As Paula reminded us a few days ago, Mother’s Day is on it’s way. This got me to think about my dream gift.  And, quite frankly, I surprised myself and couldn’t come up with a thing (although I do love the idea of a hotel room ALONE). I read a recent review in The New York Times on a new book by Sheena Iyengar called “The Art of Choosing.” One of the points she makes in the book is that the more choices a person has the less likely they will be able to actually choose something. (I’m totally getting this book btw just NOT as a Mother’s Day gift). And, she’s right, when I started to dream about what my perfect gift would be my mind went blank…my brain just threw in the towel and left a “be back in 10 minutes” sign. So, I thought about it from another angle, what are a few of my favorite things?

1.

Ok, I know this doesn’t look like much but I LOVE Ani Difranco. I HATE live music, yet, I’ve seen her in concert 5 times! And not until the last one did I ever have the brains to buy an actual t-shirt (since I don’t go to many shows I’m not an expert on the live band etiquette). I know, how cliché, a concert t-shirt. But here’s the thing, I left the one I bought at the concert on the train coming home from the damn venue! Gone, gone, and totally, utterly gone! I was very upset. A few days later my husband hands me a bag and in it is the shirt I bought. Not the exact shirt (that would be way weird and super creepy…like he stole it or something just to see me suffer) but another one. And so for this, while perhaps lame to some of you, I love it. That and it’s super comfy and I get to be a righteous bitch when I wear it.

2.

In 1994 I was in a terrorist attack in London. Now, I love London (probably as much, if not more, than Ani) but I was quite shaken and it took me a long time to get over it (hello September 11^th). Years later I was returning to the UK and staying fairly near where the attack had happened so my best friend knit me this rocking scarf. It’s like wooly klonopin. And, while awesomely stylish, it was also extremely comforting to know that there was someone back home thinking about me, rooting for me, and giving me a much needed hug.

3.

Ok, I know, I LOVE a lot of things but really it’s just Ani, London, and also, Eminem. No, I don’t have multiple personality disorder…think about it…I’m just really angry about all kinds of stuff: from bitches to my mom to my rights as a woman to love whoever I want. So, a good friend brought me this Eminem bobble head doll from Australia. I don’t actually know if they only sell them down under but I like to think that getting this was the only reason she went there. He’s awesome. If I ever feel a little too peppy I look at Marshall looking back at me all pissed off n’ shit and I think “hell yea, fuck you.” Then I go about my mommy day.

4.

My son and I took an art class together. He made this by tearing up bits of black padding and using at least 2 whole bottles of glue to attach it to the paper. He was covered, I was covered, it was great. When the teacher came around and asked him what he made he looked up and very firmly stated “Monkeys.” Then he gave me a knowing look as if to say:  “doesn’t it look exactly like monkeys, that woman is bat shit crazy, mommy…”

5.

Lastly, I totally dig this heart pendant that my husband and son got me last year. I had admired it in a store months before and they remembered! They even put pics in it for me but I had to change them out for more suitable ones since I don’t think it’s appropriate to wear porn in a heart pendant on an every day basis.

We’ve been waiting for a good Elmo app in my house for about as long as my husbands been waiting for the unveiling of the iPad.  What can I say?  Kids dig Elmo, and they do not, for instance, enjoy waiting in line at the grocery store, taking lengthy subway rides, or hanging out in the waiting room at the pediatrician’s office.  So I was anxious to see if the $3.99 I shelled out for this app was going to buy me some tantrum free time in the check out lane.  Elmo’s Monster Maker is GENIUS in its simplicity and does not disappoint.  The animation and sound effects are lively and the app is easy to navigate i.e. I COULD ACTUALLY FIGURE OUT HOW TO WORK IT.  Elmo introduces you to several faceless monsters and guides you through adding a nose, eyes and hat to create your own personalized monster.  June nearly did a back flip when Elmo showed up on my phone, and I’m pretty sure that every other kid app is pretty much going to suck to her after this.  SO, HELLO SESAME WORKSHOP!  MORE ELMO APPS. PARENTS WILL BUY THEM.

Once your monster has a face and a hat *, press one of the three buttons for more Muppet fun.  The “play” button gets your monster dancing to western, disco or house music behind one of several funky backgrounds, the “Elmo” button” brings Elmo back for some crazy antics including a quick game of soccer and grinding up some fresh black pepper to make the monster sneeze.  Hilarious!  Elmo you are too much!  Lastly there is a “photo” button where Elmo takes a picture to memorialize your creation in a festive postcard that is saved directly to your photo album.  The app is easy to use and well designed for kids – an excellent sanity saver for families with Elmo fans.

I’m finding apps can be really helpful with kids.  If there’s one we should know about, please email us!

* Okay, I know some of you are saying “Omg.  This does not sound educational!  Does Elmo speak French?  Do calculus?  Does he sign?”  The answer is NOOOOOOOOOO.  This is not an educational app.  It is merely entertaining.  If it is your goal for your kid to learn a different language while you are buying groceries this is not the app for you.  If like me, it is your goal for your toddler to not throw jars of expensive imported olives at people, then YES!  Download it immediately.

So, my head is still filled with enormous amounts of goo, which makes it hard to think or write or basically function in any real way. I think most strangers think I’m that super duper high kid from Dazed and Confused; I even have a hacking “smoker’s” cough. Put simply: I’m GREAT at parties.

Anyhow, this is going to be quite the hodge-podge of stuff since I started out reading what I normally read and then quickly devolved (not that I didn’t enjoy myself immensely) into only taking in what could be boiled down into a picture or a two line sentence. (Basically, what I like to call my “plane trip” reading…I’m always looking for a reason to travel)

Nurture Shock, is my book of choice this week. I’m half way through it. I like it. I especially like when people make points and back it up with data, I can’t help it, I’m a research lovin’ gal. (Ex. I ate all the cookies. Don’t believe me? See empty cookie bag, even the crumbs are gone).

Nurture Shock:

-Kids REALLY REALLY need sleep. They should be getting at least 8-10 hours per night. There is a correlation between how well kids do in school as well as their propensity for depression and how many zzz’s they are taking in.

-By 3 years of age, your kid should have already been given “the talk”. Not sex! Race! Kids notice racial differences and if the subject isn’t openly and healthily discussed kids think there is something wrong if they or their peers look different.

-All kids lie (I know mine does – he recently told my spouse: “Mommy bit me” And just in case anyone is wondering: No, I absolutely did not. Sure, it’s crossed my mind but I’ve never even made the gesture). They are ALL budding little liars and do it by the age of 4. The smarter they are the quicker they are to tell a fib.  (so, I guess this means that Paris Hilton is probably one of the most honest folks on the planet)

Star Magazine:

-Sara Jessica Parker weighs a mere 96 lbs….see people, I’m telling you: HER BODY IS EATING ITSELF! Perhaps then it will regenerate and turn into a new and improved SJP with super powers or a zombie thirst for brains?

-Angelina Jolie is apparently preggers again. About 3 months along. Personally, I think it’s about time. Those other children don’t really go with her new, more colorful wardrobe. Also, no one likes it when kids get older, they’re like kittens: they get useless when they lose that CUTE factor.

-I really liked the “Look Who’s Turning 40” piece…no, seriously. All the women, from Tina Fey to Heather Graham do look better than they did in their 20s. I like this, it gives me hope, even though I don’t have their bank accounts or access to Hollywood docs. Still, it could be me. I shun the sun and slather on moisturizer, so much so that if I don’t leave a greasy imprint on my pillow I’m obviously not doing it right. (It’s very sexy…nothing says I’m hot like a pale, greasy chick).

And, lastly, In Touch:

-Charlie Sheen caught cheating. Oh NO! I almost fell out of my chair. How could it be that this great guy…oh wait…no that sounds about right. With an escort no less…yea, that’s not really news.

-Britney is falling apart again. Quite frankly though, I think she just has unfortunate facial expressions or perhaps a facial tick which then gets photographed and the mags can make up whatever they want to go with the picture.

-Sandra Bullock is apparently too scared to actually divorce Jesse James. She does realize he’s not the REAL Jesse James right? He’s just some asshole who owns a bike shop and really seems to want to die of syphilis. Do people still go crazy from that? And die? If they do, my money’s on him. So, now that I rethink things, I guess she should be scared of him since syphilis eats away at the brain, who knows what he could do? He might team up with zombie SJP and start wreaking havoc coast to coast!!

So, whether, you had questions about how much your child should sleep or you’ve been worried about syphilis zombies, I hope I’ve answered your questions and read a few things that make us all seem a little smarter. Please, keep the applause.

A writer friend recently asked what I  really wanted for Mother’s Day.  In the “yes, it’s nice to receive roses but DO YOU REALLY WANT TO JUST LIE DOWN?” kind of way.  Normally I am a traditionalist when it comes to holidays – much like Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation.  And if you’ve seen this movie once, much less 9,000 times like I have (tradition at our household is such that we watch it late Thanksgiving evening with bursting stomachs, preparing our spirits for the thrill of the new Christmas season), you know that staunch traditionalism will bite you in the ass hard.  So part of me envisions mother’s day like this:

I will awaken in a bedroom that has been transformed into a chintz palace overnight, and naturally, I will be wearing “a nightgown.”  My well-behaved child will have prepared eggs benedict and my husband will have assisted her in the preparation of squeezing some sort of citrus fruit into juice.  He will be wearing slippers and a monogrammed bathrobe.  I will be referred to as “mummy.”  A copy of Town and Country Magazine will accompany my breakfast tray and I will open my gift of “Evenings in Paris” parfum.  I will then put on a pastel sweater set and we will go skipping through the park and will like, walk our pet poodle or something.  We will spend the rest of the day touring art galleries and discussing the various works over lunch at Café Cluny.  BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT PROPER FAMILIES IN NYC DO ON MOTHER’S DAY DAMN IT.

But when asked what I REALLY REALLY REALLY want.  A very different answer came flying out, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that I do not own a pastel sweater set.  I realized that I would like a hotel room.  MY OWN hotel room.  An ultra modern one where everything is white, spare and has lots of hard angles – which incidentally, is the EXACT opposite of my preferred aesthetic.  But since we know that kind of look is TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE to even contemplate with a kid around, it’s suddenly kind of appealing.  I want to sit around in a white robe, order room service and watch television (the more violent and more cursing the better) in complete silence i.e. Without being asked by my husband if he should “throw in some laundry” (not that I don’t appreciate his throwing in laundry I LOVE IT when Peter throws in laundry, I’d just like to have a day free of thinking about laundry) and my iPhone will be left AT HOME.  I am only to be contacted in extreme circumstances, and only by courier or telegram or something.  The reality?  Tonya and I signed up for a charity walk that starts at 7 a.m.  Maybe I can walk directly to the Soho Grand?

I had an intense post I was going to write about how I took particular umbrage to this one article but quite frankly my brain isn’t working neither are my eyes and apparently my hands are just typing whatever they want since no one’s in charge right now.

Here’s what they came up with:

I want to be 2 for a day. I want to let go of my ego and super ego and just let my Id take control for 24 hours. I like to imagine all of the things I could do.

First, I wouldn’t ever have to stop writing (would I be allowed to write? Maybe just on walls and furniture?) or whatever it is that happens to be the focus of ALL my attention in that given moment I could just go with it! And wouldn’t even have to end if I needed to use the bathroom. Nope, I could just let my bladder flow freely and keep on going. What freedom! Oh there’d be a mess but isn’t that what marriage is about? 

Second, I wouldn’t have to ‘make nice’ with anyone who annoys the crap out of me. If you ask my husband, he’ll tell you I don’t do this so well as it is, but I’ve tried to explain to him time and again: I don’t bite them or hit them over the head with heavy objects. But now I could! And, oh boy, do I have a mental list, I may not know all their names but I will find them…starting with the jerk at the Y who always yells at me to stay off the running track even though 1) no one is ever on it and 2) in order for me to get from point A to point B one must cross said track…jackass. So, yea, he’d be the first I’d hit with a big yellow dump truck!

Third, I could say whatever the hell I want to. It doesn’t matter if it’s completely off topic or has nothing to do with reality I could just let my freak flag fly folks! My friend could be discussing her new favorite book but instead of listening intently and agreeing wholeheartedly I could answer with: “I like yellow. Can you jump as high as me? Where did all the squirrels go? I need some juice.”

Fourth, I could wear the craziest stuff ever. I could run around pants-less if I so dared.  My spouse would tell you I don’t give much thought to others reactions as it is, given that the majority of the time I leave the house I’m dressed in some wacky ensemble that I think – with a certain tilt of the head – looks quite cool and avant-garde. But on this day, I would have FREE reign. Oh the things I could put together: it would be like Bjork’s swan dress meets Flee’s sock on the penis combined with Rod Blogojevich’s hair and to top it off a a really tall hat from Jamiroquai’s closet – that’s where I’d keep the big yellow dump truck…duh.

Now that I think about it…it would be a lot like being Kanye West for a day, just with a lot less cash and few less temper tantrums.