tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-217323542013-05-23T11:53:50.410-04:00I don't know what I'm doing eitherMom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.comBlogger859125http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g240/lizcoolmompicks/mom10118x70.jpgtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-4401832193267332052011-06-18T13:39:00.001-04:002011-06-18T13:54:42.299-04:002011-06-18T13:54:42.299-04:00

Thanks for visiting! So good to see you here. The only thing is...I'm not actually here. Long gone from blogspot. This is actually Future Me talking to you back here from another dimension. Very Marty McFly. But that's okay--you can come with me! Kindly visit Mom-101.com and find fresh, fabulous new content and a purdy design. You can subscribe to my feed at http://feeds.feedburner.com/mom-101/

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-64856589630688687122011-06-04T20:20:00.000-04:002011-06-04T20:20:45.964-04:002011-06-04T20:20:45.964-04:00

I survived sleep training and potty training mostly unscathed. I've gone through the terrible twos, and the more terrible threes. Twice.  But I am not sure I have yet experienced anything as daunting, in my short years of parenthood, as working the school carnival. As the face painter. For the record, it is even more stressful than Bouncy Castle Duty, although on the upside, you do not have to

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-33068487806235544982011-06-02T07:58:00.001-04:002011-06-02T10:33:32.258-04:002011-06-02T10:33:32.258-04:00

I still remember the argument. I stood in the front entrance of my mother's house, jacket still on, barely settled when my stepfather started in on me. We weren't nearly as close then--he was older, grumpy and closed-minded; I was young, brash and closed-minded. Two Virgos. What a surprise. The accusation had to do with my profession of choice. Two years out of college, evidently working my way

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-89567231356428194152011-05-31T07:30:00.000-04:002011-05-31T07:30:30.041-04:002011-05-31T07:30:30.041-04:00

Last night I determined that the Real Housewives of New Jersey, is, in fact educational. I learned the word Ingredientses. Last season I was introduced to the new accepted plural of the word woman: womens. Also, as Cheryl reminded me on Twitter, last week we were schooled in the interchangeable application of delicatessen and delicacy. As in,  I know, I know... [Fois Gras] is a delicatessen in

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-18698137891112700132011-05-30T07:48:00.001-04:002011-09-15T17:23:57.719-04:002011-09-15T17:23:57.719-04:00

   Take that, all you fancy Hamptons people.

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-55920954615433054562011-05-24T11:48:00.003-04:002011-05-24T12:43:45.520-04:002011-05-24T12:43:45.520-04:00

This post is part of a two-part series sponsored by Yahoo! Mail which lets you connect with the people you lurve. You can read the first one about my mom's awesome emails here. Last week, I had the pleasure of speaking on a panel in New York moderated by the always inspiring  (and well-dressed) Samantha Ettus, about mommy guilt. Despite the topic--and an audience made up of nearly entirely

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-79274122815302307812011-05-23T10:35:00.002-04:002011-05-23T10:42:01.150-04:002011-05-23T10:42:01.150-04:00

Right now I have little kids. I have yet to worry about things like texting (oy), sexting (eek), and Chat Roulette (kill me now). But I am already thinking a lot about trust. And privacy. And how the two don't always jibe. Starting now, I tell my kids that they can ask me any question however silly or embarrassing or incriminating. I think that's an essential first step. But let's be honest--

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-44435011097830034762011-05-22T07:10:00.000-04:002011-05-22T07:10:57.341-04:002011-05-22T07:10:57.341-04:00

Hi. We're still here. Just wanted to let you know, since I haven't posted in a few days. So yeah--no apocalyptic disasters, no doomsday scenarios, no flying off to heaven yesterday. No mythic figures in flowing white robes, unless you count my stepfather coming out of the shower. We did allow the kids three whole turns on the carousel at Bear Mountain. Which, I suppose when you're five, is

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-36322977044144342222011-05-16T14:26:00.002-04:002011-05-16T14:33:17.013-04:002011-05-16T14:33:17.013-04:00

I hate throwing parties. I mean, I love having thrown a party but the actual planning part consumes me with stress.   What if no one comes? What if they say they will come and don't? What if everyone hates each other? What if it rains so no one comes? What if it's sunny so no one comes? What if the party is crashed by a group of drunken hooligans? What if the drunken hooligan is Nate? And he's

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com95tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-87429848646400762492011-05-11T08:09:00.001-04:002011-05-11T08:11:12.848-04:002011-05-11T08:11:12.848-04:00

I'm not entirely sure how this became four. How a helpless, sweet, do-nothing lump of peachy cheeks and juicy baby thighs could become the force of nature that is Sage. Sage, you are a confident, independent, self-assured human being--for four, or any age. Trust me, as one who has been through quite a few of those ages. Your confidence is on brilliant display through your humor, your

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-39807854834265502662011-05-09T09:12:00.000-04:002011-05-09T09:12:30.501-04:002011-05-09T09:12:30.501-04:00

We sat in the rickety, patina-ed patio chairs of the ordinarily hipster-packed Brooklyn restaurant, delighted for the first al fresco dinner of the season. There were a few other mothers there too, mostly with grown children, and I could feel their eyes on us. There was that sweet longing. That melancholy recognition of their own early Mother's Days. You could imagine the inner dialogue, the how

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-22696438584174902542011-05-05T14:39:00.003-04:002011-05-05T15:06:54.944-04:002011-05-05T15:06:54.944-04:00

This post is part of a two-part series sponsored by Yahoo! Mail. It's something I've been meaning to write anyway. I am a saver. I have the shoeboxes (and baskets and files and more boxes) to show for it; cards from my grandmother, notes passed in grade school, mementos from vacations, flower petals from celebrations so long ago I have no idea who gave them to me. All of them live in my home,

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-19670326996896310592011-05-04T16:02:00.000-04:002011-05-04T16:02:25.666-04:002011-05-04T16:02:25.666-04:00

This week, in time for Mother's Day, I'm so hugely honored to be a part of an iVillage feature on Work After Baby: Inspiring Stories From Inspiring Moms. I somehow managed to sneak in at number 25 (out of 25), joining amazing women like Kathleen Sebelius, Jennifer Garner, Samantha Bee, Deborah Norville, and my new friend, the extra-amazing  Kelly Wallace. Seriously. This woman is very full of

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-50374351577405222412011-05-03T05:35:00.004-04:002011-05-05T10:44:12.236-04:002011-05-05T10:44:12.236-04:00

18 months ago, I wrote about my brother's niece Florence. Florence is Thalia's age. Her mom and my sister-in-law and I were all pregnant at the same time, comparing belly growth and whining about nausea. Florence was a perfectly normal, sweet, funny baby and then toddler - I still remember the first time my girls, and my brother's two girls, and Florence and her sister all raced around the

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com71tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-87196832729369017372011-05-02T07:51:00.001-04:002011-05-02T08:51:01.737-04:002011-05-02T08:51:01.737-04:00

This morning I woke up to a sliver or orange sun rising over the northern Florida Atlantic and stood out on the hotel room terrace to watch it grow. A brief moment of zen far from the images of rage and celebration and triumph that are flooding the media in the wake of Bin Laden's death. I am glad we killed the terrorist fuck, no doubt about it. I hope he rots in whatever version of hell he

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-20527233488520713682011-04-29T09:59:00.000-04:002011-04-29T09:59:15.945-04:002011-04-29T09:59:15.945-04:00

This week, I was minding my own business on the commute to work, picking my nose, reading about the Beastie Boys, daydreaming about cheese, adjusting a wedgie--whatever things you do in the privacy of a packed A-train car filled with anonymous commuters. As the train pulled up to the West 4th Street station, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to face this young woman with the sweetest smile

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com54tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-28061938030231562852011-04-28T12:30:00.001-04:002011-04-28T12:31:10.936-04:002011-04-28T12:31:10.936-04:00

Today, I want to wish a very happy birthday to the father of my children. The maker of the dinners, the arbiter of the playlist, the master of the remote, the orderer of the wine, the pusher of the buttons, the teller of the fart jokes, the lover of animals, the dreamer of big dreams,  the devotee of all pork products. And the guy who is just hilarious enough to do this to his arms. Permanently

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-72875219328799261922011-04-25T21:53:00.000-04:002011-04-25T21:53:06.090-04:002011-04-25T21:53:06.090-04:00

Tonight, the kids begged me to stay up an extra few minutes to watch a little of Happy Days. Why a 3 and 5 year-old might be interested, I have no idea. Now maybe it has something to do with me singing the theme song to them as babies in the middle of the night when I couldn't think of anything else besides Eye of the Tiger. Or maybe it's somehow genetic. I was a Happy Days addict as a kid. It

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com51tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-34963151367654930422011-04-24T09:02:00.000-04:002011-04-24T09:02:28.228-04:002011-04-24T09:02:28.228-04:00

 1.2.  3.

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-89125571041065492742011-04-22T11:41:00.001-04:002011-04-22T11:43:08.781-04:002011-04-22T11:43:08.781-04:00

Passover blindsided me this year. One minute I'm in New Orleans, whooping it up over praline bacon, the next I'm home thinking oh shoot...Seder. Not that I feel it's necessary to have a Seder. I'm of a member of the Not Particularly God-y sect of Jewishness, which is definitely a giant step below Reform on the pious ladder. But I have always loved the culture and the traditions and the wonderful

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-19554559322317667702011-04-20T10:32:00.003-04:002011-04-20T13:58:23.504-04:002011-04-20T13:58:23.504-04:00

There was this one moment Friday night in New Orleans, after a fantastic dinner at Méson 923,  when the owners invited a few of us to the kitchen to meet the chef. (That kind of thing happens a lot when you procreate with another trained chef.) I realized immediately that Nate, not quite the social butterfly, was himself in that environment. He was relaxed. He was so at home walking around

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-8204095490237634792011-04-13T11:50:00.001-04:002011-04-22T12:46:45.999-04:002011-04-22T12:46:45.999-04:00

No sooner did the comments (amazing, amazing comments!) on my last post about working moms start coming in, that I knew a follow-up was in order. Something about this notion of "doing it all." Because it seems that whether we work out of the home or not, one thing so many of us seem to have in common is this struggle with balance; the feeling that maybe we do too much. (And God, don't you hate

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com80tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-38924044521386958732011-04-11T10:41:00.002-04:002011-04-11T11:06:51.739-04:002011-04-11T11:06:51.739-04:00

Last week, in one of the highlights of my year (and okay, life), I was honored to sit down in a small group of New York-based writers over lattes and lemon pancakes, along with Anna Quindlen. She is only one of my all-time favorite writers, and possibly yours too, if you're a parent who writes. As Lisa Belkin so aptly put it, Anna's 1980's New York Times column, Life in the 30's was in a sense,

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com111tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-3691453959361591282011-04-10T10:39:00.001-04:002011-04-10T10:40:28.285-04:002011-04-10T10:40:28.285-04:00

My kid are playing earthquake with their dollhouse right now. They're shaking it and flinging it around, and they've broken a bunkbed and a window in the process. I've scolded them to be careful. I spent four hours building that damn thing. I overhear Thalia say, "The mom's birthday was the worst birthday ever because of the earthquake." I hear Sage say, "Happy birthday! Let's all have a party!

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-3521729471114350232011-04-05T17:10:00.002-04:002011-04-13T11:12:37.959-04:002011-04-13T11:12:37.959-04:00

I just received a pitch that is far too awesome not to reprint verbatim. Pamper yourself or your mom with the comfort she deserves this Mother's DayHi Liz, Life moves too quickly. Help rejuvenate your mom with a day at the spa, indulge her with chocolates and flowers, help her relax and slow down from her fast-paced world full of deadlines, commitments and obligations. And help her be more

Mom101http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899noreply@blogger.com72