Solanum melongena and I love you

Good Morning my little aubergine friend. I want to thank you for the time you have been sharing with me this hot and sunny Summer.

Although your father and I decided long ago that we were done having children. We had moved from Apgar scores to Abecrombie in the blink of an eye. Yet the yearning to give it another go became too much and there you are. You adorable little guinea squash of ours.

I want to thank you for the pleasure you give as I go out to visit you and water you in the afternoon sun.


You have never asked for money or a ride to the mall. You have never flushed your cell phone down the toilet or in a fit of rage yelled the "f" word at your fellow Burpee Hybrids. You don't sneak off to friend's houses to dye your hair pink and then cry for 2 days when it turns a dull puce after swimming in your friend's pool. Never once, Baba Ganoush, have you dressed up our cat in American Girl doll clothes or demanded we start calling you Mrs Justin Beiber. I have never once seen your thong purposely sticking out of your yoga pants nor have I seen your butt hanging out of your Hollister cutoff micromini super short shorts.

My little Moussaka, you look solemn and studious yet I often wonder if when you grow bigger only to spend hours trying to hack into the cable box to unlock "Teen Mom" and "The Jersey Shore" all the while ignoring homework until minutes before school. Could you text FML (meaning " 'F' My Life) to your friends when I refuse to purchase a $150 extension for your hair? Will you change your status to "My MOM is a BEAST!!!" on Facebook?

I think not Eggplant....I think not.....

As you grow big and plump E.P. always know that you were wanted and your father and I love you. We enjoy your quiet nature and your positive disposition. Soon the time will come that we will be moving you out of your warm, earthy homestead and into our place. Be kind to your 2 sisters, for they know not what they do. Stay away from the puce haired one with the soggy phone and don't respond when the shorter one approaches you with lipstick, a cat and duct tape.


Love Mama Ratatoulle

Marching on

March in New England can be a cold proposition. 2011 has been no exception. On the tailend of a particularly horrific winter, I find myself in the doldrums of being tired of those wool sweaters I unpacked with reckless abandon on September 1st (even though it was still 80 degrees.) Like a junky needing a fix...any sign of sunlight gives me the urge to wear a t-shirt outside regardless of temperature to soak up some much needed Vitamin D. I miss the ladybugs who plagued my house right up until Halloween.


This sets the scene of last weekend. Off to Plymouth to celebrate a family birthday with an overnight to an old inn overlooking the beach. No snow on the ground and the smell of salt in the air.

• Did my kids need sunscreen?-no


• Could we go in the water?-no


• Was it as cold as any other day this Winter? yes

But there is something about the Atlantic when you are a New Englander

Is it the way you feel when you wake up to see frolicking seals getting their breakfast?

Or the sound of the Herring Gulls mocking my nephews as they chase them down the beach?

Could it be watching your kids play with their cousins on a jetty daring the waves to splash them?

...and then watching them get splashed

I think so.....the salt in our blood comes from the Atlantic. No matter how cold the water is, its calming force washes over our souls with warmth and comfort.

For some it's the North Shore, for some it's the South Shore. It could be The Harbor or The Bay. Before The Bridge or after The Bridge. Upper Cape or Lower Cape. For some its the view from a small island somewhere between.... It's always there.

"We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came."
~John F Kennedy

Is it Time?

Having crossed over.... I:


Take prilosec every day since my insides are too lazy to process anything important like yogurt or something more complex like....water

No longer get acne (hell it's only taken howwwww many years?)

Tweet (if Demi Moore can do it...so can I)

Drink Vodka...well to give the prilosec something really interesting to work on.

Am losing my inner monologue...but only in bed

Say "what the hell is that?" in most situations (noises, cars driving by, see above, reviewing report cards, designer dogs)

Am finding it more appropriate to lust after older gentlemen....I find myself saying "you know...that Robert Duvall is still quite attractive"

Can no longer "suck" anything in (other than perhaps a shot of Patron) and rely on outside forces also known as spanx

Say things like "she should be grounded" "what is she wearing" "where are her parents?" "she should be wearing a bra you know"...sometimes at the TV...sometimes at Hollister

No longer pay attention to ANYTHING...including this conference call

No More Minivan...now I have a Crossover thingy

I have also crossed over into my 40's

I am crossing over into being a parent of a teen

I am just cross

but then again we all have crosses to bear

I am back................

What a DRAG it is....

getting old..

And yes...I am 40 now. So is fellow blogger Kristine. Sometimes blogger Alicia is still in my eyes a fetus...just kidding, she's actually 10x more mature than I am.

So today I was "not working" at work, cruising around the internet and saw the following picture and thought..."oh no, oh no no no." Obviously not over Britney but Madonna. Yes she is in stellar shape as I could probably bounce quarters off 100 percent of her stealth body. But ..no...no...no, this is not a good representation of what the next part of my life should look like....dear lord make it stop.

The other drag about getting old is the other picture I stumbled upon and stared at for 10-15 min (ok half an hour) .

Cute E Pie. Mr Zac Efron. Yup born in 1987... So yes, as they were cutting the umbillical cord, I was in college doing keg stands...

Please don't mention this to my children, but I actually tried to imagine what it would be like to kiss him ....and then felt completely perverted.

"Coo coo ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson ?"

So, does a perverted 40 year old need a role model and start lusting after men my own age?

Perhaps....

Ok ok, how about Julia (role model) and Daniel (lust)

Election Day

Happy Election Day 2008!!!

I can't help but post some motivational posters I found on line. Not to be disrespectful to anyone. They are just freakin funny. Anyone who knows me well could probably take a stab at my political views. But I won't be blogging about that today. I already voted.

Hopefully these photos will offend everyone equally.

See I can make fun of both parties!!

As I drove to the polls this morning saying to myself "I am a good American, I am a good American" (no kidding, I really do that for some reason, I do the same thing after church but substitute "Person" for "American"). I remembered the first polls I went to. 1976, I was 8 years old and my mom brought me over to the high school to watch her vote. My mom was a very liberal person and did not attempt to hide the fact that she was voting for Jimmy Carter. I am sure I was in hand at the 1972 election as well, but I was too young to remember. I remember at 8 years old feeling the excitement watching on our TV as the person MY MOM voted for was elected. I often wish I felt as electrified as an adult.

The experience did leave an impression on me. As soon as I could register to vote, I was proud to go to the very same place my mom voted and punched my ballot for Mike Dukakis...the results weren't as favorable as my 1976 experience.

As the years went by, I continued to vote as the campaigns shifted toward the younger generation where we would "ROCK the vote."

Like my mom, I brought my daughter Cat to vote. The first election that she will probably remember was in 2004. Little sister Cal was left with the hubster (prone to tantrums-both of them) and I gave Cat an inspirational speech about being an American from the captains chair of my minivan. Although she appeared to be completely unmoved by my speech she was happy to get a lollipop and sticker when we left the polls.

This year...I didn't bring them. I was on my way to work and did not have time to run them back home (no school today). I thought "eh, no big deal" "Cat is so nosey these days she will no doubt tell everyone who I voted for anyways."

Behind me in line was a dad with 2 young daughters. He let them find their precinct, took them in the booth and one of them held the ballot as he left the booth (they were too young to even figure out what the black blobs on the paper meant). Admittedly, I did feel a pang of remorse for not bringing my girls to a very important event.

So take your kids, tantrums and all. It will make you feel good and let them understand what being an American is about.

~T

Mother of the Year...please step forward

Part of being "mother of the year" now 10 years and running was priding myself on the fact that my 2 children rarely got into bed with me and the hubster. After a short "ferberization" as a toddler, Cat was a sound sleeper and Cal just wore herself out so severely she rarely got out of bed for any reason.

Thus the extreme patting on the back for myself whenever I heard tales of woe regarding hard sleepers. I think to myself ...I am a good mother...I must be doing something right...RESILIANT CHILDREN=GOOD PARENTING

Not so fast...

Last week, we ventured to Salem, MA for a haunting good time.

We went to the Witch Museum, shopped and took in the local Halloween fun. I was very careful to make sure that we didn't do anything that would frighten the kids...

Then... it happened....I was in a gift shop with my 2 girls and I heard a "tap tap tap" on the window. I looked up to see a 300lb man with a bloody clown mask on and a huge wooden mallet waving to us. Like any good mother I took off as fast as I could across the store out of harms way....without my children. He worked at the store, but regardless...I did completely abandon my children with the scary clown

Then once I came to my senses and gathered up my children to move on to some more shops, we happened upon a haunted house type of area... I was minding my own business (I was staring at really cute witch hats actually) when a man dressed like a mad scientist popped out of a door and grabbed me and said "what are you doing" (no doubt another person in character). This time I screamed and went into a full sprint. At this point, my husband was there with the kids, but there is no doubt in my mind that it was every man (or child) for themselves.

So in conclusion, I realize that my kids are completely resilient due to the fact that they know their mom offers absolutely no protection for them in the event of "the boogeyman." Crawling in bed with mom and dad offers little comfort as I am the biggest "fraidy cat" on the planet.

I will take my mother of the year award now...thank you

~T