Category Archives: women

August 8, 2008 · 12:19 am

Michelle Obama is the New Wilma Flinstone

(sorry Maddee, you thought it was Betty Rubble, wrong necklace)

Just came home from a stellar night with the First Thursdays. For those of you who are too lazy (or linear) to click the link, these are a group of women who have gotten together for 12 years. We meet mostly on the first Thursday of the month, to laugh and when we have time, to cry. I recommend clicking the link as it is worth reading about them.

Not only did this one actually fall on a first thursday, but we were celebrating a 50th birthday. Birthdays are always a special treat with these women. They come complete with props, songs, gifts (some with batteries – use your imagination), and always lots of wine.

Tonight I was in charge of the camera (of course) and recording the list of running commentary, the best of which started out as ‘Michelle Obama is the New Betty Rubble’. But when researching the images I realized she is actually the new Wilma Flintstone.

Through the years, many women in politics have created a signature look that received attention. In my book, none has been as quite as significant as this.

What was she thinking?

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August 6, 2008 · 10:30 pm

Musings from the ‘Home Office’

This is an actual chat with another Work At Home Mom friend, or as the mommy bloggers call it – a WAHM. (funny how we both use dog icons, that is no reference to our looks, we just love our dogs, ok?)

Wham!! (well you know what I mean). I like that. Look, some women want to be MILFs, some like being WHAMs. Wait, can’t I be a WAHM and a MILF? Ahhh, this may have something to do with the need for Spanx. I will have to think about this one.

This chat got me to thinking. What are the best things about working at home? (besides not wearing shoes or having to brush my hair, which would probably disqualify me from being a MILF in most cases).

So, my friends, here is a shout out to all of you that work at home (boys, you can play this game too. you could be DILFs if you want).

Give me a list of the best things about working at home. I expect full participation here (Riki and Ellen, that means you! And Elise, since your chat made it to the blog you are obligated to participate).

And because I am an equal opportunity everything, let’s hear from the work-in-the-office types who want to defend their choice.

Those of you who are thinking I could use a little fresh air – you are not wrong!

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July 22, 2008 · 4:54 pm

Do Not Flush Tampons… EVER

This one is pretty clear. It is the ‘EVER’ that really scares me into never even thinking of flushing a tampon. Funny, but I don’t even use them anymore (sans uterus) but I still feel guilty about all the ones I flushed in those very toilets 30 years ago.

As I have proven before, nothing funnier than a tampons post (unless maybe you count a flying penis).

This is an actual sign from the bathroom at my daughter’s camp, although I must admit that I took this shot a few years ago and found it in the camp archives. No matter, the message is timeless.

Imagine running a girl’s camp in the mountains. Now imagine being the plumber for the person that runs the girl’s camp in the mountains. It is safe to say this guy spends 80% of his time, not trout fishing in the lake, but tampon fishing in the toilets. I am thinking he probably must be mighty cranky about spending his summer this way. How considerate of these girls to try to end his plight.

Another great thing about this shot that is lost at this size and resolution is the graffiti. For decades we have been told not to write on these walls, but we cannot help ourselves. (the arts and crafts shack has my name all over the place). You can’t see it clearly but to the right of the sign it reads:

“jayme penis (hearts) ryan petafile insest’.

OOOOOK then. Spelling issues aside, are we not just a little bit worried about Jayme and Ryan here?

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July 11, 2008 · 4:23 am

F the Botox. Eat a big sandwich.

One interesting evening with the First Thursdays I was asked what I had been using on my eyes. ‘Huh?’, I asked (profoundly, I might add. I can be that way). “Um, what do you mean on my eyes?”. To clarify, they wanted to know what I was using on my eyes because they were not that wrinkled.

Here’s the thing. I do happen to have wonderful genes. Both grandmothers had amazing skin. So I am blessed. That aside, I subscribe to the theory that as Catherine Deneuve once said (and I paraphrase) 10 lbs on your ass does wonders for your face at a certain age.

Or in my words, “F the Botox. Eat a big sandwich”. 

Let’s face it my friends, being extremely thin after, let’s say fortyblahblahblah, gives ones face a gaunt look. The little bit of extra weight is like natural Botox if you will. It fills you out, and stretches those wrinkles away.

Hey, I am all for anything that makes you feel better about yourself. And I am not going to preach about not having plastic surgery, because if that rings your bell and makes you feel good, go for it.

But what scares me is the obsessive race for perfection. Two consecutive weeks the NYT ran articles as absurd as the Emporer’s new nail polish.  

First one from June 23rd was in the Suburban Trends section, called Promoting Plastic Surgery Party Style (oy). Here is a quote if I ever read one:

“The event attracted about 200 people, mostly women, paying $20 apiece; it cost about $12,000. Dr. Greenberg described it as “like a bar mitzvah.” It had an open bar, a disc jockey and performers on stilts during cocktail hour. The dinner buffet included carving, pasta and dim sum stations.

Hey ladies, lay off the friggin dim sum and pasta and you can avoid the lipo altogether! And of course the Bar Mitzvah comment was heartwarming. Now performers on stilts are considered commonplace when celebrating your child reading from the Torah?!

July 3rd Sunday Times Style section had this article about – no this can’t be true– and a woman doc no less… vaginal cosmetic surgery! Just when we were starting to worry about our crow’s feet and sagging whatevers, some lunatic has now come along to tell us that we need to consider a little nip and tuck in, as my husband fondly says, the hey–nanny-nanny. This must fall under the category of WAY too much time and money on your hands. Here is the most hysterical post from blogher on that article.

The race to beat aging is a losing battle. I’m not saying let yourself go, but hey a nice big sandwich once in awhile can’t be a bad thing. Sure beats shooting poison into your face!

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July 9, 2008 · 10:26 pm

Burning Mouth Syndrome?!

Yes, this is a real thing. (no that is not a picture of my actual tongue)

So of course if it is weird, I would get it, right?

A few months ago I started to have these odd symptoms like my mouth was burned. You know, like when you eat really hot pizza and you feel as if the roof of your mouth has turned to melted string cheese? (nice visual, right?).

Off I went to my dentist who gave me this speech about ‘women in their menopausal years’ yadayadayada. Another reason why menopause needs rebranding – tying all these nasty disorders to this lovely time of life. Then he comes up with an article from the Yale Taste Lab. I mean really, does this place actually exist? (it surely does) Imagine what a party it is in that place everyday. On top of menopause these Ivy League geniuses tied this to anxiety, depression, stress… the usual suspects. After all, everyone knows that women of a certain age are all crazy bee-otches, right? (husband, please do not answer that question, it was rhetorical)

I mentioned this to my new bbff (best blog friend forever) Liz, at Flashfree who had just done a post on menopause and taste. I hit send and within hours she had researched the hell out of this and done another amazing post about BMS, complete with a groovy youtube vid of the Trammps’ Disco Inferno (burn baby burn). That song NEVER gets old, does it? Thanks Liz, you rock.

Bottom line? There are all sorts of treatments. None proven.

Except of course the fact that if there is an odd symptom out there, chances are someone in my house will have it.

Ice pop, anyone?

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June 26, 2008 · 10:24 pm

Bowling for Tampons?

I kid you not!

http://www.dittie.com/bowling/

i must admit that i procrastinated for a good 10 minutes bowling for tampons today instead of getting my work done. (if any of my clients who were waiting for their jobs are reading this i am only kidding). go ahead, play for awhile. i dare you to stop after one frame. a tip: i prefer nikki with the purple ball. once i figured out her curve ball i bowled a 257!

thanks to a post from my new friend at findingblanche, (hi wendy) i have been introduced to the site for dittie, a new tampon. seriously, do we need a new tampon? don’t tampax, playtex and OB basically have all our preferences covered?

and the bigger question is what on earth possessed these guys to position a tampon to be ‘serious about making your period more fun’. again, my favorite line comes to mind:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

could this possibly be a marketing strategy conceived by ANYONE who has ever bled?

i personally am sans uterus after too many fibroids crowded my womb and i got fed up and yanked that baby out. (too crass?, whatevs). and i have to be perfectly honest. i just don’t feel all that left out about not having the opportunity to have more fun with my period.

oh, one more plug for findingblanche, she has the most hysterical joe cocker vid on her blog that you must watch.

wait, did i just use the word cocker in a tampon post…

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June 26, 2008 · 6:41 am

Bras Save Lives (or mammary survival techniques)

Ok, believe it or not there is more underwear in the news this month. This one is pretty amazing:

BERCHTESGADEN, Germany, June 23 (UPI) – An American woman was rescued from a mountain in Germany after she used her size DD bra to get the attention of nearby loggers, officials said.

The 24-year-old Colorado woman had been missing for three days before a helicopter crew spotted her colorful sports bra, the Daily Mail reported Monday.

The woman said she attached the bra to a cable used for moving logs down the mountain.

I mean no disrespect to this woman or her rescuers but this report begs the following question. However indelicate, and certainly not politically correct, do you think if she were just a B that she still would have been saved? Was the size of the cup a motivator for the rescuers? (“Hey guys, there is a woman with huge boobs up there with no bra on, let’s go find her!”) If not, why did they bother to report the cup size? Kind of absurd, no?

I heard this on a promo for the 11:00PM news so I googled it and you would never believe this but I found ANOTHER story about life saving bras:

May 17,2006 TAMPA, Fla. (AP) – A 44-year-old woman escaped serious injury from a gunshot Sunday thanks to her seat belt and a thick bra strap, authorities said.

That must have been one hell of a bra strap!

Wait, did I miss something? Is this National Foundation Garment week?

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June 16, 2008 · 10:00 pm

First Thursday

If you live in my house, or that of 6 other outrageous women in my zip code, the first Thursday of the month means a night out with ‘the girls’. I will use that term only in the cliché of ‘girl’s night out’, for the seven of us are certainly w-o-m-e-n. In all its positive (and not so positive) connotations. Our husbands may like to spell that b-i-t-c-h. (or more affectionately… bee-otch).

It is hard to describe this group and do it any justice. Were we born out of the need to be heard and not judged? Perhaps. I do know that this is a table where I can fool absolutely NOBODY. And if I try to, I am called on it… big time!

Our mission, if there was to be one, is to BE THERE, no matter what. And to laugh, laugh, laugh.

We started in the most haphazard of ways. We met riding the train, through carpools, as neighbors or running partners. There was no rhyme or reason to who was in… we just happened. We measure the time we have been together by the age of the youngest of our collective 18 children who was born 2 weeks before we started. (12 years ago!) We have shared each other’s joys and heartbreaks ever since. There have been many of both, which makes us all realize how important it is to have your girls.

Our beginning was the essence of the title of this blog, we all could cry but we just had no time. Funny…but not. We were all working mothers with children ranging in age from 0-10 when we began. We come from all fields: medicine, finance, design, merchandising, real estate and entertainment. We are business owners, consultants, full time employees… you name it. Some have stopped working (for pay), some have scaled back and others have ramped up. We are the embodiment of how to juggle at any cost. And we were all beginning to realize that ‘the cost’ was ourselves.

Now that the kids are older life is easier on a maintenance level, but way harder on a life issues one.

There is no table I have ever sat at that is more entertaining. The following is the list of topics discussed at one dinner:

hillary vs. obama, SAT vs. ACT, big 10 vs. private universities, medical neutering of men in power (sorry guys, but this COULD keep you focused), career paths, time off, homeopathic vs. western medicine, botox, tennis, pilates and yoga, 10 lbs. on your ass doing wonders for your face at ‘a certain age‘, social media ruining the focus of our kids or are they just learning in a new way, multi-tasking, facebook, study habits, glass ceilings,  spreadsheets, iphones, the choices of our kids, the ailments of our parents, south beach, vegas, perez hilton, dave matthews (how did those two get in the same conversation?), the right to choose… EVERYTHING in our lives, the size of our asses and our egos, face creams, bad dreams, edging towards, turning and passing 50… and everything in between. (And that is just the list I dare to publish).

Thank you my dear sweet First Thursdays, for keeping me laughing, and yes crying too! You make the good times more joyous and bad ones easier to endure.

I love you all. (admit it, you are tearing up a bit ; )

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June 12, 2008 · 9:35 pm

This is not a dress rehearsal…

With the graduation season upon us (today was the last day of classes in our district), and by request of a friend who flatteringly remembered an email I sent last year, I have decided to post this reflection. This certainly falls under the category of finding the time to cry. Even if you don’t have a graduate, this one will probably require a tissue:

This is not a dress rehearsal…

or watch the temp when you decide to iron the graduation gown.

6AM on the day that my first child graduates high school.

how can this be, she was just a curly-headed little whirling dervish whose door i had to hold shut as she was throwing her ever famous brand of temper tantrums. that same door with the loose latch from all the times she slammed it for effect when she stormed into her room in her tweens. you know the one, who at five years old marched into nuerosurgery to ‘get her neck fixed’ and never once asked ‘why me?’.

who was that radiant young woman that walked out of the house wednesday morning with her car packed and her keys in hand saying, “don’t worry mom, i have the garmin GPS, i don’t need a map!”

well i think, perhaps, i need a map today. someone tell me how to navigate this road. we surely have had enough practice. we graduate them ad nauseum – from the 4’s, kindergarten, 5th grade, 8th grade – the most graduated generation of all times. you would think we would get used to it. but this year’s cap does not have flourescent orange and green finger paint decorating it. this kid has actually grown up! how dare she. does she not know that my bravado this year has all been an act. of course i could not be ready for her to be the competant, independent, grab-the-world-by-the-balls person i worked so hard to raise. does she not know i was only kidding!! wisconsin?!! that is halfway across the country!

i digress – back to the gown and the iron. being a working mom i always look for ways to overcompensate and make sure that i am doing the mom thing as well as the work thing. so, of course, they both are never really quite up to the standard i expect. somewhere in the 4-page green directions for graduation (you know the one, where the assistant principal gives them a 10 bullet list for how to enjoy graduation and prom, 9 of which stress not drinking or doing drugs) there was mention of taking the gown out of the bag and ironing it. at midnight i was the mom who would just hang it up. at 6AM i decided no daughter of mine will graduate with a wrinkled gown!

so why is it, exactly, that they make these things out of the same material as basketball shimmer shorts?!

no, you will not be able to notice my daughter by the big brown iron mark on the back of her white gown. but if you look close, you may notice that on the front left shoulder the fabric is, how should i put it, a tad ‘melted’.

as jana would say, ‘it’s FINE’. as my parents would say, i did it ‘the Amy way’.

a huge thank you to the jana who has become one of my favorite people on earth to spend time with. surely the one that knows me the best, and loves me anyway. sometimes it seems that she is raising me. i think her humor and radiant smile will get me through this one. levity has always been her strong point.

love and congrats to all of you who have been in the parenting trenches with me the past 18 years. for some of you it is your first, others, your last. it is never easy to watch them go. but then again, we could all use a rest. and as my mommy mentors tell me, they come home, stay out all night, sleep late and bring lots of laundry.

let the games begin!

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June 10, 2008 · 2:30 pm

Chairman of the Basement

Those who know me are fully aware of my subterranean life. I work in a home office in the basement. I click the mouse, pick the colors and bang the keyboard for way too many hours a day.

It has its advantages. Let’s see, I am not distracted by windows or changes in weather. I can stay focused. There is no real time, I can simulate night or day at my own whim.

There are times when I think, ‘please G-d get me out of here’. But mostly I am happy with the set-up. Sometimes towards the end of a weekend I get a little heady from being above ground too long. Too much daylight and fresh air maybe. I do occasionally worry that this controlled environment makes me, what I like to refer to as a ‘social recluse’. Don’t get me wrong, I love people, I just prefer extended periods of time with my dog during the week.

This could be why I love this blogging thing. I guess you could say that the social recluse branches out without upsetting the agoraphobic apple cart. (there could also be a good chance that I am certifiably insane, but we will talk about my mental health at a later date).

During a conversation with the First Thursdays (you will hear about them soon) about working women, we got on the topic of breaking the glass ceiling. There is no glass ceiling in the basement (rather dangerous, no?) The conversation went around the table about achievements of women, famous and those we know personally. At times like those I sometimes feel a slight regret about where my career could have gone if I did not have a family.

But then I realize that I may not have climbed the ladder and broken that ceiling (which sounds quite painful, actually), but I have created a balance that enabled me to do what I do (whatever that is), make a good living, feel a sense of professional fulfillment and still be, not only the Chairman of the Basement, but also the kind of mom I needed to be to my kids. (And of course if I carry dog biscuits at board meetings I can get the dog to vote my way).

Net of it all for me? I can always turn up the steam and work my butt off, but I can’t get back my little kids. Or my tweens. Or my teenagers (yes, I happen to love having teenagers. perhaps because they get my sophomoric humor best).

Don’t get me wrong, I do not preach that women cannot have it all. They can. AND SHOULD. It just needs to be the all that THEY choose. Hey, some of best friends carry the windex up there! (a glass ceiling should always be clean).

I will end this ramble with a plea to all women (and men for that matter). Can we stop being our own worst enemies. Working moms criticizing stay-at-homes for giving up their lives; stay-at-homes criticizing working for not being there enough.

Everyone has their own ride. Let’s support each other for our choices and be cool about it.

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