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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.


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
big-sta-blu-gre.jpg 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.

Book sitter.

Go to dinner.

Pay sitter.

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 funlovin’ 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
big-sta-blu-gre.jpg 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.

kelcey kintner


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