So I’m walking to the dentist recently and I have a little time to waste before my appointment, so I run into Urban Outfitters. I’m always convinced that if I pop by this store, I will find an amazing, cute top for $23.

This has never actually happened to me.

The second I walk in, my hears are vibrating from the nonstop pulsing music.  “I Want To Be Trash” is blasting from every corner. That’s the title of the song and pretty much all the lyrics too.

I look at other shoppers so we can make eye contact and momentarily bond over the insanely loud music but all I get are vacant 20-something stares.

At which I point I realize, anyone who has forehead wrinkles and doesn’t understand why someone wants to be trash is maybe too old for Urban Outfitters. So I leave. With no cute top.

And head to the dentist. My appointment goes like this…

1. The dental hygienist points out bone loss on my bottom teeth (which confirms my earlier suspicion that I’m too old for grunge, hipster chains like Urban Outfitters).

2. The dental hygienist tells me that I’m not flossing correctly.

3. The dental hygienist recommends I buy a water pick. I think the last time I saw a water pick was in my mother’s bathroom in the 80s but maybe that’s the decade for cutting edge dental technology.

4. The dental hygienist offers to pull up a water pick demonstration on the internet so I can see how it all works. I mumble something about a babysitter needing to leave early but PROMISE to check it out at home.

5. They try to pin me down for another appointment in 6 months. I commit to nothing.

mama bird notes:

I want to send out some prayers and love to the wonderful Braja of Lost and Found in India. She and her husband were in a terrible car accident last week. Updates can be found here. So please send your healing power their way.

I’m walking down Hudson this week, pushing Summer in the stroller and suddenly a delivery guy puts the hard brakes on his trolly and turns around and stares at me.

And then looks away.

And then stares at me again.

“Oh damn. I thought you were that girl from Sex in the City.”

“Sarah Jessica Parker?” I ask flattered. Sure, a Maxim Magazine poll once declared her the “unsexiest woman alive” but I think she’s ultra fabulous.

“Yeah that’s the one. Hey George, doesn’t she look like that Sex and the City girl?” he asks his friend.

“She sure does. But totally different nose,” George chimes in.

And from what I saw at the Oscar’s, very different boobs too.

“Yeah… well, as you can see. I’m not her. But I’ve actually been hoping to see her myself one of these days.”

I want to tell them that I’m a bit panicked because we are planning a move to the suburbs in a few months and then I’ll only run into celebs like Phil Donahue and Michael Bolton and what kind of empty life is that?

I mean, this week alone, I spotted Hugh Jackman and Keifer Sutherland in my neighborhood.  But I don’t want these delivery guys to pity me so I just say goodbye and keep walking.

And then that evening, we get an offer on our apartment.

And I immediately start crying.

And Rick looks at me in disbelief and says, “You are crazy. Why are you crying? It’s an offer! That’s good news.”

“Because I love our exposed brick and our high ceilings and my favorite coffee shops and my friends in the neighborhood and our preschool and all the awesome restaurants and our babysitter and…. THIS is where I brought my babies home. This the living room where we bounced 4 week-old Dylan on an exercise ball nonstop because it was the only thing that stopped her from crying. And this is the home where I nursed both my girls. And I don’t want someone living in our house. This is OUR home.”

More sobbing.

I know it’s time to take my cue from “Friday Night Lights” because I believe scripted television dramas contain the key to a better, more fulfilling life.

On a recent episode, Coach Taylor puts the kaibosh on a beautiful new house his wife Tami has her heart set on. Too expensive, he says, to which Tami responds, “I don’t need this house. I don’t. I got you and I got Jules and I got Gracie Bell and the best life. I don’t need this house.”

I, too, have the best life and I know, deep under my tears, that I don’t need this house either.

“But I’m really going to miss it,” I say to Rick.

“I know. Me too.”

mama bird notes:

Contributing mama Erin Butler may not naturally be a morning person but she’s determined to kick start her day at 6 am. My money is on the snooze alarm. Click on contributing mamas to read more.

Mayberry Mom won the super awesome Karma Kids Yoga CD. Send me your address and we’ll mail this off to you.

By Contributing Mama Erin K. Butler

There are many things in this world that I believe I could do if I put my mind to it. But no matter how hard I try there are three things I am pretty sure will never happen.

1. I will never be an Olympic athlete…unless reading Goodnight Moon becomes a legitimate sport.

2. I will never look like super model. Or even a regular model. Maybe a hand model…but even those odds are slim.

3. And…I will never be a morning person.

Now I realize that waking up before the sun isn’t exactly on the same level as an Olympic athlete or a super model, but I was born a night person. Given the choice, I’ll pick sunsets over sunrises any day. My second wind kicks in around 8pm and most nights I am up until nearly midnight. Now normally these hours don’t really jell with being a mom but this is my child at 6 am:

And at 7:30 am:

Yes, I have been blessed with super baby. Who, on most mornings, sleeps until 8am.

Sometimes until 8:30 am.

It’s ok. I would hate me too.

My girlfriend Angela, who has three children under the age of seven, wakes up a good two hours before me to get her day started. If anyone needs more rest it’s her, yet while I am still in my deep sleep cycle, she will whip up a pot roast for dinner, do four loads of laundry, and create three new pieces for her Etsy shop.

Of course, I do stay up later than her at night, but in my child free hours I am not that industrious. After dinner, a few emails and a quick status update on Facebook is all I can handle before I settle into watch who pulls a big number on “The Biggest Loser.”

Maybe if I did this whole “morning thing” I would get more done. So I decided to give it a try.

Day One

6:00 am: Alarm goes off. I hit snooze. Snooze again. Snooze again. I hit snooze so many times the alarm automatically resets, turns off and I go back to sleep.

Day Two

6:00 am: Alarm goes off. I hit snooze several times until my husband throws a pillow at me and tells me to move it or lose it. I choose to lose it, shut off the alarm and go back to sleep.

Day Three

6:00 am: Alarm goes off. I hit snooze…six times until my husband gets up, fumbles for the off button, finally gives up and unplugs the alarm.  I was asleep before the clock went blank.

After three days, I become cranky and called my trial period O-V-E-R.

It was a valiant effort but when I really think about it there is no need to change who I am. It’s all part of my “charm” – charm that just doesn’t show up much before Regis and Kelly.

I always dreamed of having a child that would like to sleep in as much as me…and here she is.

Plus, I know my night owl preferences will eventually come in handy down the road when I am baking those last minute cupcakes for a school birthday party, helping to tweak a science project gone array or washing the pink shirt at 11pm she must! wear! tomorrow!

So I am going to keep my life status quo and continue to be the envy of every early rising mom out there.

I’ll save the sunrises for vacation…ok, let’s be honest; I am not getting up early on vacation either.

“I want my name to be Summer. Can you call me Summer?” Dylan asks this past weekend.

“Won’t it get confusing since your sister’s name is Summer? You won’t know who I’m talking to,” I respond. Brilliant answer. I high five myself.

“We’ll just ask you,” Dylan rebuts. Oh, right, 4 year-olds make a hobby out of asking a gazillion questions. I realize the high five was premature.

“What about Winter? Or Spring? Or Fall? Those are lovely names and they aren’t already taken,” I counter.

“No, I like the warm one.”

“You know, Spring and Fall can be quite warm. Especially if this whole global warming thing really pans out the way I hope.  And honey, why do you want to change your name anyway? I love the name Dylan.”

“Because I don’t feel Dylanish. I feel Summerish,” Dylan says.

“I see.”

I get it. When I was a kid, I would have traded every pair of my clogs and a Scott Baio poster to be named Lisa or Tara.

Later in the day, Dylan is completely frustrated with my inability to remember her new name.

“Mom, you keep calling me Dylan. I’m Summer now,” she insists.

“Oh right. We’re still sticking with that? Ok. I’ll work on it,” I promise.

You know… I’ve been feeling a bit Summerish myself. With the warm and sunny weather this past weekend, even I’m ready to put down the wine bottle, peel off the wool sweater and Ugg slippers and feel a tiny inkling of hope that maybe, perhaps we have all survived another evil winter.

mama bird notes:

Contributing mama Jordana Bales knows what’s it’s like to have a dinner with a friend and all the kids at a restaurant. So she came up with a little agenda for the meal that I think you’ll really enjoy. Click on contributing mamas to read more.

For NYC mamas who are looking for a nanny or want to help a nanny find a job, check out the new site, shareournanny.com.  It’s a free nanny share referral service.  So forget the Craig’s List craziness and check out this new site.

Finally, we have a little giveaway for you. It’s the new yoga CD, “Come Play Yoga!” from Kids Karma Yoga. You and your yogi kids will rock out to this awesome CD, which includes an eclectic mix of music including reggae, disco, rock and country. I wish my yoga teachers played music like this. Totally parent friendly. And the packaging is eco-friendly too.

To enter, just leave a comment and mention your favorite or not so favorite yoga pose so I know you’re interested in the giveaway.

By Contributing Mama Jordana Bales

Dear Rebecca,

I’m so looking forward to having dinner tonight with you and the girls! Ava hasn’t seen Talia since her third birthday party and you won’t believe how big Lila has gotten. Since we have so much to catch up on and a limited amount of time I have taken the liberty of putting together a list of topics I want to cover. I see our conversation going something like this:

1. Literature – I just finished a great book “The Post-Birthday World” it shows how your life can take a completely different path based on one choice (um… Like having kids??!!) – you’d love it!

2. Our mutual friend who is 48 but obsessed with having child number 2 and is spending $$$$$ on surrogates and in vitro.

Ava please sit down. We’re having dinner.

3. Public vs. private schools (I just can’t believe you live in such a good district and are seriously thinking of sending Talia to private school!).

4. Staying at home versus working – is freelancing really the best of both worlds?

Ava, if you don’t finish your food, no lollypop. Stop, that’s for Lila!

5. Definition of irony complete with real-life examples

6. Potty Training (on the D.L. of course since Talia is constipated and you were advised by your pediatrician to not mention it for a bit)

7. Weekend plans – Clifford is expected at Barnes and Noble! Purim party at the Y!

Ava sit down. I’m serious.

8. Play group over the summer – are the kids too big? Is everyone doing camp instead?

AVA SIT DOWN!!! SIT DOWN OR WE’RE LEAVING! STOP CRYING!!!

I AM GOING TO COUNT TO THREE AND YOU WILL SIT DOWN.
SIT DOWN NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

9. Effective communication with a toddler.