TV Nation

More fun than TV. Max and Prozac Puppy help with the laundry.

Before I had the baby my days were filled with brunches, shopping, auditions and rehearsals. I won’t lie…it was a kick ass life. I adored it! I had some days where there was nothing going on and I lounged all day, maybe got a mani/pedi and then crashed on the couch for some Law & Order and take out.
I had the luxury of getting extremely upset about gossip, whether about my friends or me. I had the time and the inclination to be interested and yes, sometimes judgmental about the comings and goings at my theatre company and was tremendously vulnerable to others judgments and gossip about me. (Now of course I simply cannot believe I got so upset over all that stuff!) I had a great circle of friends who I at least talked to on the phone 3 times a week if not every day!

Now I spend every day with the cutest little man I’ve ever met, but as a stay at home mom I find myself thinking things like:

“Sam Wiggle got a haircut! He’s looking good, I wonder if he’s been working out!”
or
 “Seriously, someone needs to tell Anthony to step away from the plastic surgeon!”
or
“I totally know all the choreography to the Wiggles and the Fresh Beats. Is that awesome or sad?”

I decided it’s awesome because:
a. when I dance along it makes my kid crazy happy
b. I’m counting it as working out. It’s aerobics, right????

Also? I totally haven’t discouraged Max when he points at Sportacus (Yes. He loves that damned Lazy Town) and says emphatically “Da da!” Who’s your Daddy? Sportacus, indeed.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a bad mom where television is concerned. Both Zach and I are the type of people who have the tv on all the time, it’s white noise to us. I was a latch key kid for a long time and the tv was company to me. I kept it on while playing, while reading, doing homework (probably should have turned it off then). So when we had Max it didn’t occur to either of us to turn it off.
We learned very early on that Max is a visual learner, it’s extremely clear that as of now that is his learning style, so we began early on having kid friendly things on television as our background noise. And when we do have on adult programming (And by adult, I mean The Office, Modern Family or GLEE, not *cough* adult programming *cough* ) he really isn’t all that interested unless there is music.
Max is a kid who can and does play on his own, as I was, and sometimes I want to play with him and he’s like ‘get outta my face woman, can’t you see I’m reading this book and giggling to myself?!?! You don’t interrupt that.’
But the TV is always droning on. As we play with blocks, or as I put away the laundry…Sesame is in the background. So far this hasn’t seemed to hinder his development in any way. He does not throw tantrums when we turn it off for nap time, or want it on if it does happen to be off. He is meeting all the learning milestones and has caught up physically but I still can’t help but think I need to turn off the dang tv! So I’m going to.
It’s like breaking up with a lover, turning off my beloved television. We’ll still be friends but we won’t see each other all the time.
Max is naturally curious and interested in just about everything and I want to encourage that. He knows blue and red (Cookie and Elmo anyone?), he knows up and down, he is learning things at a rate that is blowing my mind. I think, more for me than for him, the white noise of the tv needs to go away.
Dear television, it’s not you…it’s me.

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The Panic

This last week was a doozy wasn’t it? I mean little Falcon flying through the air (oh wait, he wasn’t) and a baby taken from his mother by the TSA (oh wait he wasn’t) and that baby in stroller run over by the train (oh how I wish that wasn’t, thank God he’s ok).
More than angry about the embellishers I am just thrilled that the children are safe. But this week gave me a panic attack. The third one of my entire life and I am so hoping that will be last cause in case you haven’t heard, panic attacks? suck. hard.
My first one took place on a plane, I’m not a great flier and once the door shut with a particularly odd thunk I felt my heart race, my temperature raise and suddenly the panic was like a blanket on me. A boa constrictor blanket. I am not sure how I had the presence of mind to not freak out, but I guess I figured ranting like a maniac on a plane might not be the best course of action. Bloody Mary’s were. Thank you Virgin America.
The second one took place on the table during my C-section. Awesome. I kept saying to my wonderful Doogie Howser-esque anesthesiologist  “I have to get up. I’m freaking out.” yeah, cause getting up at that moment was going to happen. He was a rock star telling me there was nothing to freak out about, and if I wanted something he would give it to me but I might not remember the birth. I chose to just stay there and freak out. Finally once that kid was wedged free they brought him to me, still panicking, thinking it would calm me down…it didn’t,  but we did learn that I am big fat camera whore because this picture:

was taken smack in the middle of  “let me up, I have to get up, I’m freaking out”( anyone surprised I’m a camera whore? I thought not)
This Sunday night I was taken by surprise by the panic, it came from nowhere. Nothing had happened directly to me or my family. Yeah I had sat by the television praying and crying for a little boy up in a balloon. The world is scary in a completely different way now that Max is here. I kept thinking how scared that child must be, hoping against hope that he was alive. I could feel viscerally how scared his mother must be, how angry she must be at his father…well placed or not I would have been furious.
I was not alone. Twitter was a buzz with ‘ I want to get my kid from school and hug him’.
I’m not sure how they resisted, Max was right in front of me and I couldn’t hold him close enough. The thought of him in such a situation? Too much to bear.
Hot on the heels of that, a mother claimed her son was taken from her at the airport.  Having just travelled by myself with Max I experienced everything right along with her reading her story. I just can’t help but feel what other people are feeling.
I’m like Steel Magnolias, baby: “No one cries alone in my presence”
Since Max was born I’ve had a bit of what is called Postpartum Anxiety. Sometimes at night I see him being hurt in random ways. Run over by a car, a dresser falling on him. When he was tiny we lived in Santa Clarita on the 3rd floor and the stairs were a constant source of terror for me. I would see myself dropping him and his tiny head popping like a cantelope on those stairs. The stroller getting away from me is a big one. I’ve seen it a thousand times. We live near a lake and we take lovely walks around it, but at a night the stroller makes a break from me and sweet Baby Max is plunged in to the murky depths along with a million abandoned shoes, bikes, frisbees and balls.
As I might have mentioned I want a new stroller since the brake is broken on my( utterly useless, infuriatingly expensive) stroller
So seeing it happen, to that poor woman for real and for true just put me right over the edge. I closed my eyes to try to sleep and there it was, over and over. For real.  The mother’s reaction, how the people scattered and then raced to the train..and suddenly, there was that boa constrictor of panic. Again, this is only the 3rd time in my whole life this has ever happened, enough to recognize what it is, but still be scared by it.
Having a child opens the world up to a whole new range of terror, but my God isn’t it worth it? So, I’ll keep the panic attacks if it means I get to keep the baby. (And if it means I get to keep the Xanax!)
Also, I am dying to know what kind of bad ass stroller that baby was in…cause I want that one!

Please report to the Cafeteria for the Awards Assembly!

This week I was blessed to be given not one, but two blogging awards! Whoohooo!
I’m pretty excited about these because
A. I just like being given things.
B. This last week sucked.
Also, since they are fellow blogger given awards it’s extra nice as we all sort of nurse our wounds and dust our shoulders off as one of our fellow bloggers has *ahem* misbehaved and that is always upsetting. This week was rough as I was quite worried about the little boy up in the balloon that wasn’t, and the baby that wasn’t taken by the TSA, and I would just like to say for the record : Don’t embellish on my account, ‘kay Ladies?
My favorite blogs are the slice of life blogs, people with kids, without em…I don’t care. 
You went shopping? I want to know what you bought. Took your kids to the pumpkin patch? I want to hear about it! Kid lost a tooth? Pictures please! Your husband lost his job? Mine too, man that sucks.
It’s the internet equivelent of looking in your living room windows, but with your permission and not creepily illegal. And it makes the world a smaller place. Reminds us that at the heart of it all, we are all the same. 
And while I would like my emotional distress back please, I promise not to get bitter or distrusting. 
I will believe you when you say you need prayers for your child. I will be outraged on your behalf if you’ve suffered an injustice. Of course I will be pissed if someone has lied to me, but hey! call me gullible (for reals, I don’t leave the house on April Fools Day for a reason) but that’s just who I am. A believer.


And now the goodies! 



I received this from Amo over at where a woman shakes her tablecloth . I’m thrilled to receive it as I think her blog is a great read. She is funny and insightful and very relatable. Added bonus: She has her very own Baby Max. (And who amongst us can resist a Baby Max? I sure as hell can’t!) 
Both of the blogs I am passing it on too crack my hist UP, and these lovely snarky women always take the time to visit and to comment on my little corner of the world and I have truly appreciated that. 


The Obnoxious SAHM
              &
Headaches, Hotflashes & Hormones


If for some reason you’re not reading these women? I hope you will rectify that situation right…now. Go ahead. Go over there…hit FOLLOW. I’ll wait. 


Yay! You’re back! Cool…cause my good friend Sarah over at  Looking for Serendipity
gifted me with this bad boy:


And this one has rules. Rules kids! 


The rules say in order to accept this award I have to answer the following questions with only 1 word answers…

1. Where is your cell phone? desk
2. Your hair? brunette
3. Your mother? amazing
4. Your father? passed
5. Your favorite food?Mexican
6. Your dream last night? home
7. Your favorite drink? seltzer
8. Your dream/goal? happy
9. What room are you in?bedroom
10. Your hobby? writing
11. Your fear? failure
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? stable
13. Where were you last night? home
14. Something you aren’t? tan
15. Muffins? blueberry
16. Wish list item? house
17. Where did you grow up? Boulder
18. Last thing you did? type
19. What are you wearing? nothing
20. Your TV? on
21. Your pets? loved
22. Your friends? amazing
23. Your life? blessed
24. Your mood? weary
25. Missing someone? Max
26. Vehicle? Honda
27. Something you’re not wearing? glasses
28. Your favorite store? Target
29. Your favorite color? pink
30. When was the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? today
32. Your best friend? honorable
33. One place that I go over & over? internet
34. One person who emails you regularly? Zach
35. Favorite place to eat? ROME!


*19. I’m totally wearing clothes. Just making sure you’re reading along! 
I now have to gift this to 6 other bloggers…oy! How to chose? There are so many fantabulous one.

6. Maneuvering Motherhood


Each one of these blogs resonates with me in a different way, I adore them all and look forward to their posts! Naked Jen is brave and strong, Yvonne changed her whole life and found a passion, calling and a career traveling and eating well, Jennifer has such insight and I adore her wit, Speaking from the Crib makes me laugh and then sucker punches me. The Shabby Tiara? Gives me the ‘I Wants’. And Maneuvering Motherhood taught me to spell maneuver. I kid, but really? It’s a great blog about motherhood and loving kids and not loosing yourself in the process. 


By the way, has anyone seen me? 


And that concludes a very long awards assembly. You are now excused. Off to study hall kids. No running! 

Proving the old adage true, the hard way.

Baby Max age 2 weeks. Me and the Prozac Puppy…slightly older.



I’m a bit of a klutz. Always have been, always will be. It used to cause me tremendous embarrassment until I learned to accept it. It’s just part of who I am and it’s actually made me a friend or two over the years. My very good friend Anne once told me when we met she wasn’t certain we could be friends. She was more of a sweats kinda gal and (at the time) I was always dressed to the nines. Shoes, nails, designer bags etc. She was not entirely sure about me until two things happened.


1. She found out I can pretty much recite Eddie Izzard’s Dressed to Kill by heart
2. She saw me open cabinet and dump and entire package of cereal on my head.

My reaction to these klutzy events, which happen with alarming regularity, is sort of one like…oh, okay. I mean, I’m used to it! I wouldn’t know what to do if I went a whole day wearing a white sweater without putting my coffee mug down and managing to get coffee splattered on the most random of spots! Or shutting the car door on my leg, banging my head on a cabinet or something of the like.

So today when in my super cute new socks (Target. $1. Grey with black hearts on them. I love footie socks as much as Holly Madison loves knee highs) I took a huge spill down the carpeted steps I wasn’t surprised. I do it all the time. I’m a gal who knows how to fall down a flight of steps! This was different however as I was holding the most precious thing in the entire world to me.

Baby Max.

It was a slow-mo of arms and legs and screams as Max and I slipped and bounced down the steps crashing right into a bookshelf which is on the landing. We were both pretty shaken up. He was crying, I was crying because he was crying but neither one of of us was hurt. It may have been loud and scary but there is nary a bruise on either one of our pale little bods.


I have however discovered the old adage is true: The experience well and truly scared the sh*t out of Max.













Also, I’m pretty sure Max will never set his precious booty in our (did I mention the brake is broken on my ridiculously expensive worthless) stroller ever again after watching the baby and the train video. Can you even imagine?? Of course you can. You have been all day.

Proving the old adage true, the hard way.

Baby Max age 2 weeks. Me and the Prozac Puppy…slightly older.



I’m a bit of a klutz. Always have been, always will be. It used to cause me tremendous embarrassment until I learned to accept it. It’s just part of who I am and it’s actually made me a friend or two over the years. My very good friend Anne once told me when we met she wasn’t certain we could be friends. She was more of a sweats kinda gal and (at the time) I was always dressed to the nines. Shoes, nails, designer bags etc. She was not entirely sure about me until two things happened.


1. She found out I can pretty much recite Eddie Izzard’s Dressed to Kill by heart
2. She saw me open cabinet and dump and entire package of cereal on my head.

My reaction to these klutzy events, which happen with alarming regularity, is sort of one like…oh, okay. I mean, I’m used to it! I wouldn’t know what to do if I went a whole day wearing a white sweater without putting my coffee mug down and managing to get coffee splattered on the most random of spots! Or shutting the car door on my leg, banging my head on a cabinet or something of the like.

So today when in my super cute new socks (Target. $1. Grey with black hearts on them. I love footie socks as much as Holly Madison loves knee highs) I took a huge spill down the carpeted steps I wasn’t surprised. I do it all the time. I’m a gal who knows how to fall down a flight of steps! This was different however as I was holding the most precious thing in the entire world to me.

Baby Max.

It was a slow-mo of arms and legs and screams as Max and I slipped and bounced down the steps crashing right into a bookshelf which is on the landing. We were both pretty shaken up. He was crying, I was crying because he was crying but neither one of of us was hurt. It may have been loud and scary but there is nary a bruise on either one of our pale little bods.


I have however discovered the old adage is true: The experience well and truly scared the sh*t out of Max.













Also, I’m pretty sure Max will never set his precious booty in our (did I mention the brake is broken on my ridiculously expensive worthless) stroller ever again after watching the baby and the train video. Can you even imagine?? Of course you can. You have been all day.

Tales from the playground

Yesterday was clear and bright but chilly. The air was really sharp and you could just tell…Winter is coming. I had a monster case of cabin fever and the minute Zach got home from work I practically screamed  “Let’s take him to the playground!” He’s finally walking now, and I’ve been waiting patiently for that so we bundled him up, leashed the Prozac Puppy, stuck Max in the  (did I mention the brake is broken on my freaking expensive useless) stroller and off we went!
Max’s eyes lit up like a child at Christmas when he saw those swings. Oh how he loves to swing! We swang, he went on the slide with Daddy and even got brave enough to slide himself into my waiting arms.
We weren’t there alone for very long. Soon a dad and his three year old boy arrived on the scene and suddenly we were responsible for two kids. Thanks random dad.  Luckily little boy was pretty friendly although he did not understand that Max was too little to just go down the slide with him and he was frustrated Max couldn’t climb as well as he could.
After a bit they decided to head out and oh! you’ve never seen a three year old not want to leave more than this kid. He screamed, he wailed he arched his back.

Zach said, as he carried Max to his stroller “I’m so glad we’re not there yet.”
I smiled to myself…silly man.
Cue Max: he screamed. He wailed. He arched his back.

Safe to say the playground was a hit.

So disappointed in myself.

Today is the National Equality March here in D.C. and I am not there.
I am not there.
I am so disappointed in myself that I actually feel ill. I had every intention of going but …well, you know. As Brigham Young once said “Good intentions and crying babies should be carried out.”
I sure as hell didn’t carry mine out. Here’s the thing, and it’s not an excuse it’s just what it is. I’m sort of shy. Right, I can hear you laughing. But it’s true. Not in a blend in with the wallpaper way, but more in a talks-to-loud-and-accidentally-says-something-stupid way. I am NO good in a social situation if I don’t know people. I’m all awkward and say the wrong thing. I can get up on stage in front of a thousand people and perform a monologue no problem. But walk up to a large group and march with them? Well, it gives me hives. If I know just one person or two I am MUCH better, but knowing no one? Yikes. I’m a bit of a train wreck.
Max woke up late (awesome! more sleep!) and blah blah blah. Suddenly I looked down and the march was already started. I am so disappointed in myself that I didn’t gather up my crinolines and get my booty down to the starting point and march on Washington! How often do you get to march on Washington for something that you truly believe in?
From the moment I learned of the rally I had visions of Max and I marching to the White House, showing our support for the rights of our fellow citizens. But in the end? I am just a big fat chicken.

I take comfort that there are (est.) ten times more people in attendance than were in DC for the Tea Party, but still…there should be two more. One tiny and sweet, and one pushing the tiny sweet one in his stroller.
Both of us with our faces painted proudly:

It’s no excuse, but there it is. Mea Culpa. And well done to all who marched. I’m sorry.

The Sky is falling!


I won’t even tell you how old I was when Skylab fell to earth, but I was just barely old enough to be scared. But I was. And by scared I really, truly paralyzed by terror. My mother attempted to explain to my young mind things like trajectory and how it would burn up upon reentering our atmosphere and would land in the ocean off of Florida but all I heard was blah blah blah, something that looked like a gigantic windmill to me was going to fall on us. Specifically me. And I was terrified. I took to hanging out under the dining room table and trying to sleep underneath my bed (only in little kid logic can a dining room table provide that extra little bit of protection to keep you safe). I’m sure my mother had no idea how to deal with such a small child who had so much terror over something that was really not a threat. Looking back I’m certain it was fall out from all the fear and anxiety of my fathers death. Even little ones pick that stuff up.

Well, Skylab did fall and not a single bit of it came to land on our little house in Boulder Colorado. I escaped! Lying in bed last night after listening to all the hooplah over Nasa ‘bombing’ the moon I had one tiny irrational childhood flashback. A friend had posted something on Facebook : “they know if the moon explodes we spin out of orbit and we all die, right?”
Uh…I knew that’s not at all what would happen. But for one minute my little panicky self thought…maybe the baby and I will sleep under the dining room table tonight.

I think NASA needs to show that they are a vital agency still, and I firmly believe that they are. But at the moment I can’t help but think: really? A 79 million dollar rocket just to crash it? How about 79 mil for water treatment plants here? Or 79 million extra for our schools? (I know that’s a drop in the bucket, sadly) Some schools are having children bring their own toilet paper because they can’t afford it.
Seriously.
In America.
If we are the greatest country ever then our children should be able to go to school safe in the knowlege that there will be toilet paper. Seems pretty low on the list of things we can provide our kids.
The moon didn’t explode, but the childhood romantic in me, the one who looked for the man in the moon every night feels sad for her.
Poor moon. Sorry we injured you today. Thank you for letting us do some reasearch. Even if I personally feel we should have left you alone right now and used that money for something else.

*please don’t school me on how appropriations works. I know. I’m just
sayin…