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I have awesome gasoline luck.

Like the other day, I had to bring 4 month old Cash to the ER. He was projectile vomiting (yeah, sorry) and his doctor was worried he was getting dehydrated, so he sent me to the ER.

The gas tank was on empty when I got in the car. I drove 30 minutes to the hospital and 30 minutes back. Never once thought about stopping. Why? Because I hate stopping for gas. I was stressed about my baby. And because I’m pretty confident my car runs on oppressive humidity so I knew everything would be just fine.

In contrast, the very next night, my husband ran out of gas at the entrance to our gated community.

I tried to be supportive by asking things like… “Why didn’t you stop for gas before it ran out?” which surprisingly is not completely appreciated in this type of situation.

But I did bring him a gas tank and sat with the car while he went and filled it up.  I had two guys stop to see if I needed help which either means I’m still semi cute in my 40s or maybe I just looked like an elderly woman.

The next morning, Rick left for work and forgot something.

I know because he sent me a text that said,

shave hoops

I had no idea what it meant to shave hoops but I figured it was code for, “You are the most amazing wife ever. I don’t deserve you.” But it actually was supposed to say, “Forgot to shave. Oops.”

I hope CBS hired him for his journalism skills and heavenly hair and not his ability to remember to fill up a gas tank or shave.

Oh and Cash is fine! Don’t worry about that boy at all. He’s got some reflux but he’s just awesome. Sweet and adorable and I couldn’t imagine my life without him. What was I so worried about?! Five kids is a breeze. I mean, insane. But perfect.

mama bird notes:

Ever wish you could go back to the eighties?! One family is doing exactly that. They are living their lives like it’s 1986. Mullet and all! Find out why on Lifetime Moms.


When we lived in New York, I was a half hour from my mom. Now we are a plane ride away.  And I’m really feeling her absence.

I don’t have a typical mother.

She has 3 masters degrees and a PhD. And she once remarked about a gorgeous bouquet on my counter. It was a strainer full of radishes.

She is incredibly well read.

She has spilled coffee and coffee grains so many times in my home that I banned her from making coffee.

She has no knowledge of pop culture unless it has made its way to public radio.

Even though my tween is so over Justin Bieber. My mother isn’t.

At the age of 12, I told my mom I would do my own laundry because she had ruined so many of my clothes.

At the age of 42, I fired her from folding my kids’ clothes (and I have five kids) because she seemed intent on folding them into weird little crooked shapes. She refused. And kept folding.

She is one of those people who can sleep at night with their cabinets wide open.

She is incredibly compassionate.

She loves her dogs as much as she loves her friends. And that’s a lot.

She doesn’t notice dog hair.

She once told me my newborn baby looked like her dog. It was a compliment.

The back of her car often looks like she’s holding a tag sale. She’s not.

She is a survivor.

She has unbelievable determination.

She believes the best in people.

She thinks 89-year-old George Bush is young.

She can make me completely crazy.  In about two minutes.

And I miss her making me crazy.

I miss her purse, with the ink stains and millions of plastic bags hanging out of it.

And her other bag with 50 pounds of reading material.

I miss the way she folds the laundry into weird little crooked shapes. Because that means she’s been with us. Shuffling around our home, spilling coffee grains and loving everyone here.

Cash and nanny



It’s time consuming to adjust to a new town. Time I really need to tweeze my eyebrows and freshen up my highlights.  Not that I know where to go for either of those things.

Like I tried to pick up sushi (20 minutes round trip) except that I accidentally got on the highway. At rush hour. When there was an accident.

I finally got past the accident and then still couldn’t get myself to my destination. I kept taking the wrong highways, mostly because Google Maps gives you about 4 seconds notice when it wants you to take a certain road. Somehow I can’t beam myself across 4 lanes of traffic in 4 seconds BECAUSE I’M NOT IN A HELICOPTER GOOGLE.

I finally reached the sushi place and got home. It took an hour and 30 minutes.  By that point, my dad had attempted to give Cash water out of a bottle just to temporarily soothe him. Cash, who has never had a bottle, thought the whole situation was bunk and refused.  And he would later seek retribution.

Dylan’s 9th birthday, my anniversary and the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur were on Saturday – clearly the trifecta of merriment. Dylan went to see Smurfs 2 with a new friend which is obviously an old Jewish tradition.

Then we drove to Boca (about 45 minutes away) to break the Smurfs’ fast. This is when Cash got even. He cried for every minute of that trip. Rick was in a different car (for reasons that are too boring to explain), so I enjoyed the torture alone but tried to call him frequently on the trip so we could share this anniversary experience together.

I also had to pick up a Carvel cake for Dylan on the way. I pulled in front of the place, let the motor run and right outside handed my credit card to some Army guy walking in.

I said, “I’ve got five kids in the car, including a screaming baby. Please pick up my cake inside. Here’s the card. It’s under Kelcey. Buy yourself something too.”

And because the U.S. Army obviously kicks ass, he brought me out my cake and the receipt.  He paid for his own Carvel.

Even with her difficulties adjusting to Florida, Dylan had a great birthday. I can’t believe my first baby is nine (required mom observation) but I love the sweet, beautiful, sensitive, creative girl she has become.

And as for our anniversary, Rick said it best on Twitter….

Screen shot 2013-09-15 at 7.59.08 PM

 Mama Bird Notes:

I have a couple friends who will be tortured by not knowing why Rick took a separate car to Boca Raton. They can email me for the reason.

You can find me on Lifetime Moms writing about a dad who decided to wear very short shorts to teach his teenage daughter a lessson.

And on Alpha Mom, I review the best bouncy seat for your baby.

Finally, have you liked The Mama Bird Diaries on Facebook? Now is the time. xo


Cancer steals lives. My step father was way too young when he died of cancer. He was smart and successful and had so much living left to do. And my close friend in New York  lost her soul mate to cancer. They kissed for the first time in 1985, under the Washington Square arch on Halloween night.

The disease can inspire us. Rhonda Sparks, a widow who lost her husband at the age of 32 to skin cancer, vowed to help her young sons and others protect themselves from the sun. UV Skinz was born.  I’ve never met her but consider her a friend and I wouldn’t buy a rash guard shirt from anyone else.

Cancer makes us cry and then we laugh. And then we cry again. Upon hearing that she had cancer, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis reportedly said “If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have done all those sit-ups.”

It frightens us. One of my best friends is dealing with breast cancer right now. Another friend is facing cervical cancer. Another friend has been living with cancer for seven years. These women are brave and amazing.

It propels us to keep fighting.

60 years ago, 1 out of 3 people diagnosed with cancer survived at least 5 years. Today, thanks in part to the work of the American Cancer Society, 2 out of 3 will survive.

It should be 3 out of 3.

There’s more work to be done. Hundreds of research studies went unfunded while 577,000 Americans died of cancer this year.

Cancer thrives on silence. So make some noise. Please take a moment and watch this video.

This post was sponsored by the American Cancer Society. All opinions are my own. If you’d like to donate, click here.


Every night before I go to bed, I check on my kids. You know, just to make sure they aren’t still up working on their PhD dissertations.

I recently opened up the door to the room of my 3-year-old twins and here’s what I found…..

chase and harlowe passed out

Fast asleep.

There was no Jack Daniels in the room. I checked.

mama bird notes:

Where else have I been? On Alpha Mom, I write about Ten Steps to Make Moving Easier with Kids. And on Lifetime Moms, I write about the best airline on the planet. Enjoy.


kelcey kintner


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