Adventures In Motherhood

'Smile and Wave', my premise from a previous article ' I Mustache You To Spread Love ' backfired on me last month. I admit this less than stellar parenting moment with a carload of children was a lesson learned by all. This past fall, a white utility van following behind us scared the bejesus out of me by loudly honking as I made a right-hand turn. Of course I was safely carpooling children to a school event and dumbfounded by the reason for blowing his horn. All five children were surprised when the rude driver of the utility van encountered us at a four-way stop just a few blocks down the road. "He must know us" I laughed, proceeding to smile and wave at the driver and his passenger, proudly proving to the children that, rather than responding in kind to their middle finger wave, I would take the upper road! In hindsight, this was not the most mature shenanigan on my part, as an adult responsible for five children in my minivan. No sooner did I arrive at...

Having worked undercover for the CIA prior to starting a family, my colleagues and I would often banter about times we were confronted regarding our true careers, jokingly professing to admit nothing, deny everything and make counter accusations, rather than risk exposure. Despite knowing my professional background, my children lack the ability to discern my modus operandi when I admit nothing, deny everything and make counter accusations. While honestly not my parenting style, I must confess that a few clandestine tricks of the trade have come in handy as a mother, especially when it comes to Santa Claus. I distinctly remember sitting on a bench at the North Pole amusement park in Colorado when my daughter, eight years old, asked me if Santa Claus was real. She proceeded to inform me that the secret was revealed on the playground and she no longer believed. For years I dreaded this conversation so much that I found myself ill prepared to answer. After all, we had gone to the North P...

I vividly remember the years when I managed life with four children in tow, ages seven, five, three and newborn baby. I smiled politely, yet secretly despised the well-meaning adults who admonished me to "enjoy these years; before you know it your kids will be grown!" Never mind my precious young children crying in the grocery store, while I, frazzled and weary from lack of sleep and shower deemed food a necessity. It was extremely difficult to envision any light at the end of the tunnel in the fog of parenting multiple young children, let alone acknowledge the admiring grandparents who fondly recalled these years. Lately, with the glaring light at the end of the tunnel on 'high beam', my daughter a high school freshman, I catch myself admiring the young parents pushing toddlers on swings and walking strollers, wishing I could turn back the clock, yet honoring my pledge to never utter those dreaded words...'enjoy these years' to parents in the thick of it! C...

My seven-year-old son aptly coined the phrase 'jimba' around this time last year. A word so clever and frequently used in our household now, I am compelled to share, as I'm sure you will encounter a plethora of 'Jimbas' this holiday season! I nearly submitted the word to Urban Dictionary, if not for the fact that it already existed, much to my chagrin. Ironically, and to my son's satisfaction, the word jimba means a big green balloon with sexual organs. Of all the luck! You can imagine the hilarious laughter that erupted from my four children when they found the Urban Dictionary definition of jimba. I still ponder how a big green balloon can have sexual organs, for which I blame myself, having lost much of my own creativity in adulthood. I prefer my son's definition of jimba, which is simply 'a very stupid or idiotic person'. Thankfully, jimba has affectionately replaced 'numbnuts' and 'butthead' in our house in full disclosure. ...

My October 13th Twitter feed uncovered a memoir contest to be judged by Cheryl Strayed. I had contemplated publishing my unique story of resilience for years, yet lacked the gumption and time to begin with a busy career and four children. Surely a sign, I thought to myself, having recently completed Cheryl's book 'Wild' with much adoration and appreciation for her mutual resilience. Hemming and hawing all weekend with the October 31st memoir deadline rapidly approaching, I unwrapped a stick of minty fresh gum, popped it into my mouth and glanced at the wrapper. Voila!! It was as if the gods were personally addressing me with a wrapper unlocking the key to my fate on that sunny Monday morning, October 16th. Ultimately living a life with no regrets, this shiny green daring challenge was shouting at me, you only live once lady! #YOLO Carpe diem! With nothing to lose and everything to gain, I undertook an enormous task for two weeks, pouring my heart and soul into the p...

Have you seen the #MeToo hashtag on your social media feed?  I struggle with those two simple words on social media as a platform to stand against sexual harassment and affect change.  As a modest woman, I shy away from sharing my personal stories of sexual harassment and wonder if this movement, like the gun control movement following a mass shooting, will quickly dissipate with the next news story.  #MeToo is not sufficient explanation for the pain and suffering endured by victims, and unfettered access to growing internet pornography and social media exploitation are largely to blame.  Personally I choose to take a stand for those who are finding their voice. I fear all women have been sexually harassed at some point in their lives and we all have many stories to tell.  My 13-year-old daughter was sexually harassed in eighth grade following our relocation last year.  Transitioning as a teenager to a new school in your last year of middle school is diff...

I have always been a proponent of language in our house.  "Use your words," I constantly remind the children, "and stop pounding your brother!"  My daughter learned 'wild words' in 5th grade; multi-syllabic challenges to our vocabulary, like 'perseverance', we implemented at dinnertime.  Foreign languages expand brain development, so I've shared smatterings with my children over the years and successfully advocated for a Spanish and after-school French class at our school.  My tolerance for profanity, however, in a house full of children, is zilch.  As such,  I swear by the 'Sriracha Effect'! I always knew my children would learn more than George Carlin's 'Seven Dirty Words' on the playground.   Over the years I've cautioned my children, "Use swear words at school and I'll know!"  Initially, they figured it was because of my CIA training and skill in lie detection and surveillance, however, I reminde...