PARENTING: I COULD LEARN A THING OR TWO...

No matter how hard I try, my mornings with Baby-Ko are usually a little harried... especially when he wakes up at 5:36am ready to play doctor. (Oh, have I mentioned he likes to pretend that he works at a "Hop-tical" now?) Despite my attempts to have everything from food, to clothes to morning rituals laid out and planned ahead, there is one thing I have zero control over: his mood.

This morning: He. Was. In. A. Mood.

Gave him the play dough (reserved for his table/ but played with on the couch).
Gave him a lollipop (reserved for dinner/ but given before breakfast).
Gave him a basket of my old makeup (reserved for the bathroom/ but deposited somewhere I hope doesn't stain).

"What is wrong, Baby-Ko? I have to get ready and you have to go to school..."
"No. I don't want toooooooo," he whimpered.
"I know, I wish I could stay home today, but I can't. I have to go to work. I have to get ready my love."
"Pick MY up," he said.
"Pick you up? Okay..." I picked him up. He rested his head on my shoulder. "I have to get ready baby, I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"Mommy, BUH-LAX."
"Huh?"
"I want mommy buh-Lax. On the couch," he said matter-of-factly.
"You want mommy....? To what?"
"BUH. LAX. On the couch!" he said pointing.
I paused. What the eff is Buh-lax. A light bulb went off:
"You want mommy to RELAX????"
"Yeaaaaaaah," he said nuzzling in to my chest. "On the couch. Mommy cuddle."
I pause. Take it in. Remember that in 10 years, I will be yearning to Buh-Lax with him.
"Okay, baby. For a few minutes."
"Yeahhhhhh...."

For the next 5 minutes, we sat closely and stared into space. The traffic, the morning meetings, the coffee that was not yet in my system... It all could wait. We. Were. Buh-Laxing...

Can't wait to see what life lesson my very own parenting expert has in store for me tomorrow...

CHANNING TATUM: WHO ARE YOU???

Dear Channing Tatum,

Who are you? No, seriously. I mean that in the nicest possible way-- WHO. ARE. YOU? You see, I consider myself a pretty "in the know" kind of a gal. And while I work in the "mommy world" and often go days without making physical contact with a razor, it is rare, and I mean rare, that I don't know who people are... But C-Tate (can I call you that?), despite your incredibly good looks and a story surfacing about how you apparently burnt your penis off or something like that: I honestly have no idea who you are.... and it scares me.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but IT has happened. The other day, somewhere between fishing for Cheerios in my new shag rug and watching the oh-so-boring Thomas complain about his mean friends for the 19th time (that morning), I remembered the stack of US Weekly's that had been piling up since getting a new subscription. Excited, and ready to enjoy another pic of precious Violet going off to preschool, there YOU were. I looked at the page. Next to your photo were more photos. Not of you but of other C-Tate-like celebs that I have never seen. What? How could this be? I know everyone. Granted, I've never gotten on the Team Edward vs Team Jacob bandwagon, but still... that doesn't mean I've lost a grip on all things pop culture.... does it?

I closed the magazine and tried not to think about it. Tried not to over-analyze. Tried not to feel like that mom. But alas, Dear John, you ARE everywhere. On posters, on websites, on my entertainment shows... Apparently you are known and these days, I know nothing. Seriously, where have I been?

In the meantime, best of luck with you and your career. I suppose I'll be seeing you around. Oh, but if I may make one tiny suggestion (as mom to "kid"), next time you're tempted to pour scalding water down your pants-- honey, blow on it first.

Best,

J-Ko

THIS IS HOW IT STARTS PART 2: A "GROWTH OPPORTUNITY"

After last week's McDonalds/ "Cryyyyyyyyyyyyy" incident of 2010, I felt like a battered and wounded soldier. I really felt like I had made a decision that could lead to Baby-Ko having issues not only with food for the rest of his life, but major anxiety issues as well.

Well, I asked Parents Ask expert Dr. Bonnie Zucker, a psychologist who specializes in anxiety for children and adults, to weigh in. According to Dr. Z, this one incident of stuffing my son's feelings with happy inducing fried-ness may not result to a life sentence of therapy, buuuuuuut my parenting could use a little finessing...

Check out her advice HERE!

http://www.parentsask.com/parenting/anxiety/french-fries-wont-kill-your-kid.html

THIS IS HOW IT STARTS

Every now and again, we, parents, have one of "those" nights.... Those nights that test your patience... Those nights that test your skill... And those nights that tug at your heartstrings...

Last night, I had one of those nights. Yes. All of the above.

At some point in the late afternoon, I got a call from my babysitter "Ash-a-Wee" saying she had an emergency and if it was okay, she needed the evening off. This meant that she wouldn't be able to pick up Baby-Ko from day care at 4:30pm. Just to preface, day care closes at 5:30 on the dot but Ash-a-Wee picks Baby-Ko up M-F at 4:30 or earlier. She's never been a second late and he is usually the first child to leave... In fact, I'm pretty sure he gives a little "see ya suckas" wave when he closes the gate behind him, keeping his little 3 foot friends captive until their peeps come to save them... But I digress....

At 5:20 my cell rang. Shit. I was sitting in traffic and it was day care calling to let me know Baby-Ko was hysterical. I completely forgot to call them to tell them that A-A-Wee wasn't coming (I was). Bad mommy move. BAD. They told me they took him inside the house because watching the other children leave (mind you, it's 5:20pm so it's DARK out and he leaves when it's light) was making him too upset. To make matters even worse, his caretakers Margarita and Dora were leaving for the night too. OMG! Now he's sitting there with A & H (the couple that runs the day care out of their house) as he watches the people that take care of him leave???? Poor baby! He must be so scared.

Panicked and feeling so awful I finally came to a halt in front of their house at 5:40. As I ran up the porch, the front door opened and Baby-Ko came flying out.

"Mommmmmmmmy!!!" He sobbed. He couldn't catch his breath. "Ash-a-wee didn't come. I cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

Gulp.

"I'm soooooo sorry baby," I said hugging him tightly. "Mommy is here now. I'm sooooooooo sorry."

"Dora lef-a-me. I cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

OY.

"Dora went home too? Oh, Baby-Ko. I'm so sorry. These things happen. But mommy always comes back. I ALWAYS come back."

Dagger. Heart.

Clutching him, I picked up his bags and carried him to the car. How in the world can I make this better??? What can I do to let him know it's okay??? WILL HE EVER FORGIVE ME???

A light bulb, that I didn't even know was inside me, went OFF:

"Baby-Ko, do you want to go to McDonalds?" WHAT? Did I just say that?

"Yeaaaaaaaaaah, " he said sniffling. "I want fwench fwies."

"Okay, my love," I said shocked by what I had said. "Let mommy put you in the car and let's go get french fries. And cheeseburgers."

WHO AM I? For those of you that personally know me, you know that I eat fast food (not including Taco Bell... OR the requisite airport Egg McMuffin) like every blue moon. Emotional I am, yes. An eater I am, yes. An EMOTIONAL EATER: I am NOT.

But here I was. Now standing at the counter inside (a very lovely remodeled McDonald's if I do say so myself) redirecting my son from what was clearly an emotionally draining and traumatic experience to a land where feelings are forgotten because the value meals are just too good to pass up.

"One happy meal, please--"

"I crrrrrrrrrrryy," Baby-Ko said. "Mommy was late." GUILT.

"Ooh, how about some ice cream?" BRIBE.

"Yeahhhh, I want it," he said resting his head on my shoulder.

"Okay, one hot fudge sundae please...." I said to the cashier.

"I want a cookie. A COOOOOOOKIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" Baby-Ko said practically leaping out of my arms towards the cookie case on the counter.

"Okaaay. One chocolate chip cookie..." SUCKER.

"THAT cookie," Baby-Ko pointed. "DAT ONE."

The cashier smile and obliged. "Okay, that one. Anything else?"

"Um... Yeah.... I'll take a medium french fry...."

AND THERE IT WAS.

THIS IS THE REASON. THIS is how IT starts. THIS is what the "experts" are talking about. (Experts that IIIIIIIIIIIII write about!)

Seriously though, is this how obesity starts for both children and their guilt/ exhaust ridden mommies? If so, someone send me the applications now for Biggest Loser season 46. Baby-Ko and I can be a team...

24 Hours later, Baby-Ko seems to be okay from the entire experience. Me on the other hand... I'm still feeling the trauma of it all.... ANNNNNNND trying to tell myself that at the very least, giving him BROCCOLI with his happy meal was one way to make IT stop....

THIS YEAR... REALLY.

Every year, every goddamn year, I make A LIST. Sometimes it's just in my head. Other times it's on paper. But every year, the list IS MADE. Every year I resolve to do more, do less, be something. Well, I wish I could say that this year "the list" can suck it and I'm going to spend 2010 being exactly as I am... But alas, I can't... Because if there was any year that needs to be put to rest, tweaked, and given a complete overhaul, it is 2009. Yep. See ya bitches. Here's what I'm doing in 2010:

1) Hitting Less Curbs. I personally think I'm a fine driver. But my OCD about parking too parallel/close to the curb can be damaging and annoying to those driving with me. Also, tires are expensive.

2) Social Media(ish). This year I'm going to Tweet more and Facebook (stalk) less.

3) Stop Shhh-ing. I have a tendency to tell people they're talking too loud. I actually think I have like weird hearing issues (see #4), but in general, I realize my shh-ing habit is annoying. So in 2010, talk as loud as you want people. I won't stop you... For now.

4) Pop Pills. I've spent the majority of my adult life teetering on serious hypochondria. But I've really started to loosen up and trust that in general, for example, mixing Advil and a glass of wine is totally fine (yes, I have doubts about this). But this year, I'm going to stop fixating on silly things and trust that I am a healthy woman...

5) Drink more. Water, that is. I need to drink more water. Period.

6) Exercise. This one is so boring and so unoriginal. But goddamnit, this year I need to exercise and not pretend that pushing Baby-Ko up and down the block on his tricycle counts as cardiovascular activity.

7) Tell more stories. I'm thrilled to be working at Parents Ask and writing for a living. But that's not enough. I need to write at least three times a week on Perfectly Disheveled and AND finish (well, first I need to start) my book proposal. I mean, sitting across from Barbara Walters isn't going to happen magically...

8) Parent better. Today I compiled a list for Parents Ask of all the Best Parenting Books of the decade. This year, I will read (and not just at Barnes and Noble before a movie) some of these books... I might even take all the info that Wacky has bestowed on me and use it. Maybe.

9) That's a Crock of... I got a crock pot for Hannukah and this year, I am determined to use it once a week (okay, once a month is just as admirable). So, if you have great crock pot recipes send them my way... Or send me your unwanted gift cards to various restaurants. Take out is just as appreciated.

10) Shag. Get your mind out of the gutter, people. Recently, I got a fabulous shag rug from CB2 but it sheds like a mo' fo'. Seriously, when I leave the house, it looks like I've been living with a den of polar bears. It's crazy. So this year, I need to de-lint more (and that includes Baby-Ko). Seriously.

Obviously, I could keep going with the list... Do more Laughing, hugging, singing, and dancing... Do less arguing, complaining, procrastinating, and worrying, etc... But I think this is a good (written) start... And a good way to say goodbye to 2009.

Happy New Year.

See you in 2010.

xo

J-Ko

ME... AND EVERYONE ELSE PART 2

Okay, so I'm back(ish). While the details are still being ironed out, I am happy to announce that I am once again EMPLOYED. (I would say that I'm "gainfully employed" but as you know, I sometimes use words incorrectly, so I'll just stick to the basics just in case that's not actually what I am).

I am now writing for a fantastic website called ParentsAsk.com. With so many people in and out for the holidays, it's an awkward time to be starting a job. But on the plus side, it means more caramel popcorn out of a giant tin for me. (BTW, ever try caramel corn and cheese corn in the same bite? It's a salty sweet little orgasm in your mouth I tell ya). Speaking of of salty/sweet, on Monday I wrote a post about what I think is a tacky trend: tweeting about death. Check out MY POST.... Do you agree?

In the meantime, guess who's looking Perfectly Disheveled in this picture?

Nope. Not Jessica. She's flawless. Um, that blurry little purple blob in the background...? Yep. You got it! Yours truly. Ahh, just another day out and about in sunny LA... To read more about why this made me jealous of Jessica Alba (and not just because she just waltzed right in to Nate N Als and got a table without having to wait), click HERE.

P.S. One day 'til Xmas. Have you been naughty or nice?

A LITTLE DUMB

When I started writing this blog, I promised myself I wouldn't hold back. I would say what was on my mind (kind of) and speak the truth (sometimes). I promised myself that no matter how lame a thought might be, and how isolated I may be in my view point, that I would still say it. I would write for myself and not for "the people."

"You should at least use spell check," my Mom would say. "And at least use proper grammar..."

"What's wrong with my grammar?"

"....And you shouldn't say words like 'vagina.' "

"Okay, Mom."

"....Or 'dude.' I hate 'dude....'"

OMG, dude. I get it. Why does mom gotta bug like that, yo.

The truth is though, my mom kind of has a point. Sure, I can write. But I don't always write RIGHT. Believe me. I know. In high school, I was the only one in AP English who needed/used cliff notes. While everyone used the class to ensure (or is it "assure"?) a head start in college, I used it as an opportunity to get some action from the nerdy boys. I was definitely the dumbest smart kid in the class and was perfectly fine with that stature.

But these days, I'm not perfectly "fine." I'm perfectly disheveled and my attention to details, words, and unfortunately wit, isn't exactly, well... perfect. In fact, some of you have even noticed.... A couple weeks ago, I got an email from a friend/reader who said that she was so sorry to mention it, but that after reading the ode to my bangs, she had to tell me about a slight mistake. The sentence in my post read:

And though I never EVER strayed (with the exception of a very long/side swept

thing I tried right after college), for all intensive purposes, I have always been loyal...

Embarrassed and thankful for having readers that have a better grasp on the English language than I, I changed it immediately. Apparently, for 33 years I have been saying "intensive purposes" when in fact I should be saying "INTENTS AND PURPOSES." Who knew?!

"What?!" said my friend J, "Of course it's 'intents and purposes'. Everyone knows that."

"No," said his very educated and professional wife A, "I thought it was 'intense and purposes.'"

"Yeah," said his sister T (a 5th grade teacher with a masters in education), "I agree with J-Ko. I thought it was 'intensive purposes' too. I've been saying it wrong this whole time too?!"

"How is that there is a room full of sophisticated and intelligent women (with great butts I might add), saying something that seems so obvious, so ridiculously wrong?"

"Frightening," said T, "I'm shaping our youth."

"Shocking," said A, "I feel like I should know that."

"Embarrassing," I said, "I am a WRI-TER.... And this by the way, this is definitely going to be a blog post."

Without missing a beat, J chimed back in, "You want me to proof that before you post it??"

Ha. Ha.

The truth is though, I think I say a lot of things wrong. We all do. Not that I'm trying to pass the buck (or is it "dodge a bullet"?), but one of my very best friends, a Psychology Professor (a PROFESSOR people), says "irregardless." I think she knows "irregardless" is not a word, but she says it anyway, claiming that it souuuuuuunds like a word. Unfortunately, there is no such word. In fact, if you look up the definition of "Irregardless" on Merriam-Webster Online, they suggest not using it. "Use 'regardless' instead."

Even Wikipedia has a list of commonly misused English Words.... And I know the fact that we are all a little dumb (sometimes) doesn't excuse my misuse, but it should at least make me relatable to "the people...." And while I've never been fully sure of when/how to use "affect" or"effect," I can ASSURE you that being a little dumb is better than being a little lame.

So please, feel free to proof read, comment and share your thoughts on my writing.... I may resent your remark, but at least, AT LEAST, I would never "resemble that remark." Because that, THAT would definitely be a little dumb....