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Why am I JUST learning about Dave & Buster’s? I can have a glass of sauvignon blanc while playing a fierce game of air hockey? Ok, hi. Dream. Come. True. Did you all know about this chain?

Once again, Rick and I decided to do something a bit different for our date night (you didn’t think we would stop at roller skating did you?).

So on Saturday night, we headed to Times Square. If you don’t live in the New York area, let me explain. New Yorkers generally do not go to Times Square unless we are headed to a Broadway show. You get in. You get out. Quickly.

It’s not that it’s dangerous. It’s just massively (like the sidewalks are full) crowded and does not have our city’s finest restaurants, unless you are a big Bubba Gump Shrimp Co fan (and heck, if you dig the Cajun shrimp – that’s cool by me.). The naked cowboy (a fixture of Times Square) is kind of fun but a one time viewing is really sufficient. I mean, he’s not really naked after all.

First, we eat at Ruby Foo’s Dim Sum and Sushi Palace (who doesn’t love dining at a palace?) and sit next to a lovely couple from Ohio. We give them directions to the Cold Stone Creamery so our time there is well utilized.

Then we head to this magical land called Dave & Buster’s…

I’m imagining there is this guy Dave and he has a dog Buster. He and his dog are really bored and broke. So Dave thinks, hey wouldn’t it be cool to play videos games AND booze it up? And voila – an empire is born. But I don’t know. It’s just a theory.

The place IS packed. We grab cocktails and wait our turn for air hockey. Rick beats me and the line is way too long for a replay (Warning to my husband: This fight for air hockey dominance is not over, my friend. So not over.).

My arcade mojo doesn’t really hit full throttle until I sit down and play, “The Fast and the Furious.” Man, do I F— some S— up on that simulated highway. My car is crashin’ into all kinds of overpasses and tunnels and bystanders and cars. It feels awesome.

Rick thinks I am a really, seriously sucky driver until he sits down and goes for a ride. The machine is so fast and so furious (not like he wasn’t warned) that Rick actually injures his knuckles. D & B’s is so hard core.

Sadly, Rick and I don’t really earn enough tickets to go to the winner’s circle where you trade in your tickets for loot (or things you would probably never buy if you were sober). Some of those Dave & Buster’s champs are dragging around garbage bags of tickets – like enough tickets for a Vespa. Damn, that’s a lot of friggin’ skeetball, sista.

The plan for next weekend? Hard to say people. Throw an idea out there. Because we are on fire.

mama bird notes

Magpie won last week’s giveaway, the Escada Moon Sparkle Eau De Toilette!

Click on drooling over this for my current fave in baby footwear.

Click on NYC Moms Blog to read my latest piece, “baby addiction.”

Our poll results are in… Your fairy godmother has granted you one more date with someone other than your fabulous spouse. Who’s your pick from this random crew? An overwhelming 57% picked Jon Stewart. Another 17% are diggin’ Barack Obama. An additional 14% are feeling the love for Simon Cowell. 9% are in a happy daze over Scott Baio. 3% are sweet on Kevin Federline. And poor Eliot Spitzer and John McCain… neither guy received one vote. Those the brakes fellas.

Check out our latest poll here.


I was at the gym recently (no, seriously, I really was there), on the Arc Trainer. The Arc is an elliptical machine with a dash of a stairmaster and a sprinkle of treadmill or something like that. Whatever it is – it’s my way to get my heart rate up (because I’m told ranting and yelling about all the heaps of laundry and mail and dishes piling up in the apartment is not actually considered a cardio workout).

As I gasped my way through 20 minutes or so of Arc training before yoga class, I watched “In the Loop with iVillage.” I’m not even sure what the iVillage is but it sure feels good to be in the loop. Bill Rancic of “Apprentice” fame is one of the hosts. Remember that guy?!

On this day, they were interviewing a sex educator/therapist who claimed to have all kinds of ways for committed couples to keep the sexual flame burning year after year. Except no one would let the woman talk.

One host would ask her a question like, “How do you keep intimacy alive when you have young children?”

She answered, “First, have a lock on your bedroom door –“.

Then one of the hosts (not Bill, who just looked completely embarrassed by the discussion) would jump in with another question. I’m thinking, hold on there cowgirl, let the lady speak. Oh I’m sure it’s all the same stuff… create a romantic bedroom, discuss your fantasies, don’t be afraid to communicate, make time for date nights… heard any of this before?

But, heck, maybe she’s got a new tip. And who couldn’t use a new tip now and then to keep things spicy and unpredictable?

But now we’ll never hear it. And let’s be real, no matter how good looking your husband is, the “locking the door” tip is not going to suddenly turn him into the hot 20 something cabana boy from your vacation. Just sayin’.

This is why I can’t watch these shows. All you ever hear are those chatty hosts talking and talking and talking. As a former TV girl, I would occasionally anchor my channel’s daytime talk show. I’m sure I never let those guests speak either.

It’s just so exciting to ask the questions! And make pithy comments! And throw in my opinion!

Oh, it just makes me cringe.

And I truly hate to do this to you L.C. lovers but I think I’m over MTV’s “The Hills.”

Look, I wanted to like it. I really did. But I was watching the season opener and I just had this incredible desire to turn off the TV. Yes. That. Serious.

It’s so manufactured and contrived, that I either want them to hire some awesome writers or start giving Lauren (L.C.), Brody, Heidi and the rest of the awkward/attractive gang designing challenges and turn it into Project Runway LA.

Am I really suppose to believe that Lauren stains her dress in Paris and then MIRACULOUSLY another gown (that fits absolutely perfectly) is available an hour before the ball? And the long, tedious silences between Heidi and Spencer and her ski bunny parents is sucking my will to really do anything.

Yes, I watched the whole hour.

Ok maybe I’ll give it one more episode.

But I’m not afraid to turn it off.

And read.

You heard me.

“Eat Pray Love” is sitting on my bedside table right now.


3 1/2 year-old Dylan and 15 month-old Summer really have the word “no” down. Me? Not so much. I find myself wanting to do everything for everybody and then feeling quite overwhelmed. Oh and doing EVERYTHING isn’t even sufficient… I want to do it perfectly too.

So as a result, I find myself up at 1 am, trying to come up with a very creative way to sell a $600 golf club. My daughter’s preschool asked me (in an incredibly nice way) to spruce up some of the item descriptions for their silent auction. And one of the 158 items on the block is a Callaway Golf FTi driver.

My golfing expertise includes a significant amount of miniature golf as a kid and one very late night outing to a golf course with an old boyfriend (details not being disclosed).

So here’s what I’ve come up with so far…

“With this awesome Callaway Golf FTi Driver, you’ll blow the the other mini golfers away at the Flushing Meadows Pitch & Putt!”

No? How about this one…

“This Callaway Golf FTi Driver is so cool and stylish, your wife won’t mind a bit when you leave her with the kids for 10 straight hours on Saturday while you hit the green!”

No? Ok, you come up with something. And while you’re thinking, I’ve got another auction item that needs a little creative flourish: a Bottega Veneta Handbag, valued at $3,550.

How about this…

“This stylish handbag is made of the finest, Italian leather AND comes with a full-time nanny (it must for the price, right?)”

The cost of handbags just knocks me over.

Here are a couple other tidbits that recently stunned me and my own cheap handbag.

Like Lulu, I could not believe Maxim dared to mess with SJP. A Maxim Magazine polled declared Sarah Jessica Parker the “unsexiest woman alive.” Really? Really?! Don’t we all wish WE were THAT unsexy. Yeah, it would just suck so much to be that beautiful, insanely hip, talented, famous and fabulous. I would just hate it.


So if Rick dumps me someday, I am so not dating guys who read Maxim. Or at least not the ones who subscribe. For gosh sakes, I have standards.

Meanwhile, I read an article in the New York Post about competing shows, “Cashmere Mafia” and “Lipstick Jungle.” According to the Post, one TV insider said, “ABC and NBC only bought the shows to p— each other off. Nobody wanted the other one to have a hit on their hands if it turned out audiences loved shows about middle-age women.”

Whoa… what’s that Scooby? MIDDLE AGE? Who are you calling middle age? Here are the ages of “Lipstick’s” actresses:

Brooke Shields 42
Lindsay Price 31
Kim Raver 39

Is this middle age for women?


I wonder if Maxim readers think they are unsexy too.

mama bird notes

Contributing mama Daphne Biener has a serious wild child on her hands. Duct tape and safety harnesses are no match for this little Houdini. Click on contributing mamas to read more.

There is a hint of hope in the air that you could actually be wearing a swimsuit in a few months. But do you really want to? Click on drooling over this for some super cool retro swimsuits that don’t reveal too much.

This week, leave a comment on the mama bird diaries and you are entered to win Escada Moon Sparkle Eau De Toilette. A fruity floral fragrance, with sparkling strawberry and red apple notes. You will smell delish. $70 value.



Here is the chicken…

Dylan: Where does broccoli come from?

Me: Um… on the ground. Yeah, it grows from the earth. We could probably find a picture of it on the computer so you can see how it grows. (And I can actually confirm my broccoli facts. You never realize how much you don’t know until your toddler hits 3 and starts asking a lot of questions).

Dylan: Where do oranges come from?

Me: They grow on trees.

Dylan: Where does chicken come from?

Me: Chicken? (Very long pause) Honey, are you excited about Easter? The bunny is going to bring you chocolate.

Dylan: But where does chicken come from?

Me: Umm… well.. chickens are animals.

Dylan: Not THOSE kind of chickens. The ones we eat. Where does THAT chicken come from?

Me: (long silence) A farm.

D: Chicken grows on a farm?

Me: Yes. A farm. Now eat some more chicken so you can have some dessert.

And here are the eggs (and other creative head wear from New York City’s 5th Avenue Easter day parade)…






Turns out if you really want to be a celeb (or at least be treated like one), all you have to is don some wild Easter get-up and you will be crushed by photographers at the Easter parade. I had to muscle paparazzi out of the way to get those shots. Of course, once the parade is over, you transform back into a regular ol’ crazy person people try to avoid.

Best part of Easter: After 7 days of a stomach virus, teething, sleeplessness and continual crying, a little bit of my Summer finally reemerged. We really have missed that girl.


I’m feeling a bit nauseous myself now. Not a virus thing. An excessive jelly bean thing.

mama bird notes

I’m now writing for New York City Moms Blog. If you like, click here to read my first piece. It’s about a fun little trip to the market with my girls.

Jennifer H. won the star swaddler from Baby Star! Cheers to Jennifer!!

This week, leave a comment on the mama bird diaries and you are entered to win Escada Moon Sparkle Eau De Toilette. A fruity floral fragrance, with sparkling strawberry and red apple notes. You will smell delish. $70 value.



This week, a lot of online moms were writing about guilt. I meant to write something but then I just got lazy or I forgot or something. And now I feel guilty. Maybe I should write about irony instead.

15 month-old Summer is on day 5 of this nasty stomach bug (I can actually feel all you mamas nodding in that, “Right, BEEN there sista” way) and she pretty much just cries and cries. The only guy or girl in the house who can cheer her up is that Elmo. So, of course, I feel guilty that I’ve been letting her watch too much of that.

3 1/2 year-old Dylan has been quite a trooper about all the wailing around here. She wore pink, fluffy ear muffs on the way to school to drown out Summer’s sobs. I’ve never seen her bounce quite so quickly into her class, with barely a kiss goodbye.

Since we’ve been stuck inside a lot because of sickness and the cold, I’ve been trying to come up with some art projects. You know the ones…

Set-up and clean-up: 45 minutes.

Actual entertainment time: About 15 minutes.

We made home-made play dough which turned out great, even though I did not exactly have all the ingredients. So a week or so later, it started getting very runny (maybe you do need that cream of tartar). Since I normally have a propensity towards being a bit of a neat crazy freak, I decided to stand back and let the girls just have fun.


Umm… Ok… play dough time is so OVER. I wiped and scraped and actually dismantled that activity table to get it clean. And there were casualties…


Like Grover. And…


our stomach virus relief pitcher Elmo.

Ok, let’s try Easter egg painting! That’s easy enough. It comes with a kit! Who doesn’t love a kit?! We’re coloring and painting eggs. This is fun.


But then Dylan goes all goth on me.


Oh dear… I only turned away for a few minutes. What happened to the pretty pink and purple eggs? Da’ Easter Bunny ain’t down with that Dyl pickle. Two days later, Dylan’s fingers still look like she works down at the garage part-time replacing people’s hubcaps.

So today, we decorated Easter cards. To my sister Quinn: Dylan got a tidbit creative and yours has a certain unabomber quality. Please know, it’s just a happy Easter greeting.

Tomorrow’s activity? Steaming broccoli. Dylan, who decided that she now likes broccoli (really?), came up with the idea at the grocery store.


Here I am, banging my brain, trying to come up with art activities and all my daughter wants is some crudité. I really just need to follow that girl’s lead.

kelcey kintner


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