I dated for a very long time. About 7,000 years. I may have rounded that up a bit, but I’m telling you it was an incredible amount of time.

I remember Charlotte of “Sex in the City” proclaiming, “I’ve been dating since I was fifteen! I’m exhausted! Where is he?” A single girl myself at the time, I watched from my couch, nodding my head vigorously in agreement.

Where the hell was he?

And then Rick finally showed up.

We had our first date in 1996 and our second in 2000. Like Diana Ross told us, you can’t hurry love. But it’s really our third date where things got interesting.

Sitting at the Evelyn Lounge on the Upper West Side, Rick leaned in and asked, “Would you ever be willing to convert to Judaism?’

I’m sorry. What?! I think we’re going to need more cocktails over here. Hold on there cowboy. You’re cute. You’re nice. You’ve got a full head of hair. But Judaism? On the third date? Bold move boy. Really? Have you seen how much Christmas rocks? And that Easter Bunny. With the chocolate?

The answer was no. I wasn’t willing to convert. And it wasn’t about the chocolate. It’s just not who I am. In this case, Charlotte and I took different paths.

But I did (many nights later) agree to raise our children Jewish.

With the help of a team of non-denominational attorneys, we hammered out an inter-faith agreement where we would celebrate and honor the Christian and Jewish holidays but raise our girls with a Jewish identity. Oh, alright, there weren’t any attorneys but it was tense. Very tense and very emotional.

It was extremely important to Rick for our children to be Jewish and it was my gift to him.

But no one ever said one single word about “Paul Zim (aka The Jewish Music Man) and Seder Nights.”

It should have been in the agreement. I knew I needed an attorney.

I’ve always feared the Wiggles in my home. I never saw Paul Zim and his Seder Nights coming.

This past weekend we went to a Passover celebration at The Museum of Jewish Heritage and received this glorious CD in the goodie bag. Dylan, who is very musically inclined and has mastered the use of the CD player, started playing this Passover sing-a-long CD over and over and over again. She particularly has a passion for, “Dayenu”, which ironically means “enough” in Hebrew.

Click below to experience it yourself.

Paul Zim rocks Dayenu

Look, it’s a catchy, festive song.

The first few times I heard it, I’m sure I swayed with the beat.

I may have even sung along a bit.

But that was the first 35 times I heard it. And that figure is projected to rise significantly over the next few days.

Is she trying to drive her Christian mother mad?

I don’t think so. I think she just really digs that guy Paul and his kickin’ Seder Nights.

Someday the girls will be Bat Mitvah’d. But Rick and I haven’t yet brokered a deal on whether our girls will attend Jewish sleep over camp.

Rick has very fond memories of his summers at Camp Harlam. Mostly I think because of something called, “bush time” that has nothing to do with our current President (Yes, George W. is still in charge) and everything to do with horny adolescents spending a few moments in the bushes with their camp crushes. Absolutely true. Just ask Rick.

But if the Jewish Music Man has anything to do with Jewish camp, the girls can attend a nonsectarian arts and crafts day camp.

See, this is the kind of stuff you have to deal with when you marry a nice, cute Jewish boy. So worth it. Just ask that Charlotte.

mama bird notes

Don’t miss our giveaway this week. The ART:archives will photograph your child’s art and turn it into a beautiful custom digital presentation on DVD. Set to classical music, this is an incredible way to preserve your child’s creations. Includes a backup DVD and a CD of the digital photos. $350 value.

To enter, just leave a comment this week on the mama bird diaries and forward a post to a friend (it can be any mama bird post and your friend will never ever be spammed). Just click on the “send to a friend” box below.

On another note, if you live in the Bay area, please consider coming out this Saturday (April 19th) for the Silicon Valley Moms Bone Marrow Drive. Click here for more info. Your support is truly needed. Thanks California mamas!

Last night I was lying next to my husband in bed. Before drifting off, I said, “Honey, you smell like a big piece of barbeque chicken.”

I like to say nice things like that because it really pumps up his ego.

And he really did smell like chicken. Earlier that evening, he grilled an awesome dinner on our balcony. And just so you know, here in Manhattan, it’s sort of illegal to have a gas grill on your balcony. So, don’t rat us out. As far as I’m concerned, that’s just a big ass urban stroller under that tarp. What?! Your stroller doesn’t come with grilled corn and artichokes as side dishes? Well, maybe you just bought the wrong stroller.

Today, my husband smells much less like chicken. His co-workers and I are grateful.

Meanwhile, Miss 3 1/2 year-old Dylan continues to express her fashionista ways, this time in the undergarment department.

I came home from running errands to find Dylan completely naked except for my Spanx-like tummy sucking, support underwear on. She had them tugged up high, like a strapless one piece bathing suit.

Now I really like my babysitter. She’s totally cool and great with the kids. But I just wasn’t ready to show her my little secret for looking svelte and sleek when I go out at night. I mean, I don’t even want my chicken guy seeing those knickers up close.

Me: Kira, I’m so sorry you have to see my daughter prancing around in my underwear. Ah… especially those. I guess she dug them out of my drawer.

Kira, the babysitter: Oh you should have seen it when she had on your black bra and heels too!

Me: (smiling nervously) Really? (nervous laughter) Well, let me go see if I can find that bra.

Does parenthood take away every shred of privacy?

Lately, Dylan also has a very particular way she likes to wear her hair. I like it like this…

See the way her hair is swept nicely to the side? Doesn’t she look sweet? Like a little Hello Kitty pink angel.

Ok, this is the way she prefers it.

She likes to jam the barrett in the middle of her forehead. And if I try to fix it, she explains impatiently, “But I like to wear it in the middle!”

Well, ok. Do whatever you want. I certainly don’t want to be one of those crazy stage moms who is constantly trying to coif and preen her daughter. That is so not me. I believe children should be able to express their own individual spirit. That is how you raise healthy, independent, happy kids.

But maybe we could move that barrett just ever so slightly to the side? Still no? Oh, alright.

mama bird notes

If you want to check out a couple other things I’ve written lately, visit NYC Moms Blog for a post called The Dark Side. Or visit Notes on a Party for ideas on green birthday gifts.

Or forget me. Check out Contributing mamas Daphne Biener’s post here. She’s got all the answers in The Book. You never heard of THE Book? Well, neither had I.

We’ve got a cool giveaway this week. Ever feel guilty about throwing your kid’s art away or just don’t know what to do with it all? A couple savvy mamas came up with a high tech solution. They created The ART:archives.

Here’s how it works. You send them your child’s artwork (plus a recent photo, writing samples if they are older, and even their current height, weight, favorite book, etc). They take professional photographs of all the artwork and create a custom digital presentation, set to classical music, on DVD. One DVD and you’ve preserved your kid’s creations!

One lucky mama bird reader will win a DVD presentation of their child’s artwork, a backup copy, a CD of the digital photos and a CD you can synch with your iPhone and/or iPod for a digital slideshow. It’s all a $350 value.

Just leave a comment this week on the mama bird diaries and forward a post to a friend (it can be any mama bird post and your friend will never be spammed. Girlfriend’s honor). Just click on the “send to a friend” box below. Good luck mamas!

By Daphne Biener

Kira lost a tooth yesterday. Her third.

It’s the kind of occasion I love. The kind that insists I lie to my children: Go to sleep, my girl, sweet dreams. For late at night a winged stranger will snake into your room to steal your precious tooth. If you’re lucky, she’ll only take the one under the pillow, mmuhaahaa!

Kira is a willing conspirator even though it goes against every atom of her practical being. I know she’s on to us, but she’s a team player – just as long as it keeps paying out in dollar coins.

After her recent visit from the beloved nocturnal theif, Kira asked:

“Mom, when I grow up and have my own kids, will you tell me everything I need to know about getting in touch with the tooth fairy?”

Oh honey. Don’t worry. Everything you need to know is in The Book.

Kira: Um, The Book?

Sure, you know, The Mom Book. Mommy 101. You don’t think we just KNOW all this stuff, do you? No sir, we rely on a tidy syllabus to spell it all out. Truth-be-told I never have found that section on when said fairy forgets to grab the tooth and leave the loot…I guess some things you just have to learn on your own. But for everything else? There’s The Mom Book.

Congratulations, Mrs. Jones, it’s a girl. And here of course is everything you’ll need to know. Couldn’t very well send you off with a new baby and no instructions now, could we? (Friendly chuckles all around at this absurd thought.)

Due to a mix-up I never got my book. Which is why I’ve linked arms with a tin man who pines for a heart and a scarecrow who sings about how it would be, if he only had a brain…I would love to sing my version for you, but even with the biggest bucket a tune is too much for me to carry. Just know that my voice would bring tears to your eyes (not the good kind).  Instead why don’t you hum along as we skip the yellow bricks. If I only had that book…

I’d play dress-up all the hours
Teach kids to smell the flowers
Silence whining with a looook,

There would be no time for screaming
Or for midnight scary dreamin’
If I only had that book…

I’d return the Great and Powerful Mom. Oh yes, I’d have the answers. Imagine how different things would be back in Kansas:

Q: Mom? What does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth?

A: Why it says right here in chapter four that she floats around the world stealing pearly whites to build herself an enamel palace. See the picture? Like the emerald city, only more ghastly.

Q: Mom? How do they kill the chickens, you know, without killing the chickens?

A: Indeed my child I’m glad you asked. Sharp reasoning: Killing, bad. Chicken, good. Quite the conundrum. Let’s turn to chapter 7 and find that answer together, shall we?

Q: Mom? Why do you pee standing up at the airport? You said only boys pee standing up.

A: Astute observation my child. And so nice of you to ask it in that clear loud voice that can be heard over everyone else’s flushes. Let’s check the book when we get home, shall we?

Now that I’ve got the golden tome, I’ve read that you can nip teenage angst in the bud by dealing effectively with eye-rolling now. I’m sure glad they offer that 12-page outline of exactly how to manage these behavioral gems, aren’t you? What? Don’t you know about it? No problem. You’ve got the book, right? Just look it up.

You can read more of Daphne’s work here on the mama bird diaries or visit her site, Sestina Queen.

Growing up, my mother always had a lot of morsels of wisdom, stuck haphazardly to the refrigerator and propped up on window sills, like…

“God never closes a door without opening a window”

“The best man for the job may be a woman”

“I want to be the kind of person my dog thinks I am”

“Practice random acts of kindness”

I had sort of forgotten about that last one until yesterday. Dylan, Summer and I were walking to the coffee shop and we spotted a guy with a van, parked on our street. Normally, I’m not an enormous fan of strange guys with shady vans, but this one was delivering flowers. What are the chances of some crazy child snatcher moonlighting as a florist? Gotta be pretty low, right?

His side door was wide open and he noticed us peering in.

Flower guy: Here have a bouquet.

Me: What? Really? Oh, no, we just wanted to smell the beautiful flowers.

Flower guy: Take this. It’s yours.

Me: Really? Are you sure? Well, ok. Thanks so much. That is so nice of you. (For free? Really?! You know you can get money for these buddy. People actually purchase flowers.)

Receiving free, gorgeous flowers is a fabulous way to start a Saturday. It put me in such a buoyant mood that I thought it would be a fun family activity to go to the Container Store. I’m sure you’ve tried this before. You attempt to turn a necessary errand into an exciting adventure.

“No, kids, we aren’t going to the playground on this sunny spring day. Forget the slide. Nevermind the swings. We are doing something far more fabulous. We are headed to the Container Store!! Wait until you see all the amazing ways you can organize your toys. The giant plastic storage bins alone are worth the trip!

I wanted to avoid a $25 delivery fee. (Yes anything in NYC can be delivered.) I just can’t stomach purchasing a $15 storage bin and then paying $25 to have it delivered.

It all went pretty well. I mean, the girls did immediately knock over a huge display of containers. But one of the store clerks confided that Martha Stewart herself had knocked over that very same stack recently and then instructed one of her assistants to clean up.

Rick and I looked around for one of our assistants but finding none, we did the dirty work ourselves.

And we did try to buy some rubber balls for the playground (who knew the Container Store sold balls?) but upon checkout we were told, the balls were merely props for their displays. So apparently they don’t.

I will admit that the girls got a bit rowdy towards the end.

First this happened….

and then Dylan scaled the counter…

It was clear that Rick and I were seriously losing control of the situation. So we paid…

and got the heck out of there. And I may not have any assistants, but I did have a handsome sherpa to schlep the stuff home.

No $25 charge. Just a random act of kindness.

mama bird notes

Lanie is the winner of the super cool Toby + Rei t-shirt and lunch sack!

As some of you may know, I do consulting work for a start-up called TotSpot. It’s like a Facebook for kids. You can create a safe, private profile for your child, record everything from their first word to their current favorite toy, upload pictures and videos and share it all with family and friends.

TotSpot is still working on the final product. They would love feedback from mamas. If you want to try it out, email me at kelcey@mamabirddiaries.com and I will send you the invite code.

Wait… what the hell is happening? Spring? Could it be? City dogs are suddenly prancing around minus their little cashmere vests.

And there are other signs here and there. Like this gal…

And love blossoming all around…

Oh, apparently you can love too much.

And here are some bare little toes on artificial city turf…

and a weird guy doing bare chested stomach crunches…

and sassy Summer sunglasses…

and mamas doing cartwheels…

Well, honestly, I was the only mum actually doing that. Yes, that’s me. What?! You think after 2 kids, I’m all washed up and out of cool moves. I’ve got mega awesome moves. You haven’t even seen my best stuff sista. My round off could kick you on your ass.

Yup, the proof is all here. It looks like we may have actually made it through winter. Keep that on the very down low because I don’t want a Nor’easter suddenly whipping through.

So since it’s 70 degrees in New York City, can someone tell Dylan to take her friggin’ wool hat off?

What is it with that kid?!

It’s a trifle difficult to enjoy the sunshine on our once quaint, cobblestone street with two new buildings going up simultaneously. Here are the current views from our lobby door.

Your think I could turn these snapshots into New York City postcards and sell them to the European tourists?

With all the noise, machinery and chaos, I’m thinking the upside this summer will be hot, shirtless construction workers sort of like that 1994 diet coke ad. This is my promise to you faithful readers. I will wait for a steamy, humid day. I will find the hot ones. And I will have my camera.

Oh, and if I can’t find any smokin’ guys, I’m sure I can at least rustle you up some butt crack.

mama bird notes

Ever been to an eco-chic cocktail party? I love that it’s finally cool to be green. Click on drooling over this to read more.