The Suburban Jungle

My 8-year-old is definitely a “mama’s boy,” and it turns out that my extra mothering and snuggling with him may help him later on in life. Read More

I’m now a Parenting Correspondent for NBC 6 Miami and the Second Segment on Healthy Homework Habits is in!!!
If you’re in the South Florida area, you can see my segment on Friday’s South Florida Today show, which is between 11AM and Noon. Please tune in or tivo and tell your friends. I’ll bring you 5 tips each week to help tackle parenting issues that we all deal with like separation anxiety and homework habits, to learning to say “no,” a skill I’m still perfecting, and by perfecting I mean failing miserably at. ENJOY and Thanks for the support!

Okay I must admit, like all of you, I see that times are tough, but I just got off the phone with a friend and caught myself saying something that implied that things have really gone south.

Me:  “Hey, can you pick me up a buffalo chicken sandwich at Fresh Market?”

Friend: “Sure.”

Me:  “Don’t forget to ask for the blue cheese dressing.  If it’s not in the container, they give it to you on the side… and it’s free.”

And it’s free??? Really, did I just use that phrase to imply that it’s freeness would make asking for it worth her while?  Like she wouldn’t be willing to spring for it?  (more…)

Warning to all parents, the web character Fred Figglehorn is getting his own movie — Fred:The Movie — which will air on Nickelodeon Sept. 17th. You may be asking yourself, “Who is this Fred, and why am I being warned of his impending flick?” Fred, a character developed and portrayed by teen Lucas Cruikshank, may be one of the most annoying personas ever created.Read More

On a summer trip to Hilton Head, SC I realized that I may actually be the most neurotic mom on the planet. I first noticed this when we were at the park and children where climbing to the top limbs of these winding ancient oaks. In Florida, we don’t have many climbing trees, unless you have the ability to shimmy up a palm. Growing up in Maryland, I remember climbing those trees, and of course the memories that stand out most to a neurotic mom are the one’s of the kids that fell out and broke their own limbs.

So, there I was an inch from my child, ready to steady him at his first errant step. At the same time I was prepared to jump under some random 10yr old Evel Knievel, 25ft up, and let him use my frame to break his impending fall. “Where are that kid’s parents?” I asked my husband, as I was quite certain if they had witnessed his indiscretion in the tree, they would be giving him a stern talking to. Then over walked his dad. The kid said, “Who thinks, I’m gonna fall off and die?” To which the sensitive dad replied, “Well don’t do it halfway. If you only break something we’re gonna end up spending the whole night at the hospital.” Maybe you found that obnoxious, maybe you found it funny, I found it horrifying. But it seems that the general parenting attitude – outside of these very sheltered towns I’ve managed to live in – is one of ease and nonchalance. My husband has this attitude; he believes everything will be all right, whereas I think those crazy things that seem so rare are common occurrences and second guess my every decision, for fear of what those choices may have unleashed upon my family.

One of these choices was to sign the kids up for a day of Adventure Camp. I wanted to take advantage of the amazing golf. Scratch that, my husband wanted to take advantage of the amazing golf. He’ll be happy I mentioned “him,” “scratch,” and “golf” in the same sentence. The Adventure Camp wasn’t so adventurous. It was mainly 4 and 5 year olds and boasted a 1:3 counselor to camper ratio. They took the kids crabbing on the beach and then raced their crabs. Then they brought them to a shaded pool, low enough to stand in.  Though I didn’t really care if we golfed or not, I reminded myself that sometimes your husband needs to do a bit of what he wants on a family vacation. Since, I rarely if ever put him first, or second, or third for that matter, I decided to let my kids enjoy a day at camp while we golfed. I know, it was the best choice for my kids and my husband, but for me, it was the one that caused the most anxiety. The other parents were in and out at drop off, but I spent quite some time saying my goodbyes, and assessing the counselors. I thoroughly interviewed them, asking about their lifesaving credentials, their head count procedures, and how I could contact them to check on my kids.

How many moms know how debilitating it is to worry over so many things at once? How hard it is to just enjoy something when scary scenarios keep popping into your head? I was relieved when we saw them at the pool in the afternoon; a surprise encounter that was only slightly planned on my part. Then in the hour between the pool and camp pickup a torrential downpour ensued and I had to start worrying all over again. Would the trolley skid or would someone slip on the wet brick pathways? After pick up I could breathe more freely, but I couldn’t help wonder, what kind of disservice I’m doing to my children by not allowing them to do things that other parents seem to have no problem with?

Comment Question:

What do you think, can you relate? Are you a worrier or easy goer?

Why can’t the adults have a more mature sense of humor and stop using us babies as mini billboards?

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Talk about awkward. Here’s my take on explaining the unexplainable.

I always say it’s not a matter of “if” your child will walk in on you and hubs doing the deed, it’s a matter of “when.” Sure, there are lots of excuses: “Mommy and Daddy were just wrestling… naked.” “Oh, mommy slipped and her clothes fell off and dad was helping me up. Why are his off too? Well, he didn’t want me to feel silly.” “This is a special dance we do for rain, you know like on the National Geographic channel? Damn that drought and global warming!” And of course when they’re over a certain age, there’s just no explanation other than, “Okay, you caught us.”

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Baby Ryan, based on someone I know all too well, is the knew blogger on Baby Banter, which is run by the fabulous site SheKnows.com. I say it’s time for those kids to pull their weight. Chicken fingers, pizzas, and hotdogs don’t pay for themselves, you know? Once my kids hit Kindergarten it’s time to pay the piper. So, along those lines, Ryan is a working baby writer. Sure, it was hard to teach her how to type, but I put her in front of the keyboard and told her she couldn’t have dessert until she could type 60WPM. Let me tell you about the power of a black and white cookie.

She also happens to be hilarious!!! I will list her posts here and if you’re intrigued click the link. Here’s her bio, so you know what you’re in for.

Ryan “The Rockstar”
Whassup, I’m Baby Ryan. Here’s what you should know about me, first of all, I’m a girl — people get confused by the name and lack of hair on my head. As you may have guessed by my advanced vocabulary, I’m crazy smart. I have an uncanny knack for telling it like it is, but deep down I’m still a big mush. Sure, I’ve been called ornery and stubborn, but those qualities are certain to help me at Kindermusik when some stinky little crybaby tries to steal my tambourine.

Contrary to common belief, I understand everything you weird, cooing people are saying. I’m also pretty sure that I’m royalty of some sort because you all act like my servants. It seems that many of you are simply here to entertain and amuse me, while the rest of you wait on me hand and foot. I don’t have to walk anywhere, scrounge for food or even lift a spoon for that matter. I can get insanely dirty and someone just cleans me up. Even more astounding, when I get you people dirty, you simply laugh and wipe the pureed bananas out of your hair. Best of all, I don’t have to poop in that crazy hole that sucks out your soul through your bottom. I simply need to cry (I wish someone would get me a bell) and you’re at my beck and call. Being a baby rocks!

Ryan’s Profile:

Age: 9 months

Likes: Catching sight of my future BF Zuma Rossdale in a magazine

Hates: The short annoying kid they call my brother and my “Spit Happens” bib

Favorite Word: No

When I grow up: Me and Zuma will live happily ever after

Post: Seriously? Not the Pea Plane Again!

On the 4th of July, Real Housewife of Orange County, Alexis Bellino’s stroller rolled into a pool with her 2-1/2-year-old twin daughters on board. Luckily, there was a quick response and everyone was fine, but many people across the internet are incensed, calling her irresponsible and negligent. The truth is, regardless of what you think of Bellino, accidents like this can happen in the blink of an eye. As parents, we all have those moments — the ones we look back on and think, “Wow, that happened so fast!” Usually, they’re little things; one minute you’re walking with your child and you notice his shoe is untied, the next he’s tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and broken an arm.

One of my scariest and most self loathing moments was when my son was about 6 months old. I accidentally locked him in my car. READ MORE

I’m switching teams!!! No I’m not talking about becoming a lesbian, though it would make a few of my readers who shall remain nameless, quite happy. I’m talking about the other “teams” inference known worldwide and perhaps more important than sexual preference. You guessed it, I’m now Team Jacob. What??? Did I just put that in writing? Any die hard Twilight fan over the age of 25 knows that choosing Jacob over Edward is shear blasphemy. In fact when anyone, prior to this, would speak such team Jacob nonsense I would question whether we were talking about the same subject. If in fact we were, I would write it off to my superior intellect, my innate understanding of mythical creatures or simply, their age. (more…)

I’m aware that there’s already peer pressure on my children to watch certain movies, rent specific DVDs or play particular video games. Lately, I’ve also allowed them to watch some questionable flicks. After thinking about it, I’ve realized that it’s not my kids who are being pressured into seeing these movies — it’s me.

It started with Transformers, which I saw with two friends and their children. Within the first ten minutes, an obscene amount of people were injured, and words I hoped my son had never heard were spoken in large quantities. I glanced at my friends, expecting to see looks of shock and awe, only to find them calmly munching away on their popcorn and Raisinettes. Read More

Okay, I may have mentioned I’m a guilt ridden parent once or twice or a thousand times.  Well, I also have 4^th of July guilt.  Yep, I feel guilty if my kids don’t get to see fireworks on the 4^th of July.  Like many parents, I go to great lengths to make sure they get this Independence Day experience; long car rides, busy parking areas, throngs of people smooshing into parks and harbors… you know the drill. (more…)