Paging Mr. Hitchcock

WE WENT TO THE BEACH FOR A BUSINESS TRIP. LOOK AT THE SWEET ADORABLE LITTLE SEAGULLS. LET'S FEED THEM SOME LEFTOVER PANCAKES!

OK GIRLS HAVE AT IT!

THE BIRDS ARE OUT OF CONTROL--THEY'RE SCREAMING, FLAPPING, ATTACKING EACH OTHER. BUT THEY WON'T ATTACK ME, I'M SURE....

OW! I JUST GOT ATTACKED BY A BIRD! (SERIOUSLY-ONE PECKED AT ME) MADELEINE SAYS "LEAVE MY MOM ALONE!"

REMAIN CALM. THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL. SEAGULLS DON'T CARRY ANY BIRD FLU RIGHT? RIGHT???

PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABIEEESSSS.......

THE FOOD IS GONE. SO ARE THE GULLS. THAT IS GOOD.

AND I PAID THEM A DOLLAR APIECE TO ACT LIKE THEY LIKED EACH OTHER FOR THE CAMERA.

To Quote Vince Lombardi...

PLAY BALL!!

GO LONG! GO LONG!!

ROUGHING THE KICKER!!

RUN, FORREST, RUN!!

AAAARRRGH!!!! I'VE BEEN HIT!!!

UH-OH...SOME LITTLE WIMPY CRYBABY GOT TACKLED. TIME FOR A PEP TALK QUOTING THE GREAT VINCE LOMBARDI.

LISTEN UP, YOU BIG BABY!! AS MAH HERO SAID....

Winning is not a sometime thing: it's an all the time thing. You don't win once in a while; you don't do the right thing once in a while; you do them right all the time.

Winning is a habit. Unfortunately, so is losing. Winning isn't everything--but wanting to win is. It's easy to have faith in yourself and have discipline when you're a winner, when you're number one. What you've got to have is faith and discipline when you're not yet a winner.

I firmly believe that any man's finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear, is the moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle-victorious.

NO THANKS--CYA!!!!

A Tale Of Two Sisters

A TWO ACT PLAY
FIRST ACT:
Time: Night before Valentine's Day

MEREDITH (on right) Mom, how do you spell 'sister'?

ME: S-I-S-T-E-R.

MEREDITH: Ok! Thanks! (runs off)

Five minutes later

MEREDITH (proudly) Here's your Valentine's Day card! Madeleine, here is one for my SISTER! Here, Daddy!

ME: Why thank you, sweetie! (hug) (Loudly) I can't wait to get one from Madeleine!

SECOND ACT
Time: 9:00 PM, Valentine's Day

ME: Madeleine, where is my Valentine's Day card?

MADELEINE: I don't feel like making you one.

ME: Darling, I need to explain a few things to you. You are a wonderful chid. You have a wonderful mother. (points to self). Your wonderful mother does many wonderful things for you, like making homemade brownies for your class party, buying Girl Scout cookies, purchasing worthless Scholastic Spy Club trinkets for your wonderful hobby of spying. Your mother spends almost every minute of every day thinking of or doing something wonderful for you. However, your wonderful mother might not be quite so, shall we say, motivated to spend all this time in wonderfulness if she wasn't recognized by her wonderful daughter for all of the wonderful things that she does for you.

MADELEINE (sulkily) mmmmmmmmmph.

Time: 10:00 PM, Valentine's Day

MADELEINE: Come here, Mom! (points to laptop) I don't have a printer attachment, but HERE IS YOUR CARD! A lovely American Greetings E-Card plays on the screen.

ME: Thank you, my precious one! (To myself) Lazy, digitally minded, but deep down loving. My tiny, evil soulmate. Now it's time to whip up a card for my husband as fast as possible on the computer.

Oh, The Braces You'll Go!

I did not give birth to you.
But you inherited my teeth.
Are you feeling blue?

I have a bad feeling,
And I rarely am wrong,
I see braces coming,
Before very long.

As Told To Meredith Viera

Health update: Test to determine if I had Rheumatoid Arthritis is back--and it's negative. THANK YOU LAWD.

So I want to share something that's been on my heart with you.

First of all I have no reason to ingratiate myself with Mrs. Melissa Summers of Suburban Bliss. Truth be told, I'm hideously jealous of her for getting to go on national tv. I hate her just a little bit, in a totally harmless non stalker way (smile), for getting more publicity than I do. But what can you do--what can you do that's legal about that? Not a thing, says I.

So Mrs. SB goes on the Today Show with an "expert" and Meredith Viera a/k/a "Hatchet Journalist" and they proceed to lambast her and other mommies who enjoy a cocktail together while supervising their children at play. Meredith (who I adored prior to this) actually asked "Would you let a babysitter do that?"....implying, of course, that the imbibing of one glass of wine while actually MOTHERING children is somehow the same thing as PAID CAREGIVER on the JOB imbibing alcoholic substances (which I heartily disapprove of).

I tell you, I honestly thought this whole thing was a joke when I first heard of it. I thought it was an "Onion" thing. I swear.

Read about the hatchet job here. Mothers must find healthy ways to relieve stress? Just who invented that law? Personally, I'm happy as a wino with a fresh bottle of Muscadine finding unhealthy ways to relieve stress. But, I digress. (Look! I'm a poet!)

So I tried to have a dialogue with Meredith (hereafter known as Santimonious, Unethical, Hypocritcal Journalist Who Admits Having A Relaxing Drink Of Wine Herself) over on her failing Club Mom gig. (Club Mom's ratings are plumetting--no wonder they cut blogger's pay in half over there).

I wrote a comment which, amazingly, has never showed up, so I'm posting it here for posterity.

How I Hit Rock Bottom

It started with an innocuous glass of wine in my tastefully decorated home one day while I invited several freshly bathed, college educated moms over for some relaxing conversation and a glass of the finest wine that Dollar Tree offers. We chatted lightly while our adorable urchins frolicked in the setting sun and felt a true sense of peace with the world.

One year later, after a series of playdates, I found myself smoking crack in a filthy single wide trailer, wearing a Motley Crue T-shirt from 1985 with unidentifiable, but suspicious, stains on it. A small trickle of drool wandered slowly down my chin. I looked over at my husband. He was eating greasy chicken straight from a box and surfing Soldier Of Fortune personal dating websites.

I looked at my friends. They were eating candy bars and guzzling straight whiskey. That's ok. Except that it was my whiskey. I would have to discuss this with them. BYOB-ever heard of that?

I stumbled over many empty pizza cartons and rat droppings to gaze with bleary eyes at my formerly beloved offspring, now reduced to wailing miserably in a tattered crib while wearing a vintage diaper.

I thought back on the day when I was able to find healthy ways to relieve stress. Right now I didn't feel so darn healthy. But, on the upside, I certainly did not feel stressed!

One takes what one can get.

So, Thanks

Q&A:

So how are you doing?

Well, first of all, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for all the loving messages and support. Thank you.

I'm still sore--joint aches-- but it will take some time. Maybe three months! I'm able to function though even though I hate taking painkillers. I feel like a wimp.

You're not taking HORMONES are you? Don't they cause breast cancer?

Have all your hormones removed--go from 70 miles an hour to zero instantly--and get back to me on how that is going.

Also, did you know that testosterone feeds the growth of prostate cancer? Direct link established by impeccable research. It's a fact that most all men will get some form of prostate cancer some day if they live long enough.... Any men out there up for having their testosterone producing organs removed?

Please see this study--"No added breast cancer risk for estrogen only replacement therapy after hysterectomy."

This was also supported by the famous study by WHI that convinced many women to give up hormone therapy. Please note that the women who had an increase in breast cancer/strokes were taking both progestins and estrogen, not just estrogen.

Please see this study from the Mayo Clinic (a reputable bunch, no?) that predicts a 70% increase in mortality for women in my age group in my situation WITHOUT estrogen therapy. Yes, you read that right. A SEVENTY PERCENT INCREASE IN MORTALITY.

Here's a book written by a professor of medicine at Harvard--that is cautiously in favor of moderate hormone replacement therapy for younger women.

Even women with the awful genes for breast cancer can take hormone replacement after this surgery.

Ok, so what next?

I want to go to Disney World. I want to take some pictures. I want to repaint the family room. I want to comment on the idea that a glass of wine at a playdate is tantamount to smoking crack while entertaining gentleman callers while your neglected baby cries in a rickety crib. I want to forget about this for awhile.

Soon I will!