Tattoos My Hubby Should Consider

My husband has suddenly decided that he wants to get a tattoo.  He’s been spending time on different sites, trying to come up with ideas.  I have come up with a list of things I think he should consider.  Enjoy.

1. Girl Maker: Three pregnancies, three girls. Might as well state the obvious.
2. My Wife is AWESOME: NO explanation needed and likely to increase his action in the bedroom.
3. An iPhone: Why? Because you will NEVER see my husband without his iPhone in his hand or within a few inches from him. NEVER.  EVER. EVER.
4. A Motorcycle or a Ferrari: Because that’s the closest he’ll be to actually ever owning either one.
5. A Mustache (on his finger): That way, when he shaves his face and looks like a much younger version of himself, he can walk around with his finger under his nose and people won’t feel the need to card him and/or call me a cougar.
6. An Off Switch: There are times when we argue about something stupid. And even though 1/2 of the time, he is usually right, I would love to be able to push a button and stop him from talking.
7. A Map to his Keys and Wallet: Without fail, my husband misplaces his keys and wallet on a daily basis. Every. Single. Day. We are late to almost every event because we spend 10-15 minutes looking for one or both.
8. STOP AND LISTEN TO YOUR WIFE: That’s an important one.  We will often have an entire conversation and he will have no recollection of any of it, minutes later.  If he has this tattoo on his wrist, that might help. Or, will he just forget to look at his wrist?
9. All of the things he constantly says to our girls, day in and day out: There are things that he tells our girls regularly and they never seem to stop doing them. So what I’m thinking, is that he can tattoo these things on different parts of his body and when they do them, he can show them the tattoo.  For instance, “DON’T CHEW WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN” – that one could be tattooed on his armpit.  And while we are at the dinner table, he can flash his armpit, instead of saying it for the 1,000th time.  Or “STOP YELLING” – that one could be tattooed on his tongue.  Or how about, “DON’T FART AT THE DINNER TABLE” – that one could be tattooed on his butt.  He can flash his…  Ok, maybe I should rethink this one. Next thing we’ll know, our kids will just be mooning us at the table and then he’ll need a tattoo for that.
10. Super Dad: Of all the funny ideas I’ve had, this one I really and truly mean.  I couldn’t have picked a better man to be the father of my kids.  He’s been hands on since day 1, changing diapers, cleaning bottles, doing their hair, the whole nine.  All three of our girls know how safe they are when Daddy is around.  They know that although he might raise his voice sometimes, that he loves them unconditionally and will always be there to wipe the tears.  He is amazing. He is super dad!

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Why Your Jewish Mom Shouldn’t Be in Charge of Easter

To my beautiful daughters,

I want to start this off by saying that I love you, very much. I’m sorry that you didn’t wake up to tons of Easter eggs. I’m sorry that I’m not very awesome when it comes to Easter. You see, Mommy is Jewish and even though we’ve been through this for the last 8 years, I’m still learning. This should be Dad’s job! He’s been celebrating Easter for 40 years. Err.. I mean 29.

I know, Easter should be easy. The Easter Bunny should just show up and do his magic, leaving you tons of Easter goodies. Apparently, it’s Mommy’s responsibility to help him and I missed the memo. Again.

When Daddy took you to church this morning, Mommy scrambled around the house trying to find something to put in the eggs. I knew you wouldn’t appreciate crayons or glitter or popcorn.

I quickly went onto Facebook. Scrolling through my newsfeed made me feel even worse. There were soooo many baskets and egg hunt pics. Things that were clearly planned for weeks. I have some pretty incredible and creative friends.

My favorite idea was this one:


My friend Amy really outdid herself. Right? She always comes up with awesome ideas. And while she has help from Pinterest (a Mom’s best friend), her daughters will always grow up remembering that their Mom always got them the coolest things for every holiday. And I hope one day you’ll feel the same about me.

Anywhoo, it’s not happening this year because I didn’t have any of those things in the house, so I put my creative cap on and threw together a little scavenger hunt.

Luckily, in the back corner of our cabinets, I found a bag of jelly beans that must have been in there since Target’s after Easter sale. Hopefully it wasn’t any older than last year, but you never can tell. You know how Mommy feels about a 75% off sale!

Now that the eggs are hidden, Mommy’s going to take a nap and dream about the Chinese food we are going to eat for dinner because that’s what us Jews do on Easter (and Christmas).

Love you,

In case you were wondering…

When the girls got home from church, they went crazy, running through the house like they were their Mom searching for some peace and quiet. It took them about 5 minutes to finish the scavenger hunt and when they got to the last egg, they found a coupon in each of their eggs for dessert, a trip to the playground and a DVD. They also each had $.50 and a plastic owl necklace. My 4 year old said this was the best Easter ever. Maybe she’s right. We are happy, healthy and we have each other. No idea I find on Pinterest could ever beat that.

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One Day I’d Love To Pee Alone, Just to See What it’s Like

Let me start off by saying that this blog post took me almost a week to finish. I tried to use my bathroom time but had too many interruptions…

When I was younger, I remember following my Mom and Grandma to the bathroom on a regular basis. I would sit on the floor and wait patiently while they did what they needed to do. Sometimes we chatted and sometimes we sat in complete silence. I thought it was completely normal.

In my recent years, the toilet has been the place that I come up with my best ideas. Literally. I don’t know what it is, but a light bulb above my head shines bright when my pants are around my ankles. The problem lately is that it’s not a quiet place for me to think. It’s become a free for all. A place to ask Mommy for some juice. A place to tell on my sister. A place to ask Mommy for help with my homework.

Like most Moms, I never have the opportunity to use the bathroom in peace without one of my girls walking in, knocking on the door, hiding outside of the door or yelling something from the other room. “I’m going to the bathroom” is secret kid code for “please come with me and watch.”

Not long ago, I asked my 4 year old why she keeps following me to the bathroom. Her answer was simple… “As long as I can’t see your privates, it’s ok for me to be in here.” While she had a point (I think), I still struggled with explaining why the bathroom is a place where you need privacy. I’ve even considered telling her that the bathroom is my office and when Mommy is working, I can’t be disturbed. But the last thing I need is for her to go to school on career day and tell her class that I pee and poop for a living.

Problem is, kids are trained differently. Think about it… in pre-school, you are basically potty trained in front of your entire class. When you get into the 3 year old class, boys and girls share the bathroom. Two toilets in each bathroom, side by side and the teacher requires the door to stay open, just in case someone has an accident or sticks a toy down the toilet. In elementary, middle and high school, you are in a stall next to four or five other kids. And a lot of the time, it becomes a place to chat with friends about the latest gossip. Heck, that even extends to your adulthood when you’re at work.

At home, when you’re young and need Mom or Dads help, they are in there with you. In our case, our 4 year old still won’t go without her older sister because she’s afraid of the dark. So to her, a bathroom is a place that you just don’t go alone. And it’s been that way since she’s been out of diapers.

As you get older, you tend to take a buddy with you to the bathroom. Having a girls night? Can’t go to the bathroom without your BFF. Why? No idea. Maybe it makes it easier to pee knowing that someone you know is a couple of feet away? Maybe you are anticipating needing some toilet paper or someone to hold the door for you, so your friend is backup? Whatever the case is, we expect privacy at home but expect companionship while we are out in public.

So how do we solve this dilemma? The more I think about it and the more I watch my girls grow every day, the more I realize that years down the road, when my old and wrinkly behind is sitting on the toilet, I’ll be wishing my girls were right there next to me. I’ll be wishing they were arguing outside my door. I’ll be wishing they were asking me for some juice and I’ll wonder why I ever wished otherwise. Until that time, I’ll keep the door open.

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The $48 Bunny That Poops Jelly Beans

Have you seen this? It’s called the Funny Bunny. You wind him up and he walks and poops jelly beans.  One of my readers sent it to me and asked what I thought of it.  I’m super excited to give my thoughts on it.  There is SO much wrong with this concept. I don’t even know where to begin but here goes.

512aKzYaD4L._SY300_1. Does this send the message that we should be eating what comes out of animals butts? So, thinking like a small child, if my Mom got this toy for me, I’d probably think that all animals poop edible yummy candies.  And even if I didn’t believe that was true, I MIGHT, just MIGHT try it to prove or disprove my theory.  Maybe it should come with a warning label saying that this is the ONLY animal that poops yummy edible candy?

2. It’s over $48 at Sears. Seriously? For real, check it out. Who prices these things? I’d rather spend that type of money on anything else.  Really. I’d pay someone to beat me with a wet towel for 20 minutes before I would spend that on a toy that walks around the house and poops jelly beans. Heck, for $50, I could probably purchase a real bunny AND a giant jar of jelly bellys and we can eat them while we watch the bunny poop real poop!

3. Is this teaching kids that it’s ok to eat off of the floor? So, let me get this straight… you wind up this bunny and he walks while pooping jelly beans… onto the floor… And if I happen to have not cleaned my floors in the last 24 hours (which is a big possibility with 3 kids, 2 businesses and a full time job), then my child is picking up these jelly beans along with anything else that happens to stick to it and then eating them?  Great! So in addition to the $48, I’ll also be paying the $30 co-pay for the pediatrician when they catch something nasty.

4. I am grateful he doesn’t poop chocolate covered raisins. Well, aren’t you?

5. Hopefully if you eat organically, you don’t try the organic version. Warning: Real bunnies do not poop organic jelly beans, even if they are raised on an organic farm by an organic farmer.  I promise. Skip this idea and just go eat a carrot. You’re welcome.

6. I can do without the fighting. With three girls in the house and no chance that I would ever buy 3 of these (because that’s almost my car payment), I would be subjecting myself to hearing the constant fighting over who ate the most poop.  I can hear it now… “Mommy, she ate more poop than I did.” “No I didn’t! I only ate 2 poops.” “Mom, all the poop is gone, can we go to the store and buy more?”

7. What’s next? Can they get more disturbing? Next, will they come out with the bunny that vomits candy corn shaped like carrots?

8. Is this funny bunny related to the Energizer Bunny? They both keep going and going and going… Sorry, I had to.

9. The bunny is not alone. Apparently, there is a whole collection of these “poopers”. Political (yes, there is even an Obama pooper), sports, pirates, monsters and the biggest shocker of all PRINCESS POOPERS!!! What?! Princesses that poop? Isn’t that going against everything that Disney has spent our entire lives brainwashing us with? Aren’t princesses supposed to be proper and dainty? Well for $3.99 or $10.99 for a set of three, these can be yours and you can wind up and watch them GO!  While I can’t see the back of them, I think these are a bit more tasteful, compared to the giant hole in the rabbits butt. They are so cute, I just might buy one and check it out. Of course… I can only imagine what meeting the princesses on our next trip to Disney would be like.


Have you purchased one of these? I’d love to hear what you think about it! If you want to buy one, I did find a place that sells them for less than $5. Check it out here. Find something crazy on the internet, I’d love to review it! Send it to me:

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No I’m Not Pregnant.. But Thanks For Asking


Over the last nine years, I have been pregnant for a combined total of 116 weeks. I gained a total of 142lbs and lost about 100lbs of that, give or take. I gained more stretch marks than I could count and while they aren’t the prettiest things to look at, they are a beautiful reminder of the miracle of life. They remind me how blessed I am to have my girls.

While I’d love to lose the remaining baby weight and get back to my curvy 20-something body, I’m not in any hurry. Plus, that new Breyers Gelato Indulgence is crazy good. But I digress. I know that as I continue to eat right and exercise, it will happen eventually and until then, it would be great if people would stop asking if I’m pregnant.

When I was pregnant, I was big. Undeniably large. I was asked stupid questions regularly like…

1. Are you sure there’s only one baby in there?
2. Any idea how big that baby is going to be?
3. Are you having triplets?
4. Does that hurt?

Yes, the stupid questions seemed endless. And while most were women asking these stupid questions, I’ll never forget the man on the elevator, when I was 9 months pregnant, who felt the need to ask me how much weight I had gained during my pregnancy. I straight-faced told him I was not pregnant and walked off the elevator, leaving him with a terrified look and hopefully the smarts never to ask a woman that or anything quite as dumb ever again.

We visit the same grocery store at least 4 times a week. Throughout my most recent pregnancy, I must have seen the same cashier 100 times. She would always ask me when the big day was. She started asking as soon as I started showing (right around 3 months). About three months after I gave birth, I went to the grocery store and got into the same cashiers line. I hadn’t seen her since I gave birth so I got a picture of the baby ready on my phone for when she asked about her. Because that’s how I was sure this was going to go. She said hi with a huge smile on her face and then asked when I was due. I’m sorry, what? The blank stare on my face must’ve given it away because her happy face suddenly changed. I told her that I wasn’t pregnant and that I had already had the baby three months ago. The manager who was bagging my groceries tried to fix the situation but it only made things worse. I was a ball of raging postpartum hormones and was somewhere between tears and chucking a jar of baby food at her now embarrassed face. Looking back on it now, I probably should have asked her when she was due even though I knew she wasn’t pregnant. Maybe that would have taught her.

We went to a museum about three months later and they had a gravity “ride”. My oldest wanted to go on it but she needed an adult. I gladly volunteered, stood in the line with her and made it all the way up to the front when the girl working there stopped me and said, “I’m sorry… You can’t go on this while you’re pregnant.” As taken-a-back as I was, I quickly responded with, “Well, it’s a good thing I had my baby six months ago.” The look on her face was priceless.

Dropping my middle daughter at her school one day, I was greeted at the door by one of her classmates. He said, “Is there another baby in your belly?” He’s four. He’s allowed to ask questions like that just as I was allowed to close the door in his face. Don’t worry, he was fine and never asked that question again, to me at least.

So what I hope you have gotten out of this post, if anything, is to NEVER ask a woman how far along she is, when she’s due or how many babies are in her belly. It’s never ok. And if you do ask, and get slapped in the face, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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Why My 8 Year Old Shouldn’t Have an Instagram Account

Yesterday I caved and finally set up an Instagram account for my 8 year old, on my old phone. My reasoning seemed logical at the time. She loves to take pictures and we will make rules. It will be fine. My hubby disagreed of course.

1. Your page must remain private.
2. You can only follow people we know.
3. You may only allow people we know to follow you.
4. Do not post any inappropriate pictures.
5. The phone stays in my room at night and never goes to school.
6. If there is anything that I see that I don’t think is appropriate for an 8 year old to post, I will delete it.
7. And the most important one of all, NEVER post a picture of Mommy without first getting my approval.

Not even 24 hours later and my hubby already used those four dreaded words… “I told you so.” This morning, I received a text from my cousin asking me why my daughter was on Instagram at 3am. Wait… What? I clearly remember taking the phone from her at 8:30pm when she went to bed. I clearly remember putting the phone in my room.

So I asked her. And her answer was very simple. She couldn’t sleep, so she got on Instagram. And she was on Instagram until I woke up at 8am! Who goes on Instagram for 5 hrs? What could you possibly do for that long? It’s no wonder her Instagram account is full of the same selfie over and over again, in different parts of the house.

So this blog post is not only to admit I was wrong (remember that hubby… you won’t hear that often)… But also to apologize to our friends and family for the posts that will be filling up your Instagram feed because while I can admit I was wrong, I’m not a quitter either.

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No, I’m NOT Trying for the Boy…

As soon as people find out that I have three daughters, most of them ask me if we are going to try for the boy.  When I say no, most of the responses are the same… things like “Your poor husband!” or “Go ahead, just try one more time.”

The fact is, we have three girls. Three beautiful, healthy, smart, talented and very funny girls.  My hubby and I couldn’t be happier.  We look at them on a daily basis and wonder how we created such perfect little beings.  I thank each of them regularly for choosing me as their Mom and pray that they will always look up to me and count on me for any and everything they need.  But of course, to everyone else, we are missing something. We are missing the boy.  And apparently, they think that our family will not be complete without a son.

When I met my husband, he prepared me for the harsh reality that both his brother and sister only have sons.  He said there was no way we would have a girl and I would just have to accept being the Mother of boys.

By the time we got pregnant, I had accepted my fate.  I went into the first ultrasound definitely expecting to see a penis.  Not the ultrasound tech’s penis of course… my baby’s penis. Get your mind out of the gutter! When we were shown the “hamburger” we were both shocked.  Always wanting a little girl, I was thrilled.  I remember thinking we’ll get the boy next time… now where is the closest boutique? I have some tutus to buy!

2+ years later, we found out we were pregnant again and I just KNEW we were having a boy that time. My cravings were completely different, I felt different, I even thought I looked different… everything was the opposite of my first pregnancy.  Of course, we got into that 5 month ultrasound expecting a hot dog and instead, were shown another hamburger.

We were pretty sure 2 kids was enough for us.  We had made up our mind very shortly after our 2nd daughter was born. The lack of sleep was too much for our 30-something bodies to handle.  We missed not having to buy diapers and being able to sleep more than 2 hours at a time.  It seemed like as soon as our 2nd daughter started sleeping through the night, our oldest started waking up multiple times a night.

And then… one of my friends introduced me to Fifty Shades of Grey.  I can’t remember at what point of the 1st book I turned into a completely different wife, but my husband was hoping that there were 100 books in the series.  It was during book two that I decided we should start trying for another baby.  It took almost a year to get pregnant the 2nd time, so I thought we would be “trying” until I finished the third book. Of course, we got pregnant almost immediately and actually I never finished the series. With three kids, who the heck has time to read, right? Good thing the movie is coming out pretty soon. :)

And now, since we were going to be outnumbered (kids vs. grownups) and POSITIVE that 3 kids would be enough, we hoped for a boy, I can’t lie.  My hubby couldn’t possibly only have the ability to make girls… and then, the ultrasound showed us the third hamburger. I remember turning to him and saying, “Well, it’s official. You are the girl maker.”

Looking back on it now, with our youngest being 16 months, I’m absolutely thrilled that we have three girls.  I honestly don’t think I’d know what to do with a boy. While I’m not personally the most “girly” girl I know, I love to dress my girls in sparkles, ruffles and lace. I love that my girls will grow up having two best friends. I love that they will be able to share clothes and shoes and give each other advice.  And I’m most happy that I don’t have to subject a son to constant tea parties and impromptu ballet recitals.  He would have hated wearing a tutu.

So when someone asks if I’m going to try for the boy, my new answer will be, “No. My family is perfect exactly the way it is.”

Image by Tristine Davis Photography

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