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It’s just so darn cheesy when parents force their kids to wear matching outfits. Puh-lease. How about a little creativity? A little individuality? Why must we subject young, innocent children to such hokey torture?

Oh, right… because it’s fun!

Poor Dylan. She already knows her street cred is toast. Holla!

And what better way to show my never ending love for Rick than his and her’s sweat suits? I mean how friggin cute as a button is this couple?

Are they part of some creepy Siamese jogging cult?

Or maybe I should just take it up another notch and go family style.

Listen, I can’t get a single photo of my entire family smiling, so maybe they are on to something. Plaid and v-necks not your thang? Well, let me see if I can dig up a little something for you out there. Floral? You like the floral? Who doesn’t like the floral? Aloha, happy family!

Yup, you can actually wrap up your whole clan, head to toe in hibiscus. People, dreams really do come true. And look at this…. There is actually a company that will help. Matcheez gives you tips for dressing alike and insists, “You can show your family unity to the world by dressing alike.”

I think I’m a long way from showing my unity to the world because every time Rick puts on a shirt that is even remotely similar in color to my top, I make him change. You can never be too careful.

Gotta scram. Just called Julie Andrews. We are off to sew Dylan and Summer matching play clothes from my old blackout shades. Yeah, I don’t really have curtains.

mama bird diaries

Daphne Biener set out to create a laid back, relaxing summer for her girls. Umm… that’s not exactly what happened. Click on contributing mamas to read more.

Click on New York City Moms Blog to read my latest piece, Mother of Two Seeks Adventure.

Finally, this week, we have TWO awesome giveaways from Lands’ End. I’m giving away a Girl’s Swim Package (bathing suit, short sleeve rash guard shirt + beach towel) and a Boy’s Swim Package (board shorts, short sleeve rash guard shirt and beach towel). Sun sensible with 50 UPF Protection. Winners will get to pick the sizes.

To enter, leave a comment this week on the mama bird diaries and let me know if you are interested in the boys giveaway, the girls giveaway or both!


Rick, the girls and I headed back to my in-laws’ on the Jersey shore this weekend. You know how it goes. We threw a couple things in an overnight bag.

What? Seriously, what? Like who doesn’t need a few outfit options? At first, everyone is a bit les miserables in the car but then it gets good.

and then it gets awesomely good.

On Saturday night, Rick and I decide, gosh damn it, we are still young and sprightly so we head to “The Pool” bar at Harrah’s casino and resort in Atlantic City. As you can see, the joint has a small, quaint pub like feel….

Rick and I grab drinks and scan the scene of bikini-clad cocktail waitresses and almost 20-somethings. We hang particularly close to a group of gray haired, middle age women in the hopes of looking younger and hipper. I am reasonably confident that it’s working.

Then Rick starts acting ultra, super perky and I realize it’s because these gals are in the house.

In fact, there is a whole posse of guys ogling them and Rick (who always takes the time to help those in need) says to a couple of the guys…

“I’m married. Go for it. Com’on! Go talk to them.”

I’m telling you, that man never thinks of himself.

Then we did a little white man overbite dancing…

But alas, it’s time to dump this taco stand, and hit the casino. Of course, hanging out at the casino is like being on an airplane in 1978. Smoking is only permitted in certain areas but the whole place wreaks.

Still, there is something electrifying about all those slot machines, crap tables and seniors pouring their social security funds into video poker. You can’t help but feel the casino fever.

Rick decides to play a little black jack. I think it’s kind of sexy when a guy gambles. I mean, not when they risk the college tuition savings but like the preschool savings.

Shortly after that picture was taken, it became abundantly clear to me that you are, in fact, most definitely not allowed to take pictures inside the casino. Therefore no snapshots here of those smokin’ hot pit bosses who keep order at the tables, and apparently (although this can not be confirmed) have never actually had sunlight on their faces.

After a few hands, we realized we are kind of tired and maybe-not-so-sprightly after all, so we head home.

Upon leaving, I notice the elevators smell remarkably like a gerbil cage, which I’m sure studies show encourages people to gamble more.

But thanks to my husband’s savvy blackjack skills, we end up $31 dollars richer. That’s right. Get out the passports and ring Chevy Chase because we are now going on a 1st class European vacation.


So I finally saw it. You know that crazy huge movie everyone is talking about. Sex and the City. I won’t spoil it, if you haven’t seen it. Although Samantha hooking up with Mr. Big?! Way unexpected.

Oh, would I ever do that to you? Of course not.

The movie was perfectly perfect. From the clothes to the relationships to the soul of New York. It was all there. And it all left me feeling sort of nostalgic.

l saw the movie with two close girlfriends. Back in my twenties, these women were my “it” girls in New York. My single gal pals. We threw back cocktails, took expensive cab rides and soul searched. We were all looking for love. And we found it. Love. Marriage. Pregnancy. Children.

So what’s with the melancholy look back? Do I miss being single, lonely and endlessly wondering… Is he out there? And if yes, why is he hiding from me? Definitely not. Not for a minute.

But I miss that time in life when your friends are your family. You live with them. You go out with them. You shop with them. You cry with them. You laugh with them. In many ways, they are your everything. Or at least they were to me.

With marriage and children, friendships change. An occasional wine night. A birthday get together. A trip to the movies now and then. But it’s not the same. It can’t be the same. Children need to be nursed. Babysitters need to be hired. Spouses need time and attention.

As we left the theater, I chatted with one of my girlfriends. Normally, we would walk home in the same direction, catching up on each other’s lives. But not tonight. Actually, not anymore. A few days ago, she and her family moved to Brooklyn in search of space, quiet and balance.

My friend says she feels far less pressure in Brooklyn to be fabulous. She can throw on a pair of cargo pants and a t-shirt there and feel good about herself when she walks outside. No pressure from the abundance of fashionistas in Manhattan.

I nodded and laughed as I thought of a mom I had seen earlier that week at the playground…

Kind of definitely made me wish I had spent more than 12 minutes getting ready. Not that the extra time would have turned me into a 5 11′ leggy, supermodel mama.

So after the movie, my friend and I lingered at the corner, both of us reluctant to say goodbye as we talked about our children, our husbands, the summer and my quickly approaching birthday.

Finally, it was getting late. It was time to go. We would chat soon.

She hailed a cab and took off towards Brooklyn.

And I also grabbed a taxi, and headed in the other direction.

mama bird notes

When you met your baby for the very first time, was it love at first sight? Perhaps not. Contributing mama Jordana Bales writes honestly about bonding with her new baby Lila Drew. Click on contributing mamas to read more.


My DVR is empty. Which led me to watch a few minutes of “Two and a Half Men” last night. PLEASE. I know. I just said the DVR is EMPTY. When I wasn’t engrossed in the clever, Emmy winning (really?), comedic banter, I was looking at Charlie Sheen. What happened to that guy (I mean, other than lots of booze, drugs, hookers and 3 wives)?

Remember when he did that 1986 bad boy cameo at the end of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

Juvenile delinquents are so damn hot.

And now…

The hair? The expression? The shady past? Where are his teeth? I don’t know. Not so smokin’.

Meanwhile, some guys seriously improve with age. Remember Patrick Dempsey from 1987’s “Can’t Buy Me Love?”

Add TWENTY years and this is what you get…

Hi Patrick. I love you. Love me.

Luckily, my husband is enormously secure. Speaking of my husband Patrick, I mean Rick, we decided to take some family photos. We figured since we have no wedding album (Really, I’m getting around to it. Soon) and Summer has no baby book (completely almost done, well… almost started), what we really need is more photographs to feel guilty about not organizing.

Ron Holtz, a creative, awesome and extremely patient photographer spent a few hours with us on Sunday. He was super energetic and positive, shouting out comments like, “Great job Dylan and Summer!” as they picked their noses and leisurely inspected city grates.

So we brought in Rick to try to work some daddy magic on the girls…

Rick growled and hooted and hollered….

Until the girls finally smiled he hurt his jaw and neck.

Well, that made me laugh. He’s fully recovered but no longer applying for jobs as a photographer’s assistant.

And Rick did coax an itty bitty, sort of smile out of Summer and Dylan (clearly rockin’ Ron’s photo, not mine below).

Well, Barack Obama certainly has something to smile about. After a long arse primary campaign, he finally secured the Democratic presidential nomination. Big congratulations to Miss Thing (AKA Rick’s cousin Wendi) who loved Barack Obama before any of us had even heard of him.

And don’t they make the cutest couple?! True. Love. Forever.


To the most awesome hula hooping, tiara wearing, beautiful, magical birthday girl ever…

Happy 4th Miss Julia. You are a wonder. And so is your mother.

We hold you constantly in our hearts and send you endless love and strength. XO

kelcey kintner