and I would hate to let them down.

As I sat down for the pedicure, I couldn’t find a single magazine other than “More” (a magazine for women over 40). Being newly 39 (actually still 38 at the time of this pedicure), I cringed as I picked up this old fogey periodical.

And then I cringed a bit more because I was totally interested in practically every article. Like which celebs had work done. And another article about how not to seem old when you leave a phone message.

Apparently, if you’re old, you leave really long messages.

And if you want to seem young, you don’t leave a message at all or you just text.

Which I already do with my husband. Because every time I leave him a super long message with intricate details about my afternoon like how I was going to walk into town with the girls so I loaded them into the the stroller but then realized it had a flat tire. So I dragged our second stroller up from the basement and transferred all our stuff from the first stroller to the second stroller and then it started to rain. So I took all our things out of the second stroller, threw it all in the car, put the girls in their car seats and just drove there…. he doesn’t even LISTEN to the message.

He just calls back and says, “I saw you called. What’s up?”

“Did you listen to my message?”

“No. What did it say?”

“It was really long. With important stuff. Really important. I can’t possibly remember everything I said. I don’t know why I bother.”

So now I don’t. I just call and hang up if I get his voicemail.

Which means I’m totally young and cool.

At least according to some magazine for old people.

mama bird notes:

This week is your last chance to win a year’s worth of incredible Blue Bunny^® ice cream. One mama bird reader will win a carton of ice cream (plus one pack of novelties from the Blue Bunny^®menu) delivered to his or her door every month for a year. Free ice cream for a whole year!! How does life get better than that?

Just leave a comment and tell me whether a blue bunny is more likely to date A) Bradley Cooper, B) John Mayer, C) another Blue Bunny or D) None of the above because everyone knows that blue bunnies don’t date much.

Good luck ice cream lovers!!

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There are certain things in life that happen that we just never see coming.

We never think we’re going to be one of those people.

One of those people…

who gets divorced.

or loses a child.

or gets laid off.

or feels the weight of depression.

or gets sick.

or has a miscarriage.

or loses a parent.

or has an alcohol problem.

or hears the diagnosis of cancer.

or feels completely alone.

And then it happens. That thing. That thing that doesn’t fit in with your life plan. And you are left to somehow put all the cracked pieces back together. Somehow move forward.  Somehow create a new plan.

My mother always says, God doesn’t close a door without opening a window.

But damn, that window can be hard to find.

And sometimes it seems wedged shut. Really tight.

But I do believe it’s always there.

I never expected to have three miscarriages. It wasn’t in my plan. So my life will be different now. Not exactly the way I thought it would be.

So I try to move forward. I try to breathe. I try to find that window.

I beg you – please please please don’t say, “I’m sorry.”

Just tell me something that makes you smile. Because maybe it will make me smile too.

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