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!

BUBLE IS MY BIEBER

Ten years ago, date night meant dinner at the hottest spot, dancing, drinks and subsequently a gnarly hangover the next morning (or afternoon, really).

Alas, life is a little different now and my date nights have turned in to two hour increments in the middle of the afternoon (while said child responsible for perma-stubble on my legs spends time with his grandparents). I love my new life... I do. Though, like Steve Carrell and Tina Fey's character in "Date Night," a little adventure is craved every now and again... as long as I can get some sleep before Baby-Ko wakes up at the crack of dawn and wants to watch "Sid the Science Kid" 17 hundred times in a row. Hey, Sid, what do ya say? Whatcha wanna learn today?

ANYWAY, these days I'm admittedly less put together and hip than I used to be. In fact, the other day when I saw this post on The Frisky-- 32 Signs You're Not a Hipster Anymore, the reality of my all things mom status really set in. Not only am I also creeped out by those American Apparel ads, but when browsing through Urban Outfitters and trying to decide if I could pull off a little romper and booties at my next play date, I finally realized that I too can no longer shop there. (Honestly, would it kill them to turn down the music??).

The point is: My taxes are filed, my boots are flat, there are Cheerios in my bed, and let's call a spade a spade: black leggings are the new mom jean. I'm just not that cool anymore.

I'm not completely out of touch though-- I mean, I know what's cool. I know what's hip. I know who's hot. That said, these days...

I'd much rather make out with The Buble than "The Bieber."

OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN

Yesterday, as I sat in a pediatric dentists' waiting room, watching Baby-Ko play with toys that had inevitably been contaminated by swine flu and every other contagious disease, a weird thing happened: I felt bad for Britney Spears. Though this feeling was probably brought on by a lack of caffeine and the outdated tabloid magazines lining the walls, it was an odd thought that came over me. (BTW, Doctors: would it kill you to rotate in some US Weekly's from the new millennium?I know Ben Affleck and J-Lo broke up. Please.) I remembered the gossip and stories that emerged when Brit started to go nutso and the accusations claiming that she wasn't a fit mom-- that her sons Jada and Presley (or whatever the eff their names are) at like age 2 had rotting teeth, and that she let them eat Cheetos and Coke.... I remember, at the time, (long before my own world became all things Baby-Ko) thinking she was a train wreck and those poor children with their cavity filled mouths. How could she be so negligent when it comes to their oral hygiene? What kind of a mother doesn't enforce tooth brushing and allows snacks right before bed?!

Yeahhhhhh.....

So here I was, about to take Baby-Ko in for his first dentist appointment and all I could think was 'thank god I'm not a celebrity.' Thank god no one will leak to the press that Baby-Ko's toothbrush went missing for a week and no one seemed to really miss it... or that the last thing in his mouth before bed time is Cheerios (better than Cheetos, I guess???)... or that if society didn't judge him (and me really), I probably would let him have a pacifier until he's 16 (he likes it. I want to give him the world. Is that so wrong??)

Forty-five, angst-filled, and sweaty minutes later (ever try holding a two year old down as a woman with teeth that, honestly, are a little too perfect tells said two year old that she "just needs to get rid of the SUGAR BUGS?!" Fuck the gym. Try that!), I, I mean Baby-Ko, emerged with a clean bill of health and what appears to be perfectly fine teeth. Despite the fact that I break nearly every dentistry rule in the book, Baby-Ko may stand a shot at having a decent future... orally speaking, that is.

Now equipped with a toothbrush shaped like a penguin and watermelon toothpaste imported from Japan that cost me more than my defrizz (Again, these bangs don't just straighten themselves), I feel like I've been given another shot at Mommyhood. I dodged a bullet in that dentist's office-- What could have been a big slap on the wrist by the patient lady with too perfect teeth, turned in to a decent affirmation.... I'm not as bad as Britney. And while I realize I may be setting the bar kind of low by comparing myself to her, I think cutting myself some slack is better than becoming a psycho about this stuff. After all, in 33 years I've never had a cavity, braces, or a retainer (no matter how many times I showed up at the dentist with a paper clip in my mouth begging for one), so Baby-Ko might actually inherit some good goddamn teeth after all. If not, at least he'll have his pacifier and his two life partners (Blankie #1 and Blankie #2) to cover up his mouth when he gets embarrassed.... his first day of college...

CEREAL ANIMAL

I'll admit, I've never really understood why the zoo is so fascinating. Despite the fact that I'm not a huge animal lover and the zoo in LA (no matter what time of the year you go) is always hot and smells like poo, I find myself mesmerized by the animals behind the fences and glass. They do nothing really.... No Animal Planet type of chase or fight as the Mama Leopard attacks a Hyena to save her baby... No herd of Rhinoceros chasing after an explorer up a totem pole (hey, that's what happens on the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland at least)... and certainly no wild, safari National Geographic type of animal in the wild sex that makes you blush (and gasp).... Nope. Just some Giraffes and Polar Bears chillin'... Waiting for some woman that looks like Steve Irwin's wife with horrible culottes to throw them a fish for dinner while the humans all gawk at them, waiting for them to do something that will be You Tube worthy....

But yesterday over breakfast, as I sat with Baby-Ko as he devoured what must have been 65 bowls of "Choo-Choos" (Cheerios) and ate his breakfast in a normal fashion, I realized I was that schmuck at the zoo. Fascinated and captivated by my little animal, I watched patiently and intently as he really did nothing spectacular or mind-blowing. He ate. With a spoon. Messily. Like most 21 month olds. But for whatever reason, it seemed video worthy. Like a moment in time.... Like the sweetest and cutest thing I ever saw. Like something I couldn't take my eyes off of or walk away from - even for some much needed coffee...



If only the cameras had been rolling later that day, when Baby-Ko decided post bath to pee on the rug and announced "Baby-Ko pee-peed day-err (there)!"... I just might have actually had something You Tube worthy...