Pre-Recession Weekend Plans: Rick and I hire a babysitter and go out for dinner and drinks with friends.

Recession Weekend Plans: Rick and I sit down on our couch to survey the options on our DVR.

“We have “30 Rock” and “Grey’s Anatomy,”" he says.

“Your choice. I don’t care,” I reply.

“No, your pick. It’s Friday night. It’s Ladies’ Night.”

Ladies’ Night?

Is this what passes for Ladies’ Night nowadays? Because I distinctly remember a time when it meant endless free drinks for me and all my friends at our local college bar, while we scouted for hot frat boys to kiss.

That’s what being a lady was all about in 1990.

And now a few years later several years later nearly two decades later, it comes down a glass of white wine and a choice between “30 Rock” and “Grey’s Anatomy.”

Damn.

I pick “Grey’s Anatomy.”

Which has gotten so gross. And so serious. And so depressing.

Didn’t that show used to funny and carefree and all about the hook-ups?

You know, more like Ladies’ Night?

Obviously, we should have just watched “Friday Night Lights” with the commercials. It’s seriously the best show on television. And I know what you’re thinking. Um, hold on there cowgirl, don’t you always tout, “Gossip Girl” as the most amazing show ever?

Well, yes but….. “Friday Night Lights” is like an incredible dinner at a Mario Batali restaurant and “Gossip Girl” is the Butterfinger you scarf down on the cab ride home. Both completely awesome but totally different.

So go watch it. Afterwards, if you don’t end up really wanting to be Tami Taylor (Coach Taylor’s wife) like me and faithful mama bird reader E, I swear I’ll buy you a Butterfinger.

Oh by the way, that Butterfinger promise is a total scam.

mama bird notes:

MommyTime won the Shrek tickets! The four runners-up…Sandrine, zmama, Kimberly/Mom in the City and LB all won the musical cast recording of Shrek. Congrats ladies! Just send your address to kelcey@mamabirddiaries.com.

For those of you who want to buy Shrek tickets at a 30% discount, click here. Certain restrictions apply.

And finally, you can still enter the Seventh Generation giveaway, just click here and scroll to the end of the post. Good luck birdies.

Quite awhile ago, I threw out every traditional, chemical filled cleaning product in my home and replaced them with natural, awesome products from Method, Mrs. Meyers and Seventh Generation.

I thought it was a good idea. Now I realize it was a seriously fantastic one.

I just heard Dr. Alan Greene (a pediatrician) speak at an event hosted by Seventh Generation.  He talked about the dramatic increase of cancer, autism, allergies and asthma in our children. At the same time, children have been exposed to more and more chemicals. Since 1974, 20,000 new chemicals have come into the marketplace.

20,000 new chemicals? Ugh.

20,000 new kinds of low fat cupcakes with fat free frosting? I’d totally be on board.

Dr. Greene says, the environment in your home is far more toxic than the environment outside and kids are much more sensitive to these chemicals.

But it’s so damn easy to fix. And for those of us who are lazy and don’t feel like climbing on our roofs to install solar panels in our free time to create a greener house, here are a few simple steps to create a safer, healthier home.

1. Get rid of all those chemical products. The natural ones work just as well, smell divine and in the event your child gets his or her hands on your window cleaner or another product, you won’t have a nervous breakdown. Look at the warning label on those traditional cleaning products. Lots of scary words like FATAL and DANGER and HAZARD.

2.Use diapers with no chemicals like cloth diapers, gdiapers or Seventh Generation diapers. Honestly, I never could quite get the hang of those cloth diapers but they are the greenest way to go if you’re hard core.

3. Buy some plants. Plants are incredible at cleaning air (according to fancy NASA research).

4. Open the windows from time to time (as long as you have child guards).

So WHAT does this all have to do with “Gossip Girl?”

Turns out, Kelly Rutherford (Lily from “Gossip Girl”) was at this Seventh Generation event too. I was really hoping the very pregnant actress was there to share dark, insider secrets from the GG set but apparently she was just there to promote the need for an eco-friendlier world. A little disappointing don’t you think?

By the way, did you know that this coming week is National Cleaning Week? Just to clarify, this blog does not endorse or recommend cleaning when you could be watching TV.

But if you do get the urge to clean, I’m giving away an “Under The Kitchen Sink Makeover” bag from Seventh Generation, filled with some fabulous, non-toxic products.

Just leave a comment and tell me how you’ve tried to lead a greener life. Or whether you look good in green. Or have green eyes. Or have a green thumb. Or once wore a green sweatsuit on St. Patrick’s Day. Any of those will do.

mama bird notes:

I’ll announce the winner of the SHREK tickets on Monday. It’s not too late to enter. Click here and scroll to the bottom of the post.

You know what gives me stress? When I’m stuck at a doctor’s appointment on the Upper East Side and I realize that there is no way I can possibly be back downtown by 11 am even though my babysitter absolutely, positively must leave by then.

Oh and it’s freakin’ St. Patrick’s Day. And all 8 million New York City residents are suddenly Irish and celebrating which means traffic is maddening.

Look, I love the concept. Wear a green sweatsuit, drink green beer, unleash green puke on your friends and raise holy hell in the streets of Manhattan. But it just makes it a bitch to get downtown when there’s a parade in my way.

So I’m in the waiting room hyperventilating about who is going to watch Summer (Dylan is at school) in my absence. I make a few calls to friends in the neighborhood but no one seems to be around.

I call Rick at work who of course can’t help me but I like to burden him with my troubles. Once he’s sufficiently stressed out about the situation, I tell him I have to go.

I actually consider whether our super friendly and slightly irritating doorman could temporarily take care of a 2 year-old because opening doors for us and helping with our luggage and caulking our bathroom is sort of the precursor to taking caring of a small child, right?

Then I talk to my friend Jen whose husband Eric happens to be at home. He’s a great dad. So I call him.

“Hi Eric. It’s Kelcey. Dylan and Summer’s mom. Jen said you might be willing to take Summer for like a half hour? Is that ok? I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

“Thank you so much. Oh by the way, she’s DEFINITELY going to cry. Just let her watch Sesame Street and give her sugar and carbs. That’s your best hope.”

We hang up. I call back immediately.

“Hi Eric. It’s Kelcey again. Umm… do you have any cash on you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I hate to do this but when my sitter drops Summer off, could you give her $48 bucks and I’ll pay you back?”

When pawning your kid off on some poor, unsuspecting guy…. always ask him for money too.

“No problem.”

This guy is seriously a dream.

Turns out, Summer does cry. I know because I call from the car and can hear her sobbing in the background. Her St. Patrick’s Day is totally sucking.

But things quickly turn around for her. Because Eric the Savior gives her chocolate cake to calm her down.

And obviously, any day with cake just can’t suck that much.

mama bird notes:

For NYC area mamas… I’m giving away 4 tickets to the Broadway show SHREK THE MUSICAL, the story of a swamp-dwelling ogre who goes on a life changing adventure. It’s part romance and part twisted fairy tale.

To enter, just leave a comment on the mama bird diaries and mention anyone you dated in the past who resembled a swamp-dwelling ogre. Ok, fine. Just mention SHREK THE MUSICAL.

I can’t remember exactly when I started reading Marinka’s blog, Motherhood in NYC, but I know it significantly improved my life.  What do I like best about the mysterious Marinka? She’s hilarious, loves a good margarita and she’s a bottle blond. I think you’ll agree, those traits are the cornerstone of any solid friendship.

We decided to come clean about our addiction to hair chemicals. Read Marinka’s very entertaining post below, leave a comment and then head on over to Motherhood in NYC to read my post.

From Hair to Eternity
By Marinka

When I was in high school, I had my hair dyed platinum blonde by a man who told me that he’d done Cindy Lauper’s hair as well. “Does she really talk in that Betty Boop voice?” I asked. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. Because apparently such conversations were beneath him. He charged $50 and I thought that I was Marilyn Monroe. I was a soccer and lacrosse playing tomboy, but I loved unnaturally blonde hair.

Although I had toned down the shade since high school to focus on colors actually found in nature (excluding the Vermont high foliage season), a few weeks ago it occurred to me that I have been getting my hair dyed pretty much consistently for the past twenty five years. I ran some numbers and realized that if I’d been investing all that hair money with Madoff, early on in the scheme and got out while the going was good, I could have had some prime New York City real estate by now. But we all make choices in life and I don’t regret mine. What I do regret is the economic turmoil that our country is in right now because it put my hair color under scrutiny. Well, not the color itself, because that is beyond reproach and I believe that was cited favorably in the Stimulus Bill, but the payments that I make for it.

“I can help you with that,” my gay best friend John told me. “We’ll get some Garnier Nutresse and do it ourselves.” He clicked over to their website where Sarah Jessica Parker reassured me that I would, indeed, look fabulous. I was still unsure. John thought that it would be really cost conscious and fun for the whole family if he came over and did it for me at home. There were a few problems with his plan. The first is that “fun for the whole family” translates into “my unholy nightmare”. The second is that as far as I could tell, John’s color experience was limited to dying his own beard Bluto-black and then having to dye his shower curtain dark blue to mask the Bluto-black beard dye that splashed on it. I suggested that he just dye his beard blue and save the extra step, but it seems that my wisdom is lost on him. At any rate, I wasn’t ready to have Russian Whore Blonde shower curtains, so I never took him up on his offer. I mean, it’s only a couple of hundred dollars every few months. Surely there are other expenses that I could trim. Like the children’s food. And besides, that prime New York City real estate would be nearly worthless now. I’m so glad that I invested in hair.

Click on over to Motherhood in NYC to read how I accidentally became a brunette.

mama bird notes:

Contributing mama Daphne Biener is starting to wonder if her kids are always right. Click on contributing mamas to read more. Trust me, any post that references Culture Club is worth reading.

And I want to thank Smartass Mom for this lovely award below. I’m so very honored. Thank you!

By Contributing Mama Daphne Biener

Acadia came home from kindergarten yesterday with this nugget:

“The African penguin weighs less than 12 pounds. It’s endangered, you know.”

For whatever reason, I felt the need to correct my five year-old.

“I don’t believe there is such thing as an African penguin, sweetheart.   Africa is hot, and penguins live in cold water.”

I actually thought that there was some strength to this logic.  Why? Because I am a fool. No matter how many times I trot down this road with nothing more to support me than the expired fruits of my dusty education, I never learn.  How much longer until I just trust that my brain is not to be believed?

Sure enough, Acadia was right.  Accordingly to wikipedia, penguins established two colonies in South Africa in the 1980s. Apparently some forward-thinking cohort sized up the melting glaciers and decided, hey, let’s move this party south.

It’s not the first time I’ve been bested in a battle of wits by my children.  They know the minutia of everything. Knowledge that I may have grasped at one time, but that I somehow displaced in my memory quicker than you can sing karma karma karma karma karma chameleon.

My brilliant little know-it-alls have been validated (thanks, google) by things as far reaching as the route of the Alaskan Iditaron (Anchorage to Nome) to the exact location of Mt. Kilimanjaro (Tanzania) to the real behavior of lemmings (that cliff-leaping story is nothing more than a myth). I am starting to question the wisdom of my holding on to any tidbits that predate my children.   Like for instance my irritating habit of writing-off fairies as adorable, yet fictional, creatures.

My eight year-old, Kira, explained it nice and easy to my addle-brained self this way: “It’s easy, Mom.  You can believe in fairies because they are real.”

No surprise, I wrongly misinterpreted this as an opportunity to impart a valuable life lesson to my children.

“Fairies are nice,” I condescended.  “And it’s always ok to believe whatever you want to believe.  Even if your friends believe in something different.  Even if your mommy…”

“It doesn’t matter that you don’t believe, Mom.”  She dismissed me with the ease of someone used to being surrounded by ignorance such as mine.  “Because fairies are real.”

Ok, so fairies it is.  No problem.  I’m open-minded.  So open-minded in fact that the supporting evidence of the existence of fairies could have easily fallen out my head sometime back in middle school.  It probably happened about the same time I was swapping out things like the names of state capitals or the habitats of African mammals to make room for more vital pieces of information.

Like, for example, the lyrics to that super-cool Culture Club song.