The week that was…

1. Huck and Mommy had a date at the mall which ended with Hip Hop Huck drinking his milk and driving all while giggling “go! go!”
2. He’s not staying. He just swung by to grab some coffee before his big meeting. direct quote.
3. Huck started saying “Bubble” which is more like buhbuh but we will take what we can get!
4. The Boss had a play date and got her some flowers. Story next week. But OMG YOU GUYS.
5. Redskins. Sigh. But The Dulli Boys had a good time and I could listen to Boss insist everyone “CUDDLE UP!” all the livelong day. I have threatened Zach upon penalty of death not to correct him. Cuddle it is!
6. “I don’t want you to read to me. I just want to look at it myself!” Well okay then.
7. So…the brekkie goes in my tummy? Flower in ear courtesy of The Cat In The Hat Carmen Miranda scene.
8. SAG Screeners started coming in and made me one of the WOO girls. As in “WOOOOOOOOO!”
9. Fashion Sense. Huck has it. (Also I am going to nibble those thighs. Juicy deliciousness!)

If you follow me on instagram you’ve possibly seen all these before, but I thought it might be nice to keep track of the week all in one place!

This one gets it’s own spot. Boss wrote this, it says “I love Mommy” and I am going to keep it for eternity.

What was your week like?


More proof I need to get off my lazy butt.

Earlier today, just as I was contemplating how I needed to blog and how on earth a week could have passed so quickly…when I got a text message from a certain girlfriend, who shall remain nameless. It said simply: I pinned something for you.

And pin she did.

Chin exercises. As in; got a saggy chin? Tighten it up with these exercises! Now, I can’t say I was offended by such a pin. She and I had just been discussing how the skin under our neck was, shall we say, a little less tight than it was earlier in life? If I am being honest,  I’ve never had a strong jaw line and learned early in theatre make up to give myself a bit of help. This never bothered me too much, but as is the case with the lines on my forehead that have been there since high school; suddenly they bug me a lot. Truvvy said “Time marches on and eventually you realize it’s walking all over your face.” Time? Suddenly is a freaking marching band on my face.

So anyway, you know I re-pinned that good old chin excercise guide and gave it a shot. 20 seconds of leaning your head back and jutting your chin to the ceiling, how hard could it be? Oh tip your head all the way back and make exaggerated kissy faces at the sky? If it tightens my ‘waddle’ you got it, pinterest! Guess what? After the end of the three minutes of intensive chin cardio, I was winded.


Clearly, I need to exercise more. And I am contemplating just such a new commitment right now as I blog and drink a mocha. Cause that’s how I roll.

In other news, Thanksgiving rocked in Ohio with the cousins and they even let me drag them out for a little photo shoot. You will now be forced to look at said pictures of said little cousins. Enjoy.

(perhaps you’re wondering “where is Huckleberry??” Well, he was sick so we kept him at home. I knew it was the right thing, but I felt SO guilty anyway. Especially when we all got hot cocoa. Mine had Bailey’s in it. Boss’ did not.)

What did you do for thanksgiving? Was it glorious? I adore Thanksgiving because it has always been a great holiday for me. From Orphan Thanksgivings in LA to being a part of my husband’s huge extended family celebration, I adore it. And every year it gets better…more kids playing, more family members added. I am, as always, thankful on Thanksgving.

Me and Lady MacBeth are exactly alike about washing our hands.

I’ve beent thinking a lot about Lady MacBeth, specifically Act 5 scene 1, the famous out, out damn spot! scene which finds our Lady distraught to the point of sleepwalking through the castle and imaginarily washing her hands. I’m awake of course, and far less distraught, but I find myself washing my hands a great deal lately and yet they are never clean.

 Lady M.:  Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!

Me: Here’s the smell of poop still: all the perfumes of Bath and Body Works Peach Bellini antibacterial soap will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! 

Lady MacBeth had phantom blood and I have phantom poop smell.

See, I have two boys and while they are clean and bathe daily, and they themselves smell of Burt’s Bees and fresh air, it is my little hands that most often wipe their bottoms. Their hands remain free from the clinging, lingering scent of poop. Primarily it is the tiny centurion who is at fault. I could more easily diaper a greased piglet than put clean pants on the Huckleberry. Yet I am skilled…I never actually get the poop on my hands, mind you! I believe it is indeed, all in my mind.


And so I wash. And wash. I scrub with a nail brush. I use antibacterial wipes. And yet as I go to brush my slowly growing out bangs from my eyes I smell it, the faint smell of Hucklepoop.

Out. Out damn spot.

Perhaps I am having a mental breakdown about poop. Like Lady MacBeth was about spilling King Duncan’s blood. Alas, no poop has been spilled.

My husband says he can’t smell it, oh yeah you know I made him check. What a good man! I know my hands are completely poop free but I won’t be insulted if we ever meet and you don’t shake my hand, though I promise they are clean. So clean. Scrubbed raw and red and yet….

 Lady M. … What! will these hands ne’er be clean?

Let it Be for Noah.

I rarely take to my blog to ask for help. I mostly stick to silly missives about Tom and Katie’s marriage, the Bachelorette or what a dork I am at parenthood. I try to be honest and real on my bad days, to be open about my postpartum anxiety and how having an eating disorder perhaps contributed to that. I have good days and bad days, as we all do. Today is different.

Last night was a good night. Boss came to me post bath all warm and smelling of Burt’s Bees and commanded me to “look at how clean and sparkly my booty is Mommy!” And I did look, and it was clean and sparkly. I maybe pinched it a little. He’s four ( in a few days!) so the years of appropriate nibbling and pinching are dwindling at a rapid rate.

Yes, last night was good…until I lay in bed, cuddled next to a sleeping Boss, foot in my face (why do they want to sleep sideways???) and couldn’t stop thinking of my friend Mike and his very own boy, Noah.

Mike was a good friend to sister Dub and I in high school, despite his penchant for Obsession for Men. He thought it was awesome. We disagreed. Whatever, cologne not withstanding, he looked out for us. He was older and wiser but never talked down to us, and frequently saved our butts from older boys. I always suspected he had a little thing for sister Dub, but then most guys who ever met her fell instantly in love. Mike grew up, went to BYU, got married, and had a family. Just like we did…minus the BYU bit because, obviously. His first son is just about Max and Zu’s age. His baby Noah, is Huckleberry’s age, just two weeks younger.

Right before Noah’s first birthday he got sick, he couldn’t keep anything down. Like any good parent they took him to the hospital worrying about dehydration. The doctor ordered a CT scan along with other tests and it was discovered Noah had a malignant brain tumor.

Can you imagine? You go in thinking your one year old has the flu and come out knowing he has brain cancer?

Mike is a musician, a good one, and he took to youtube to sing a song for Noah, if you like it you can download it at itunes and all proceeds go to Noah’s care.

please take a second to watch the video and if you can spare $1.29 down load the song. Or donate whatever you can. I look at Huckleberry and think there but for the grace of God go I.

**MSNBC & HUFFPO picked up Noah’s story!

Please share if you feel moved too. On Facebook, on twitter…whatever.

The direct youtube link is: and we are using the hashtag #LetitBeforNoah

I have always thought Let it Be was a sacred song…and it is.

A new synapse formed.

It occurred to me, as things do, while I was ironing my pillow cases that perhaps not everyone does this. Perhaps not everyone thrills to the crackling sound of the sizing as it sprays on the white cotton. Perhaps not everyone is swept over by a peaceful calm as the iron smooths out all the wrinkles leaving nothing but crisp white.

I firmly believe that towels and sheets should be white but friends should come in all colors.

huckie mouth blog
I’m not sure when I discovered my love of ironing. It’s akin to making the bed for me. An instant payback, an immediate reward. With two small kids and no space of our own life is constant chaos. I can never seem to get all the laundry done, all the dishes done, all the diapers done…it is a constant catch up.

Let’s not discuss the state of my closet.

But smoothing the wrinkles away from my sheets, my duvet, and yes, my shower curtain is a calm in the storm. Hucklberry scoots all around the floor thrilling to Play with me Sesame and Boss practices his booty bounce on the bed as I spray and iron.

It’s a good day. Sometimes there is joy in the little things.

Oh Mother’s day….

Sigh. Today I went to my very first pre-school Mother’s Day Tea. I feel like I had a motherhood right of passage and it was adorable. Sometimes being a mother is absurdly beautiful. My little date and I had so much fun together, my sweet first born was really in need of some individual attention.
Much needed.


because this guy:

is rocking one bad ass ear infection with a side of 103 hotness. It’s decidedly not awesome. Thankfully he has his blankie from MommaKiss she made it for him and I am pretty sure she knitted it from magical unicorns or possibly kittens. It is just that soft.

And for reals, this right here? Is my favorite iVoices video I have ever, ever done. Because really, I have turned into my mother. At least a little bit. Have you?


Time marches on…

We are feeding ourselves over here. It’s half awesome, half total disaster.

Don’t you dare clear that plate before he is ready.

Baby Brother will cut you if you take away his crushed Kix covered banana slices. I’ve given up on bibs and have begun employing a diaper only dress code.

And this guy? Well he has taken to eat/napping. On the floor. Cheerios are his new favorite, perhaps it has something to do with Baby Brother chowing down on them.

Shhhhh. Don’t wake him.

In which my mother in law is groovier than me.

This past Saturday we gathered, friends and family, for my mother in law’s Seder. I love her Seders. First of all, who doesn’t love a religious ceremony where you lean to the left and drink? I mean, really. But mostly I love it because as we drink more and more wine we get sillier and sillier, and bless my mother in law’s heart, she laughs along with us. All the while I am cracking jokes and laughing till my eyes water, I am thinking how much groovier than me she is, because if this was my Easter dinner I would be freaking out at the giggling. I’d be Jesus died you guys! But she’s like whahoo! we got out of Egypt AND we remembered to bring the coffee! YAY!

{seriously yay. thanks for the coffee}

But she laughs hardest of all. Which is good because her son did a mighty fine rap of one part of the ceremony and we added several plagues to the ones that were unleashed upon the Egyptians such as Keeping Up With The Kardashians, Dance Moms, and Rick Santorum.

But the highlight of the night was, unsurprisingly, The Boss. Sitting at the dinner table he suddenly slammed a fist on the table.

“dammit!” slam again. “DAMMIT!” cried he.

“oh no, that is not a word we use” said I “especially not at the dinner table”

He paused, looking at all of us, moving only his eyes. Waited a good three seconds then:


Timing. The kid has it.

I wondered and wondered where he got that from. It was so specific. Slam. Dammit. SLAM. DAMMIT. And then after dinner my husband showed my SIL the funniest news bloopers, and there it was. Some apparently really famous ex-football player who is not Howie Long but I can’t remember anyone’s name other than Howie Long on some sports show. Slam! Dammit! SLAM!  DAMMIT!

I guess we are just lucky Boss didn’t say “keep f***ing that chicken.”

And to top it all off…THE CUTE.

Last year the news reported that a mama duck had brought her ducklings to hatch at National Geographic. As soon as TOTT and my Father in Law arrived home I pounced on them there are ducklings at Nat Geo? Where are the pictures? I want to see them!

On Monday as we walked back to Daddy’s office from the White House we could see that they had roped off the reflecting pool in the courtyard in the few hours we had been gone.

Oh! Zach said, the ducks must be back! And they were. Mama is one smart duck and she knows everything stops at National Geographic for her and her babies! Thirteen in all this year, three born on Sunday and ten born just that day. And Oh! How sweet they are.
Nat Geo has Plan of Action for when Mama returns with her babies and she is well cared for and protected. If you ever doubt the hearts of men, glimpse everyone in action about these ducklings and mama. Yesterday they had an escort as they left the NG grounds, making their way down 16th all the way down to the White House. Now we will all wait, patiently, hoping that she will bring her next batch of babies to National Geographic.
Good job, mama, you couldn’t have picked a better place in D.C. to hang with your babies. It’s like you knew

And then we left the house. Without the kids.

Don’t fret. The small tyrant and the tiny non-sleeper were well cared for by Ma & Bob-Bob. No sooner had Ma spoke the words “maybe you’d like to go to a movie or something this evening, we will babysit” than Zach and I were out the door.
I wore a dress. And make up. And PERFUME. And my new glasses. New glasses or contacts are always such a joy. I find myself amazed at how clear each leaf is on the trees or each blade of grass.

It was like the old days. Back in the day Zach and I would always head out for a nosh, a movie and then wrap it up with a relaxing coffee slash Barnes and Noble magazine fest. That’s just what we did, I love this local shopping area near us which has a beautiful pond with boats and fountains. Even though it’s right off the freeway it has a bit of the Santa Monica 3 rd street feel.

We bought a metric ton of popcorn and candy and settled into see Jeff Who Lives at Home. It was so good! I highly recommend it. Afterwards we grabbed a our lattes and wandered around Barnes and Noble collecting things, including a Green Day book for the Boss.

We hurried home to see the babies. Oh how I loved being out just me and the hubby, but I missed my little ones.  Their smiles and hugs are the best. Even better than a handful of popcorn mixed with M&M’s. And that’s damn good.

Anxiously waiting for Ma to offer to babysit again!