I have never been a spa girl. Never. Something about being wrapped in seaweed and lying in a softly lit room while the “Best of Enya” is piped in just makes me really bored and itchy.
Gosh, I would love to scratch my knee if only I wasn’t triple sealed in plastic wrap. Is anyone coming back? The timer went off… Hello?! Is anyone coming back to unwrap me? My knee itches!
My idea of relaxation is sitting down on my couch, with a bowl of low fat ice cream (reduced fat to remove the guilt factor), in my Juicy sweatpants, and watching
60 Minutes “Lipstick Jungle.” See – if they opened a crap television and ice cream spa in my hood, I would sooo be there.
I thought I was the only one watching this “Lipstick Jungle” show but it turns out there are quite a number of you. There are a few reasons to tune in… like the fun clothes (though they’re not on par with the “Sex in the City” threads).
Nico’s secret or not-so-secret boy toy (ok, he’s mostly the reason to watch).
and if you’re still aching for a little Andrew McCarthy since “Pretty in Pink” left theatres…
…Gosh, he got old. I know. How can I say such a thing about sweet Andew with his soft eyes and late 80’s unconstructed blazer?
Enough about Andrew or “Andy” as I like to call him because we are so freakin’ tight.
But there really are a couple of very compelling reasons to skip “Lipstick Jungle.” Like the way dumb dialogue between the three female leads… and the constant, annoying sex scenes between Brooke Shields’s character, a mother of two, and her hubby. I like a sex scene as much as the next girl (refer back to Nico’s boy toy) but this just gets gross…
and makes you wonder, are all power movie executives able to fit in a quickie between making waffles for their kids and their business breakfast at 8 am? Every. Single. Day.
I was pleased to notice some new episodes of “Men in Trees” pop up on my sparse DVR (those writers are back at work… right?). I’ve always had kind of a kinship with Anne Heche’s character on “Men in Trees” because she plays a New York City girl trying to acclimate to life in Alaska.
My first on-air TV job was in Great Falls, Montana (yeah, I didn’t know where it was either). The day I got there it was MINUS 30 degrees. Apparently, it’s a DRY cold. So it feels more like
80 degrees minus 25.
I spent a year in Montana and I never ran into one guy who resembled sexy, sensitive Jack or woodsy, slightly greasy Cash from “Men in Trees.” Maybe I didn’t look hard enough. But there was breaking news to report. Like the opening of the first Great Falls Burger King. I so wish I was kidding.
Speaking of burgers, remember this?
It’s a hamburger phone, as seen in the movie, “Juno.” Since my husband, the handsome pack rat, has left it sitting on the bureau for TWO MONTHS now, mama bird Allison T. has agreed to take it and put it on HER bureau.
Allison, you are a burger lovin’ fool. I am filled with medium to well-done gratitude.
mama bird notes
Don’t forget to leave a comment on the mama bird diaries this week and enter to win this Star Swaddler from Baby Star. This super soft blanket is light weight and perfect for wrapping up your little bambino. Giveaway blanket is pink and green. $50 value.
Baby Star, a baby accessories company in Portland, Oregon, creates products for the design-savvy parent and the texture-loving child.
Now and then it’s time to spice up a marriage. And you know that can only mean one thing: roller skating old school style on Staten Island. Let’s hit it.
Wait.. let me BRIEFLY backtrack (no one enjoys a long back story).
In general, my husband and I are pretty good about going out on dates.
It kind of goes like this.
Go to dinner.
As much as I truly love trying new restaurants in New York City (please don’t make me use that atrocious word “foodie”), I sometimes long for an evening with a little less, “Our special appetizer tonight is slow roasted rabbit and sweetbread salad,” and a little more boogie nights.
So I invite my husband to go to….
in Staten Island. There are no longer any indoor roller rinks in Manhattan (a cryin’ shame if you ask me), so we head to one of the outer boroughs. Very outer. After a 45 minute drive and enough traffic to dampen our adventurous spirit just a bit, we arrive.
But our mood is immediately boosted when we see a middle aged woman in the parking lot, sliding out of the passenger side of a Pontiac Firebird, with a half-drunk bottle of vodka in her hand. Well, that’s a good sign. Clearly, a fun–lovin’ crowd.
Inside, where they don’t serve alcohol, we put on our rollerblades and Rick reaches for his wrist guards.
Me: Honey, PLEASE don’t wear your wrist guards. It ain’t cool. Not in a skating rink.
Rick: Wrist injuries are the number one injury for rollerbladers.
Me: Right. I know. Don’t wear them.
Rick: I really think I should.
Me: If you break your wrist, at least you’ll have the comfort of knowing you looked cool before you went down.
Rick hesitantly agrees to skate without them. He is so macho when he lives dangerously. The music is jamming and we start to skate the night away. Here I am out on the floor…
presumably stunned at some of the skating attire (not a lot of Michelle Kwan style going on). Like this one for example…
I only wish you could see this from the front. Let’s just say, this is one lady who is very comfortable with sharing her cleavage AND her belly. You gotta sort of respect her chutzpah. Or something.
There are seriously some awesome skaters, including a Cuba Gooding Jr. look-alike who moves like Fred Astaire on wheels. But Rick and I hold our own. I think we really could have wow’d them with our triple Lutz triple toeloop combination but you know, Rick wasn’t wearing his wrist guards and all.
I am so enamored with the skaters who can zig zag effortlessly, dancing and doing tricks, that I now want to be a super fab roller girl too. How do I become that?
The roller jammers keep it rockin’ deep into the wee hours of the morning. But around 11 pm…
My bunion hurts.
Rick’s shins hurt.
Our babysitter needs to go home.
So we head back to the island of Manhattan. As we drive home, Rick says, “I’ve never crossed the Verrazano Bridge on a date.”
See that’s what I’m talking about, people. We are keeping this marriage spicy.
mama bird notes
We have a mama bird giveaway! Leave a comment on the mama bird diaries this week and enter to win this Star Swaddler from Baby Star. This super soft blanket is light weight and perfect for wrapping up your little bambino. Giveaway blanket is pink and green. $50 value.
Baby Star, a baby accessories company in Portland, Oregon, creates products for the design-savvy parent and the texture-loving child. (Tully’s mama introduced me to this fab company.)
Also, contributing mama Daphne Biener is here. This mama bird is trying to keep up with her goal driven kiddo. It takes A LOT of flexibility. Click on contributing mamas to read more.
You feel it right?
It’s so in the air.
Oh yeah… it’s Purple Day at Dylan’s preschool (and you thought I couldn’t top Yellow Day. Why do you underestimate me?).
For Dylan, it’s a double layering of purple. Holy aubergine macaroni! She CAN be a team player.
But not a total conformist.
I have never in my life worn socks under flip flops so this granola hipster look did not come from me. I’m thinking my mom might be the inspiration. Although she tends to favor birkenstocks over her socks. Do they still make those?
So after I drop Dyan off at preschool this morning, I am rushing home so Rick can go to work. And that’s when I notice it on Bleeker Street: “Olive & Bette’s 75% off sale.” Through the window, I see heaps and mountains of discounted clothes at my fave shop.
I’m not really a sample sale girl. Our mama bird beauty girl Alex can spend six minutes in a mad frenzy sale and come out completely unscathed, with three fabulous items, all for $7 dollars. This skill is innate. It can not be learned and I don’t have it.
I get overwhelmed.
I find nothing.
I finally buy something that doesn’t fit, I don’t like and I will never wear because I don’t want to pass up the opportunity for such a fabulous steal. I mean, I don’t want some other girl wearing MY posh top?!
So I generally avoid these things, despite their fashionista siren song appeal.
Plus, I know Rick needs me home soon so he can hand Summer off and get to Fox 5 to host an early show.
So, of course, I do what every good, loyal wife would do.
I shop – FAST.
In my frantic rush, with adrenaline flowing like a marked-down dress, I dive into the madness.
The scene is a bit chaotic in the cramped store with women ravaging piles of t-shirts, shoes and sweaters. One babysitter is pushing a very content little boy around in a stroller. But it’s so crowded, the door security guy offers to park the little dude by him and watch over the kid.
She agrees. I’m suddenly wondering if this is acceptable behavior from a babysitter but the store is TINY. And it’s not like she’s running out for a coffee or a manicure. Soon the security guy and the little boy (the only two men in the place) are kickin’ back by themselves and watching over the mayhem. My nanny alert subsides and I focus on my mission.
I find a couple maybe-cute tanks. No, nothing in purple. Color Day? Never heard of it.
I arrive home and Rick is able to get to work on time. I mention nothing to him about my little unscheduled excursion. Look, if he wants to know what’s going on with me, he has to read the mama bird diaries just like everybody else. I’m not playing favorites here.
mama bird notes
The results of our latest poll are in…
What are you willing to do for an entire winter to keep your kids sick free?
42% of you would rather deal with the sniffles than give up anything.
13% would give up chocolate and coffee (now that’s a sacrifice).
13% would wear a former bridesmaid dress every time you go out at night.
12% would skip the make-up.
12% would go alcohol-free.
4% would listen to only Milli Vanilli on their iPod (Blame it on the Rain sista!).
Check out our newest poll. You get to go on a date with someone other than your handsome hubby. So who will you pick from the list of bachelors? Click on the poll to see your choices and weigh in.
Need some insight on your teenagers? Click on drooling over this for the insider scoop.
Finally, a mama bird mummy needs your brilliant ideas on encouraging her 18 month-old to eat. Click on askamama and help a mama out.
I’ve got some distressing news. I won’t sugarcoat it. The firefighters are gone.
Those hunky, super hero guys who spent more than 24 hours protecting my home front, have just vanished.
Instead the city has built this, ginormous scaffolding, to shield me and my neighbors from flying construction debris.
Look, I appreciate the effort and the construction guys are nice and all, but can you just send back those firefighters? What do you mean they can’t just hang out on my block all day? They have to FIGHT FIRES?!
I guess that’s a somewhat valid point. Sort of.
Even my babysitter Kira admitted to feeling a dash melancholy over their departure.
My husband Rick…. not nearly as sad.
But judging from everyone’s comments on my previous post, apparently I’m not the only one with firefighter lust. How much action must these guys get? Particularly, when they go out for a beer with their friends at a local bar and just can’t find a single moment to change out of their gear (just like those Wall Street boys who never change out of their suits). No witty, smart pick-up lines needed. Got a helmet? Here are my digits.
You know who else seems to be getting a lot of action – the Governor of New York. Turns out very married Governor Eliot Spitzer is allegedly involved in a prostitution ring in which he paid $4,300 for a couple hours with a prostitute.
Does that seem to be a bit steep? $4,300 DOLLARS. For 2 hours.
How about a nice trip to Europe?
Or maybe a down payment on a Mini Cooper?
But all that cash for a hooker? Plus, destroying your political career AND your marriage. Oh Eliot. So not worth it my man. And now your poor wife has to be the subject of endless, “Will she leave him or not?” speculation.
So with the firefighters gone and Governor Spitzer most likely to follow, there’s nothing for me to do but focus on Color Day at Dylan’s preschool.
I know you’re dying to know so I won’t wait any longer….
Today’s color was YELLOW. Go yellow. Go yellow. Can’t stop you. You’re too yellow.
So Dylan wore…. all BLUE.
When I inquired why, she explained that she does not like the color yellow but would be happy to participate in blue day or green day or pink day.
Got it girl. No problem. Yellow washes me out too.
Have you ever noticed that some people are nice.
And some people are not.
Take this broken window for example. (Trust me, I’m working my way back to the nice thing.)
Because of heavy winds in New York City, construction debris from next door has been flying off the building and well, smashing into my lobby. And onto my neighbors’ terraces. And onto my street.
Sort of a safety problem, as you can imagine.
So New York City firefighters and police officers have closed down our entire block plus the West Side Highway while contractors fix the situation. Let me pause for a moment…
and just reflect on dreamy firefighters….
just hanging around on my stoop.
How sexy are firefighters? Here’s the mathematical proof:
guy + firefighter gear + protecting me from flying construction debris = sexy.
So anyway, the whole situation means long, inconvenient waits to get in and out of my building. The not-so-nice people are really pissed off. They are giving
my boyfriends the firefighters a really hard time.
The nice people are grateful that someone is keeping heavy, life-shortening wooden planks and other potentially death-inducing materials from falling on their heads. I must say, I am in this second camp.
Here’s another example.
Not nice: Today a woman saw 15 month-old Summer walking and said to my husband, “You better keep your eye on her. You don’t want her to grow up walking with her legs turned out like that. No lady, no matter how nicely she dresses, looks good walking with her legs spread out.”
Did she just call my baby a slut?
Ok, truth is Summer does walk like she has a big load in her pants. But maybe we should cut the little lady some slack since… umm… she’s been walking for a month.
See, that woman is not nice.
Nice: On Saturday, I was trying to change Summer at the airport and she was so hysterical that legs were flying and poop was precariously close to going in all kinds of unintended directions. A stranger stepped out of the ladies’ line and helped me hold Summer so I could clean and change her.
That is very nice.
Not Nice: Last night, someone anonymously posted a nasty, disrespectful comment on my site, accusing me of being a whiner, and raising my children to be whiners and there was more but I’m not even going into it. I deleted the comment but that kind of unexpected cruelty can be hard to immediately shake.
Nice: All the incredibly supportive, funny, real comments that are posted on this site that make me feel like a normal mama (who can simultaneously love her children madly and wish they would just go away for a few hours) and not some crazed, incompetent, lunatic mummy.
Alright. I gotta go see if those steamy firefighters outside need anything.
You know, I’m just trying to be nice and all.
mama bird notes
Beauty girl Alex is taking a good look into her make-up bag and tossing the products that contain unwanted chemicals. You, too, will want to be in the know. Click on drooling over this for the scoop on products that could be detrimental to your health.