An example of what happens when you take a restroom break and leave a 2 year old unattended for 30 seconds. My boy used a step stool to raid the new loaf of bread that I had placed on the kitchen counter.
He then left a trail of bread to impress his BFFs (our doggies).
I followed the trail to our doggie’s eating area, where it appears our boy left a present for his BFFs.
I love preschool. I love that my son loves going. I love his teacher I love the kids in the class. I’m in love with my kid’s preschool.
Last Friday during dropoff, I noticed that there was a sign up sheet for a Thanksgiving Feast. Parents were asked to bring a “Dish From Your Culture” to share with the class. Now, this threw me for a loop. Hmm… a “dish from our culture”.
What culture? I’m a girl who was raised in a BIG family in a HOUSE in a TRAILER park.
So, I made a split second decision and one that I hoped would please the teacher.
”How about I make Latkes for the class,” I said.
The teacher beamed and said , “perfect”.
I immediately felt awesome… she likes Latkes! However, within seconds panic streaked through my body. I’m not a Jew. And I sure as hell don’t know to make latkes. Okay… yes, my kids are half Jew (MeHubs is of the tribe, albeit the non practicing portion). But still, I don’t know how to make Latkes.
That was Friday. Fast forward to Monday morning… and still No Latkes.
I really started to panic. Shit! Fuck! Shit! There would be no Latkes for the preschoolers. So, instead of driving into Mid-City to find a Jewish Deli, I decided to improvise. I quickly packed up the boys and headed to Vons to buy the mixings for a dish from MY culture. Yes.. MY culture.
May I present the old standby “Holiday Green Beans Casserole”. Just mix a can of string beans, Campbell’s mushroom soup and a container of French Fried onions. Cook for 30 minutes in 350 degree oven and TADA! — Easy, breezy and always delicious.
For good measure I also bought a pumpkin pie and heated it up. I wanted to score extra points with the teacher since I screwed the kids on the Latkes.
MeHubs likes to SIP (wear sweats in public) on Sundays. There is nothing wrong with Sippin’, I do it all the time. But I just thought we should dress up a little because it was the first time we were going to take our 3 year old to a movie together. We were aiming to make a 12:50pm showing of “Puss N Boots”. I just thought we should look nice so I asked him to change into jeans. I now know that was MY first mistake.
The short drive to our Nanny’s home was wonderful, memorable even. Our 3 year old requested that I play his favorite song (Pumped Up Kicks). He really gets into the song- dancing (in his car seat) and lip synching. MeHubs had never seen his routine. He thought it was so cute that he pulled out his iphone to shoot video.
Right about when we hit the chorus our 2 year old started to get fussy. You know… the kind of fussy where you do anything to shut him up fast. The best plug is his bobbie (aka bottle). MeHubs opened the diaper bag, grabbed the full carton of rice milk and poured our baby a fresh one. He then put the carton back in the bag and then immediately resumed the iphone shoot in the Prius. He now knows that was HIS first mistake.
When we pulled into my nanny’s drive way, I reached down to grab the diaper bag and noticed it was wet. Soaking wet. In fact, the entire floor of the front side passenger area was soaked. I immediately opened up the diaper bag and you guessed it, MeHubs put the carton of milk back inside the bag UPSIDE DOWN. I immediately let him have it, saying, “you don’t pay attention to detail”. “That was the only milk we had” ”What if our 2 year old shits his pants at the nanny’s there is nothing to change him with?”. I was over the top and out of line. I now know that was MY second mistake.
Our nanny took our 2 year old from the car and told us not to worry she’d take care of everything (she always does). So, we left her house and went on our merry way to the movie theater. After several minutes of listening to us argue in the front seat, our 3 year old yelled, “Mom and Dad…. Share!”. That’s his way to tell us to shut the fuck up. It worked.
We got to the theater about 30 minutes early. 30 minutes in “toddler time” is an eternity. We decided to kill about 15 minutes by grabbing a hot chocolate at a nearby Starbucks. It gave us all time enough time to chill out. I also said I was sorry. MeHubs just looked at me and nodded. We were good.
The three of us then made our way over to the theater, bought tickets and went inside. Inside the lobby was about a half a dozen video games. Our 3 year old went nuts. It didn’t matter that he’s never played a video game in his life. He knew what he wanted and he knew what to do. And of course, we let him play. Plus, it gave me just enough time to stand in line for a diet coke and popcorn. I now know that was OUR first mistake.
After the game was over, we headed into the theater where our 3 year old went to town on the popcorn while slurping the diet coke. 12:50pm turned into 12:55pm. 12:55pm turned into 1pm. 1pm turned into 1:05pm. Yes… 15 minutes of commercials and previews and 15 minutes of my boy chomping on popcorn and slurping diet coke. Coupled with the hot chocolate… I should have known we were headed for disaster. What goes up, must come down… right? I now know that was OUR second mistake.
The minute the lights dimmed for “Puss N Boots” our 3 year old hit the wall. He begged to play more “bideo games”, he wanted to go home because he missed “his baby” (2 year old brother), and he wanted more diet coke. Translation— he was a mess. He was done. It was game over.
There would be no “Puss N Boots” Sunday matinee. And it was both OUR fault.
My morning started early, very early. I had an appointment in Culver City at 9am. Translation- I had to get my ass up early in order to drive in some of the worst traffic LA has to offer.
Yes, traffic sucks no matter where you live, but in Los Angeles it’s something else all together. You just never know what’s going to happen on the freeway or what you will see on the freeway. Where am I going with all this? Well, today something strange happened on the road. It was a first for me. I saw three big, plastic Wieners three separate times in the span of 90 minutes.
The first time Wiener I spotted was when I was on the 110 Freeway heading into downtown LA. I was driving, so I didn’t snap a photo. I just thought, ’hmmm… a big, plastic Wiener on a flatbed truck… fun, but odd’.
The next Wiener sighting was about 50 minutes later after I had exited the 10 Freeway on the wrong exit (Venice Boulevard). I was trying to figure out how to get to my destination when BAM! I ran into another Wiener on a different flatbed truck! But this time, I grabbed my iphone, snapped a picture… and thought, wow! another big, plastic Wiener! What are the odds?
Anyway, we parted ways- I took a left and the Wiener truck kept going on Venice Boulevard. Then about an hour later, as I was stopped at another stoplight on Overland Boulevard (heading toward Century City)— what did I see? A third giant, plastic Wiener. I shit you not. Across the street, construction crews were installing the Wiener on the roof of building. I have no clue if it was any of the Wieners that I had ran into earlier. But it got me thinking: Why am I seeing big, plastic Wieners? Yes, that is the way my mind works.
I believe in synchronicity. And according to Wikipedia, psychologist Carl Jung theorized that synchronicities occur when a strong need arises in the psyche of an individual. HELLO! Now I’m thinking dang… what strong need do I have that would make me see three big, plastic Wieners in a 90 minute time span? My husband need not answer this… I already know what he would say about it.
My two year old is slowly killing MeHubs and me, a slow, SLEEPLESS death. It’s been 365 days+365days (I’m too tired to add together) of little to no sleep. The kid is torturing us.
Yes, we’ve tried sleep training, the Ferber method (the evil torture of crying it out), Co-sleeping… less naps, more naps… we’ve tried EVERYTHING. The kid just doesn’t like to sleep more than a five hour stretch (if we are lucky) and it’s always a restless sleep as well.
Every damn parenting book I’ve read says it gets better. It’s not. In fact, it’s about the same as when we first took him home from the hospital. Yes, we have a 6 week old infant trapped in the body of a 40 pound toddler.. albeit, a very sweet, 40 pound toddler.
Personally, I’m about to crack— that or get hooked on adderall. Anyone know where I can score this so called “mom’s magic pill”? . Oh hell, who am I’m kidding… I’d rather rent a hotel room, drop an ambien and call it a night. Now that sounds like a party.
My Husband likes girls with tattoos. Any kind of tattoo. Lots of tattoos. Girls with sleeves on their arms. Girls with a rosary that winds around her lower back and stomach. Girls with portraits of their dog on her leg. He really likes girls with tattoos.
I don’t have any tattoos. Not one, nada, zero, zilch. I’m a tat free zone. It’s not that I’m not against tats. I think tattoos are beautiful. I think tattoo artists are amazing, talented professionals. Over the years I had flirted with the idea of getting a tattoo, but I never went through it mainly because I couldn’t think of one thing that was important enough to mark my body for life.
And now I’m almost 40. Things are starting to sag, really sag. Now, there is NO way I’m going to mark my body. I don’t want to be one of those 80 year olds who has “outgrown” her tattoo. You know what I’m talking about.. the lil’ old lady with heart tattoo (and her husband’s name) that was once above her own heart.. but is now an unrecognizable mess near her nipple.
So where am I going with all this? Well, last night my dear friend @heykitty sent me this photo mashup. Yes, that’s my face with some hot tattoo chick’s body.
Kitty emailed me this photo NOT knowing my husband’s love of tattoos and not knowing my history of not having one. The girl in this photo is MeHub’s dream girl. Thank you, Kitty… you have made a punk rocker dad’s fantasy become a virtual reality.
Playing defense is one of the toughest and one of the most critical elements of any game. But it’s also one of the most unrewarding and also most neglected aspects of sports as well.
I played basketball for almost two decades. I played it well— running the plays, passing the ball, and shooting the clutch 3 pointer with seconds to go in the quarter. But I have always had to work extra hard at playing defense.
The same could be said about my life now. It’s even more apparent how much I suck at defense when you consider the past 7 days that I’ve had. I should start by clarifying that last week wasn’t a bad week, it was just a very strange, complex week in the life of Tara (yes, I’m refering to myself in the 3rd person. For the record, I hate when people do that, but somehow it seems appropriate in this case).
Thousands of new visitors checked out “Tara’s Take” last week, and for that I’m very grateful. The new web traffic was driven by my blog post titled, "10 Things You Should Say To Friend Without Kids". I wrote it in 5 minutes- a quick response to a story that I saw on Yahoo that morning. And It was my first blog post that went viral.
Subsequently, it touched a nerve- both good and bad. Last week, I found myself on the defense- responding to people who thought I was a bad mother, people who felt sorry for my kids, people who thought that I’m an angry and insensitive person, and people who thought I hate single people. Yes, all that from one blog post.
Doing what I do for a living, I’m use to criticism on a mass scale. I’m use to people ripping apart my writing, accusing me of bias (damn liberal media) and I’m use to people commenting on my stories. However, I was really thrown for a loop when people started to attack me personally and question whether I hate my kids.
For the record, I love my children more than anything in this world. Yes, I CHOSE to have them and it was the BEST decision of my life. They are a joy and it’s a privilege to be their mother. But that doesn’t mean that sometimes I wish that I was on a date with my husband, rather than watching “Monsters Inc” for the 801st Fucking time (that really got people.. that I was bitching about watching a Pixar movie with my kids, imagine the horror).
The naysayers also should know that my husband is my biggest supporter and finds this blog hilarious (even the biting posts about him). He loves me for me, the good, the bad and the honest me.
When I started this blog two months ago, I never thought I would be defending my mothering skills on the internet to total strangers. But then again, I never expected more than 23,000 page views either. Crazy how things work out.
My 3 year old son is now into watching the “Smurfs” cartoon. I’m talking the old school episodes of the “Smurfs” that are shown each morning on the Boomerang Network. This is so exciting for me because I use to watch this cartoon as a child growing up in the Northwest.
I just had an “aha moment” (PRAISE + PROPS TO OPRAH) while watching an episode of the “Smurfs” this morning — the one where Vanity Smurf gets captured by Gargamel after he looks into a a magical mirror in the forest.
Uhm… HELLO! Has Vanity Smurf always been gay? Am I tardy to this coming out party?
I just googled Vanity Smurf because I just can’t believe I’ve never suspected this before. Instead of getting an answer, I found out there is a big debate brewing online- two camps split over his sexuality.
Was he the FIRST openly gay character on a cartoon? Or was he the first cartoon character that was a metrosexual? Crazy talk! I will be thinking about this one all day.
That was the LEAD story on Yahoo this morning. ’Things NOT to say to friends without kids’. ARE YOU KIDDING ME YAHOO?? Your lead story??? Anyway… it got me thinking about the 10 things you SHOULD say to friends who don’t have kids.
1) You have sex for fun. I don’t. I’m lucky if I get to kiss MEHUBS once a day. So go be a slut.
2) You get to go out for drinks anytime you want. I don’t. So down that 3rd Martini and embrace tomorrow’s hangover.
3) You get to workout by yourself and for as long as you want. I don’t. So get off your ass, stop talking about running a marathon and actually go do it.
4) You have extra cash to buy anything you want. I don’t. I got a mortgage, school tuition and a nanny. Enough said. So go buy that Birkin bag while you can.
5) I’m sorry you’re struggling to get pregnant. I also struggled for YEARS. No, it’s not fun and it’s expensive. Do yourself a favor: quit buying pregnancy and ovulation tests in bulk, quit taking your temperature each morning and go have sex just for shits and giggles.
6) You get to watch any movie you want. I don’t. As I write this, I’m currently watching “Monsters Inc” for the 800th fucking time. So go to the theater NOW.
7) I’m sorry your feelings were hurt when you didn’t get an invite to come hang out at our home the other day. It was a playdate with another mom who has kids. A PLAYDATE! Trust me, I did you a favor.
8) You get to go to nice restaurants and enjoy a nice meal. I don’t. If we venture out, we have to strategically pick a family friendly place and take turns chasing the kids while the other one snarfs down a burger. It might look sweet and amusing. It gets old. Really old.
9) You can stay at work as long as you want, climb the corporate ladder and not feel guilty about neglecting your family. I don’t. I feel like a horrible mother almost everyday. So climb that ladder NOW.
10) Finally, YOU GET TO SLEEP!! I don’t. So shut your whore mouth, I don’t want to hear about you having to get up early ONE DAY A WEEK.
I woke up this morning to find out I’ve been nominated for two National Entertainment Journalism Awards(From the LA Press Club).
The first nod is for a story that I worked on with Legendary NBC4 Los Angeles anchor Chuck Henry- a story we called "Forgotten Footprints". Chuck literally stumbled up the original footprints of Grauman’s Chinese Theater which had been hidden away in an airport hangar for more than two decades. We found out that the folks at Grauman’s didn’t even know they existed.
I’m also a finalist for "National Entertainment Journalist of the Year"-- the big award! The nomination is for my body of work in 2010-2011 (both TV and internet). Yes, people- I’m a serious journalist in my other (real) life.
Hugh Hefner is the lifetime achievement honoree this year. And my colleague Robert Kovacik is also up for an award for a profile he did on Hugh saving the Hollywood Sign. Congrats Robert!