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This week has been a whirlwind for me.

First of all, Rick can’t change any diapers right now because of surgery on his hand (He says this with a straight face so what choice do I have but believe him? I’m trying to be supportive here.). So that means I get dibs on all the diapers. Please, don’t be jealous. I realize how lucky I am.

And then something even better happened…

group-with-katie-2.jpgI met Katie Couric. I actually got to chill out with the anchor of the CBS Evening News. Beth Blecherman and Jill Asher of Silicon Valley Moms Blog invited a bunch of way cool bloggers like Petroville, RoleMommy and Baby-Faith to meet Katie. I, gratefully, got to come along as well.

And now I have a major girl crush. Because Katie Couric is just the grooviest. Normally, I make a point to dislike people who make 15 million dollars a year because they don’t need my love. Can’t they buy love? But you just can’t dislike this Katie Couric. She is just so smart. And funny. And authentic. And just nice. O.k. I’ll stop.

You can read more about my day with Katie here. Seriously, click on it and you’ll even find out her favorite reality show. No, it’s not the “Real Housewives of New York City.” Or if it is, she never admitted it to me.

So now, just like I poured my heart and energy into a full-on letter writing campaign to save “Party of Five” in 1994, I will beg you to start watching the CBS evening news.

Even Dylan is on board.


After my K.C. outing, I had the chance to karaoke it up with more fab bloggers like Mom-101, Mommy Poppins, Mums The Wurd and PunditMom. So thanks to Cool Mom Picks for picking up the room tab. Now despite the fact that I recently ripped up the floor at the Staten Island Roller Jam and f—ed some sh-t up playing The Fast and the Furious at the glorious Dave & Buster’s, I’m not really a shake it, shine in the spotlight, karaoke girl.

I love to punch in super awesome songs like Rick Springfield’s, “Jessie’s Girl.” Oh come on… you know she’s just lovin’ him with that body. But the programming of the song is sort of MY thing.

While others embrace the actual singing/performing thing…


And I did realize something else this week. Going out 3 nights in a row completely kicks my arse.

Dang. I remember in college I could keep it strong from Wednesday Ladies’ Night all the way until late night mugging with some hot Frat boy (or at least he looked smokin’ after 6 kamikaze shots) on Saturday night.

What the heck happened to me? Oh, maybe like 20 years. This 30-something girl is fried.


I am sitting in jury duty and thinking… this seriously rocks. Am I not supposed to like this?

I have my laptop, my Blackberry, a Starbucks grande cafe mocha and a NY Post. And no one is bothering me. No one is crying. Not one person here has asked me to take them to the potty, pick them up or get them a snack. Apparently, all these other potential jurors are impressively self sufficient.

Although I wouldn’t mind wiping one guy’s nose who keeps sniffling over there.

But I can’t stay.

I must delay this jury bliss because the City of New York needs a 2 to 8 day commitment and I’ve got some stuff going on… like my husband is recovering from skin cancer surgery (he’s recovering very well) and my father (my jury duty babysitter) has shingles (Thank you to my mother-in-law for high tailing it up here to fill in).

If that doesn’t convince them, I will simply explain that I’m really just too tired to serve because last night I was out late at the NYC Moms Blog launch party, meeting all sorts of super cool, smart women. But I have to be careful and not brag (I’m sure they make braggers serve jury duty) that I won an 8 piece Calphalon cookware set there, courtesy of Graco. I entered their contest by sending in a photo that captured, “A Day in the Life of a New York City Mom”

So, of course, I sent in this one…


of 3 1/2 year-old Dylan using the portable potty on the street. Ok, I kind of feel like I pimped out my daughter to win but those are some really kickin’ pots and pans. If you like to cook gourmet meals, please come over and make me something on my new Calphalon. Winning stuff is so cool. Ok, I promise, another mama bird giveaway coming soon.

I should have brought Dylan to jury duty. Because that girl can think of a brazen excuse to get out of anything. Here are a few of my favorites from the past week.

Me: Honey, I want to put this barrette in your hair.

Dylan: No, you can’t. Doggy likes me to wear my hair down. (Note to reader: Doggy is a stuffed animal who I don’t think has ever expressed much of an interest in hair styling.)


Me: Dylan, please zipper up your coat. We need to leave for school.

Dylan: I can’t. I have a baby in my belly (She sticks out her belly as obvious proof).

Me: Dylan, please finish your dinner.

Dylan: I can’t because I have a rash on my tushy… so I can’t eat my dinner.


Me: Dylan, let’s take Summer and go get coffee. It will be fun. We’ll take a walk.

Dylan: Oh I can’t. I have to put Summer to sleep in the hall. (Confused? Perhaps a photo will explain.)


I don’t really know what’s going on here but at least I prevented Dylan from moving any of our furniture into the hallway. And I did eventually get my coffee.

Even without Dylan by my side, I manage to convince the court folks to delay my jury service.

Court Lady: When do you want to come back… June, July, August, September?

Me: Oh, June is good. That’s the soonest? Alright then. Yeah, that would be just perfect. Really looking forward to it. See you then!


The first time I saw a cockroach at one of my fave kid-friendly restaurants in the West Village, I thought: No problem. What New York City restaurant doesn’t have a cockroach now and then?

So I kept eating there.

Then, one day at this very same establishment, I saw a mouse.

Now, this gave me some serious pause. Mice really skeeve me out. And the waiter didn’t even give us a mouse-in-the-house discount or a free dessert (one mouse = one molten lava chocolate cake) which kind of pissed me off. So I didn’t go back for months.

But they have very yummy mouse fish tacos.

Plus high chairs.

And lots of room at lunch time (although maybe the mouse situation has something to do with that).

And a great kid’s menu with more choices than the incredibly predictable chicken fingers and grilled cheese.

And I mentioned the fish tacos – right?

So finally… I returned.

And gosh damn it, I saw another cockroach in the women’s room. And then my husband (along with our shrieking daughter) saw another in the men’s room. I mean, how many live animals do you have to see at a restaurant before you call it quits?

For me: 3 cockroaches and 1 mouse. I’m done.

But I still think about the glory days at this place because I walk by it all the time on the way to my daughter’s preschool. Or should I say, I RUN by it on my way to preschool.

Am I the only one that is always running a few minutes late for school pick-up?

If I only could leave 5 tiny, little minutes earlier, I could casually stroll on over there. But instead, I’m pushing 15 month-old Summer in the stroller, like a crazy-fish-taco-deprived-mama-from-hell – desperately trying to get there for the 11:50 am pick-up.

When I’m about a block from the school, I can see this huge clock tower. The time on that clock momentarily determines my worth as a parent.

11:45 – I am an awesome mom! I just know I’ll be the first mom there. I wonder if they’ll elect me “Best Mom of the Day” when I get there. How could they not? They really should.

11:50 – Oh crap. I’m going to be a minute or so late. Totally mediocre mom but maybe Dylan won’t notice. Hi, I’m average mom.

11:55 – Worst mama on the planet. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

But then something came in the mail recently, that made me feel just a tinge better.

I just got a Christmas card from some family friends.


Postmarked March 24th. Yeah, that’s right. How bold is that?

These sweet folks are really really running late.

And now “5 minutes late” doesn’t seem so late at all.


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.

kelcey kintner


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