tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75104592011-11-05T22:49:50.146-05:00A complex look into my simple mind. No promises, no expectations, just freedom...let's see what comes of it.MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.comBlogger371100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-21217416196689767612011-11-05T22:45:00.001-05:002011-11-05T22:46:56.085-05:00

I just finished reading an article about Jillian Michaels. If you don't know who she is, her biggest claim to fame is being the hard core physical trainer on the Biggest Loser television series. She's great at what she does apparently, and she's not too shabby of a business person either, as she's built herself up a tidy little empire around health and wellness with a number of books, blogs,

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-89853191200349550472011-09-02T23:58:00.000-05:002011-09-02T23:58:30.963-05:00

to join me in a movement of positive change.  to stop not doing, and take a chance on success. to stop talking, listen for a while, and reply thoughtfully. to play nice. to remember or realize that not everyone does things the way you do. to see people for who they are, not necessarily what they appear to be. to remember that under our skin we are all the same - bones, muscle, and blood. to

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-57756932494623255882011-07-21T14:03:00.000-05:002011-07-21T14:03:02.434-05:00

Forgive me for not having done the appropriate research, and I'm stating right here up front that I haven't made myself particularly familiar with all the different proposals and ideas regarding health care in the U.S. but I got myself to thinking...as I'm going through of my own, unexpected health care issues...of a plan that seems to make too much sense.  It's not left, it's not right.  Those

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-73712816599719545842011-07-03T22:54:00.000-05:002011-07-03T22:54:22.551-05:00

What is it about fireworks that keeps us so entertained?  Is the pyrotechnic power illuminating the sky?  Is it the sheer impermanence of something so beautiful?  Perhaps its the just the apparent magic of all those sparkly things.  Maybe it's all of them.  But for me, the thing that gets me the most - and makes me cry every time - is the connection of the experience.  Millions of us, big, small,

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-29630052442344172882011-06-11T01:03:00.001-05:002011-06-11T01:04:51.589-05:00

My kids came home today with their final report cards from the year. Excellence all around - one very proud mamabear for sure. They also came home with their final scores on some standardized tests that they took earlier this year. Again, excellent, excellent - out of 202 questions, for instance, my daughter only missed 4. But I digress. What I thought was interesting is that they had the

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-3762798727771561902011-06-09T23:19:00.001-05:002011-06-11T01:10:44.104-05:00

So I changed my Facebook photo the other day to be a Ferris wheel. A few of my friends, as well as my husband asked me why. The simple answer is, it's how I feel lately. That's been met with pauses. How do I feel like a Ferris wheel? Not really me, per se, but my life. You look at it from afar and it's big and twinkling and turning, a graceful machine moving along, giving the greatest vantage

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-33428129781795106052011-06-08T22:58:00.000-05:002011-06-08T22:58:26.450-05:00

I used to use that phrase a lot when I was younger. Then for some reason I stopped. Perhaps because it could be a bit offensive, and my maturity set in. But really, it's fully applicable - perhaps now more than ever. We've become such a society of whiners. Privileged whiners - which I suppose are really the only kind there are. Those without privilege may complain, but I doubt they whine

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-75970571096390684622011-06-08T00:45:00.001-05:002011-06-08T00:46:43.792-05:00

That's it. I'm official. The Major Triumverate of Media...Facebook, Blog...and now Twitter. I resisted Twitter for so long, but I'm in. This could get interesting...

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-16089097281113048162011-05-31T23:00:00.002-05:002011-05-31T23:03:14.726-05:00

These good things include: a sponsored RV, a camera (or two, or crew), lots of peanut butter and Diet Coke. My kids and I will use these things to create family-adventure/educational progamming Summer 2011. Four Corners of the Country - Florida to San Diego to Seattle to Maine and back to Florida. C'mon, take a chance!

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-51567185201210700532011-05-30T23:05:00.002-05:002011-05-30T23:07:02.993-05:00

No more long winded. No more diatribes. Okay, maybe some of those. We'll keep it short and sweet, and hopefully find some sunshine (read: laughter) here and there. God knows we need it!

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-81643208063160492672011-05-25T23:01:00.002-05:002011-05-26T00:15:35.183-05:00

I've been informally polling people for a while now about what makes them proud to be where they're from. Admittedly, it's been a small pool, and I've been specific about their source. I haven't had the best of luck. Or any luck, really. Some responses, upon direct face-to-face questioning have resulted in answers that completely surprised me ranging from, "I never really thought about it,"

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-79385593624097177502011-05-17T23:29:00.002-05:002011-05-18T00:04:13.531-05:00

I think I lead a pretty decent life. And in saying that, I'm referring to the decisions I make every day. I don't have fancy cars, or that inground pool with a spa, or get my hair did every other week - and maybe if I made some different decisions I'd have more means to accomodate those kinds of whims and flights of fancy. But I'm happy with the majority of the choices I make every day. I'm

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-68491808831022126582011-04-29T23:31:00.003-05:002011-04-29T23:49:14.066-05:00

Well, technically I haven't yet...the DVR'd account of the wedding of Prince William to Kate Middleton is still sitting on the machine. I chose to record the BBC America version, rather than the major American networks. I figured I'd catch enough of their feed through the internet. And well, it is a British wedding, with British royals, and British people...so I figured a British perspective

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-62701732331448021802011-04-19T20:59:00.006-05:002011-04-19T22:57:45.303-05:00

I finally did it. I got to cross off an item on the bucket list. Not as dangerous as say, skydiving (on my actual list), or as adventurous as summiting Everest (not on my list), or even as bold as publishing a book (yes, on the list too). It was to hold a Passover seder, in my home, with friends and family invited. Simple in concept, way more complex in execution than anticipated, but a gracious

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-25069130302672131802010-11-08T16:56:00.002-05:002010-11-08T17:08:55.599-05:00

Ooh - this won't be pretty, or eloquent, or poetic, or philosophical...I'm just pissed. You would think there might be at least ONE place your kids go to that they aren't subjected to a hard sell/soft sell/anykindofsell.At my kids' school, they had a writer and illustrator team come in and give a little seminar on how they made their dream (their book) happen. It was quite a good little

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-90179319984068727662010-01-08T23:57:00.003-05:002011-04-29T23:54:03.458-05:00

First time selling Girl Scout cookies since I myself was a Girl Scout. Of course, this is my daughter's turn and I was so very impressed by her ease in producing the pitch, remembering the facts, and turning on the charm. What bothered me was how her persona changed when she participated in the sale with a group of other girls. Very democratically, each girl took a turn at a house, as we went

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-70206713178613044442010-01-05T23:11:00.002-05:002010-01-05T23:15:59.290-05:00

Two days into this domestic engineer mess and I managed to get the kids clean, ensure their homework was done, make dinner (with homemade french fries AND a green vegetable - OK, Rich did handle the steak on the grill) AND a cake (with decoration) for my husband's birthday, all ready at the right time - and we were done BEFORE 8PM. This allowed us to actually play a family game together before

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-24596987724903739692010-01-04T23:54:00.002-05:002010-01-04T23:57:50.018-05:00

I am really bad at not working an organized job. I always envision myself as good at it, but then, periodically the opportunity arises and I am terrible. Whereas I could get an inhuman number of items done in a ridiculously small window of time, I seem to get nothing done when I have all day. I suppose I should be a bit easier on myself as this is only day one of my new unemployment. I should

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-34852440439082518902010-01-03T00:48:00.000-05:002010-01-03T00:49:21.167-05:00

That's it. We'll start simple.

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-13485424139274762952008-04-03T23:41:00.004-05:002008-04-03T23:55:54.590-05:00

A friend of mine lost her son a few weeks ago. He was 20 years old and there is still is no conclusive reason why he died. She just found him in his room on a Saturday morning, dead on the floor. The first line of his obituary read that he had gone on to a better place. That made me angry. I was angry that he was gone. I was angry that she had to go through this. I was angry that for that

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-82887986128483222922007-11-13T01:14:00.000-05:002007-11-13T01:33:59.151-05:00

My friend, Jim, died the other day. In his sleep.He was 44.My friends aren't supposed to be dying yet.I only knew him for a couple of years, but he'll be with me forever.My first impressions of Jim could not have been more wrong - and as time passed and we shared stories, and laughter, and sadness, and anger, and friends, and quite a bit of tequila, I grew to admire and adore my neighbor, and was

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-19901743260364386102007-06-12T22:43:00.000-05:002007-06-12T23:16:05.419-05:00

I went to Atlanta the other day. Nice weekend. Great weather. My kids, my husband - it was a great little getaway - all a surprise to me, and some much needed Q-time with the fam. My kids have a future in espionage, I believe - because children under the age of 10 typically do not show such restraint in spreading information that is exciting to them. Kudos to them...they have learned well!

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1154659445643843612006-08-03T21:24:00.000-05:002006-08-03T21:44:05.656-05:00

My first born child began Kindergarten today. With delightful anticipation he jumped out of bed shouting, "I LOVE kindergarten!" over and over. He brushed his teeth. He brushed his hair. He tucked in his shirt, had his shoes on the right feet, and was ready to go 20 minutes early. All was off to a great start.And so his day went on. Easy check in. Set right to work. Figured out the ins

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1132382250474986772005-11-19T01:25:00.000-05:002005-11-19T01:37:30.493-05:00

I've finally reached the penultimate in selfishness. In conducting a Google search for an old friend...I came across a reference in the records that he now has a wife. Like a bullet through my flesh. A WIFE. The burn through the tissue...the searing sensation...the shock - the dismay...and why? I myself am a wife. Married to a good husband. Mother to wonderful children. With a beautiful,

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1127533677649322812005-09-23T22:45:00.000-05:002005-09-23T22:47:57.656-05:00

I’ve always felt that my son (my firstborn) has had a particular awareness about him. I know we all cherish our children, and know that they are special and gifted in some way…but something about his presence and how others react to him has always been quite remarkable. The awareness I mentioned, is not only in regards to how he interprets living beings, but I’m pretty convinced that it’s more

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1121902478437214852005-07-20T18:33:00.000-05:002005-08-01T22:33:30.690-05:00

I've tried to keep this all pretty generic in ideology and concept and all that...but I can't anymore. I never wanted to call anyone out in particular or bring myself down to the level of those I most oppose. But I can't keep quiet about this one anymore...entirely. Well, I'll try to do this as politely as I can, and discreetly...just to ensure that I am not to be included in the ranks and

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1108189760060076652005-02-12T01:16:00.000-05:002005-02-12T01:29:20.063-05:00

People really don't listen. They don't want to listen. It drives me crazy. People can't seem to understand how one can be anti-war and pro-troops. Like the logic is wrong. They get all crazy trying to reconcile the situation. And they get so flustered you can't even explain it to them. So here goes...I hate the war. I hate war. I won't go into why or how, I think that's abundantly clear.

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1107666728225051412005-02-06T01:11:00.000-05:002005-02-06T00:12:08.226-05:00

Don’t discount my faith, brother. I’ve probably got more faith in the human spirit than you’ve got in your whole book. And it’s far less conditional. Don’t threaten my faith, sister. I know at the end of my life I will have tried my best to be my best. And I didn’t have to rely on anyone to teach me that. Don’t pity my faith, father. My strength comes from deep down inside me. And I take full

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1106190519558540222005-01-19T22:02:00.000-05:002005-01-19T22:08:39.556-05:00

My son and daughter were eating dinner yesterday, sitting side by side at the kitchen table. My son is three years old and is sitting on the left, mind you now sitting in a regular chair, since he has deemed the booster seat too juvenile for him, and my little girl, all of 15 months old, perched on the booster seat, thrilled with herself to be out of the high chair, as they eagerly awaited their

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1099975759225669462004-11-08T23:28:00.000-05:002004-11-08T23:49:19.226-05:00

I'm so sorry, America. I'm so sorry so many are so stupid. I'm so sorry the people have, yet again, put you deliberately in harms way. I'm so sorry so many are so easily duped by propaganda - for an agenda so flawed yet, I suppose, in some way, artfully crafted. I'm sorry the contempt for you will grow throughout the world because of a misguided cowboy with a cross to bear. I'm sorry so

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1093408972749134932004-08-24T22:37:00.000-05:002004-08-24T23:42:52.750-05:00

Okay, so I am a first generation suburbanite. My parents decided when I was a wee one to move out of the city in search of "greener pastures" as it were, (though I wouldn't call our 1/4 acre lot a pasture, nor very green as neither of my parents had any clue as to what gardening meant, which apparently is in the genes and is dominant, as I now myself have a larger lot of land that I am equally

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1093146654431844082004-08-21T22:43:00.000-05:002004-08-21T22:50:54.430-05:00

Thank you for diverting that storm. Thank you for us being prepared for the worst and experincing the least, relatively. Thank you for keeping everyone we know safe. Thank you for keeping those that we don't know alive, although they lost so much. Thank you giving us a pass on that one. Thank you for the reminder of what is important. Thank you for all that news coverage. Thank you for

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1090988079189442332004-07-27T22:52:00.000-05:002004-07-27T23:14:39.190-05:00

Okay, so during a battle of frozen peas and salami with my daughter I came up some fantastic nuggets of philosophy that I can't believe I didn't freaking write down.  I really assumed I would recall them when needed, at least by later in the evening, to share with my hubby and a friend.  But I didn't, and I don't - and I've been making this same mistake for most of my life - and I never fix it. 

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1090384936411575612004-07-20T23:25:00.000-05:002004-07-20T23:42:16.413-05:00

Eggplant Fries.  Yum-freaking-delish.  Debating whether or not they're really healthier than your standard potato/French/Freedom fry, as I slowly made my way up to the largest take-out menu in the free world, I sang the Itsy Bitsy Spider for the thirteenth time in a row to calm my daughter in the backseat who was ready to eat her foot since she'd been schlepped to upteen appointments that morning

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1089607204410404562004-07-11T23:31:00.000-05:002004-07-11T23:40:04.410-05:00

I have two beautiful children. They certainly can test my patience more than often, but they're still beautiful, wonderful miracles nonetheless. I tell them I love them all the time and that they are loved by many people. Then my little boy usually replies with "I love you too, Mommy." But he's not even three years old yet, and part of me thinks, perhaps, he replies that way because he

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1089319154954775552004-07-08T15:25:00.000-05:002004-07-08T15:39:14.953-05:00

And I'm not talking about the drug. Okay, this is just a rant. What is with these people? There are three reasons for a human being driving a car to go faster than 77 miles per hour. I give you the 7 for kicks. You're bleeding excessively. The person next to you is bleeding excessively. You or someone in your vehicle is giving birth - not just in labor, I mean actively giving birth.

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7510459.post-1088741916658520612004-07-01T22:59:00.000-05:002004-07-01T23:18:36.656-05:00

This is more frightening than I thought it would be. Thinking about things is one thing. Writing them down is another. But putting these thoughts down where someone else might see them? And believe me, if you met me you'd never believe that I thought this was a terrifying thing. Most people would probably think this would be the most natural thing in the world for me. And maybe it should be

MommaMagzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08373650225456058207noreply@blogger.com1