theundercovermom

Nobody Puts the Feldmans in a Corner

2008-02-17T08:57:00.001-05:00

Last night, we decided to take our kids out to dinner with us on our usual "date night." Our son had just been diagnosed the day before with strep so rather than risk infecting his grandma, we took the pair out with us to somewhere new. One of my mom friends recommended this Westchester restaurant on her website so I figured, even if we had to drive 40 minutes to get there, it still would be worth the trip.

When we arrived, we were told there would be a 35 minute wait, even though I had called earlier and they said we wouldn't have a problem getting in. And so, while the kids whined about the fact that they were "starving," we took a seat near the bar and ordered a pizza while we waited to be seated.

After about 45 minutes had passed, the hostess finally came over to get us and pointed to a table that was a few feet away from where we were sitting. At first, we figured if the kids made noise, that spot would be perfect, but then reality set in. Every time someone opened the door, we'd instantly feel a 20 degree drop in the room temperature. Then, it took about 10 minutes for the waiter to come over and take our order and when I asked for a chardonnay, it took him another 30 minutes to come back and inform me that they had run out of the wine he had recommended. Annoyed, I ordered a diet coke - which didn't arrive for another 20 minutes.

But the most aggravating part of the evening was the bar scene. If you plan to take your kids to a restaurant and they seat you next to a bar and there is a long wait for tables, expect to start feeling incredibly claustrophobic when the crowd starts spilling over to your table. As dozens of people entered the bar, I watched as two women inched closer to where we were sitting. At one point, I think my son got slugged in the head with a handbag and we would have offered them an appetizer if someone had finally brought some food over to us. And as the bursts of cold air, lack of a beverage and overcrowding situation worsened, I went ballistic and was ready to bolt.

My husband then complained to the hostess for sticking us in the worst corner of the restaurant and when he told her we'd like to take our check and leave, she called over the manager and he instantly found us a table inside. As fate would have it, the table was next to another door which opened continuously and caused a draft every time someone opened it, but at least it was away from the bar scene.

My whole beef about the evening was a simple one - why do restaurants discriminate against families? I mean, I wouldn't want to eat at a place where there were screaming kids around who were causing a scene, but my children have been trained to be well-behaved since we eat out all the time. I've had it with the poor service, putting us in a bad location and the obliviousness of other people who have no problem standing within two inches from our table while they're waiting for their own.

So what's our takeaway from this experience? Don't trust other people's restaurant recommendations? Don't bring your kids to a restaurant that's not kid friendly? Suck it up and deal with poor service? Or just eat at home? While we may not dine at that restaurant again, what we do know is that if we ever get faced with a situation like this again, we will make one major request: nobody puts the Feldmans in a corner.

My Candidate is Better Than Yours

2008-02-04T14:37:00.000-05:00

3rd Grade Language Arts Homework by Rebecca Feldman Assignment: Use the words divergent, career, humble, boastful, humility and memorable in a sentence: My mom and dad have divergent views of who should be the next president. My mom is voting for Hillary Clinton and my dad is definitely not. My mom admires her career and thinks she is a humble woman. However, my dad thinks she is a boastful person who lacks humility. I don’t know who will be president this year but the election will be a memorable one. If you thought Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger were the only married couple in America who have opposing views of who they believe is the best candidate for president, think again. Tonight, on the eve of Super Tuesday, my husband and I will not be arguing over whose turn it is to take out the garbage, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’m digging in my heels and supporting Hillary Clinton, as he prepares to stand by his man, Republican frontrunner John McCain.

How could two people who are compatible in every way veer off in a completely different direction when it comes to politics? It beats me, but as long as I’ve known him, my financially savvy spouse has always leaned toward the right, while me, a creative spirit with a bleeding heart, is as left as they come. And now, even our kids have taken sides.

When we asked who they hoped would win the election, my daughter announced she was supporting Hillary Clinton because she wants her to become the first woman president. My five year old son took a simpler approach - selecting Republican Mike Huckabee because he likes the sound of his name. So tonight, as we gather round the kitchen table debating the merits of our respective candidates, while we may be pulling different levers on election day, it doesn’t mean we love each other any less. It’s just that when it comes to politics, sometimes you can agree to disagree.

Searching for Becca Fisher

2008-01-19T16:52:00.000-05:00

When I read about the untimely death of champion chess player Bobby Fisher, I really didn't think much about it. I vaguely remember the movie I saw about him being a chess-playing phenom as a kid, but other than that, the news of his passing didn't make that much of an impression. That is, until this morning.

As we prepared to spend a day running errands or figuring out what to do with our kids, my daughter came running into the den waving a form in my face. "Mommy, my chess teacher said I need to be in this tournament and it's today." Nothing like a little advanced warning.

After re-reading the sheet about five times, I reached the fine print section and noticed that after I forked over $50, my daughter could enter the chess match and compete. Lucky for us, one of her best friends was selected by the teacher to play too, so our friend drove them over in time to register and we decided to meet her there - thinking we'd spend about 1-2 hours watching her play a few rounds.

When we arrived, the hallways were teaming with kids of all ages - from kindergarteners to fifth graders - who knew that chess was so popular? While kids played chess in carefully guarded classrooms, parents were instructed to stay far away from the door so that we didn't screw up their concentration or shout out pointers. If only my dad weren't allowed to watch my tennis matches when I was a kid - I probably would have won a few more games. But back to Becca...

After spending four hours at the school - doing whatever we could to entertain our son (thank you Nintendo), Becca emerged exhausted and victorious. She won the first round, lost the second, tied the third and won the last round - which meant she qualified for a medal! Even better, after all the points were tallied, her school came in first place out of seven other schools - earning them the championship trophy. The parents couldn't have been prouder and the kids were thrilled - for a moment I felt like I was in that "Akeelah and the Bee Movie." As other kids trotted around with private school jerseys and t-shirts promoting their chess club, my happy go lucky kid who attends public school won a medal at her very first chess match. Today the school championship, tomorrow the state!

And just think, I started my day thinking we'd be buying bananas and luncheon meat. Sure I don't have groceries, but I do have a chess-playing daughter who can also crochet, ice skate and is pretty damn good at gymnastics too. My Becca never ceases to amaze me. And that's the ultimate joy of being a parent - watching our kids try their best and pursue the things they love. Gotta bolt...Becca is giving me my very first chess lesson!

The Uninvited Guest

2008-01-09T21:33:00.000-05:00

I officially had the grossest experience to date in my ongoing quest to be a free wheeling Manhattan entrepreneur. While lunching at Maggie's in midtown with a former colleague, I placed my bag on the floor and didn't think much about that decision as we caught up on lost time. After lunch, I grabbed my bag, slipped it on my shoulder and walked over to my new office near Grand Central Station. While I checked in at security, I looked down into my bag and saw IT peering up at me.

It must have been the size of my hand - okay - it wasn't that huge but all I knew was it was big, brown, with tentacles flaring and it was taking up residence in my monster purse. I'm convinced it was a cockroach, water bug, cricket or some other humongous creature that had pranced into my bag and was creeping on top of my folders, Jenny Craig snacks and my laptop case, searching for something to nibble on.

As the security guard attempted to take my photo so he could print out my temporary ID card, I could hardly speak. I then started wriggling around, trying to figure out how to get rid of the roach. I finally managed to ask the guard for a napkin and he still couldn't understand why I was freaking out until he came around the bend to inspect my bag and saw the creepy crawler ducking for cover. He then handed me a towel and I crushed the thing, like a bug. Wait not like a bug, I actually crushed the bug and handed the towel back to the guard. I then smiled and posed for my picture.

As Cindy Adams says, "Only in New York kids, Only in New York."

Was it Something I Said?

2007-12-27T20:44:00.000-05:00

I think I have a complex. Or it might just be a rude neighbor. You see, a few days ago, I was shopping with my husband and kids and we noticed a mom I knew shopping with her young daughter and when I walked over to say hello, she snubbed me. I mean, I even called out her name and she did that "I'm pretending not to see you look" that I've used dozens of times on people I don't want to say hello to because then I'll be caught in a conversation with someone I really don't feel like speaking with in the first place.

Wait a second. Did she pull "the snub" on me because she wanted to avoid me? Am I annoying? Or someone she doesn't want to even acknowledge even though I practically see her every day at my kids' school? Was it something I said, or didn't say? I have to admit, it was rude of me to not buy her a baby gift when she gave birth about a year ago, but I didn't think she'd hold it against me.

Come to think of it - she's not the only person who purposely snubs me even though I know she knows exactly who I am. There's one mom in particular - I actually wrote about her about a year ago in a post called The Witches of Preschool - she is by far the Queen of all snubbers in my neighborhood. I can't tell you the dozens of times I've seen her at school, in the supermarket, the post office, and even at my own kids' birthday party and she pretends not to see me or will carry on a conversation with another mom and act as if I'm not in the room. I don't know what I did to her either, but she is by far the rudest snubber I've ever met - except of course for my cousin.

Yes, my own relative has snubbed me on numerous occasions. Even though we live approximately 1/4 mile from each other, we are practically in another country - I'm in New Rochelle, she's in Scarsdale - in a gi-normous mansion. I've never been invited to her home and have told my parents on numerous occasions that we should just ring and run just so we can check out her expansive foyer. One time, she even snubbed me as we were walking into a Chinese restaurant and she was walking out. She gave me that "I'm looking over your head" so I don't see you snub - a classic.

I am really growing tired of being snubbed by rude women and relatives and while I may be partly to blame, why can't people stop being oblivious for a change? I know I'm guilty of snubbing people from time to time, so maybe in the New Year, I'll make a point to smile when people try to catch my attention. Say hello when someone calls my name and never ignore my neighbor. Wait, I just discovered the 11th commandment - Thou Shalt Not Snub.

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Old Feet and Other Commuter Pet Peeves

2007-12-13T19:49:00.000-05:00

I hearby make a citizen's arrest. In the name of cleanliness, manners and plain old decency, I proclaim this fellow commuter guilty. Guilty of assuming that his seat aboard a Metronorth train doubles as a Lazy Boy recliner. Last I checked, thousands of people sit down exactly in the spot where those foul looking feet were parked today. And trust me, while I managed to sneak in this shot, you should have seen him go to town on his ear wax.

I know when you step on a train many of us get lost in our own world - listening to music, watching a DVD, reading the newspaper, a great book, or in my case, meeting my favorite girlfriends for the most enjoyable part of our day. So when I see someone plant his feet on the very spot where Robin, Mardene, Susan, Lauren and I sat earlier today, I just get utterly disgusted.

There have to be some commuter rules to follow and if you violate one of them, you get taken to task by the commuter police or by me and my 8:48 posse. So here are seven tried and true commuter rules to live by and if you happen to have been riding the 4:23pm train to Scarsdale today in your bare socks, I hope you're paying attention:

1. Do not under any circumstances take your shoes off on the train and stretch out your odor eaters on the seat in front of you.

2. If you choose to sit in a six seater and five talkative women nudge their way in so they can launch into their early morning coffee klatch, make sure your bags are off the seat and do not roll your eyes when they cover 10 topics in 33 minutes. Besides, you may learn a thing or two if you decide to eavesdrop on the conversation.

3. If someone is talking loudly on their cell phone, you are allowed to tell them to keep it down. If a working mom is talking on her cell phone - back off Buster - she's either on a conference call or trying to take care of all the loose ends in her day and make it home in time to relieve her nanny. If you attempt to rattle her cage, trust me, she'll bite your head off.

4. If you accidentally spill a beverage on the floor and the liquid proceeds to roll down the aisle and seep next to the leather briefcase of a fellow commuter, don't pretend you don't know whose drink it is. Use those extra napkins you swiped from that Dunkin Donuts dispenser and mop up your mess.

5. Don't leave your newspaper on the seat after you leave. Who do you think is going to clean up after you? Your mother? It's your responsibility to clean up after yourself - not the train conductor.

6. Don't interrupt the poker players. If you see them congregating in their favorite four seater with their oak tag spread out on their laps, a serious game of five card stud is taking place - either observe and be amazed or move to another row - those poker games can get rowdy.

7. Deodorant may be bad for the ozone layer, but it's required for rush hour train rides.

The commuter code of ethics isn't tough to follow - so think before you do something offensive aboard your train, subway or cross town bus - you never know when the undercover mom is watching.

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The Sanitation Mom

2007-12-09T19:00:00.000-05:00

Can someone explain to me why I am the human trash can in my family? It's not like I've volunteered for the job but somehow, when my kids are finished with their gum, their drinks or their tissues, they don't hold onto their refuse. Oh no. Why do that when you have the Sanitation Mom sitting right in front of you chauffering them around from one activity to another?

Picture the scene. We're running late, as usual and I've given the kids a quick snack so they won't complain that they're famished the minute we hit the open road. Within one minute and forty five seconds one of them has finished their juice box and granola bar and I can feel little fingers tapping me on my shoulder as I'm trying to make a right turn.

"Mommy, here's my garbage, take it."

I don't know when I became the wastebasket but even when my husband is around, they instantly hand me their half eaten snacks so that I can magically make the garbage disappear. And when we're outside of the car, my role as Sanitation Mom kicks in at movie theaters, festivals, museums, the zoo - there is not a place in the tri-state area that I haven't traversed where my kids have used me to get rid of their trash.

Now I know I should just tell them, it's your garbage, you find a place to dispose of it, but frankly it's just easier to take care of the mess rather than let something smelly fester in the back seat of my minivan. And besides, at least I know I'm not alone in my garbage duties. There are other parents who have become voluntary sanitation workers too.

Just yesterday, I was in the supermarket on the check out line while a sweet looking three year old was savoring a piece of mozzarella cheese on a toothpick. As his dad was busy packing up their groceries and paying the cashier, the tyke held out the toothpick motioning to his dad. When his father didn't pay attention to his directive to relieve him of the toothpick, the whining began to commence.

"Daddy....take this away!" he whined. And within one second, the dad grabbed the toothpick and proceeded to drop it on the same conveyer belt where my groceries were about to be deposited. Now that is just plain offensive. If you have accepted the role of Sanitation Mom or Dad it is your obligation to dispose of all waste in a trash receptacle. If you can't live up to the demands of the job, then you must instruct your child that they must hold onto said toothpick until they can find a trash can themselves and drop it where it belongs.

I never realized that there is a code of Sanitation Mom ethics, but there is. Just like the tell-tale phrase, you break it, you pay, the same holds true for garbage. They give you their trash - you throw it out. And if you break the rules, then maybe your kid can take on garbage duty themselves. Dare to dream. Dare to dream.

Old Yeller

2007-11-19T06:37:00.000-05:00

I finally volunteered for my very first class trip this past week and it was truly an experience I won't forget. When I first arrived, I was pleased to see many of my favorite mom friends had volunteered for the trip too so we gossiped a bit in the hallway while we waited for the class to head our way and hit the bus. After about 15 minutes, we finally saw their smiling faces accompanied by a shrill voice that instantly harkened back memories of the time I came face to face with a teacher I'd like to call Old Yeller.

Before I share my childhood tale, let's go back to the school trip. All the kids boarded the bus and then the parents filed in and grabbed the remaining seats and suddenly, the voice erupted again, shocking everything and everyone in its wake. If you can think of the most piercing, nasal sound that can pretty much be heard in the next county, then you can imagine what we all encountered when Old Yeller started reprimanding kids left and right for talking too loud, sticking out their hands in the aisle, singing, turning around in their seats - if someone was making trouble, Old Yeller was right on the case. And she literally scared the beejezus out of me because I was directly in back of her!

As she kept on shouting out threats to the kids - "This will be your last school trip if you do that again," I began to reminisce, or shall I rephrase that by saying my encounter with this drill sargeant brought back frightful memories of a teacher's aide who used to rule the lunchroom at my elementary school in Brooklyn, NY. Her name was Mrs. Boyarsky and honestly, I don't know if she's still alive today because she was probably close to fifty back then and that was over 30 years ago. Mrs. Boyarsky was the original Old Yeller. If someone was acting up in the lunchroom, you could hear her voice clear across the room honing in on the offender and then pulling them out against the wall where they spent the rest of their lunch facing the gated windows and re-thinking that wedgie they gave their fourth grade classmate.

For real trouble makers, if Mrs. Boyarsky caught you doing something really out of line - like wrestling or fighting over who had the better bologna sandwich that day, she'd be on you like a prison warden and would pull you out of your seat, you'd stand for the rest of the period on her makeshift police line-up and then hit the Principal's office.

While I was a self-proclaimed goody two shoes and even turned in a bully during my time at P.S. 276, I did have one run-in with Old Yeller that I will never forget. It was the year "Grease" came out so let's say it was circa 1978. For some reason, during that year there was a comic book that was all the rage among fourth graders. The book was filled with color photos of all the characters from the movie with dialog written in comic strip form. All the kids in my class were clamoring to get that book and it was pretty hard to come by. Lucky for me, my parents tracked it down at a local comic book store so for a fleeting moment, I became the most popular girl in school - and as a chubby kid who was constantly teased for eating one two many twinkies, I was on top of the world.

As we sat in line after our lunch during what was called "Quiet Time," I began showing the book to my friends and the whispers gradually grew louder and louder as the girls passed the book down the row. When someone let out a squeal - they must have hit the Greased Lightning page - I heard the voice. The piercing voice that can send cats and dogs scouring for refuge. Old Yeller wanted to know whose book that was. And suddenly the room went silent. You could hear someone's lunch money drop. My momentary flirtation with popularity quickly faded away when the kids on my line turned around and pointed directly at me. I could feel my face hotten - I always turned beet red when I got nervous - and suddenly, Mrs. B. pulled me off the line and sent me to stand against the wall where kids pointed and ridiculed me in hushed tones. She then confiscated my book and to this day, I never did know what happened to "Grease: The Comic Book."

Needless to say, I never did talk out of turn or bring in items that would stir up the crowd, but that one experience with Old Yeller made me realize that I never wanted to be embarrassed again. If she bellowed that it was "Quiet Time" I pretty much kept my trap shut until I hit the sixth grade and left her to torment other little kids in her wake. I'm sure many of my former classmates have tales of Mrs. B and I'm absolutely positive that the kids on this week's class trip, or other children who have a tough teacher with a piercing voice will never forget how she ran a tight ship and didn't let anyone get away with anything. I know I have my Old Yeller moments too so I can't fault her for the technique - but I do hope the kids in her class also remember her for being an inspiring teacher who put them on the right track to greatness. Nobody ever wants to be remembered for being the nastiest teacher in the school. Only time will tell - for me and my brush with Mrs. Boyarsky - I know she was only doing her job and if I were in her position I might have done the same thing. My only regret - never getting my "Grease" book back - I still Google it to this day. So if anyone finds a "Grease" comic book please let me know - I promise not to cause a free-for-all this time around.

DATE NIGHT AT A KID FRIENDLY RESTAURANT

2007-10-28T15:17:00.000-04:00

So last night was date night and usually, I aim to select restaurants that don't have kids as patrons - not because I'm a snob or something - I am a parent myself - but when we've got a babysitter who's on the clock, the last thing we want to do is hit a restaurant with out of control kids. We can stay home for that one.

Getting back to our evening. Everything was going just fine, appetizers were delish, wine devine, main course arrived and then there was a shriek from another table. This couple, sitting with their daughter who looked to be about nine or ten started to yell really loudly because she dropped her small fork on the floor and she demanded that her parents get her another fork or else she was going to cause a scene.

Okay -now if this child has issues, I am incredibly sorry for even mentioning what transpired - but if she is just a bratty kid who can't control herself when she drops her fork, which I think she was, I think she needs to take a lesson from the Emily Post school of dining at a restaurant with your parents when it's supposed to be date night.

Rule number one - never scream loudly when you drop a utensil. Politely ask the waitress for another fork - no one has to hear you ranting and raving over your silly blunder.

Rule number two - stuffed animals do not belong on the table. Do I honestly need to be reminded that I left my two kids at home while you plop your furry pig right in front of me? If there's an extra seat, put your toys on the chair - not where everyone is eating.

Rule number three - if you're still at a restaurant with your child and if it's after 9:30pm and a drinking crowd has started to assemble near the bar, call your waitress over and get the check - after a certain time of night, there is no such thing as kid friendly dining at a bar.

Rule number four - even if your kid insists they join you on date night, push back, get a sitter or plan a sleepover for your ten year old at a friend's house.

Rule number five - Don't feel guilty. Date night is important for couples - and the more you get your child used to you going out on their own, the more independent he or she will be in the end.

To return to Role Mommy, Click Here. Or, to read the review of the fabulous singer who performed last night -and managed to take our mind off the screaming girl, then Click Here instead!

HOME TRUTHS - A New Blog by Judy Epstein

2007-09-18T21:45:00.000-04:00

THE REAL GAY MARRIAGE

There's been a lot of fuss lately about Gay Marriage, but I, for one, am looking forward to it. Speaking as someone who's been married to a man for many years, myself, I'm looking forward to seeing how a marriage composed exclusively of men solves the every-day problems that bedevil the rest of us. (Theoretically, this could apply to women, too, but we all know that we're not the problem.)

For example, I'd like to see what system two MEN devise for deciding who will be the partner to leave the cap off the toothpaste tube, and who will be the one to complain and put it back. Who will be the one to leave the smelly gym clothes wherever they land on the floor, and who the one to pick up and wash them? Will they decide by lottery? By drawing straws? By rotating every week/month/year? Because maybe, if they can come up with a system, the rest of us could adopt it.

I would like to see how a household of two men decides which of them will hear a ringing phone and do something about it - like answer it - versus which one will behave as if it were a cobra >hissing in the corner. Which will be the one to pass on the message "Oh, by the way, Visa called; they say if they don't get a payment in 24 hours, they're cutting us off" - a month after it's happened? Which will be the partner who remembers all the birthdays and events of both extended families, and which one will never remember his own anniversary?

I look forward to seeing how two men decide who takes the dishes into the kitchen after Thanksgiving dinner, versus who gets to stay at the table for coffee and dessert. And I'm dying to know -- which spouse will get control of the TV remote?

I suppose there's one argument they'll never have - they'll both leave the toilet seat up. Unless they acquire children, and at least one is a girl. She'll have to learn to fend for herself. I really hope they do have children. I can't wait to see how two MEN decide which partner has to get up in the middle of the night, and who gets to sleep through till morning. And that's just the beginning. Every working wife and mother in America will be waiting, with bated breath, to see how two MEN decide which is the parent who leaves work early to pick up a child who is throwing up at school! Or, which one will use their vacation time to attend teacher conferences, versus which one has the "important" job.

Yes, I welcome America's homosexuals to the ranks of us married folk. But they'll have to act fast, because who knows? If they insist on combining work with marriage and family, I predict that soon, they'll become NOsexuals, just like all the rest of us.

Judy Epstein has an award-winning humor column, "A Look On The Light Side," which is often but not always about mommy issues. Judy has a website at http://www.alookonthelightside.com/ and has won awards from the Press Club of Long Island 3 years in a row, last year in both 1st and 3rd place. In a prior life, she worked in Public Television for almost 20 years, including almost 10 with Bill Moyers. She's been on the radio, with positive reviews ("You sounded just like NPR!"), has begun hitting the speaking circuit and an essay she penned was recently published in Chicken Soup for the Soul in Menopause. ("It Starts with an M" on page 40.)

My Night with a Cheetah Girl

2007-09-11T19:57:00.000-04:00

While working a red carpet event the other night, I was deep undercover. No one knew I was a mom with two kids waiting anxiously for me to come home and kiss them before they went to sleep. There I was, surrounded by models, fashionistas, television reporters and even the mayor and all I could think about was damn, this place is crowded and I hope I can zip out of here before I miss my eight o'clock train. And then, it happened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a beautiful young girl who drew a striking resemblance to one of the Cheetah girls.

At first, I was too embarrassed to ask if it was really her, but then I nudged a friend who knows everything and anyone relating to the entertainment industry. She was skeptical since she rarely TiVo's the Disney Channel, but after some investigating, we received confirmation, it was indeed, Chu-chi - the cute Cheetah girl who manages to get the entire group to head to Spain and perform in an international music competition during last year's Cheetah-licious movie fest that I watched with my daughter about 150 times.

I shamelessly introduced myself to Chu-Chi (her name is actually Adrienne) and she couldn't have been sweeter. I told her my daughter was a huge fan and complemented her beautiful voice, she thanked me, smiled and I went back to work.

But then, the kiddy concert stalker in me reared its ugly head again. I stared into my brand new trendy Michael Kors bag (a gift I bought for myself for becoming a business owner), zipped open my carrying case and whipped out my iPhone. The coast was clear so I walked back over and asked if it was okay to take a picture of her for my daughter. And she was so sweet that she not only let me take the picture - she had her publicist take a picture of both of us! I then showed her a picture of my daughter, Adrienne told me how cute she was and I was literally beaming. I then wedged myself back into the crowd and struck up a nice conversation with Billy Joel's wife - man, I wish he were there too so I could have asked him to sing "Theme from an Italian Restaurant" - sure that would have been shameless - but hey, I already embarrassed myself with a Cheetah girl, why stop there?

I hung around a little while longer and as the crowd dissipated, I made my way out of the club and straight to the train - hoping my daughter would still be awake when I walked in the door. I even contemplated forcing her to wake up but kissed her head instead and then the next morning, I surprised her with my photo with the Cheetah Girl.

Becca of course looked at it and wailed - why wasn't I there? Can I see her? Does she want to meet me? As I thought about the prospect of attempting to scalp tickets and backstage passes to a Cheetah Girls concert, I printed out a very grainy photo of me and Chu-chi which Becca took with her to school and managed to impress all her friends. Now if I can only meet Zach Ephron, I'll officially wind up in the parent hall of fame!

THE DUDE RANCH

2007-08-28T20:33:00.000-04:00

I can't remember the last time I visited a dude ranch. Wait. I can remember. It was high school, 1984. It was the dead of winter and I didn't go near the horses or the bunny hill. So imagine my surprise 23 years later when my husband announced he wanted to give the dude ranch circuit a whirl with our good friends Dave and Alicia and their seven year old son, Carter. We loaded the kids up in the car, and off we went to what I have now discovered is nirvana for the the nine and under set...Rocking Horse Ranch.

I had visions of the place being totally dilapidated and reeking of manure and when we arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. The manure scent only permeated my membranes if the wind blew in the wrong direction and the ranch, seemed surprisingly updated. They even had some animatronic bear playing a guitar in the gift shop. Plus an indoor and outdoor pool with a water slide, rock climbing wall - which my daughter couldn't get enough of, an outdoor bounce house (which Carter used to set a world record - 1000 jumps in under 10 minutes), water skiing, banana boat rides, game room, fishing, shuffleboard, kayaking, corny shows, and best of all...the Fun Barn - which had an indoor bounce house, another rock climbing wall and the craziest climbing structure you've ever seen where kids can shoot at each other with foam balls...need I say more?

But the best part of all didn't take place on the horses - since mine kept on stopping to eat a bush, slosh through some manure scented mud (eew) or swat some flies; it didn't happen at the pool where I got to read and relax and watch my daughter zip down the water slide at least a dozen times; it wasn't at the cheesy magic show - it happened when I strapped on a pair of water skis and managed to not only pull myself up but I cruised around the lake for what seemed an eternity. You see, the last time I hopped up on skis, I was 15 and was a CIT at Camp Algonquin. That summer, I learned how to water ski for the first and last time since my momentary blaze of glory around the lake was quickly extinguished when I wiped out and the wake went right up my tush. After that day and the fact that the motor boat crapped out and no one bothered to fix it the rest of the summer, I pretty much hung up my skis and never ventured out again...that is, until this weekend.

My husband was pretty much stunned at my high flying water ski performance and is now ready to rent a lake house so we can spend the summer recapturing our youth. Even my daughter was shocked that I could ski - but not to be outdone, she managed to get up on the skis the first shot and even scaled the rock climbing structure and rang the bell. That's my girl!

So all in all, while I usually enjoy a nice Cape Cod or Caribbean vacation, our side trip to a dude ranch was actually one of our best trips in years. The kids had a ball and surprisingly, we did too. So from Jamaica, to day camp, to Block Island to the Hamptons, we ended our summer on a high note with a high flyin' dude ranch adventure. Nothing like a weekend surrounded by nature, good friends and water rides to put everything in perspective and make us realize that it is actually fun to act like a kid again.

To take a peak at the very first video I've managed to create from the pix I took with my iPhone, then click on the link below and enjoy! Happy Labor Day!

Tennis Revisited

2007-08-10T06:54:00.000-04:00

If you've been reading Role Mommy for a while, you may have read one of my previous posts about my long awaited return to the game of tennis. Back in November, I decided to dust off my racquet from 1986 and sub in a tennis league filled with stay at home moms and retirees. However, my foray into that foreign world was too much for me to handle and while I had a few memorable strokes and even won a few games, I never returned because I feared the ladies would tell the league organizer that they didn't want me to come near their foursome ever again. Well, this summer, I decided to take matters into my own hands and I signed up for tennis lessons. I dusted off my oversized Prince racquet, purchased a park permit, fished through my closet for a pair of sweats that wasn't incredibly outdated and proceeded to the courts where I met Andreas, a Camel smoking tennis pro who pretty much managed to transform my game in a matter of weeks. Andreas and I hit for a few minutes that first day and he instantly gave his assessment. "Would you be okay if I changed your forehand grip? The one you're using went out in the early nineties." Ouch. Was I that out of touch with modern tennis? Could it be that my tennis idols Martina and Chris were completely pre-historic and were probably playing the Boca Raton circuit with their old fashioned grips? The next thing I knew, Andreas had switched my grip and convinced me to try out a new tennis racquet since my old one also went out of style about the same time as poof dresses - oh wait, aren't those back in again? Anyway, so I went to the tennis shop where all the SAHM's and retired biddees were looming around the clothes rack and I plunked down my credit card for a brand spankin' new Head racquet. I even decided to buy a few outfits but didn't actually try them on - big mistake considering those shorts pretty much show everything. I think I need to design a line of tennis shorts that conceal knee fat, but I digress. So five lessons later, I am almost back on my game. My strokes are solid, serves are terrific, my volleys can use some work but I may be ready to not only sub in the ladies tennis league but join them each week in their weekly tennis and coffee klatch. Though my days as a high school tennis star are long behind me, I'm finally making a comeback! Watch out Mildred and Harriet, Beth is back on her game and she's going to whip your senior citizen fannies this season!

A Note from My Biggest Fan...

Dearest Beth,

I had a good laugh while reading the latest edition of your newsletter. Of course, I still think you are the most beautiful mom around and although you are somehow concerned about feeling you haven't kept up with the latest in active attire- I can tell you that at the gym I go to the two-twos(22 year olds) wear the tighest skimpiest outfits and they expect me to keep up in their classes - what a laugh- but I' hanging in there.I bought some capri length workout pants and I do as many reps of an exercise as some of those teeny weeny two-two's. But as I said I think you are phenomenal no matter what you think. An aside - it isn't gezunga cars -it it is gesundta cars- I guess some of your yiddishisms need a little work!

Love Mom

Fanny Packs & Sticky Buns

2007-07-02T19:36:00.000-04:00

I've begun to make a concerted effort and have started to hit the gym on a regular basis. In fact, during my recent vacation to Jamaica, I strapped on my fanny pack (which was actually owned by my dad back in the late eighties), slipped on my brand new Yoga pants - even though I've never done Yoga, glided into my aerated Puma gym shoes and went to the workout room.

When I arrived, the tiny room was packed. Every machine was taken and most of the fit patrons were wearing some of the trendiest outfits I've seen around the gym circuit. In fact, looking down at my retro fanny pack I started to realize that I was horribly outdated. I guess that's what happens when the only thing that experiences the pain of a gym visit every month is my Capitol One credit card. I haven't been in great shape since my daughter was a year old and now she's eight. So this is the year I am really giving it my best shot to get back on the program and maybe back into a pair of spandex leggings - oh, did those go out of style too?

So, back to Jamaica - I managed to find some cardio machines and even broke a sweat - probably because the humidity was pretty thick, but I'll take sweat any way I can get it. At least I was able to burn off a few hundred calories before I put away my fanny pack and sat my fanny on a lounge chair for the next five hours as I proceeded to read while my husband chased the kids in the pool - oh how I love it that he loves to play like a school kid while I can relax in the sun, that is until my son summons me to escort him to the bathroom - which pretty much happened like clock work every hour on the hour.

Back to the gym. I managed to workout four out of the seven days we were there and even played tennis for what I think was about 25 minutes before I almost passed out from heat exhaustion. Then finished the week sipping iced teas, sampling my kids' banana smoothies and completing four books (Eat, Pray, Love; Second Chance; Best Friends and For One More Day).

When I returned home, I actually went to the gym the very next day! I was so proud of myself and grabbed my fanny pack again despite the fact that it was an obvious fashion faux paus and I zipped over to Equinox at 4pm - a perfect time of day since barely anyone was there. First stop was the treadmill and as I attempted to start jogging, one of the cleaning women decided to spray the equipment right next to me with windex - causing me to practically choke as I attempted my sprint. Okay, maybe it wasn't a sprint - at that point I was walking briskly.

Then I looked up at the television monitors and my choices were pretty limited - sports, CNN or the Food Channel. Hmmm, the food channel seemed interesting - they were doing the show where pastry chefs compete against each other for the best cartoon cake. I was amazed by the workmanship on the Scooby Doo cake and was worried that the Popeye and Olive Oil cake might collapse, but thankfully the cake survived and the Scooby Doo chef won the bake off. And I had finished 20 minutes on the treadmill.

Next stop - the stair master. I would have preferred the stationary bike but the stairmaster was closer to the TV featuring Bobby Flay's Throwdown show so I stayed in the same section and became hooked and hungry. I'd never seen the show before but of course, I decided to watch an entire episode devoted to sticky buns. Baking them, glazing them and devouring them. It's enough to make a person famished. As I stepped up and down and read the captions for the sticky bun episode I tried to get motivated by my iPod songs from the eighties and finally finished the next half of my workout.

My remaining time at the gym consisted of leg machines and free weights but by that point, the only thing I could think of were those damn sticky buns. And so, after an hour long workout, me and my fanny pack left the gym and hit Cinnabon...okay - lucky for my fanny there isn't a Cinnabon in my neighborhood - instead, I came home, cooked up a tasty barbecue and enjoyed a little Lemon Meringue pie. So much for the workout. I guess the next time I hit the gym I should stay away from the Food Channel.

Gezunga Cars

2007-06-14T14:42:00.000-04:00

Ever since I became the proud owner of a zippy little black Jetta, I've noticed that I am surrounded. Surrounded by the biggest gezunga cars I've ever seen. Lining the parking lot in Scarsdale are cars that are the size of schooners - from Yukons, to Land Rovers to Lincoln Navigators, I feel like I'm in the land of car Lilliputia whenever I'm attempting to pull out of a space.

Now, as a former owner of a minivan - actually, I still own it, I just don't like to drive it around the neighborhood anymore, I can understand the need for a large vehicle if you have a lot of family members to tote around with you to their various activities. But on a late morning in my neighborhood, all I could see were skinny skinny women in tennis skirts hopping into their tremendous cars and attempting to play chicken with my Jetta so that they could back out first.

Honestly, do you really need a car that large to transport you, your grande cappucino and your treo? Besides, doesn't it cost like $150 to fill up on gas for an SUV, minivan or flat bed truck? Not that I'm an environmentalist or anything but even my little volkswagen cost me $44 bucks to fill up on gas so I could only imagine what the final gas tally on a Yukon would be.

Now I know, the bigger the car, the safer you maybe are - but wouldn't it be nice for all of us to go back to the good old days when small cars were the in thing? I have noticed a shift in the small car order but I still think the gezunga cars have us beat by a mile. So for all of you out there driving around in your minivan, SUV or some other monstrous vehicle, think about giving it up for a compact set of wheels. I did, and I've never been happier!

The Knitter

2007-05-31T21:58:00.000-04:00

I don’t know how it happened, but my daughter has decided to delve into some old fashioned pursuits that I never thought would hold her interest. You see, when I was growing up, I was a tomboy…loved to climb trees, build things, play sports, if my brother was leading a brigade through the woods where they planned to set fire to a pile of leaves, I was right there, front and center, holding the bucket of water to extinguish the flames. As a result, cooking and crocheting weren’t two very popular activities in my household. But somehow, right under my nose, while I write about how I am an awful cook and can’t knit to save my life, my daughter has taken it upon herself to tackle those skills instead.

She first enrolled in an afterschool cooking class and proceeded to tell her instructor that I once set fire to our oven and that I’m a pretty bad cook. The teacher smiled at me, laughed and responded, “What’s shared in class, stays in class.” Besides, I haven’t set fire to the oven once – it’s actually happened about five times – not including the one time I created a steak inferno inside my barbecue.

As for knitting, I never had the patience for crochet. My grandmother, however, could knit like an athlete and pretty much made dozens of blankets, gloves, sweaters – whenever she was sitting down, Grandma was knitting. She also made hook rugs, was pretty proficient at needlepoint and I’m sure there were other knitting projects she was into, I just didn’t pay attention because I was too busy catching frogs and salamanders in the backyard. When I got older, I do remember buying a needle point that I planned to tackle once my cousin was born. Unfortunately, the project still hasn’t been finished and my cousin is approaching her 17th birthday and I don’t think she’s into Winnie the Pooh anymore.

Rebecca on the other hand, is totally into knitting too. Her friend turned her onto it and now she’s asking me to enroll her in a crochet class in the fall. Okay…that’s too weird. My daughter cooks and knits like my grandma. Strange, considering she’s named after her – maybe there’s actually a part of my grandmother in Becca. People have always told me she’s an old soul, so you never know.

Meanwhile, at work, my boss calls me “the knitter.” Not because I know anything about mastering the art of macramé, but I’m the person in my department who knits together various divisions of our company to make our publicity campaigns larger than life. If I were a man, I’d be a synergist, but instead, like Grandma Moses, I’m the resident knitter. Maybe that’s why I’m so averse to the whole knitting and cooking thing. While I’m taken aback by these old-fashioned references, my daughter, meanwhile, is completely jazzed about crocheting a sweater or cooking up a soufflé.

Even odder, are the legions of moms that I’ve encountered in my neighborhood who have become obsessed with mah jong. Mah jong! I thought that game was only reserved for retirees in Boynton Beach, Florida but my friends are starting early and joining Mah Jong leagues where they scream at the top of their lungs, “Bam,” “Crack,” “Dragon” and finally “Mah Jong!” I can remember my other Grandma feverishly flipping tiles in Ft. Lauderdale and she even used my dad as a fill in so she could finish making her vegetarian chopped liver. But now, some 50 years later, there are resident Sadies and Mildreds playing their own version of the game right here in Westchester. Sure, they’re enjoying their newfound passion with wine instead of prune juice, but still, Mah Jong to me is a retiree skill I thought I’d need to pick up in another 30 years.

Despite the explosion of technology that has kids playing for hours with Nintendo DS’s, Webkinz and Club Penguin, there are still girls like my daughter and moms who are more into socializing than texting, and have embraced the things that our Grandmas used to do so well. Kibbitzing, cooking and crocheting. I guess it’s not such a bad thing after all. Looks like it’s time for me to shut down the computer, pull up a chair, grab some knitting needles and embrace my inner old lady.

Incidentally, if you'd like to actually teach your kids how to knit and have no clue how to do it, then look no further...log onto www.TheArtOfKnitting.com and order a DVD for your kids today! They'll be knitting blankets, hats and scarves in no time!

To check out more of our undercover observations, check out my blog on New York Metroparents. To return to Role Mommy, Click Here.

The Playroom

2007-05-19T16:29:00.000-04:00

As an undercover mom, eavesdropping is always an important part of my surveillance. If I notice someone whose conversation might be intriguing to me, I lean over ever so slightly and I give a listen. Last night, while my husband was in the restroom, I stared into space while listening to a woman who told her dining companions that she used to work in the hotel industry and now she's home with her first child. I also heard her say how her child's speech therapist told her that her playroom was way too cluttered for her daughter. Puhleeze. Way too cluttered? If any therapist came to my house, she wouldn't use that phrase to describe my playroom. Tornado, cyclone, disaster area, those would be terms that I use but what I do know is that my kids aren't delayed in their mental development because the playroom is a mess. What is it these days with parents falling into the trap of therapists who scrutinize their every move and decision? Can't we just let kids be kids and have them use the playroom to play, make a mess and have fun? Do we want to raise hyper kids that become little Felix Unger's because they were forced to clean up the minute they finished playing a game? Hey, I hate clutter just as much as the next guy, but one day, all those toys will be gone and the playroom will turn into a hangout for teens who won't want anything to do with me. So if my kids want to throw caution to the wind and leave their Twister out on the floor along with a tower of blocks that they've been using to construct a castle, I say, leave it out. Sure it may be cluttered, but that's what a playroom is for. To return to Role Mommy, Click Here.

Gucci Diaper Bags, Wine and the Green Eyed Monster

2007-04-21T17:41:00.000-04:00

I know I shouldn't be jealous, but by nature, I'm a pretty envious person. Since the time I was a chubby fourth grader, I've always been envious of the girls who managed to fit into a size 12 slim pair of Jordache Jeans or Sergio Valentes. I was never a 12 slim. In fact, I think I owned one pair of Sergio's - from the Junior section - and I never remember it fitting too well around my chunky frame.

So now, over two decades later, I am still the chubby fourth grader, staring at the skinny girls, wondering to myself, will I ever squeeze into a pair of Seven's or Lucky's or whatever hot pair of pants are all the rage these days? Sadly, I don't think I will. Why do you ask? Simple - I like food and wine way too much.

But let me bring you back to why I decided to write this post in the first place. You see, I was dining at one of my favorite restaurants the other day (California Pizza Kitchen) - okay, my tastes are pretty simple - when I looked across our table to find three new mothers who were perfectly coiffed, perfectly dressed, with babies in their car seat strollers, sipping wine and pretty much enjoying their new status as SAHM's. There was no way possibly these ladies worked - and if they did - man do I wish I looked like that when I had a newborn. As I attempted to eavesdrop on their conversation - and was unfortunately too far away, I decided to survey the landscape instead and what I saw blew my mind.

One of the women - the one with the perfectly blown out honey blonde hair and flawless make-up, had her precious bundle in the Rolls Royce of strollers...a buggaboo - but of course. And directly across the table from her, one of her friends had what I would like to call, the Gucci of diaper bags...actually, it was a Gucci diaper bag. Now last time I was in the market for a diaper bag, I didn't recall Gucci throwing their hat into the ring, but guess what - they've got a diaper bag now!!! I couldn't believe this woman was carting around soiled diapers, desitin, formula and cheerios inside that bag, but I guess, if you can afford it, flaunt it baby.

So there it is. Yes, I am an incredibly jealous person. I admit it. I wish I were a twig following the birth of my two kids. I wish I could fit into designer jeans and not feel like the circulation is being drained out of my thighs, I wish I could have carted my kids around in the coolest, most expensive stroller known to mankind. And dammit, I wish I had had the guts to plunk down my credit card and fork over $1000+ for a Gucci diaper bag. But you know what...there's something I know that these ladies will eventually find out once their kids hit those terrible two's...

The bugaboo will be collecting dust in the garage, the diaper bag will be covered in crumbs and smelly formula stains and those favorite skin tight jeans will either be too tight to wear since they've been inhaling one too many chicken nuggets - oh - who am I kidding? Dare to dream right? In reality, I'm sure by the time their kids hit the toddler years, the au pair will take care of everything so that these ladies can hit the gym and wine and dine alone!

Destination Disney...what to do...what to avoid!!!

2007-04-10T14:04:00.000-04:00

If you've just read my Role Mommy Confession about my recent trip to Disney World, I also wanted to offer some Role Mommy tips to surviving Disney so that you don't have to suffer on any lines or get stuck eating fast food every single day of your visit. So without further ado, here are some Role Mommy Disney Do's...

Disney Do's...

1. Do make time to see the shows at Disney. These are Broadway quality productions with special effects, amazing singers, costumes, you name it. My personal favorite this time around was the new musical: "Finding Nemo" at the Animal Kingdom park. Close second was the "High School Musical" pep rally at MGM where my daughter got the chance to dance with the performers (along with about 100 kids too). There's also a great show at the castle by Magic Kingdom, plus parades galore in every park. Both MGM and Epcot have great evening shows and Magic Kingdom has a terrific fireworks display and parade late at night too.

2. Do get fast passes for everything imaginable. Now the only problem is you can't get two fast passes for two rides at the same exact time. So, if you're travelling with a group, decide which of you really want to go on one ride and who is willing to go on the other one. If you opt to go on standby, if the line looks short, beware! Usually, when you get inside, the lines whip around and around and around and it'll take you at least 45 minutes to get on the ride.

3. For kids 10 and under, Do go on Splash Mountain, It's A Small World, the Peter Pan Ride (my son's personal favorite), Pirates of the Caribbean, the Kali rapids ride in Animal Kingdom, Aladdin's magic carpet ride and any other ride in Magic Kingdom that is far away from the flying Dumbo...most of the rides further back in the park (aka. Aladdin are an exact replica of Dumbo, so walk a little and you'll save time on the line).

4. Do go on the Jungle Cruise in Magic Kingdom (I believe it's Frontier Land). We had a fabulous guide named Lindsay who let our daughter drive the boat...look her up when you get there - she'll be glad you did!

5. Do go on the Animal Kingdom safari - the animals are amazing and the ride is a lot of fun. If you're pregant, you can't go because it's a bit bumpy but other than that, it's a blast.

6. Do go on Soarin' in Epcot - but we didn't since the lines were too long...we were told it's beyond amazing so if and when we do go back, I'll give that one a shot.

7. Do make reservations far in advance if you want to attend a character breakfast. Our personal favorite is the Donald breakfast in Animal Kingdom although our friend Shari, who is quite a Disney connoiusseur swears by the Chef Mickey spread.

8. Make sure you make a reservation in advance for the Hoop de Doo review...I'm sure I spelled it wrong, but it's a lot of fun. Another fun dinner locale - the Prime Time cafe in MGM - a throwback to the 50's with waiters and waitresses who make sure you mind your manners while you're eating in their kitchen! Another decent restaurant with a great view of the parade...Tony's Town Square in Magic Kingdom - located right when you walk into the park.

9. Make sure you wear comfortable walking shoes and make sure the kids hit the bathroom before you get on a line for a ride (especially Pirates of the Caribbean - there's nowhere to relieve yourself unless you let your kid tinkle in a fountain...no worries - I was tempted but didn't do it).

10. Make sure you don't overschedule your day. You can attempt to do 3 parks in one day but you and your family will be basket cases around dinner time. You're better off doing one park for the day and perhaps dinner in another park.

Disney Don'ts...

1. Don't select the Disney dining plan unless you've read the brochure for the dining plan cover to cover. I pretty much used up all our dinners in the first two days because I didn't follow directions. Also - I didn't really want to have dessert with every meal so I could have done without the extra five pounds I'm now packing from that dining decision.

2. Avoid the standby line for any ride that looks empty but then has a location where the line keeps whipping around and around and around and you never really know when the actual ride will start. The Kali rapids and Pirates of the Caribbean both fit the bill on that one. Kali rapids has a fast pass, Pirates, I believe does not but it is worth it to ride - it's amazing.

3. Don't do fast food every day. If you're going to have McDonald's french fries during your stay...and it is tempting because there are fries in many locations, limit yourself to 2 servings for the entire duration of your visit. Your hips will thank you when you return.

4. If you're travelling with little kids, don't take them on the Snow White ride...it may look cute, but it's pretty scary.

5. Don't walk around the park without a cell phone or walkie talkie. If you lose your group because they've wandered off to a character signing and you're too busy getting a fast pass, if you don't have a working cell phone, you're out of luck.

6. Don't try to get an autograph from the Disney Princesses in toon town...if it's Spring Break...you'll be there all day. Instead, make a reservation at Epcot at the Storybook Princess castle in Norway...the princesses will come to you and you'll be eating at the same time. If that's not easy, I don't know what is.

7. If you're on the lookout to get an autograph from Mickey don't do it at Magic Kingdom - the best place to find him is at MGM - down by the Little Einsteins and JoJo's circus, Mickey has his own room where you can get his autograph and not have to wait for hours for it.

8. Don't buy your kids a present every time they see a store. That's where I went wrong. Every time I bought my son something he kept wanting more. He then started making deals with his grandparents and his aunt...got to the point where he came home with a suitcase full of stuff...that he'll never play with and I'll have to store somewhere in the basement.

9. Don't expect your kids to love everything. If you like scary rides, they might not. So if you're hankering to go on the Tower of Terror, split up and get your fast pass while your little ones head off with their grandparents to get some autographs.

10. Don't go to Disney World on Spring Break!!!! It is the most crowded time of the year. Even though the weather is beautiful, the crowds are insane and will add to the stress of the trip. Pick an off season and your Disney adventure will truly be the stuff that dreams are made of.

So that's the 411 on my Disney adventure...hope these do's and don'ts help if you're planning to pay a visit sometime soon. To return to Role Mommy, Click Here.

Blowout at the Bagel Store

2007-03-25T12:34:00.000-04:00

It happened. I'm officially boycotting my local bagel store - which means I'm going to have to travel an extra mile out of my way for a cinniman raisin bagel button - just so I can stick to my guns and stand up for what's right. Now what would prompt me to do such a thing, you ask? Simple, poor customer service. You see, this is the second time I've had an altercation at the bagel store. The place was taken over by new owners last year and ever since then, the food has been shoddy, the service, brusque and the drinks...well, I'll fill you in on that one in a minute...

The first problem started when I forgot my wallet one day and told the bagel lady I'd be back soon to pay them for the bagel and coffee I had purchased. It took me a little bit longer than I expected to head back to the store and so the woman started calling me at home so that I drop off the $5 I owed her. As soon as she left the first message, I went back to the store and paid my money. But she kept calling. Seems whoever I gave the money to didn't tell her so she kept harrassing me to pay her back. When I finally got her on the phone and explained I already paid them back, she relented. Thoroughly annoyed, I stayed away from the bagel place for at least one month and then started going back a few weeks ago. But yesterday, forced me right back into boycott mode.

You see, after ordering bagels, two coffees (with pretty shoddy lids) and then two wadda juices from the refrigerator, I gathered up my items and brought them to my family, who were sitting in the car waiting for their food. But when my daughter opened her wadda juice (a container that doesn't spill and is a mixture of juice and water), she took one sip and spit it out because it tasted sour - when my husband and I sampled it, she was right - it was pretty rancid. So I grabbed the two juice containers and went inside expecting to be able to make a switch but that didn't happen. When I told the man behind the counter about the bad juice, he proceeded to tell me that I was mistaken, in fact, he said "You are wrong - we just got the juice yesterday." Oh really - is that what they told those pet owners who bought the tainted pet food that killed their animals? It's your fault, not mine. I was so mad, I took the juice and slammed it into the garbage can. Then got back in the car and told my husband what happened. He of course, jumped out of the car and went back inside and of course, got me my money back.

So even though we got a refund, we're still boycotting - I don't need to be harrassed or told that I'm wrong about tainted juice to know that I'm not welcome at the bagel place anymore!

The Travel Nightmare

2007-03-03T18:03:00.000-05:00

I don't really travel a lot for my job but for some odd reason, in the last two weeks I've had to take back to back trips that took me away from my family. The first trip was to California and it wasn't so bad - flew out on a Sunday, took the red-eye home the next day, no delays and I got to sleep in a king sized bed - all in all, a pleasant business trip.

Unfortunately, my second excursion was not so hot. I stupidly started going online checking weather.com incessantly as I prepared to fly out in one day to Chicago and make it back in time to see the latest eliminee on "American Idol." But there's something about that website - it's kind of like web md - which freaks you out completely even if you have the slightest ailment. You have a rash on your arm, the next think you know, you've diagnosed yourself with leprosy. Well, weather.com is kind of like that experience. I began checking the forecast and noticed that Chicago was expecting a major rain and sleet storm the morning I was supposed to arrive and then on the way back, there was rain and sleet expected in New York. And I was getting ready to fly out on a 70 seater plane. Yikes.

To make matters worse, I was having bad dreams all week - the first night I dreamt I lost my wallet and couldn't cancel any of my credit cards. The next night I dreamt I lost my car keys and they disappeared somewhere in the ocean (a metaphor that I translated into me being in a plane crash where we land on water and I lose my keys - okay - I know, I'm paranoid). Then, when I told my kids I'd be away for the day, my son said to me - "So Mommy, you're not coming back?" Ugh...I was totally freaked by that comment.

I was up half the night, tossing and turning and then raced to the airport at the crack of dawn. While it was clear in New York, the airport in Chicago had grounded all the airplanes just as our plane began to get ready to take off. While we only waited a half hour all I could think of were crazy thoughts of us skidding off the runway in Chicago. Plus - there was only 20 people on my tiny plane - it wasn't a prop plane or anything but we were bounced around quite a bit before we finally made a safe landing.

I then raced over to my meeting where I spent four hours with some very nice Chicagoans at the Museum of Science and Industry - a great place to visit by the way - then attempted to zip back to the airport to catch an earlier flight home. When I hopped in the taxi, I noticed the consistency of the air was that of pea soup. The fog was so thick you couldn't make out a few of the buildings. Then the rain started pelting the window. Then sleet. Oh this wasn't good. Maybe I was going to bite the dust on the way home.

Made it to the terminal and it was a mad house. Flights were being cancelled all over the place. The reason - bad weather. It seemed that on that day there were tornadoes, snow storms and a security alert that had been advanced to code orange. Sheesh, I should've turned back and booked a room at the Ritz. But I persevered. I attempted to switch flights and then learned that if I put myself on the stand by list there would be 40 people ahead of me. Well, I didn't want to check myself in as baggage, so I decided to stick with my original reservation which was scheduled to leave two hours later.

Two hours turned into three and then three turned into four. My only saving grace - O'Hare is a pretty great airport - tons of places to eat, a Starbuck's, book stores everywhere - it's kind of like being in a shopping mall so while I waited for the bad weather to pass, I snatched up a copy of Sophie Kinsella's new book (click here to read my review) and then met two friendly men (don't get any ideas), plus a bunch of construction workers and we hung out, shooting the breeze, sharing travel stories, hearing about their jobs and even offering the construction workers some tips on where they could go out drinking in White Plains...cause I'm such a whino...not.

Anyway, we finally took off at 9 pm and made it home by midnight. Obviously, we didn't wind up in the water, we didn't skid off the runway and the only inconvenience was that I spent several hours in O'Hare airport with some friendly strangers. I made it home in one piece, kissed my husband and both of my sleeping kids and had a really great night's sleep.

Luckily no more travel plans are in the forecast for a while and if there are...I'm staying far, far away from weather.com!

Customer Disservice

2007-02-23T17:23:00.000-05:00

Can someone please explain to me why it takes 5-30 minutes to get a real live person on the phone when you're trying to dispute a claim on your credit card or call the bank or the vacuum cleaner bag company that sent you the wrong bags for your outdated Miehle super vacuum? Today was a work at home day - which means I get to work quietly in my bat cave, the phone doesn't ring off the hook, I get to do some quality writing and pay some bills.

Yes, I am the official bill payer in my household even though my hubby is the one with the finance degree. I am the one constantly trying to stay ahead of the billing cycle, avoiding finance charges, not getting ripped off by unnecessary charges and making sure no one is using my credit card to go on an all expense paid vacation to Bali.

Well, today was one of those days where I had to call a credit card company, a wireless service and my bank and by the time I was done, I swear I felt like Michael Douglas in that movie where he goes berserk because people are just so damn slow and are in his way. It took about 10 minutes to get a person on the phone with the phone company - funny - isn't that what they do for a living? Another 5 minutes waiting for my bank to connect me to another person at the bank who could potentially help me and then 10 minutes waiting for my credit card company to tell me why they decided to hit me with finance charges even though I technically paid my bill in a timely fashion.

I have to say - as much as I love technology, I'm beginning to hate the fact that when there is a problem there are like 500 barriers to get to a live person. If I'm calling you then I obviously need to speak with someone. I do not want to press buttons, call out phone numbers or give you my mother's maiden name so you can verify that it's me. Dammit - who else would be calling - certainly not someone trying to rip me off...they're too busy hacking through people's credit card numbers to waste time speaking to customer service!

I finally got off the phone with my last customer service representative and am getting ready to pack up for the day and start the weekend. I think overall I must have wasted at least 1 hour of my day trying to get some customer service...and now it's time to go out to dinner where the waitress will probably be ignoring us too. Maybe I should stay in and give the credit cards a rest for a change - yeah right, like that will ever happen. Knowing me, I'll use the credit card that I just cancelled in a fit of aggravation and I'll be calling customer service to re-activate my account.

The Family Circus

2007-02-19T10:29:00.000-05:00

We took our kids to the circus yesterday and I have to say, not many people seem to be pursuing careers in that competitive field anymore. It seems like the circus we saw was made up of families who have been passing down their acrobatic talents from generation to generation and unfortunately, some of these families need to clean up their act. There were all kinds of performers on hand to entertain us, including the Flying Wallendas who are this well-known circus family who can ride bicycles in tandem across a tight rope with their dad balancing on another wire that his sons carry on their shoulders; and then they had this motorcycle family (don't know their last name) - who race through a circular contraption and even had their five year old son show off on his motorcycle too...note to the motorcycle family - shouldn't you wait until your kid is 18 before you stick him on a motorized vehicle and have him perform for strangers? There was even this old married illusionist couple who I'm sure have been in the circus for like 50 years, who kept on changing costumes right before our eyes - drape a red scarf around her and sudddenly, she's in a red dress, cover her up in a green cone, and yup, you guessed it, she's wearing a green outfit. I can do the same thing at Ann Taylor Loft, but I prefer not to have spectators watching my every move as I try to shove myself into 5 pair of pants from the sale rack in less than 10 minutes.

Next were the miniature ponies - who ran around in a circle as a man tried to whip them into shape - but the ponies had no use for him - as he tried to force them run around in tandem, they pretty much did their own thing and ignored most of his commands. Then there were the elephants - the highlight of the show - but they all looked pretty sad - as if this was the most tired circus they had ever participated in in years. I bet when they went back to their tents, they probably waxed nostalgic about how great it was in the old days, when they were on the circus fast track. Now they're reduced to sitting on each other for laughs or giving rides to ungrateful kids whose parents had to shell out 10 bucks for them to take them around the circle for approximately a minute and a half. Hmmm...not such a bad deal - maybe I should strap on an elephant suit and start giving rides myself. There were also aerialists who were actually in need of practice, a juggler who dropped the hoops he was spinning and a ring leader who made us feel guilty for not purchasing the electronic rip off spinning toys they were selling to keep the kids entertained during intermission. There were some highlights - the hula hoop lady - who spun like 50 hula hoops around her waist that was incredible, the face painting - which only cost $5 per kid was totally reasonable and we really did like the elephants even though we felt bad for them; and there was this amazing family of drummers from Peru or New Mexico I think...they were really good and had my kids bouncing right along in their seats...unless that was the soda talking...because 30 seconds later, I was escorting both of them to the bathroom.

Aside from the circus in the center ring...there were also some performers right next to us in the audience. There was the coughing seal behind me - a kid who proceeded to cough up whatever virus was coarsing through his body onto the rows in front of him (yup - that would be me); or the swashbuckler next to my husband - a three year old boy who kept poking him with the plastic sword his parents bought to keep him entertained; there was the crier - a boy who really didn't want to be at the circus; the muncher - the girl who sat next to me who pretty much noshed on food throughout the performance - my personal favorite moment was when she tried to fold away her tin foil and plastic container and the noise was so loud it interfered with the family of drummers from Peru. All in all, we did have a fun time - sure it seemed like a throwback to another era, but sometimes, it's nice to step back in time and get away from technology for a change. Maybe next week we'll see if Vaudeville is making a comeback.

My Kingdom for a Pen

2007-02-08T14:23:00.000-05:00

It happened again. I was at a meeting with a top executive who has just joined the company and was trying to make a good impression. And so, I grabbed my notebook out of my gargantuan crumb-filled satchel and went on a desperate search for a pen.

It seems like an easy task, locating a pen inside your purse. But when your bag accidentally flips over in your car on the way home from the train station, the search becomes pretty complicated.

Without letting on that I was having a problem, I kept sticking my hand into the depths of my bag hoping I'd fish out a Mont Blanc, or a papermate, or a bic or a #2 pencil, but I came up empty every time. As I felt around the crevices of the bag, I wrapped my fingers around a chopstick, then some lip gloss, the lipstick I had been searching for these last few weeks and of course, my feminine hygiene supplies.

I then stuck my hand inside the zippered compartment, felt a bunch of business cards, my metrocard, some bank receipts, a crayon, lots of change, but no pen.

At this point, my face was getting flushed and I was on the verge of a breakdown. I still kept shoving my hand in the bag, hoping that one of my fishing expeditions would land me a writing utensil, but it never happened. I finally had to admit defeat and ask if I could borrow a pen.

Ever since that embarrassing ordeal, I've thrown about six pens in my bag and am ready for meetings that require copious note-taking. Now, if I could only find that lip liner I've been searching for, I'd be in business.

PARTY ANIMALS

2007-01-28T19:54:00.000-05:00

We took the plunge this weekend. After watching our cat Rudy staring listlessly out into the backyard where his beloved brother Oliver had been laid to rest last month, we decided to take in a new feline to keep him company. She arrived yesterday and spent the better part of the day hiding under armoires, sofas, in closets, anywhere that a human being or another animal couldn't find her. And Rudy - well he sensed something was up, so he pretty much decided to camp out in our room all day and all night long.

I wouldn't have minded having another member of our family bunking with us, except Rudy has this nasty habit of scratching the walls when he wants me to either feed him or take him somewhere in the house. And when the scratching commences at 5am on a Sunday morning after I've already had an exhausting week, well, I was not amused.

To add insult to injury, we started to hear other noises emanating from the walls. You see, I haven't shared a story yet with my fellow role mommies about the other creatures that have sought refuge somewhere in my bedroom. To put it simply, we have mice. At first we thought it was one mouse - in fact, we named him Maurice and after seeing "Flushed Away" in the movie theater, we figured we could co-exist with one harmless mouse. Except, we think Maurice is actually Mary and that little harpie has been copulating up in our attic and guess who gets the dubious distinction of having to climb up there tonight to change the air filter in our heater...you guessed it...moi.

But I digress. So Rudy is busy scratching the walls, while Maurice (or Mary) and her gang of rodent relatives are somewhere nearby having a dance party in my attic and then I hear a loud bellow. "MOMMY...come and get me." Right on cue.

My son, of course had to get up and join our pre-dawn party so I nudged Darin to go grab him as I tried to shove the covers over my head and catch a few more zzzz's. No such luck - Rudy was on the warpath and the moment he saw an opening, he'd climb on top of my head and scratch the wall above me. It's a truly lovely sound - like nails on a blackboard - the perfect noise to put you back to sleep...not.

I finally had enough and attempted to walk Rudy downstairs thinking he wanted some food. After filling his bowl, I ran back upstairs and that cat was on me like white on rice. He was petrified to stay downstairs for fear he'd risk a run-in with our new house guest - a timid gray cat that we've decided to call Gracie.

After I tip-toed back into my bedroom, sure enough, Rebecca was awake. "Mommy, I'm freezing." I know she was hoping I'd let her climb into our Queen sized bed along with the cat, Dylan and Darin - who had actually left the room and placed tissue paper in his ears so he wouldn't hear the mice, but I made Rebecca stay in bed, tucked her under the covers and she at least went back to sleep.

I don't really remember at that point if I finally did drift off again because before I turned around, the alarm clock started buzzing since Darin had to go to his early morning basketball game. And so, I groggily pulled myself out of bed, got Rebecca ready for Hebrew school, Dylan all set for a birthday pajama party, rushed with them both to the supermarket to get a challah (it was our turn to bring the bread this week) and then made it to Dunkin Donuts for a coffee and some donuts for the kids.

Fast forward through the rest of the day (Hebrew school, ice skating lessons, a McDonald's run, a much-needed trek to the supermarket and dinner and dessert served) and now, it's 8:07 pm and I'm hoping that tonight I'll finally get a good night's sleep. But somehow I highly doubt that the party animals in my attic and the scratching fiend who won't leave my bedroom will give me the rest I'm longing for.

To return to Role Mommy, Click Here.

The Waiting Game

2007-01-14T21:30:00.000-05:00

*News flash...the Undercover Mom is now Blogging for New York Metroparents...Click Here to check it out!

Why is it that wherever I venture out to run errands, be on time for a meeting or dine with my family, I am always forced to wait? Waiting for a table at a crowded restaurant, waiting at the bank, waiting for the door to pre-school to open. I'm really getting tired of the waiting game. I know I've already gone undercover at restaurants sharing how we are completely ignored by the waitstaff whenever we're ready to place an order. But this week pretty much took the cake.

You see, this past Friday, I had an important meeting that I couldn't be late for and when I arrived 20 minutes early at the security desk, the lethargic, and I mean slow as molasses security staff decided to pull a doozy on me.

"You're not in the system so you can't go upstairs," one of the guards announced.

"Well I have the phone number for my contact, can't you just call her and let me up?"

"I called her. She's not there."

"But I need to get up there."

"That's not my problem," was the response and then she rolled her eyes at me and looked at her partners in security crime and made me wait at least another 10 minutes before she finally gave me access to the building.

Honestly, did I look like a threat or something...watch out for that 5 foot chick with the menacing handbag - or was she just purposely being extra slow just to push my buttons?

One day, I'd love to figure out how to turn the tables on the people who have made me wait. So watch out lazy security guard, new Starbucks employee, hostess at that Chinese restaurant in Boynton, teller at the bank in midtown, I'm still working out the kinks, but somehow you're all going to find out what it's like to wait...and trust me, you won't like it either!

The Gold Mine

2006-12-27T15:42:00.000-05:00

BOYNTON BEACH MEMORIES...

Let me just state for the record that when something tragic, sad or depressing hits my family, I usually find that humor is a great way to deal with disaster. And so, this past week, when my husband, kids and I raced to Boynton Beach, Florida after hearing that my dad had a heart attack (read Role Mommy Confessions for the story) I discovered what I believe to be the birthplace of Jewish comedy as we now know it. Yes, the borscht belt is alive and well in a remote retirement hub in Florida and the undercover mom mined for some golden nuggets while she was immersed in a family crisis. DEFIBRILLATOR PERSON OF THE MONTH The comedy gems were subtle at first. Like the sign we encountered as we approached the front desk at my parents' development in Palm Isles to get the kids guest passes for the pool. Perched atop the receptionist's desk was a sign that read "Defibrillator Person of the Month." Now who exactly gets this kind of honor bestowed upon them? The person who defibrillates the most senior citizens in 30 days? Or is it the unsuspecting guy who is suffering from a nasty case of heartburn that's defibrillated upon? You know you've hit the retirement scene when they're honoring the defibrillator person. What I later learned was that each month, a new person is trained on the defibrillator so if you're having chest pains or want to freak some people out, just give a jingle over to the defibrillator person and he'll come a running. COFFEE TALK Before we headed over to the hospital, we hit the Palm Isle cafe where all the yentas and kibbitzers were congregrating and conversating. As they noshed on bagels, omelets and lox, I started to give a listen.

"I heard that while Neil (my dad) was lying there on the tennis court and the players on the other court just kept on hitting. Can you believe it?" A few feet over I eavesdropped on a table of eight chatting loudly about my dad's condition. "You know, he even visited his doctor before he came down to Florida and that bastard gave him a clean bill of health. Can you believe it?" THE SHOW MUST GO ON In addition to being an avid tennis player, my dad is quite the thespian and this year he has a pretty meaty role in the latest Palm Isles Players tour de force. So when he was holed up in his hospital bed, the director's phone began ringing off the hook.

"Hello Myron. What can I do for you?"

"You know Phyllis, if Neil can't do the show because of his condition, I can do a mean fox trot."

HEY THERE GORGEOUS

While waiting to be checked out of the hospital, my dad wanders to the front desk to ask the name of the internist on duty who can give him a clean bill of health.

"His name is Dr. Gorgeous."

"You mean you don't have a Dr. McDreamy in this place?"

OVERHEARD ON THE HOSPITAL P.A. SYSTEM

Paging Dr. Suck Up. Paging Dr. Suck Up.

A SEINFELD MOMENT AT FLAKOWITZ BAKERY

"I'd like to order lox, whitefish, cream cheese, tuna salad..."

"Not so fast - I can't remember that well," says the elderly man taking orders.

After asking the customer what else he needs, he replies,

"I just need the bagels now."

"Oh, we're running kind of low on those. How about a babka?"

IRV AND IRENE FARBISSINA (SOURPUSS)

As my mom and I are waiting on line in the bakery section at Publix, a heavyset bald man speeds by in his motorized wheel chair while his wife calls out to him.

"Irv - should we get a pie?" "NO!!!" Irv scowls back. When a friendly woman walks over to look at the pies too, she asks Mrs. Farbissina, "Are there any sugar free pies over there?" "How should I know? Do I look like I work here?" Irene shrugs. Incidentally, I discovered on this trip that Jerry Seinfeld's mother lived down the street from my parents in Palm Isles and Larry David's parents lived in Sunrise - where my aunt and uncle used to live. Now I know why they were both comedy geniuses - they got 3/4 of their material from the yentas and the kibbitzers down in Florida!!! Now that Seinfeld is in syndication, I've officially assigned my mother comedy dictation duties. Anytime she observes something hilarious, she's instructed to write it down and send it my way. So have no fear, there's plenty more tales to tell from the shores of Boynton Beach and I can't wait to uncover them!

Things that Annoy Me During the Holidays

2006-12-17T21:45:00.000-05:00

It's only a few days away from Christmas and the Undercover Mom is here to share her thoughts on the five things that drive her nuts during the holiday season.

1. "It's the most wonderful time of the year" - Come on - you know the song. It's been blasting out of your car radio since Thanksgiving. What the heck is it with radio stations and holiday music? It seems like every year the holiday tunes start playing incessantly the minute I shut off the Macy's Parade and hop into my car to buy cranberry sauce. Frankly, I've had it up to here with the 55 unique interpretations of "Frosty the Snowman." And hearing Rod Stewart doing a Julie Andrews rendition of "My Favorite Things," is pretty darn creepy. Wasn't he the "Do You Think I'm Sexy Guy?" Come on pop stars, rap artists, rockers, crooners and country singers. If you don't have a new CD to release, do not torture us with your own musical take on the "Little Drummer Boy."

2. Wrapped up in Gift Wrap. Since I'm a last minute shopper, I wind up frantically searching for gift wrap the day before Christmas and the pickings are always slim. Why do we all have to wrap presents anyway? Between trying to find the damn scissors, to rationing out the scotch tape because I forgot to pick up another roll, I've gotten to the point that I'm about to picket those wrapping paper companies. In fact, I've actually come up with an ingenious way to wrap a gift without having to cut, tape or glue a thing. Buy a nice shopping bag with some holiday decorations on it, stuff in some tissue paper, plop in the gift (remove the price tag of course), sign the little card the bag comes with, and voila, you've got a present. Same thing with boxes - a pretty box with a bow is always the way to go. Stop chopping down trees to make wrapping paper. It only winds up in the garbage anyway.

3. Holiday tips. How many people are on your tip list this year? The mailman, the paper delivery guy, the garbage men, the landscaper, the guy at the gas station, the parking attendant, and on and on and on. Here's a tip - stop expecting everybody and their uncle to tip you for doing your job. If you do something above and beyond the call of duty - like deliver my paper with a sugar free vanilla skim a latte, then you my friend, deserve something special.

4. Photo Card Guilt. Once again, none of my friends will know what my kids look like this year unless we've actually gone to visit them. We do not have a mailing list and we haven't posed for a family portrait except when we were getting our passports. Thank you to all of our friends who have sent lovely cards and photos. Another year has passed and we still refuse to create and send holiday cards.

5. Pedestrian Traffic. If you work in midtown Manhattan then you know exactly what I'm talking about. It literally drives me to the point of insanity when I rush out of my office to catch my commuter train and get caught in the middle of a pedestrian snarl along Fifth Avenue. Yes - this year that Cartier gift box that opens up and plays music along with a light show is pretty cool. But, if the light is green, make up your mind and cross the street. I only give myself 14 minutes to catch my train and this holiday foot traffic totally drags down my Metronorth arrival time.

I know I may sound bitter - but trust me, it's all in jest. Tonight when I sang "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" with my kids at dinner, I had a great time watching them sing along with me. But maybe that's what the holidays are all about - enjoy your family and friends, take some much needed time off, open those gifts at home, but most of all, stay out of my way.

Observations on the Train

2006-12-17T15:11:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's just that I spend a lot of time commuting, but lately that people have become really rude as they ride the rails to and from Manhattan. Suddenly, the space that's usually taken up by my morning coffee klatch, or the four old men playing a mean round of poker, has been filled with tourists, little kids, students and others who haven't taken a course in commuting 101. Take the student I sat across from last week. As I barely made the 5:48pm express, I squeezed through the aisles desperately searching for a seat and noticed that the four seater had two available seats whose only inhabitants were a laptop computer bag and a knapsack. When I looked over to see who was hogging the seats, I realized it was this young college kid who obviously doesn't ride the train that often. I asked him to move his stuff so I could sit down and he actually had the nerve to look at me and say, "Can't you just sit somewhere else?" I squeezed into the seat and then looked across to find a woman dropping off a baby stroller with her husband than dashing out off the train...probably for a much needed mom's night out. The baby was actually pretty well behaved, so I was impressed with the effortless hand-off between this commuter couple. Then there was the complete gross out situation. It was the end of a long day, most of the seats were occupied and I looked across a four seater to see a man who was pretty disheveled, sitting with a computer on his lap and his shoes completely off. That wouldn't have been as offensive if the man didn't proceed to put his feet on the seat in front of him where I normally sit with my girlfriends every single morning. EWWWW...my 8:48 am commute will never be the same.

Tennis Anyone?

2006-11-25T08:19:00.000-05:00

On a recent work at home day I decided to take a creative lunch break. Rather than run out to my local salad shop, I decided to infiltrate a place I had been trying to break back into since I was a senior in high school. After much procrastination, I finally did it. I called up the New Rochelle Racquet Club and asked if I could sub in one of their tennis leagues.

You see, back in the day - the day being 1986, I was quite the tennis player. I was on my high school tennis team and played competitively - even winning some major competitions in New York City. But then, like a long lost friend who moves to another town, my tennis racquet was put away in a closet and wasn't heard from again until my recent visit to the neighborhood tennis club.

At first, it seemed harmless enough. Half of the women were retirees, the other stay at home moms and the third contingent - the subs, seemed to be the ones with one foot in and one foot out. They probably worked but still need a good tennis fix every now and again. I chatted up the woman who ran the league and explained that I used to be pretty good but hadn't played in a while. She re-assured me that tennis is like riding a bike. I'd pick it back up in no time. She decided to place me in a group with older players (rather than the stay at home mom clique who probably would have ridiculed me afterwards) and off I went.

The first faux pas I made during my infiltration of the league was that I wasn't wearing any tennis whites. Worse yet, I had put on the only pair of trendy sweat pants I could find but it didn't have pockets. And so, every time I stuck a ball down my pants, I had to wedge it into the side of my underwear so that it wouldn't fall down my leg while I was playing...I know - a lovely image - I never said the truth was pretty.

And then we started to hit. Usually, when you play tennis, you use one ball at a time to practice. Not the ladies on this court. They insisted on playing with two balls at the same time - which completely through me off since I didn't have control of my racquet yet, so every time the woman directly across the way hit a ball to me, I smacked it to her partner who was busy hitting a separate ball to the player next to me.

Practice time ended pretty quickly and we moved on to game play. Gulp. During the first set, I was pretty pathetic. The balls came at me and I tried to smack them back across and they either landed directly into the net or out of bounce. When I was up at the net, I was either too close or too far from the net to put the ball away and show those old biddies who was boss. We of course, lost the first few games, until I got my rhythm back and then it was time for me to serve.

My serve, thankfully is the best thing about my game...when I'm playing well. Since these women pretty much thought I sucked, they were completely blown away when I shot back a few aces during my round. After one nice slice that was complimented by one of the players, I remarked, "that was vintage 1986" - harkening back to my glory days when I was at the top of my game. All I got back from that woman was a blank stare - she must have thought I was a total freak. Lovely.

After having some good moments on the court and many more bad ones, I came away losing one set, winning one and was in the process of cruising through the third (primarily because my partner was pretty damn good) when the ladies decided to call it quits...it was probably time for canasta. As for me, I put my tennis racquet back in its holder, rubbed my shoulder, which was now pretty sore since those muscles hadn't been used in a while and headed back to my home office to get back to work.

While I thought infiltrating the ladies tennis league would be great fun, I realized that these days, I'm a little over my head and in desperate need of practice. Maybe I should just grab some court time with some people I know and feel comfortable with. Because when you play with die-hard tennis league retirees, they have no interest in how good you used to be.

The Oblivious Factor

2006-10-31T12:20:00.000-05:00

What is it these days with the Oblivious Factor? Whether we're driving, shopping or walking down the street, we are so wrapped up in something else other than looking to see if we're blocking someone's way or slowing down traffic, that we pretty much become a nuisance not only to others, but a hazard to ourselves. Just last week I was at our favorite supermarket - Stew Leonard's - for those of you on the east coast, you've probably been to Stew's - the Disneyworld of supermarkets - for others - you're missing a great shopping experience for yourself and the kids...but I digress. So there I was, maneuvering my cart through the circuitous fruit aisle when I wound up in gridlock - or cart-lock to be more precise. Some careless shopper - a man who had abandoned his cart to sample some muffin crumbs, had left me no room to get around him. And so, I had to wait while he savored a scone, until I could move to the next section. On the deli line, the back-up got even worse because tons of people were lined up to place orders and carts were literally strewn willy nilly down the aisle. I narrowly avoided knocking over someone's toddler who had gone AWOL while her mom was ordering some boiled ham and thankfully, moved on without a scratch to meat and dairy. Food, glorious food. Once again, people were off in different directions, sampling chicken apple sausages, Italian meatballs and bratwurst. And their carts? Well, there were two jacknifed by the potato chip rack, three camped out in front of of the dancing cows (my husband was one of those offenders) and four crowded around the dancing Chiquita Banana lady. Thoroughly frustrated, I slipped my hand into the fracas, wrenched out a few low-hanging bananas, called out to my husband to grab the kids - who had now joined a conga line near the Polly-o string cheese and wove my way to the register.

Luckily, there are about 40 cashiers at Stew's so checking out is never a problem - they have that part down to a science. But, we did have to make our way to the parking lot where there was a bottleneck by the propane tanks. End of season refills, I guess. Plus, some lady was standing smack in the middle of the lot yapping away on her cell phone, while another guy was typing some incredibly important message on his Treo that he had to send on a Saturday morning, just as we attempted to guide our overfilled cart to our car.

We finally crammed the groceries into the minivan, strapped the kids into their booster seats and were on our way - well not exactly. We had to contend with some woman fixing her lipstick in her rearview mirror, a teenager attempting to parallel park and that guy with the Treo who was still deep in the throws of some major emergency...or maybe he was just finalizing plans with his buddy to watch football.

And then there was me.

Yes, I admit it, I am oblivious too. While my husband was asking me a question about our next destination, I was busy scanning email messages on my BlackBerry, handing the kids two juice boxes, while reaching to make a call on my cell phone. He quickly gave me that, you better pay attention to me look or else, and I promptly placed all my technical gadgetry away in my purse and told him to head to the dry cleaners.

I've come to the conclusion that these days, for better or worse, we're all completely oblivious. But before you smack into the car in front of you, or hold up a line of shopping carts, or send a text message while crossing a busy street, or piss off your spouse, take a look around - the undercover mom may be right behind you and she's taking copious notes!

PANDEMONIUM AT THE PEDIATRICIAN

2006-10-12T19:24:00.000-04:00

After being freaked out by the school nurse today who called me at the office to tell me that my daughter had some weird bug bite that seemed to be growing in size, I had a feeling it was going to be an early day. Sure enough, at 3:15 pm, my babysitter called to tell me the welt on her leg was growing bigger by the minute and I had to race home to take her to the doctor. Obviously pretty concerned, I grabbed my coat and bag and raced to catch the 4pm train home...of course missing two conference calls, but such is life when your kid develops a freaky skin rash.

On the way home, I thought about an email I read yesterday about some kid who was playing in the ball pit at McDonald's, told his mom his tush was hurting and then went into convulsions and it turned out he had been pricked by a needle that had heroin in it and unfortunately, according to the email - which I honestly didn't know if it was true - the child didn't make it. Not a good time for my own daughter to come down with a mysterious bug bite issue in light of that horrifying read.

The moment I got home, I inspected my daughter's leg and it looked pretty red so I figured it was still a good idea to take her the doctor to make sure it was nothing. So we raced off to the pediatrician at 5:30 pm and when we arrived, it was a madhouse.

Kids, babies and toddlers were crying incessantly. Screaming at the top of their lungs. Wailing for their mommies. The more a kid screamed, the more the others cried louder. Meanwhile, my kids, who got into a mini brawl at the abacus, decided to grab a front row seat and watch the mayhem unfold around us. One boy was running for dear life trying to avoid getting his flu shot, a nurse attempted to hold onto a baby who was crying out for her mom while she was busy holding on to her other kid who was getting immunized. Then, a little girl smacked that mom after having to endure a shot too! Holy cow - the place was a disaster area! And that poor woman with the four kids was in desperate need of a tequila shot herself!

They finally called my daughter's name and we went inside - of course she did have some kind of weird infected bug bite - not poisonous of course, but the doctor did prescribe some antibiotics, skin creme and benadryl just to be on the safe side. Now that she's falling asleep from all those antihisthamines and I'm enjoying the peace and quiet of my home office, today's meltdown at the pediatrician made me realize one thing. Taking a bunch of kids to the doctors' office is no picnic at the park.

THE LINE

2006-10-04T21:53:00.000-04:00

I admit it. I have absolutely no patience whatsoever. And so, during my morning commute if someone slows me down, I can be a veritable steamroller, with smoke coming out of my ears and everything. This morning, my patience barometer was quite low when I went to drop off my car at the train station and there was some new parking attendant there. I had five minutes to catch my train and there were no spots in the lot to be found. And so, I was about to hand the keys to the valet to park my car - which is what I normally do with the guy who is usually there - and the new guy proceeds to tell me to go pull around and find a spot. "But my train is coming!" I shouted. He pretty much didn't care. Kind of like that post office lady who takes her time selling you stamps and holds up the line for hours because she knows she can. Anyway, exasperated and strapped for time, I angrily got back in my car and squeezed into a spot the size of shoebox.

Fortunately I made the train and had a delightful commute with my Metro North coffee klatch and then made it into Manhattan where I stopped by my usual breakfast joint to pick up an oatmeal and a diet snapple. But for some reason which I cannot understand for the life of me, I wound up on the one line that was the absolute slowest. Kind of like when you're about to go over a bridge and the lane you're in is moving just fine until it comes up to your turn and the bozo in front of you forgets his EZ Pass and screws everyone else up. But I digress. So I get on this line and the cashier is new - which I should have known since I'm always there but I wasn't paying close enough attention. She starts ringing up the guy in front of me and totally screws up the sale. And so, she needs to get the manager to fix her register and at this point, I'm getting antsy. I look to jump to another line and when I do, the lady in front of me is busy placing an order for 10 people in her office. Of course, the line I was just on is now moving, so I try to get back in line again and it of course comes to a complete halt again. What are they taunting me or something???

I finally did get my turn, paid for my overpriced oatmeal which was cold by the time I arrived in my office, and then I started my day. Didn't have any more line troubles after that, but tomorrow is always another day...

Kiddy Brawl at Kid Friendly Bistro

2006-09-21T08:16:00.000-04:00

Took our kids out to their favorite restaurant - an Italian joint that offers a supervised play area complete with four Sony playstations, movies, a climbing loft, video games and fooz ball. Complete heaven for children and nirvana for parents who get to have a conversation over a glass of wine without a four-year-old spilling chocolate milk all over the table. But then, it happened. As my husband and I were engaged in some much needed adult conversation and our kids were off watching "Shrek 2," three kids who were not our own mosey-ed over to our table and decided to have a wrestling match. As the plastic balls they had just won from the game room went flying all around us, we looked all over the place and couldn't see a parent in sight to reign them in. And so, we gave them our best "evil eye" impression and they took their brawl to another table of unsuspecting diners. I know that we go to this restaurant specifically to keep our kids entertained while we enjoy ourselves too, but parents - please pay attention if your child has meandered out of the playroom and has decided to extend their playtime into the dining area. It's not fun for anyone when someone else's kids pitches a fit right in front of you just as you're trying to savor your linguini with clam sauce.

The Witches of Preschool

2006-09-12T09:33:00.000-04:00

You know summer is officially over when you take your child back to pre-school and have a run-in with that nasty group of cliquey moms who never give you the time of day - probably because you work and they don't or you're not wearing a new pair of $300 jeans and they are. Whatever the case, it happened this morning when I was dropping off my son's pizza money at the front office and the Witches of Pre-school decided to hang out in the doorway and have a conversation just as I tried to maneuver my way past them. I've known these women for the past year - they've seen me bring my child to class with their little princesses - who are beyond rude but that's a whole other story. I know they know who I am - they've even been to my house for my son's birthday party and yet when I saw them today they did that really annoying, "I don't pretend to see you" routine that makes my blood boil. Sure, I could be confrontational, stare at them point blank and say "Hi, how was your summer," but I'd rather trash them here since it's a lot more fun to share my rant with my girlfriends in cyberspace. I'm sure there will be plenty more posts about the Witches of Preschool since they always seem to piss me off whenever I see them. Stay tuned...one of them invited my son to his daughter's birthday party - if I decide to go, I'm sure I'll have tons of juicy material to report back!

How Am I Driving?

2006-09-10T20:55:00.000-04:00

For the first time in my adult life, I actually called one of those How Am I Driving? bumper stickers after we were stuck behind a van tonight that was hovering from side to side on a busy highway. We were shocked that this awful driver would have the guts to put up a sticker inviting us to report his terrible skills on the road to his boss. At first, we laughed it off. But then, when a cigarette came flying out of his window and right under our car, we were ready to fight back. Armed with the phone number 1-800-807-SAFE, I tried to report that dangerous driver in front of us, except all that I got on the other end was a recording that said the phone number I was trying to reach was out of service. Are you kidding me? I suddenly realized that those bumper stickers could be the ultimate scam. I've never tried to call one of those phone numbers and now that I have, I'm tempted to try it every time I pass a car or truck with that annoying sticker plastered on the back. And if all those stickers don't work, then who's pulling off the scam? The bumper sticker company or the boss who made his employee stick it on his van in the first place? Hmmmm....is it a ploy by a devious boss who tries to get his workers to drive safe by slapping an embarrassing bumper sticker on the back knowing full well that no one in their right mind is actually going to ever call that number? Well, the Undercover Mom is onto you...looks like I'll be doing some investigating of my own...one never knows - this could turn into an expose of the bumper sticker industry! Or just a story about a poor schmo who ordered a bumper sticker with the wrong phone number on it.

Bratz at Dunkin Donuts

2006-09-07T10:40:00.000-04:00

Was in Dunkin Donuts today ordering my regular (iced hazelnut, skim milk and splenda) and noticed a mom who I swear resembled a life- sized Bratz doll. I thought only celebrities take on pixie like qualities because the camera adds 10 pounds to their frame, so when I saw this perfectly coiffed woman dressed in her gym clothes with three kids in tow and noticed that her body was literally the size of a seven year old's, my mouth literally dropped to the floor. I had to force myself not to stare because I have to admit, it's quite strange to see a woman who is a spitting image of a Bratz doll walking into Dunkin Donuts of all places. She of course didn't order anything other than a coffee, but part of me wanted to buy the poor woman a box of munchkins. I'm the first one to say that it's great to be thin but Bratz doll thin is a little kooky.

A Cheesy Experience

2006-09-02T16:31:00.000-04:00

What is it about people who think they are "in the know" about a great hole in the wall restaurant that you just have to visit during a weekend getaway? Since we are a "restaurant family" we decided to take one friend's advice and visit a place that we hadn't yet tried this summer. And so, on a Friday night at around 7pm in the pouring rain, we walked into the back entrance of the restaurant, which appeared to have a few tables open and attempted to get a seat. Unfortunately, even though there were a few empty tables, we were told to go to the other side of the restaurant to put our name on their waiting list. And so, we fought our way through a crowd of people ordering takeout, only to learn that the wait to get inside was 30 minutes and we were starving. We decided to hit the road and visit one of our favorite restaurants in the area and were quickly seated, waited upon and had a great experience. Fast forward to today. Another rainy day spent watching movies and shopping for school supplies. At 3pm we decided to give that hole in the wall one last try and this time, we got a table. But, there's something about "hole in the wall" restaurants and service. They don't feel the need to rush to your table to take your drink order or hand over the bread basket. It took a good 10 minutes for us to be waited upon (after my husband asked the hostess to find us a waiter), and then we learned that there was no kids menu, if you wanted pizza you couldn't order it by the slice and if you wanted to substitute anything on the menu or ask for something like "fresh garlic," that was completely out of the realm of possibility. Plus, my husband had a hankering for steamed mussels, which he quickly learned were already sold out and so, when he asked if he could order fried calamari, the waitress advised that they only start serving that delicacy at 4pm - Incidentally, it was 3:30 pm when he asked for the calamari - you'd think they'd bend the rules since they ran out of his first choice but I guess the guy who cooks the squid doesn't come in until the late afternoon. When the food did finally arrive, it was good but not amazing. The pizza, which came fresh out of the oven, didn't even have time to cool down so when we lifted our slices to take a bite, the cheese came flying off. And, they couldn't even give us regular plates for us to put the pizza on. They handed us flimsy paper plates that became saturated with oil and cheese from the pizza that wasn't quite ready for consumption. So why does a place where the service is sub par and the food flexibility choices non-existent, still have people lining up in droves to sample their fare? I guess it's that crazy word of mouth syndrome. One guy discovered this diamond in the rough way back when, he told two friends and so on and so on. Too bad now that the place is teeming with people all day and night, this old gem has become a bit worn around the edges. I guess the take-out crowd has it all right - order the food, bring it home and serve it up any way you like!

The Family Bed

2006-08-28T07:58:00.000-04:00

Our summer vacation this year started on a low note. After a hectic work day and the official end of summer camp, we packed up our bags and hit the road for a nine day trip to New England. First stop, Mystic Connecticut. We arrived pretty late (around 9pm) and while the hotel we were staying at was supposed to have tons of amenities...like a bellman to take our stuff to our room, no one came out to greet us. And so, with two hungry kids, we lugged about 10 bags into the hotel lobby. We then saw the valet who said "Oh, you need help? Here's a suitcase trolley - just bring it back when you're done with it." My husband at this point was obviously annoyed but the frustration didn't end there. When we opened the door to our room we noticed a glaring oversight. There was one bed in the room, but we were travelling with two kids who are finally used to sleeping by themselves. We immediately called down to the front desk to advise them of their error in not putting us in a room with two mattresses, and the concierge explained that they had no way of reaching us to tell us that they didn't have a room available with twin beds. Hmmm...that's a likely story, considering I booked our vacation online and entered everything except my social security number into their list of questions to approve my booking. When we went downstairs to complain in person, the woman behind the desk insisted on telling us she had no way of reaching us. At this point we were fuming, and told them they better get us two rollaway beds pronto. Problem was, they could only send one since two would be against the fire code. Of course. We walked back up to our room and saw the rollaway hanging outside our door - far be it from this luxury family friendly hotel to actually wheel it inside and set it up for us at 10 o'clock at night. No, I told my kids to move out of the way and then proceeded to set it up myself. But it gets better. My daughter went to the bathroom and noticed that someone had literally rubbed an indelible mark into the toilet seat and the bathtub. Plus, when I went to turn on a lamp to read, it was broken. When we went down to the desk the following morning to complain, surprise, the hotel manager wasn't there - even though she was supposed to report for duty at 9am and we were lingering by the concierge desk at 9:20am. Determined to make the best of the situation, we set out for a fun-filled day in Mystic - luckily, by the time we returned, there was a new room awaiting us with two double beds, clean tub and toilet and working lamps. At least they got it right in time for us to leave for our next destination.

Color Me Stupid...

2006-08-12T12:55:00.000-04:00

Passed by an expensive children's store today that appeared to be bustling with pony-tailed preppy moms on the lookout for the latest overpriced pinafore for their precious pixie. While the place was jam-packed and obviously making lots of sales, what caught my eye was the fact that the owner decided to provide a children's activity in the entranceway while the moms shopped inside. Before you set foot into the store, you could deposit your child at a round table complete with coloring books and crayons. Nice idea, but here's the problem. No one was on hand to supervise in case a three-year-old dropped her chartreuse crayola, it rolled under the table, out on the sidewalk and into the street that was filled with oncoming traffic. Who puts a kiddy table out on a sidewalk near a busy intersection with lots of cars just so that moms won't be distracted when they plunk down a huge chunk of change on their incredibly expensive offerings? I know it's hard to shop with young kids, but leaving them outside while you go inside to mingle with friends? If that's not a fashion faux pas, I don't know what is.

Drowsy at the Drugstore

2006-08-06T16:33:00.000-04:00

Another priceless service industry encounter today at the local pharmacy. The place was pretty much empty on a Sunday afternoon, so I leisurely strolled through the aisles finding all my items and then made my way to the register where I was the first in line to be waited upon. Little did I know that I was about to be greeted by a cashier I'd like to call Drowsy, a close relative of one of the Seven Dwarfs. For the next five minutes while she rang up my order, she must have told her colleague at least two dozen times, "I am so tired. I can't do this anymore. I just want to go to sleep." It became so annoying that I was about to start ringing up my purchases by myself. Do I really need to know that you didn't get enough sleep last night and the very thought of interacting with the public bores you to death? I think not. If you're that tired, then get yourself a can of coke or take a break. Trust me, the last thing a customer wants to hear is that you don't feel like waiting on anyone because, you're too darn sleepy. I'm pretty much running on fumes since my son slept in my bed last night, yet I still went food shopping, hit the gym, ran some more errands, returned a few blackberry emails and broke up several fights and it's only 4:30 pm. So honey, spare me the "I'm so sleepy routine" until you have kids too!

Tar-jay Oy Vey

2006-07-30T16:08:00.000-04:00

Was in my favorite store today...Target (pronounced Tar-jay) and unfortunately, had a frightful experience. The store was great, cavernous, plenty of selection, prices just right, but it was the checkout counter that turned my stomach. You see, as the woman in front of me was about to swipe her credit card through the machine, the cashier decided to inspect her fingernails and then proceeded to scrape out the dirt from them while she was conducting the sale. Did she think that no one was looking at her? That's almost as gross as picking a winner while you're in the car stopped in traffic and you think no one's paying attention. Here's a tip to anyone in the service industry dealing with customers who are less than two feet away from you, if you wanna clean your nails on company time, then hit the bathroom or head out on your lunch break for a manicure. For nose pickers on the go...do it while you're doing over 60 MPH...it's hard to catch you in the act when you're going that fast.

THE INVISIBLE FELDMANS

2006-07-20T20:21:00.000-04:00

There is something about my family and the service we get at restaurants. Practically every time we go to a restaurant - whether it's one we frequent on a regular basis or a new bistro that we're excited to try out, for some reason, the wait staff doesn't feel in a rush to serve us. Is it that they think we're nice enough and won't mind waiting a few extra minutes even though we're famished and waiting with baited breath for the bread basket to arrive? Or what about those days when we're dying of thirst and eager to order a drink and we watch as our waitress keeps visiting other tables, skims past our table and as we make a valiant attempt to call out to her, she's disappeared into the kitchen. We've been left waiting at the table for so long that we've begun to call ourselves, the Invisible Feldmans. We even have a theme song but since we don't have a podcast component yet, you can use your imagination on the tune. "Invisible Feldmans...we like to wait. Invisible Feldmans...do you think we just ate?" There are more lyrics, but it gets worse as it goes on. We have actually raised a stink from time to time when we've waited more than 45 minutes to be served in an empty restaurant but on regular occasions, we've pretty much made light of the fact that waiters and waitresses are equal opportunity ignorers when it comes to the Feldmans. So if you happen to be a waitress and you're reading this post...think of the invisible Feldmans - we might be in your restaurant one day so please don't ignore us...all we ask is for the bread and water and then you can ignore us until our kids start fighting over the last sourdough roll.

Picnic on My Jetta

2006-07-09T10:13:00.000-04:00

So I finally gave up my mom car, a big boxy minivan and I'm now sporting a sleek black Jetta. I've had it for a few months now and it's already morphing into a new version of the mom on wheels version I cast aside. The back seat is littered with toys, water bottles are everywhere, there's scissors and tape for presents wrapped on the fly and bird poop that desperately needs to be washed off the side view mirror if only I had time to go to the car wash. Anyway, all this leads me to what happened to my cool little Jetta last night. We were walking back to our parking spot only to find a pair of teenage boys with their drinks and sandwiches spread out on the hood of my trunk. There were at least 50 cars on the block, but these two boneheads decided that my new Jetta was the perfect spot for a late night picnic. While one of the kids apologized profusely for putting his gatorade on our car, my daughter looked at him and said "You know, that's very rude!" Exactly what I was thinking...thank goodness for the moxie of a seven year old. After this incident, I decided it's time to take my Jetta for a car wash - I need to keep my cool car intact so that no one else mistakes it for a picnic table.

Equi-Not

2006-07-05T22:02:00.000-04:00

I am hereby fed up with my gym. I hardly go, they charge me a gazillion dollars a month for the two times I'm there, and they just sent me a notice in the mail that they're about to raise their prices! Meanwhile, the place is always packed to the gills with cosmetic surgery plagued women who now have the figures of teenage girls, but that's a whole different story. I actually went to the gym this week and attempted to get on the first treadmill I saw. Unfortunately, it was broken. So I went to another one. Missing the thing-a-ma-jig that connected to the TV set so I couldn't use that one either. Went to a third and that too was on the fritz. This gym, in a word, blows. It's allegedly one of the best gyms out there and yet their equipment is constantly breaking down, the place is always crowded and the women are as plastic as my overused credit cards. I should cancel my membership and every so often I get up out of bed, throw on my workout clothes, determined to quit the gym once and for all. And then I think to myself, do I really want to go through the hassle of joining another gym that I won't go to and then will find a million reasons why that gym stinks too? So I'll keep going from time to time to this one. Maybe I'll even get in shape while I'm there. Okay, that's crazy talk. Let them fix the treadmill and the speaker thing and then maybe I'll carry my end of the bargain.

THE BASKETBALL DIARIES

2006-07-03T11:06:00.000-04:00

If you think this post is going to be about my secret passion for the game of b-ball, then think again. It's about a visit I paid to the Waldbaums in Southhampton yesterday where I was hit in the produce section by a flying basketball. Why would a basketball be anywhere near the honey dew melons, I'm sure you're asking yourself. Well your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that I was minding my own business, picking out some peaches, plums and all that other great summer fruit of the season when I glanced over to see a grown man having a catch with his teenage son in the aisle I was about to enter. At first, I thought to myself, "now that's pretty strange," but moved on since I'm a New Yorker and nothing really phases me. That is, until Bozo the basketball player decided to throw the ball to his son and it hit me in the leg! Now, I wasn't injured or anything by this accident in aisle 3, but what if I were an old woman with a walker? What if I was ambling down the aisle with my walker and basketball man through his ball, it hit me in the leg, I tripped, fell on the floor and broke my hip? Pretty big what it, but it could happen. Lesson of the day...keep the basketballs on the court or in a playground and stay away from the melons!

SHOELESS JANE

2006-07-02T10:00:00.000-04:00

Took the kids out to the park today and while my husband and dad kept an eye out on them, my mom and I kicked back on a park bench where we began to people watch. A few minutes passed and we looked over to see an older man who was either a grandfather or Dad (you never know in the Hamptons) who was walking along with an adorable two year old in a cute pink dress and no shoes. I'm all fine with being carefree with kids...especially since they hate shoes, but this time around, the little tykes' toes were in trouble. You see, the ground at this park is covered in sand that is littered with sticks, glass, rocks, bugs and other items that are not too sanitary for tiny feet. As the little girl tried to walk, she kept wincing in pain and lifting out her arms so that Grandpa would rescue her from walking on this kiddie version of hot coals. Meanwhile, Gramps was wearing sandals with socks so he didn't even realize that his little bundle of joy was in danger of damaging her tootsies. He finally picked her up and then brought her over to the toddler swings where he proceeded to push her so high that the little girl became frightened and begged him stop the swing twice. I guess in a few years, little shoeless Jane will love her adventurous Grandpa, but at age two, it's fine to just give a little push and lots of kisses...and keep those shoes on! Splinters are the worst and taking them out of a two year old foot is pure torture. Trust me, I've done it and it ain't pretty!

SAFETY LAST

2006-07-02T08:56:00.000-04:00

Went to a carnival run by the North Sea Fire Department last night and was completely appalled. From the moment we arrived, I stood behind a clueless patron who was busy fishing for cash and holding up the entire ticket line. When it was finally my turn, and she and her brood of four kids finally moved out of the way, I forked over my $45 for 20 ride tickets for my son and daughter. At first, it started out fine. They went into the fun house and the friendly ticket lady even let my husband go in with my kids so they wouldn't get scared (no extra ticket required). Immediately after that, things got ugly. We went over by the bumper cars and just as we were about to put the kids on the ride, the ticket taker informed my husband that two tickets were required, plus two adults had to ride with my kids because they were too young to go alone. So in other words, it would have cost us four tickets to ride the bumper cars. My dad went to complain to one of the event organizers about this ticket travesty and he just double talked him to death. If one person goes on the car, you have to give him two tickets because you're taking up a seat, but if two kids go on together it's one ticket each. Huh? Thoroughly confused and frustrated, we bailed and opted to go on a slide that only needed one ticket for two turns. Of course, about 25 yards away I spied a swing set complete with a slide that they could have played on for free for hours, my kids of course, opted for the bouncier model that cost us two tickets and 45 seconds. From there, things went from bad to worse. We headed toward a kiddy roller coaster where the lazy ticket attendant didn't even check to see if my kids were harnessed properly into the ride. I yelled out to my seven year old - "Make sure you hold on tight!" And then, I watched as they rode around the track hoping nothing bad would happen...luckily it didn't. Next was the carousel. Looked pretty safe but since it was about 90 years old, it was missing belts to strap the kids in! Luckily, the ticket kid allowed my husband to ride along with my son and we watched as the carousel sped around quickly with little ones holding on for dear life! One child even yelled out, "Mommy, this ride is really fast! Yippee!" Sure, "yippee" until someone is thrown from a decrepit horse! Then we went over to the Ferris Wheel, where a disgruntled ticket taker informed me that I had to ride along with my kids (no problem), so this time I handed him a ticket and strapped my son in. As we rode around and around and around (I forgot how boring the ferris wheel is), the Ferris Wheel guy kept on stopping, starting and speeding up the ride - so much so that at one point, our car begin rocking so fiercely that I feared it might flip over! "This ride is a disaster!" My four-year-old exclaimed. Exactly what I was thinking. When we finally got off, the miserable ticket guy didn't even extend a hand to help us off. Who taught this kid manners? An ex-con? The last ride of the day was the mini truck ride. A pretty safe bet with trucks that drove around in a circle for about two minutes. As we arrived on line, the ticket kid was embroiled in a dispute with another parent holding an adorable two year old. Apparently, the man didn't give the kid a ticket, although the man protested he did and then called him a kid or something to that effect. The kid, went ballistic. "I'm not a kid, I'm 20 years old. Why don't you get away from my (rhymes with truckin) ride!" Holy cow!!! Looks like a few two year olds just learned a new word. Suffice to say, we won't be returning to this annual rip off fest next year. Crazy that an event run by the Fire Department would have so many problems relating to safety. I think they better think twice about hiring kids who would rather be hanging out with their friends then dealing with the public in a friendly manner and helping little ones get on and off rides safely. One last note...there was one conscientous ride operator - the swing man. He at least made sure that all the kids were buckled in safely before he turned on the ride and they went swinging into oblivion. So at least there was one good apple in the bunch, the rest were pretty much rotten to the core.

No Kicking Please

2006-07-01T11:17:00.000-04:00

Just came back from seeing the movie "Cars" with my family. Surprisingly, my kids were incredibly well behaved but not so for the posse of restless ruffians that were surrounding us today. Behind us was Twinkle Toes Timmy who obviously thought he saw a "Kick This" sign posted on the seat in front of him and decided to use my daughter's chair as part of a two hour kick boxing routine. To my left was Katie the climber, who midway through the film decided to stand up on her seat because she ran out of popcorn. What this heck is it with taking out of control kids to movies these days? There are rules you know. Forget about the no smoking, no cell phone rule. For kids movies, they should have a no kicking the seat in front of you, no screaming because your brother just snagged the last twizzler and no standing on your seat when you get bored with the movie your parents paid good money to take you to see. And one more thing...parents, if your kids act up, it's your job to take them out. It's not fair to the rest of us who have already been through our own version of kiddie boot camp and can finally watch a movie in peace with our own kids.