I realized recently that I’M A HOUSEWIFE. Yet, we don’t use that term any longer. Why? Now, we are all SAHMs (stay-at-home mothers) but really what is the difference? Why has the word “Housewife” suddenly become taboo, a slur, a derogatory comment on a woman’s occupation? I was born in 1970, just early enough to still feel the sting of the ERA. My “Glamour” magazine was filled with articles about earning equal pay, fighting your way up the corporate ladder, and gaining independence as a woman. I was proud to be part of a gender that had options. I could work, not work, have kids, not have kids – the world was open to me.

I am lucky to be part of a generation of educated, strong women who have CHOSEN to walk away from amazing careers to be at home with their kids. The result of this are the interesting blogs we all write, read and contribute to – we have created a new community of motherhood that will be a testimony to our generation. I don’t feel marginalized by other mothers who work or by men who work. I’ve been on both sides of the fence and I recognize that some women are no more cut out to stay home with their kids then some men.

And yet, don’t we all still feel the need to do SOMETHING else besides being a mother? We craft, or sew, or work in charity, or write, or something. Does that come from our desire to be defined by more than just motherhood? Or is it our desire to satisfy the need that we are contributing to our home in a way that is greater than raising the next generation of leaders?

So I present you with a quiz — Are you a 1930’s housewife? A 2000 SAHM? Or just an all around bad-ass?

55 As a 1930s wife, I am Average Take the test!

Today is my birthday. It is customary in the blog-world to do 100 things about yourself, but I don’t think I could come up with 100. Frankly, I’m just not that interesting. So instead I’ve decided to do 38, for every year I’ve been alive.

1.)Although I’ve lived in 5 different states I have never lived in the cities I love the most; Nashville, Boston & London

2.)When I was in third grade I had terrible reading comprehension and a pronounced speech impediment. The school told my mother they didn’t think I would graduate from high school. Thankfully, my mother recognized the failure in the system and not her daughter and didn’t tell me until after I completed Grad school.

3.)My only memories of living in California are falling down the stairs, eating strawberries out of the backyard and riding my “peanut” car around the cul-de-sac.

4.)My favorite kind of cake is birthday cake from the grocery store — not the fancy kind, but the cheap kind.

5.)I’ve had a reoccuring nightmare since I was about 10 that I’m running away from somebody but I can’t see where I’m going because there is a bright light shining in my eyes. To this day I can’t stand to squint because of that and always wear my sunglasses.

6.)Craig Schmidt had red hair and teased me mercilessly in elementary school. I still remember his name and I have always wondered what happened to him.

7.) When I’m stressed I eat. When I’m hurt I make jokes. When I’m tired I get grumpy

8.) Even though school was very hard for me I loved it. It was such a lovely, structured environment that I felt comfortable being there.

9.) I’ve spent my entire life trying to convince everybody around me – as well as myself – that I’m smart. I’ll let you know when I’m successful

10.) My favorite pair of jeans is from Old Navy and has two holes in the butt.

11.) I love buying pajamas. I love owning pajamas, but I always end up sleeping in one of David’s t-shirts with a pair of shorts.

12.) I love the smell of my kids’ breath – even when it stinks

13.) I hate peas, bats, and ham

14.) I grew up Jewish in an all Catholic community and cannot stand it when I feel somebody is being morally judgmental of me. As a result I was one class short of minoring in religion so I could always defend myself.

15.) If I hadn’t miscarried this last pregnancy I wanted to name the baby Jane Carolyn if it had been a girl.

16.) My car in college was a yellow Geo Storm – I LOVED that car. It had 113,000 miles on it when I had to give it up and I never loved another car until I got my mini-van last year.

17.) My first love was John. My biggest heart-break was Doug. But my soul-mate has always been David.

18.) I was one week away from meeting with a fertility expert to talk about in-vitro when I found out I was pregnant with Lucy

19.) I’m a terrible swimmer and I try really hard to hide that fact from my kids so they will learn to swim.

20.) I played flute for 8 years with private lessons, and for as good as I was, I always knew I had no musical ability.

21.) Mr. Klopshinski was my band director and I would like for him to know that I KNOW I was good enough to be moved up into Symphony band and you purposefully didn’t move me. You are an angry, bitter man. It was a good thing you retired.

22.) Even though I was not raised going to church I have prayed every day to God since I was in 6th grade. He has given me some of the best advice.

23.) Christmas, Halloween and Easter are my favorite holidays

24.) My scariest lifetime moments include; moving to Texas by myself, giving birth to Lucy, an emergency airplane landing from Austin to Dallas, and going to the bathroom for the first time after each childbirth (ouch!)

25.) I started drinking Diet Coke at age 16 and I pretty much drink one every day.

26.) I hate coffee and I don’t drink it

27.) I have never smoked and never tried smoking. I have also never tried drugs mainly because I cannot stand that feeling of being woozy, or out of control — taking drugs to GET that feeling seems so counter-intuitive to me.

28.) I took my first drink at 18 and the last time I got “drunk” was when I was 22. I never liked drinking and I had a very short-run of it in college. I rarely drink as an adult and I cannot even remember the last time I had a beer.

29.) I took Spanish classes for 5 years until my Spanish teacher started teasing me for being Jewish.

30.) Before I die I want to see Italy, I want to attend a Shakespearean play in the Globe Theatre, and I want to see Westminster Abbey

31.)I’m a terrible seamstress and an awful gardener. However, I’m pretty good cook – so it all works out

32.) I love chocolate chip cookies and can always eat them at any time day or night

33.) I’m flat-footed and sound like a duck when I run, as a result I never run.

34.) I love buying school supplies; highlighters, pencils, paper, books, etc – It’s my favorite errand to run

35.) When David travels I sleep with a giant Mag flash-light and the cordless phone. I figure this way I can always beat somebody senseless with the flashlight and if that doesn’t work I can call 911.

36.) I took riflery in college and got an A. I currently own a 22-caliber, bolt-action, semi-automatic rifle. I do not own any bullets.

37.) My fondest memory of my wedding was standing next to David and purposefully making the same flub in our vows so he wouldn’t be embarrassed.

38.) The best years of my life started when I turned 30. I may be disturbingly close to 40 but I’m not bothered about getting old, I only wish time would stop moving so fast. I want to relish these years a little longer.

If you know me, you know I LOVE commercials. Ever since I was in 5th grade I have memorized and admired commercials. I’m sure this is why I ended up working in advertising. To this day I love to watch good ad work. I’m sure you’ve all seen it, but I can’t get enough of this one.

This is my birthday weekend and so I’m taking the easy way out of blogging today by just posting funny pictures of my kids. It’s not interesting, but I don’t care. It’s MY blog and if you don’t think my kids are precious, adorable and the most amazing people in the world than bugger off. (I’m really joking, it’s just that there is only one time during the year that you can truly be self-righteous and nobody will correct you and that is your birthday – so there it is.)

Lucy does NOT like to have her hair in pony tails. Period. As evidence I present this picture

As nap time gets closer Max gets even more rebellious and adamant that he is NOT taking a nap. Sometimes these escalate into huge power struggles and when it gets bad he pleads for food. I, on the other hand having a black-belt in parenting have learned to be immune to his manipulative pleas for food and drink as a stall tactic. Here you can see who won today’s battle.

That’s it for this week. I’ll be posting a special birthday article on Sunday and back to my usual shenanigans on Monday. In the meantime I’m headed to East Texas where my mother-in-law will wake up with my kids, let me sleep in, feed them cinnamon rolls, cook dinner for me and let me read her multitude of magazines and catalogs. God Bless that woman!!

My maternal grandmother is dying. As a matter of fact by the time you read this she will probably be gone. I’ve only talked with her once since 1982 and that one conversation was when she was already 93 and I had to remind her three times who I was and even then she didn’t seem all that interested. She stopped talking to me and my family due to a boring, inconsequential argument that offended her sense of vanity. When I tell people what I know about her – the fact that she was a Jewish, Russian immigrant who fled persecution, a woman who had been married several times and shot once in the back, a woman who buried two husbands and survived ovarian cancer, the fact that she had traveled all over the world including Alaska and China several times – she seems fascinating. Unfortunately those are not the things that I remember about her. Mainly I remember my mother crying – a lot.

Are you familiar with the story of Snow White? You know how the step-mother asks “who is the fairest of them all?” and then promptly tries to kill off the only other person who is prettier than her – even though that person is her step-daughter? Yeah, that is my mother’s relationship with my grandmother. It is not that my grandmother thought my mother was better than her as much as she couldn’t stand to have anything take away from her. She was incapable of putting her children and their needs before her own. My mother was not physically neglected but she was most definitely emotionally neglected. She was left to spend the rest of her life seeking her mother’s love and approval. My mother has purposefully told me at least every 24 hours of my life that she loves me — she never wanted me to doubt the one thing she never got.

I’m not sad about my grandmother dying. Maybe I should feel bad about that but I don’t. Halfway through my morning walk, as sweat was streaming down my back and my heart was pumping I stopped and cried. Not for my dying grandmother but for my mother. I was so angry that my grandmother could never stand up and be the mother she should have been.

My mother drives me crazy (as all mothers do to their daughters) but there are certain things that I have never doubted my whole life. My mother loves me. My mother is proud of me. My mother will always take care of me. My own mother has spent her whole life without having those certainties to build upon and now there is no hope of her ever having them.

The next couple of weeks are going to be hard on my Mom. I can’t fix it or make it easier or even tell her brother to “bugger off” (although I’d like to) but I do know that my mother is loved. Where my grandmother has left a vacancy their are hoards of people who have stepped up to fill that void. And since I can’t make this pain disappear I think I’ll just send her some ice cream.

As a SAHM with children under 5 years old I enjoy the benefits of the school year. This means the mall is empty, McDonald’s is empty, the park is empty, any place I want to take my kids is sparsely populated in the middle of the week. The summer — well that is a whole different ball game. I’ve never felt the contrast so dramatically as I have this summer. Lucy and Max are shy children, as I was (ok, stop laughing) and big crowds and loud noises scare them (yes, I realize I’m making them sound like a couple of small bunny rabbits, but its true). So far this summer we’ve had to leave 2 mall play areas, the aquarium (twice) and the park with at least one of them in tears. Today it was the play area in Chick-fil-A. Most of the time I feel that my children just need to face and overcome their fears. There are going to be people, kids, noises, etc at the park. HOWEVER, the blatant disregard for the rules at fast food play areas BY PARENTS turns a gym into a “Lord of the Flies” – only the strong survive kind of place. So Mommies, listen up cuz I’m talkin’ to you!

1.) SUPERVISE YOUR CHILDREN
This is not a time to read a book, play Scrabble with a friend, write that novel you’ve been meaning to get to, talk on your cell phone, etc. You have a child who is interacting with children in a very small, confined area, pay attention. Unlike a school playground the age differences between the children in this tiny space can be as much as ten years so please focus on your child and what he/she is doing. This becomes even more true as the number of children increases.

2.) THERE IS AN AGE LIMIT
Most of these places don’t want kids over 10 years old. You know why? because it is a small, confined space and 2 ten year olds physically take up room and between their endless energy, large bodies and sheer force of nature they can be like giant Gorillas in one of those places. This also applies if your 8 year old is the size of a 12 year old. Sorry, but please be considerate of the age and number of the other children. A sweet gentle 10 year old can quickly become a playground bully just because he/she towers over the 3 year olds playing next to him/her. And as Lucy puts it “they move so fast”.

3) NO SCREAMING
Can I get an Amen on this one? Again, enclosed, small, lots of children don’t allow your child to scream at the top of their lungs like they are outside. They are NOT outside. And once one of them screams they all scream. I’ve been at rock concerts that have done less damage to my hearing than some fast food play areas.

That’s it. Those are my 3 big guidelines that I think we should all follow in order to make these community play areas a bit more pleasant for both child and parent. Until then, I’m not returning until September.

Watching the Olympics is weird. First of all you know there are like hundreds of other events going on that we NEVER see. Like table tennis, have you EVER seen a table tennis game broadcast? So there are all these athletes who are winning medals, or not winning medals that we never hear about. And who decides what we see and what we don’t see? Is it just convenience? For instance do we see swimming because it’s easy to set up cameras and record one pool over and over again verses watching sailing? I don’t know. And can I just say that I was so annoyed (offended) that during the women’s beach volleyball game the broadcasters spent 15 minutes talking about their HUSBANDS. Really? You mean the game and the fact that they are Olympians was not material enough? And if it was male beach volleyball would we be talking about their wives? I think not. (yes, I was quite angered by this).

I’ve always been a bit of a “routine-nazi” with my kids. I do believe that children crave/need/desire routine and do best with a rigid routine. Where has it gone this summer? My routine has been tossed out the window. Between daylight savings time, travelling, out of town guests and the fact that Max outgrew his crib like 6 weeks ago our bedtime routine is non-existant. The result? It is 10:00 pm and both children and David are asleep in our king-size bed with no room left for me. Guess where I’m sleeping tonight? Lucy’s princess bed.

My birthday is next week. Birthdays are like summer vacations – they tarnish as you age. When you are a kid birthdays are a glorious day of narcissim where it is okay to only think of yourself, do for yourself, and want things for yourself. As you become an adult and then a mother you lose this. I can no more do only for myself on my birthday as I could fly to the moon. I used to LOVE my birthday in a real, passionate, child-like fashion for years – way into my twenties. Since I’ve hit 30 it has really been down hill. Now it is the one time of the year where I get to remember that I don’t have time to maintain any close friendships and that I’m slowly marching towards 40 in a way that seems depressing. My body is getting older which is unfair because I still feel like I’m 28.

Yeah, I’m tired, I’m grumpy – I’m going to go sleep this off.

I’ve never met a man who truly, down deep felt comfortable holding an infant. No matter how much they love and adore their child there is something so inherently vulnerable about newborns that it makes men uncomfortable. Babies cry for no reason and they are small and all their parts look like they could just easily snap right off. As kids grow and they learn to talk, walk and their parts look less like they could break in a freak diaper changing accident, men become more comfortable.

The past couple of weeks our house has been abuzz with talk of Star Wars. David eagerly watched the movies with the kids and then this past weekend he pulled out of the closet the sacred receptacle of Star Wars toys from his childhood. A large metal tin filled with about a 100 action figures. It was a sight to behold as the three of them sat down in the playroom and David meticulously identified each action figure, which movie it was from and whether or not it was a good guy or a bad guy. Lucy and Max were overwhelmed both by the quantity of toys and the depth of Daddy’s knowledge.

David can easily navigate the waters of ‘good guys’ versus ‘bad guys’. He knows how to calm bed time fears and (thankfully) is a soothing voice when vomiting hits the house. He is the strong Daddy who can fix anything that is broken and knows how to make funny voices. THIS is his comfort zone. David has always awkwardly stood by during diaper changes, midnight feedings, and those early nonsensical bouts of crying. Now there are grand discussions over who should be Luke Skywalker for Halloween and would it be okay if Mommy was Obi-Wan even though SHE’S A GIRL!

For a little while I’m second fiddle. I’m the one who they see all day long and the one they hear “no” from all day long. But Daddy – well Daddy is this amazing, strong, all powerful person who “ARRIVES” at dinner time and while sharing fruity popsicles tells more stories about Luke Skywalker and “Dark Vader”. And you know what? I’m okay with that.