Tara's Take

ABOUT A BOY

Perhaps you’ve seen the headlines about the little boy who silenced the critics of 49ers Kyle Williams, the punt returner who was blamed for costing San Francisco a trip to next weekends Super Bowl.

Williams received a lot of hate over the past few days, especially via twitter.   And then came the small act of kindness from Owen Shure,  a 7 year old who lives in Los Angeles.

As first reported in the Huffington Post, Owen wrote a sweet letter of encouragement to Williams, telling the pro football star that he felt bad for him and he should be proud of the season he has had. 

Just so happens I work with Owen’s father, Michael, who is one proud papa.   Today on our show, The Young Turks on Current TV, he spoke about the attention that Owen has received over the past 24 hours—  big time interviews requests from media outlets like ABC News, The Ellen Degeneres Show, and others. 

I’ve only known Michael about a month, but I know these two things about him:  He knows his politics and he’s a die hard 49ers fan.  I mean die hard.  And so is his son Owen.  

Michael said after the game ended on Sunday, Owen was inconsolable and he got him to stop crying by telling him, “think about how bad he (Williams) must feel”.  Simple, but effective.  Owen stopped crying and picked up a pencil and wrote William’s a letter.

I admire Michael for that decision.  It would have been easier to be one of the haters who piled on Williams.  Instead, he used the moment to teach his child something that is far more important than winning a football game.   And that split second decision has resonated with so many people across the world.

For the record, we asked Michael to bring Owen into the studio to talk about this once in a lifetime experience. Owen declined our interview request.  He had a play date with a friend.  

See Michael’s interview  on Current TV here

My first post-NBC panic attack

I’ve been in a whirlwind since I gave my two weeks notice at NBC.  It’s been an extremely stressful yet exciting month.  And then came Friday, my first day off from my new job.  I had so much to do … get caught up on laundry, bills, not to mention spend quality time with my two boys.  

The day off also provided me time to think, too much time to think.  It started with me “googling” the latest news about the new network that I work for.

As I read the latest news, my mind started into the “what ifs”.   Then “what ifs” quickly turned into “WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO”!!  

I had left a very successful career in local TV news.   Local news, for the most part, is like a comfy, cozy blanket. And now,  I’m the “new girl” in a new place. 

I’m grateful for my new job and really like the people I now work with.  They are smart, talented and very cool.  I have no regrets about my decision.  However, that didn’t stop me from turning the “WHAT THE FUCK DID I DOs” into a small panic attack.  Yes, I had mind fucked myself into a mini- breakdown all in the span of two minutes.

My self absorption didn’t last long. I was snapped back into reality by the screams of my children.

“Mom, Poop!  Mom Poop!”, my two year old yelled from the living room.

Then my almost 4 year old started screaming, “Mom, he stinks.. AHHHHH… STOP!! Mom… HELP!”

My 2 year old had not only pooped his pants, he had also put his hand in his diapers, grabbed a chunk of shit and was chasing his brother, threatening to smear it on him.

The 2 year old had just pulled a mind-fuck out of his pants.  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree… or in this case, the turd from the sphincter.  

20 years and 20 pounds ago…

Funny the things we do to ourselves.  Well, perhaps funny isn’t the right word.  More like it’s fucked up the things we do to ourselves.

Take for instance my best friend who is so kind, caring, and above all honest.  I mean she just cuts through the bullshit like no other and that is why I love her.  She’s also a beautiful woman who has been through thick and thin with me— both figuratively and literally.

I received this text from her on New Years Eve:

“Just weighed myself.  Fuck.  After a beer and a brat.. gained 10 (pounds) since quitting smoking”

There’s two ways to look at this text: she’s had too many beers and brats of late, or she did something incredibly challenging (not to mention life saving) and her body is adjusting to life post cigarettes.  I’m damn proud of her for quitting that nasty habit and I could give a fuck if she’s gained 10, 15, 20 pounds.  But she does. 

There is no doubt that it’s easier to find the negative, especially when it comes to your appearance.  Most people (perhaps more women than men) think that they are never skinny enough, never pretty enough, they are too short, or have fat fingers and toes, etc.  You get the point: it’s easy to self-bash.  

Two weeks ago I committed the same sin at dinner with a group of of my husband’s coworkers.  I was sharing a funny little story about the time I caught the eye of a well known rock star.  For whatever reason the lead singer of this group took a liking to me backstage at one of his concerts near Seattle.  When the night ended, the band’s road manager asked me for my contact information.  I gave it to him and three weeks later I received a care package from the band.  Included in the package was a few personal items from the lead singer.

I ended my fun little dinner party story by saying, “that was 20 years and 20 pounds ago”.  

Why did I feel the need to add that statement?  Am I retarded?  Undoubtedly.  Looking back now two weeks later, I think I just wanted to clarify to this group of strangers that at one time I was pretty “hot”. 

Yes, I’m profoundly disappointed in myself.  Mainly for this reason:  It was I, not my husband’s coworkers, who couldn’t imagine that the now 40 year old woman telling this story was “hot” enough to attract the attention of the Rock Legend.  

Have a gained weight?  Yes.  Do I have more wrinkles?  Yes.  Am I the same girl I use to be?  Not really.  And that should be okay.

So as I begin this new year, my goal for 2012 is to be at peace with me.  

The 40 year old, heavier, and more wrinkled me. 

RARE JFK PHOTO SURFACES

One thing I love about being a journalist is the people I meet.  Case in point: a retired judge named Mike Duggan whom I met last month while working on my final report  for NBC4 in Los Angeles.  

Duggan shared an incredible treasure trove of aviation items with NBC4 anchor Chuck Henry and me.  The items resulted in our  exclusive report  about famed aviator Amelia Earhart—  never before seen photos and documents that really only deepen the mystery of her disappearance 74 years ago.   Duggan inherited the items from a friend who was once a mechanic for Paul Mantz — one of Hollywood’s most famous stunt pilots.  

Also included in that box was this photo of President John F. Kennedy.

Personally, finding this photo was so unexpected… shocking really.  He had never mentioned it in our talks on the phone. 

I spoke with Duggan this morning and he gave me permission to post the JFK picture on this blog.

Duggan said the photo could have been taken in Torrance, California, because that is where Mercury Helicopters was once based.  As for the date of the photo, well, that remains unclear.

If anyone has any more information on this picture, I’d love to hear from you.

Mom… The Joker’s Dead?

Over the years I’ve had friends tell me that the NEVER allow their kids to watch TV news. Their fear?  Their kids might see or hear something that isn’t appropriate, something that they, as parents, don’t want to have to explain to their impressionable children.  

I totally respect that.  And I too try to shield my kids from the harsh realities of our wonderful, albeit fucked up world.  But sometimes I mess up.  

Case in point…  this morning, while driving with my animals (my 2 and 3 year sons), I had one of those, “Oh shit, I’m a parent moments”.

As we were driving to our favorite book store, we had KNX news radio on (I had left it on the dial from the day before).  The host was updating all the top stories one of which was about the death of Jerry Robinson—  the man who created the comic book character “The Joker”.  

The radio host said,  ”And Jerry Robinson, the creator of one of the biggest comic book villains of all time “The Joker”,  has died”.

My 3 year old immediately perked up, gasped.. and then screamed, “MOM… THE JOKER’S DEAD?”

Oh my Gawd…  What do I tell him?  Does he understand what “dead” means?  What is an appropriate parental response in this situation?  

“Yep, Batman finally got him. Good triumphed over evil,”  I said quickly.   “The Joker is gonzo!” 

As we continued to drive, I watched his reaction through my rearview mirror.   I was praying he wouldn’t ask me what “gonzo” meant, or for that matter, about death.

He was stunned and I could see that he was processing the news that the Joker was no more.  About 30 seconds later a big grin spread across his little face.

“AWESOME! BATMAN IS AWESOME!”, he yelled from the back seat, pumping his fists in the air.

He then turned to his brother in the car seat next to him,  ”Sammy… The Joker is bonzo!”

Then the two started clapping and cheering.   And yes, I too joined the celebration. I got lucky on this one.  

My Toddler Racked Up A Big iTunes Bill

It’s not the email I wanted to find in my inbox.  Two emails, specifically two receipts from iTunes,  telling me that Apple has charged almost $80 dollars to my credit card for shit I didn’t even know that I had bought.  

At first I thought it must be a mistake, it had to be. There was NO WAY I’d purchase game apps (one cost a whopping 40 bucks).  So, I did some investigation and it appears the items were purchased on the ipod that I recently had given my 3 year old.

Yep, the little shit racked up my biggest iTunes bill to date.  And yep, it is all my fault.

I won the ipod at work a few months ago and decided to put it go good use last weekend during our trip to San Francisco.  My plan was to download a few FREE game apps on the trip and then let him have at it.  It all seemed simple enough…  our boy had a ball playing these games on his “iphone” as he calls it (another parental influence, we both have iphones).

What I didn’t realize then was that these FREE game apps constantly have pop ups that asks the player if they want to buy certain items.  And it appears my 3 year old  hit “yes” on every pop up that occurred during a game session where my iTunes login/password was still active.  Nearly $80 bucks later, I still have no clue as to what he bought.

So tomorrow, I’m going to plead my case to the Apple store customer service department.  I’m sure they are going to tell me to go to hell, or better yet, pay attention to what my kid is doing.    

If they do reject my request to credit my account, I figure they can at least tell me what he bought. 

***UPDATE**************

Spoke with Apple Customer Care and they had me fill out online claim via iTunes.  The dude on the phone said it shouldn’t be a problem to get my account credited.  He wasn’t surprised by my phone call and said it happens quite often.

Also, some nice folks on twitter told me how to prevent this from happening in the future.   You just need to adjust your settings on your iphone/ipod.

Here is how you do it:

Go to Settings-> General -> Restrictions -> In APP Purchases and then set it for OFF! 

Simple and yes, I probably should have figured this out BEFORE he went to town with my credit card.  

A DISH FROM YOUR CULTURE….

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.

A lesson learned…

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. 

BIG, PLASTIC WIENERS

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.