Monthly Archives: May 2011

This morning I had breakfast with a girlfriend and tried to explain the unexplainable. She, in turn, shared her nonsense and we tried to make sense of the nonsensical. I’ve decided that shrugging a lot is probably the best way to go through life. Unless you’re a blogger, then commentary is the best way to get through life.

I wasn’t planning on posting today. I thought I’d just let the video of the mother who injects Botox into her eight year old daughter simmer and gather everyone’s interest. I thought I’d poke around Facebook and see what’s happening, but then I saw my friend Tracey mentioning LeAnn Rimes’ insistence that she’s a “Bonus Mom”. Wow.

If you aren’t familiar with Twitter, what you are seeing in the larger text on top is Brandi Glanville sending a public message to LeAnn Rimes. Apparently Glanville is the first wife of Eddie Cibrian and mother to two boys with Cibrian. According to country music websites Rimes has talked about the fact that she was married to another man and Cibrian was married to Glanville when Rimes and Cibrian began their affair. Leann Rimes married Eddie Cibrian less than a month ago. The message states:

I told Eddie to please tell you that I think it is highly inappropriate for you to sing in my son’s class on Friday. Boundaries. (I fixed her typos because I like her)

Below that you see Leann Rimes’ profile which begins with WIFE, Bonus Mom….

My family tree is more like a vine than an oak making me an authority on shiny new stepmoms. There is no such thing as a bonus mom. The fact that she’s a 29 year old pop star who can count the length of her marriage in days can only add insult to injury.

What childless stepmothers will never understand is that love isn’t an adequate word to describe our pull to our children. When my children hurt I ache, when my children have a victory I celebrate, when my children look at their father with adoration I fall in love with him all over again. Some of these childless stepmothers will go on to make babies with their new husband, and I’ve watched friends go through a new kind of torture with that one.

As an adult, when I think of the people I need to survive in this world I think of my two children and my husband. I love my brother, my parents and their spouses, and I’d be sad if we had to live far apart from one another but I wouldn’t want to live another day if I couldn’t live with my husband and my children until they are adults and in their own homes.

That is motherhood.

A bonus mom simply doesn’t exist. A Bonus Mom is an arrogant title that second and third and ninth wives give themselves so that they can pretend as if they are loved deeply and wholly by their new partner’s children. A Bonus Mom is a perky newlywed who thinks that her designer gown and Queen for a Day party endears her to the world. A Bonus Mom is an absurdity and any mother who has put in the work, who has sacrificed parts of her life with no regrets knows that a Bonus Mom is, quite frankly, and idiot and a narcissist.

I know blended families where the children love the stepparents as if they were their own. I’m willing to bet that the deep and binding love didn’t pop up in the first few weeks of the marriage. I know adults who have their stepparents walk them down the aisle. Blended families aren’t instant, it’s not like adoption or birth, you have to wait for the kids to love you back.

Before step kids love step parents, they need to know that their real parents are loved and respected. By everyone.

Last night I had the honor of speaking to a class at UCLA about how to bring marketing to their online communities.

A special thanks to Beverly Macy for inviting me, and to everyone in attendance. Some related links can be found on Delicious.

I can’t sit down to write because I’m totally obsessed with converting my iTunes files to MP3 so that I can share a presentation with all of you.

It’s obnoxious and stupid because I could have spent the last two hours describing to you just how amazing it is to present to a group of really smart adults at UCLA, but instead I’ve spent the last two hours screwing around with files that I don’t particularly care about and attempting to master a tidbit of technology that will be obsolete in a short amount of time.

Today’s post is about time management. I failed.

UPDATE

OMG I can talk to y’all about something. Eight year olds getting Botox for pageants. Can we just arrest all the parents and pageant coordinators now?

I am so tempted to let my leg hairs grow and to toss all my makeup.

I haven’t written much about the homestead because it would approach book length and I wouldn’t necessarily come out of it looking very good.

Jane’s English assignments look quite a bit like Chinese to me, there are prepositional phrases that behave as bodyguards so that we can’t find the predicate. I’m pretty sure there’s a subject but then there’s some wacky article that’s clearly only there to confuse everyone so we have no way of knowing if it’s singular or plural because the article isn’t exactly next to the subject.

I have degrees in the sciences. I didn’t want to write words. I can’t help Jane, but I can read Cradle to Crade with her and help her understand what William A. McDonough is saying when he tells her about the irrigation system that the Egyptians built to accommodate the annual flooding of silt and soil from the Nile. We talk about our waste and where it goes, we discuss composting toilets and decide that we are, in fact, not that green.

I check her math, it’s good. It’s always good. She’s my daughter, math makes sense.

Alexander sails through school and we’re teaching him to not interrupt. Perhaps he needs a more challenging setting, perhaps he’s just confident and confident is good.

This morning I returned to ladies doubles. I didn’t play very well, but when everyone wanted to shake hands afterwards I said I’m not shaking hands.

I realized I’d said it much in the manner of a Chasid woman who was menstruating. The phrase I’d heard so often in my youth is, “I’m not touching anyone right now.” And we all sort of understood that she hadn’t been to Mikvah. I guess I was waiting for the group of women to understand that medically something was going on and I wouldn’t be touching, but I speak American Jew and they speak Goyisha, so I had to explain that I wouldn’t be shaking hands because I’m on five drugs that inhibit and then kick the crap out of my immune system. I don’t want to catch a cold.

After school both kids had Orthodontist appointments. Alexander may be out of braces soon, Jane has just barely begun, new hardware will hit her lower teeth in about 8 weeks.

Alexander had batting lessons today. He’s a right handed batter who swings lefty so he’s got to learn to pull the bat out in front of him. Alexander is really happy because he’s figured out the grip. He thinks he knows when he goes from loose hands to tight grip.

Mr. G is coming home from work on time, which is all I can really ask for. He played a little lunchtime tennis and got a bloodblister on his big toe. I was happy that I got to sterilize the needle and pop the blister. He wasn’t nearly as happy as I.

We’re back to boring here. We like it this way. After dinner I showed the kids and Mr G the best mommy video to ever hit YouTube.

If you’re eating, stop, and if you’re feeling judgy you can stop that too. Because this is wonderful.

Let me begin this with one simple statement. I have never been to Pink Taco.

Pink Taco is a local restaurant that presumably serves Mexican Food. As the proud owner of a vagina I haven’t darkened their doorstep but my husband sometimes lunches there. He says the food is good. I don’t often mistrust my husband, but I’m thinking the food’s gotta suck.

For Cinco de Mayo the brain trust at Pink Taco decided to take a donkey, spray paint it pink and leash it to the front of it’s restaurant. Presumably this would benefit the drunken revelers. Apparently it was an 80 degree day (in the shade) and the patrons of Pink Taco took offense that an ass was tied up in front of a restaurant that was named after the slang for women’s labia and serves meat that doesn’t pretend to be free range, organic, humanely treated or even grass fed.

Apparently the would be patrons of Pink Taco care more about a spray painted ass than anything else.

In keeping with the Pink Taco-ness of Pink Taco they have decided to honor PETA (a vile organization if ever there was one) with a night of vegan fare and donations to PETA.

There has been a lot of media speculation regarding Eeke, the donkey. We encourage you to “Like” our new facebook page:[redacted I'm not in the mood] and follow us on our new Twitter: twitter.com/PinkTacoCC for up-to-date information!

Team Eeke!
In support of the fight against animal cruelty from May 9th – May 15th, Pink Taco Century City will be featuring a special margarita. The “PETA-rita” is available to all guests who would like to come in and support #TeamEeke, as 100% of the proceeds from the PETA-rita will go to PETA in support of the ethical treatment of animals.

We are also encouraging ALL of our guests to join us this Friday, May 13th for our happy hour and a “bring your pet to the patio day” from 3-7pm. This is a great opportunity to come in, enjoy some great food and beverages with your pets – and drink for a great cause! We look forward to seeing you there!

The following is our official statement:

“We’d like to clear up some misperceptions regarding the donkey, who made an appearance at the Cinco de Mayo event at Pink Taco in Century City on May 5th. We obtained a permit from the city to have the animal on site and the pink coloring used on the donkey was a safe, water-based and commonly used on animals in the entertainment industry. Additionally, the donkey’s trainer escorted him the entire appearance, he was on a leash, not a chain as reported in the media, and we provided plenty of water and care to him throughout. The employees of Pink Taco love and respect animals and would never do anything to harm or cause discomfort to an animal.”

We have since been in contact with PETA and Pink Taco has agreed to not use animals at our events and promotions and we are looking forward to meeting with them and discussing how we can work together in the future. We are a socially aware brand and we appreciate our customers concerns regarding these matters.”

-Pink Taco Corporate

 

If there was ever a moment where I thought that Pink Taco cared about people (women specifically) or animals (a few hundred a day on plates) I’d ignore this, as it’s largely a non issue.

I think that motherhood has turned me into a feminist and although I love a dirty double entendre I love it even more when I can walk through the mall without trying to explain to my kids what a Pink Taco is, why men would want to eat one, and why women would have low enough self esteem to work at or patronize the store.

I’d be outraged, but the Yelpers have taken care of that with hundreds of one star reviews.

What’s your take? It’s clearly a business that takes risks. They’ve named the store in such a manner that many women don’t want to be there, most families won’t, they clearly don’t care about animals and then they engage with PETA. Is it just a big mess that’s going for young men or are they hungry for any old kind of publicity?

My daughter went to a Temple nursery school. It was sweet and at the time it was a good place for her, but it wasn’t worth the money. When my son was ready for Pre School I sent him to an SRLDP program through LA Unified and  he thrived. I think I donated a few hundred dollars to the PTA over the course of a year.

Recently a New York City parent sued her daughter’s pre school because she didn’t feel like her daughter was prepared for the ERB tests. I get this. I really do. My kids are doing the writing portion of the ERBs today and tomorrow and had their school not prepared them at all for the test I’d be losing it too. I get that the world likes to make fun of moms who want to give their kids every opportunity. I know that we spend too much on school, sports and camps. I know that I’ve morphed into a parody of my former self, that I’m not quite a Tiger Mom but I’m not at all relaxed about my children’s futures.

So I feel torn. I’m sure there’s more to this story than we will ever know, but I understand wanting to get my money’s worth. This Momversation should entertain you, Rebecca and Daphne clearly do not agree with me.