MY "PRINCE" WILLIAM

I may have created a monster, and his name is William....

I don't quite remember how it happened, but it was something like this.... One day, Jonah was having your average meltdown about something - an I need another string cheese, higher bubbles in the bath NOW, I want my own car (as in- his own Nissan Motor car) moments... Completely exasperated, the only way I could talk him down off the hysteria ledge was quickly distracting him with a story about a little boy named William who also didn't get the piece of string cheese, higher bubbles in the bath, etc etc....

Weeks later, he is now begging me for William stories. Always.

Typically, William is doing something wrong, and his mommy (who is very calm and super fun- and might I add- Skinny) is usually correcting William's behavior, with the story ending how William has learned a "good lesson" and declaring what "a good decision he'll make next time," (ie, not throwing the vase in the potty, not drawing on the comforter, not biting his friend. OH yes, William misbehaves.)

I've definitely tried to work some "soft William" type stories in... Like the time William saw two rainbows, or ate the biggest cupcake in the whole wide world, or had a Zebra over for breakfast. But for whatever reason, these don't really cut it for him. In fact, before I can even finish the sentence-- "let me tell you about the time William went to the chocolate fact---" he's already saying, "Noooo. Not that story. Tell me about the time William BROKE. HIS. MOMMY'S. PHONE. Tell me that story." What can I say he has an active imagination...

Anyway, here's a little branded video I did for Cheerios on Momversation with some fantastic ladies (Daphne Brogdon, Heather Spohr, and Catherine McCord). Cheers for cheerios!

NATIONAL LIKE YOURSELF DAY

When's the last time you looked in the mirror, and saw those dark circles under your eyes as a status symbol-- a beautiful indication of the hours you put into your family and life, instead of a sign of exhaustion and stress? Or when's the last time you looked down at your breasts (literally DOWN at your breasts, as they now fall below the equator) and considered their (dis)placement as a rite of passage, instead of "the shitty thing about breastfeeding?" OR when's the last time you looked at your ass in your not skinny jeans but alllmost 2 sizes CLOSER to the skinny jeans, and thought it looked perfectly fine...instead of a fat blob of once hot goodness?

Though charming, delightful, and entirely inspirational, let's be honest: those love yourself/love your body/ Dove campaign moments are few and far between for most of us. Amidst a divorce, a relationship post divorce, a house foreclosing, a career I wish would explode and a 3-year old who pretty much does explode when I wish he wouldn't--- I spend a lot of time in "woe is me" land. But it occurred to me yesterday, while on the treadmill (for the first time in god knows how long), that I'm not so bad. All things considered, I'm pretty goddamn spectacular. Yep, I said it.... And then I said it again, and again and again... And it got me thinking.... What if for one day, I just LIKED MYSELF. And I'm not even talking about the real "it's the inside that matters" stuff like personality, and generosity and intelligence, blah blah blah. I'm talking strictly superficial. HOW I LOOK. What if for one day, I shouted from the roof tops the things that I seriously, SERIOUSLY like about myself. The things that I can SEE in a mirror that I can always feel good about no matter what. The things that will be there with or without a promotion, with or without a significant other to cuddle with, with or without a best mommy of the year award...

Like my nose... I love my nose.

My ankles... I love my ankles.

My eyebrows... With a little help, I love my eyebrows.

Now it's your turn. It's NATIONAL LIKE YOURSELF DAY and I'm challenging YOU to like yourself today too. Choose three things that you love about yourself physically. Share them in the comments here and/or on your own blog. Be sure to leave a link and link back to me too. Tweet it, facebook it, share it with your community and spread the like yourself love....

Who's in?

CHANGE OF PLANS!

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to fly to Toronto for a behind the scenes set visit of the family friendly, made for TV movie "Change of Plans," produced and sponsored by Walmart & P&G. I was quite honored to be asked to come to travel to Canada, (the home of my beloved Michael Buble) just to see what was doin' on set and meet the stars- Joe Flannigan and American Idol's Brooke White. (You know one of those just super natural, super sweet, super pretty, perfect wavy hair that doesn't frizz, cute hoarse voice type people-- Yah that's her.) Anyway, the hosts from P&G, Walmart and MS&L Worldwide couldn't have been lovelier and more gracious. Though I was there for literally 36 hours, getting the chance to visit a city I had never been to and meet other bloggers from across the country (like Jyl Nipper, Janice Croze, and Paul Banas) was a treat. Flying Virgin definitely helped (still can't get over how good looking the flight attendants are) as did eating at an awesome brewery and trying Poutine, a Canadian staple (that I'm pretty sure made mark on my cholesterol... in the bad way).

All in all it was a fun trip and I can't wait to see the finished project which will air in January on FOX.

We got a chance to do some interviews with the cast and crew. Here's some clips from an interview with me and Joe F. that the good people at MS&L put together. Is he your quintessential Malibu (cute) Daddy or what? (For those of you that have never visited Malibu, take my word for it. He is. They make a lot of them like him by the beach. Come visit. You'll see.)

A GIRL WALKS INTO A FARM...

This past weekend, we took a little trip with a bunch of friends also with kiddies to Underwood Family Farms. In Los Angeles, "pumpkin patches" are usually hosted out of a parking lot behind a supermarket, with paparazzi lurking for "Stars, they're just like us" moments. (God forbid the world shouldn't know that Marcia Cross also "picks. out. a. pumpkin.") So when we finally got to Underwood, approx. 50 miles out of town, I have to say I was beyond delighted that this was a far cry from your itty bitty overpriced city pumpkin patch. Nope, this was a full fledged overpriced country farm-- replete with real tractors (oh yes, there was even a tractor parade!), animals (a pig race to be exact), and more corn products to eat than humanly possible. (Not true, actually. If there was a corn dog stand, then my day would have been perfect. But kettle corn and roasted corn on the cob definitely hit the spot for the time being).

Anyway, it was one of the best days I've had in a long time. Jonah was in absolute heaven. Some of the highlights...

Like I said... There were tractors. And there was corn. $10 to the first person who can guess who had corn stuck in their teeth on this tractor....

Jonah walked around saying, "Mommy, why does the farm smell?" Well, the horses, goats, pigs and damp hay from all the rain may have had something to do with it. Or, could have been the massive trough of dried beans that for two tickets, children could sit in and sift through. Apparently beans are a magical fruit...

Our trip to the "country" was the first time we were taking this potty training gig on the road....

Though I appreciate "Farmer Jon" for equipping his Jon with a child seat, I wish the "Junior Jon" that went potty before us, would not have left a poo ball, yes a little poo ball, right on said child seat....

Ever try explaining to a potty training 3 year old with an insatiable curiosity for EVERYTHING that "honey, there's poo on the seat, don't touch anything... it's okay, just go pee pee now... yes... poo... no, don't touch... I don't know why there's poo, I don't know who's poo... please don't touch... I don't know why it doesn't smell... please make pee pee....NOW!" Yah. Good times (and yes, that is my butt hanging out of my jeans. It was the least of my worries during what felt like a hostage standoff with a bomb about to explode. Pressure!)

Finally, we ended the day with another treat... fresh smoothies. Nothing too terribly witty to add here. Just a couple of darling kids with their drinks. It was a great day at the farm-- a fun Halloween/ Fall/ Country experience...

Of course, it might have been nice to leave with an actual pumpkin... DUH.

THE POOP PRIZE

Since the inception of this blog, I have affectionately referred to my son as "Baby-Ko." But alas, the time has come to not only acknowledge the fact that though he is forever my baby, he is in no way a baby. He is a little boy.... A little boy with an infectious smile, incurable curiosity, and an ability to produce bowel moments on a moments notice.

Yup. I simply told him that I had a Buzz Lightyear motorized motorcycle that would be his in exchange of 3 poops on the potty, and I saw in his eyes a "Noooow we're talking, lady," smirk that he never gave with my lousy M&Ms and Skittles offerings. The drawn out, exhausting, and tactical negotiations that I had been dealing with for a month suddenly ceased. He threw me one last, "Holy shit, this bitch means business," look and it was game on.

Of course, I had no idea that only 2 hours later, he would have met his goal (and then some), but a deal is a deal.

Congratulations, Jonah. Drive safely.

MOMMY GUILT

As I get more and more entrenched in the "mom space," I'm starting to wonder if some moms have a stronger genetic predisposition to the "MG" (that's: Mom Guilt) more than others. Is it regional? Is it an age thing? Is it an environmental thing?

Until recently, I would say I was your quintessential Californian/ Westside neurotic mom. Perhaps it was a divorce, a full time job (in said "mom space"), and some personal drama sprinkled here and there that made me loosen the reigns... that made me able to laugh at myself more and truly embrace the "whatever works" attitude that I desperately wished I lived by. Of course, connecting and following other moms online, like our lovely panelists on Momversation, has helped the realization set in too: There is nothing therapy can't fix. No seriously, the realization that no one is perfect and all you can do is your very best... And truly, you'd have to be a pretty bad mom to screw them up pretty bad.

Anyway, someone sent me this video, and I thought it was too funny not to share. Do you have any friends like these? (Please don't say me!)

BURNT TOAST: A JOB WELL DONE

There are two kinds of people in life: People that burn toast (always), and people that do not (ever). I am a person that always burns toast. And eggs.

But to be clear, this doesn't make me a bad cook. It just means, that in addition to having lousy appliances and pans (because I believe if I had a better pan, said eggs would be "better"), that as my son gets older, I will be the butt of all cooking disasters and jokes. Because of my knack for burning bread, I will be deemed as a mom who can't cook. "Don't ask mom to make it!" Ha, ha, ha.... "Sure, you should try her famous meatloaf.... If you like burnt meat!" Ha, ha, ha... "Mom's doing thanksgiving this year? She'll literally kill the turkey!" Ha, ha, ha...

A little preface to what I'm getting at with this "J-Ko burns everything" legacy that I feel coming on.... Last week, I traveled to Toronto (for about 35 hours) for an exclusive behind the scenes set visit for an upcoming TV movie sponsored by P&G and Walmart. It was a fun little trip- the cast (Brooke White of American Idol and Joe Flannigan of Star Gate) was lovely and our hosts very generous. My favorite part was connecting with other sites and bloggers that I follow like Betty Confidential, 5 Minutes for Mom, Great Dad, Mom Central, and sweet Jyl Nipper of The Post-it Place....

Well, Jyl and I couldn't possibly live more polar opposite lives-- She lives in "Hick Town" as she describes on her blog, with her husband, 2 children and an "assortment of critters," and I live in Los Angeles, with my 3 year old son, a gorgeous shag carpet and paparazzi hounding celebrities just around the corner. Jyl's closest neighbor is 5 miles away. I can hear mine snoring.

Jyl and I spent a lot of time talking about food (which she writes and shares a lot on her site).

"How often do you and your family eat out?" I asked.

"Twice a year."

"WHAT?! How is that even possible? I eat out 4 times a week... or more!!!"

Jyl explained that her nearest grocery store is 45 minutes away, and she makes a routine trip every two weeks. She has 3 deep freezers and everything is strategically purchased, organized and meals made according to plan. There is nothing wasted, leftover, or unused. She makes it, it gets eaten. Her kids like/love what they are served. And if they don't, too bad. (Though, after talking to her and reading her recipes, it's hard to imagine anyone could turn down her cooking). She asked me what my staples were, what me and the kid liked to eat... how often I went to the market ... what I bought... how often I ate leftovers...

When I told her I often have egg whites for breakfast, she asked, "What do you do with the egg yolks."

"Um.... garbage disposal....?"

"We're gonna come up with some recipes and ideas for you and Baby-Ko..." she smiled and said with her deep southern twang.

The point of telling you about my new southern friend, is that after all this cooking talk and me thinking about how I desperately want my son to grow up having favorite homemade meals that only his mom can make, I coincidentally (or ironically... or pathetically, depending on how you see it), practically burnt the house down. Making toast.

You see my toaster has always sucked. This I knew. It doesn't shut off and doesn't truly abide by the shade of toast the knob is purposefully turned to. Its' the kind of toaster that you can't blink an eye with-- move away and your perfectly golden waffle will turn dark brown in an instant. Yesterday, however, I got wrapped up in Baby-Ko dancing to Will I Am on Sesame Street and left. The. Toast. I knew it was there, I just didn't think I had to be there- YET.

When I went in to the kitchen to check on it, I saw smoke pouring out of the toaster. I quickly unplugged it and opened it up. All of a sudden, the toast ignited in flames. "SHIIIIIIIIT!!!!" I screamed. Baby-Ko came running in. "Stay back! Don't come in here!!!" In an instant, and in an order I can't recall, I opened the kitchen windows, tried to blow out the fire, grabbed the fire extinguisher, couldn't get it to work, grabbed a cup of water and threw it on the fire. It went out but the smoke got worse. The smoke detectors blared. I picked up Baby-Ko, grabbed the phone and dialed 911. The operator told me to wait out front until the fire dept. arrived....

Minutes later, I was greeted and "saved" by 5 or 6 handsome firemen who assured me I did the right thing.

Nothing was damaged or destroyed (except for a toaster that should have been killed months ago) and thank god, no one was hurt. Baby-Ko actually seemed to love all the excitement and was rather sad when the (did I mention handsome?) firemen had to leave. My apartment definitely still wreaks like a camp fire and every so often I start to get the "what ifs"... what if Baby-Ko and I kept dancing... What if he was in the kitchen without me... What if I lived in a neighborhood where 911 was slow to respond....

Yesterday, just reaffirmed a couple of things:

1) Accidents happen, but every day we need to count our blessings that it never usually amounts to more than an "accident."

2) Wear cute pajamas. These "accidents" happen in off hours.

3) Kids are pretty resilient. Not everything will scar him and not everything I do or don't do will result in lifelong suffering and therapy. (I hope).

3) I am going to fine tune my cooking chops and amp up and add to my staples. I will no longer be known as the mom who burns everything.... I'll just be the mom that prefers her food... well done....