The Daily Grind of a Work @ Home Mom...

I eat my feelings.

And I bet I'm not the only one who does. Matter of fact, isn't most of the food industry reaping billions per year preying on people just like me? Oh, it's been a tough day, I deserve a big, fattening, delicious, nutrient-deficient meal that I'll regret in an hour. I wrote the book on this topic.

Kids are annoying me? Ice cream.

Work day is not going as planned? Sushi lunch (and I don't mean thinly sliced, fat-free sashimi).

Guy in the left lane taking his time while I'm rushing somewhere totally unsafely? Steak!

Oh, my love-hate relationship with food seems to haunt me day in and day out. Just so happens, my good friend, Susan, is a health coach and every morning, she wakes with the birds to post some food-related fact on her Facebook page. There's almost never a morning when I can't relate to what she's talking about, because she has a way of speaking to her followers rather than AT them that helps make her tips and factoids resonate. Like, she speaks in a way that makes you believe she too has these problems and overcomes them or was once in the shoes of an average (or below average body), while in truth, she's 11 feet tall and slim and beautiful as a rose.And she's nice to boot which is just annoying.

But I digress.

This morning, I awoke to this visual that hit me over the head. Check it out:

OHMYGOD this is me! It's sooooooo me. I want to do better in my habits, but I feel like it goes deeper than just wanting chocolate. It's like, I MUST HAVE THE CHOCOLATE, I'M A SLAVE TO THE CHOCOLATE and that's not really normal.

I'm going to print this and spend some time thinking about it. In the meantime, if you live in the Boston area and want to engage with a fantastic health coach, click on Susan's name and giver her a call. She's awesome. And no, she doesn't even know I'm writing this.

Why Facebook is a lie

I love Facebook. I'm the first to admit that I visit the site every day and have it downloaded on my iPhone. I'm what you might call an "avid" user. I know this. I love that it enables me to create a virtual memory box and that if I want to take a stroll down memory I need do nothing other than "flip" through my old albums. I enjoy keeping up with old friends, reconnecting with people I've had no contact with for years (yep - sometimes that's a good thing!) and I even like scrolling through your pics from time to time to see what you're up to. But not in a weird, stalkerish way, obv.

And even as I enjoy all of this and more, in the back of my mind, I also know that most of what I see on Facebook is a lie.

And I know that you know it too.

I'll see pictures of happy couples with captions like, "my bestest guy", twenty five minutes after hearing that he's confided that he's unhappy in his marriage and that she doesn't know how to tell him, but she wants more sex. I see mothers-in-law in your pics, locked in loving embraces with what appear to be doting daughters-in-law, while you told me last week that she's the devil's spawn. Disneyworld pics posted on the walls of folks who owe more than they have, ski trip images, relationship statuses, 'likes' of products you've never done more than take sponsorship money from. And it goes on.

Everyone does it. We're all on a quest to prove to the world how happy we are, how much we have accomplished, how perfect our children are. On my worst days I'll still take pics of my kids, maybe include myself, frolicking in the playground like I don't have a care in the world. Imagine if we actually used social sites to reach out when we needed a boost?

I have one FB "friend" who actually does update her status when she's down. It sometimes comes across as slightly desperate and somewhat sad (which I guess is why most people don't do this) but it sure is more honest than tossing an arm around the boyfriend you can't stand and making it your profile pic. Within minutes, I see heart-warming, spirit-boosting comments pop up like weeds in spring. So maybe there is something to it.

This is not eye-opening stuff here, but it was precipitated by a conversation I have regularly with one of my bff's in which we privately assess what's what based on what we're seeing on FB. It's actually a fun conversation, but sometimes it pisses me off because I know that half of what you're putting out there is bullshit. And that makes me question the value of social media communication altogether.

Last week I saw this posted on a friend's wall and it pretty much summed up everything I've been thinking:

And you know you have too.

No Kids Allowed and Why I Love this Idea

I first posted this exactly a year ago today after reading an article that supports idea. My views haven't changed, though with my kids being a year older and a year more mature, I might edit the time-out from 6:15 to 7pm. But what works for one dosen't necessarily work for the masses.  Read on and 'Like' if you agree!!!

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I love my kids. In fact, they are my world. I take them everywhere and have since the day they were born. As a result, they have wonderfully mature palettes (mussels anyone?) and are typically very well-behaved in public places.

Typically.

But not always.  And when they melt down in public or talk in outside voices when we're inside a restaurant or (heaven forbid) on an airplane, I may or may not look around and give onlookers that please-pardon-my-kids-they-weren't-raised-in-the-jungle look or the would-you-bear-with-me-while-I-find-a-way-to-shut-these-damn-kids-up eyes.  But you know, I don't find myself squirming with embarassment all that often because I'm aware of when it's appropriate to have kids with me and when they need to stay home.

Are you?  While you may think you have the world's most fabulous offspring, if you're taking them to dinner after the time they're usually tucked into bed, chances are you're in for a real shitstorm, as are the nice folks at the next table.  When I leave my kids at home for an adult night out, I don't really want to hear kids, yours or mine, crying at the next table.

No offense.

When I read this article entitled, The Kids Aren't Alright, in AdWeek today, I almost stood up and gave a standing ovation.  Because as much as I love kids, both yours and mine (or whatever), there's a time and a place for everything.

So here's my spiel:  restaurants - almost any restaurant on earth, from McDonald's to Morton's, are fair game for kids who can sit still for the amount of time it takes to order, eat, and pay.  The caveat?  Be out by 6:15pm.  If you're craving sushi from Nobu and you're traveling with your mini-me's, be there when they open the doors at 5:45 so you and your noise can be gone by the time the grown-ups arrive to eat $100 sushi.  Fair enough, right? 

Movie theatres - simple.  Kids won't be seen and not heard and you're not seeing Winnie the Pooh?  Take off. 

Airplanes.  Ah, airplanes.  I defy you to find me a parent who doesn't dread an upcoming flight with kids.  I've been there, I'm sure you have too.  Honestly, there's not much you can do about an unruly kid on a plane except this is is one those times when bribery is not only an acceptable parenting method, it's preferable.  Parents -  bring candy, gum, snacks, DVD's, and as many new toys as you can fit in your carry-on.  Anything they're not allowed at home - BRING IT.  You might not be doing your kids any favors in the short-term, but think about all the fury you'll be saved from enduring when neighboring passengers don't want to kick your (and your kids) asses right off the plane.

The AdWeek article talks about an airline that has a new "no babies allowed" rule in first-class.  My thoughts are why would babies be allowed in first-class like, ever?  Why is this a new rule?  And adults-only vacation destinations aren't anything new.  Sandals Resorts has had a no-kids rule since it opened.  Many hotels around the world have adults-only pools.  Even as a mom, I found myself seeking them out on my last trip to Vegas.  Don't take this the wrong way, but for three days I just didn't want to be around any kids, yours or mine.  There are plenty of fabulous vacations to choose from if you want to bring kids.  In fact, if you think about it, with all the travel options geared toward families, it really is a kid's world. 

My last thought is geared toward those parents of kids who notoriously run around restaurants, can't sit still on a flight any longer than 20 minutes, and who chatter non-stop from previews to credits - in a few years it'll be fair game again and you won't have to deal with dirty looks from strangers.  But until then, please, Mom and Dad, leave the kids at home.

The one about the yard sale

On Friday night, I decided I needed a project to sink my teeth into over the weekend. Seeing as my house needed a good clean-up and it is yard sale season, I proceeded to get up with the birds on Saturday morning and go through every bit of clothing that may or may not fit anyone in our house, every piece of electronic crap that no longer had a home in any room in our house, and everything that I could live without - just the idea of downsizing made me feel good.

So I worked most of the day until I could no longer resist the 80 degree sunshiney weather and I hit the outdoors. But Sunday morning, we woke up bright and early and proceeded to set-up for what was dubbed the "Storyland Fund Yard Sale." This monicker made two small - otherwise non-morning - people get up and at 'em with the same kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for "Giiirrrllsss, iiiiccceee ccrrreeaamm!!!!"

We hit the pavement and were ready to go by 8am.

Our first customer arrived and after fingering everything we had, bought all our handbags. She bargained me down to about 75% of what I originally asked (one was Coach, y'all!) but I didn't care. I felt lighter already.

People came in and out throughout the day. I saw cars full of people who were looking for real bargains to send home to wherever they were from. I was a sport, considering I was going to donate all leftovers at the end of the day anyhow.

It's interesting to watch people sift through stuff, MY STUFF, most of which I purchased intentionally at some point. Going through my girls' old stuff brought up some sentiments too, all of which were lost on the lady trying to bargain me down from $2 a piece to .50. Dear lord, what am I engaging in, here?

(For the record, I gave in.)

I had a woman purchase my copy of Lucinda Bassett's From Panic to Power, a book that doubled as my bible doing a different, more turbulent time in my life. As she handed me the buck (I know but it's a yard sale!), I remembered I had a whole Lucinda Bassett "system" comprised of a dozen cassettes (cassettes!!!) that helped shed perspective and give me insight at that time. I ran to my basement to unearth them and I gave them to her.

"You're an angel," she told me. I rolled my eyes - an angel I am not - and she left. And I felt pretty good.

But the best part of the day other than meeting some neighbors I never knew I had and putting enough money in my pocket to almost pay for the hotel part of our Storyland trip came late in the day. It went something like this:

Him (picking up a light thing that seemed to materialize on my lawn magically): "What is this?"

Me: "Actually? I'm not really sure. Looks like some sort of light thing that maybe you hang if you're doing a project? But I don't know."

Him: "I'll take it."

And just like that, I was $3 richer.

Stay tuned for my post on our tales from Storyland!

 

Helper #1

Helper #2

 

I have a girl crush on Lena Dunham

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

So, you may have heard about this new show that aired recently on HBO called Girls. It's basically the story of four post-college aged girls trying to make a go of it in New York City. Sound familiar? Well other than the four girls trying to make a go of it in New York City part, Girls bears NO resemblance to the former HBO show that had the same, if completely different basis.

Confused?

While Sex and the City was entertaining in the way that Beverly Hills 90210 was entertaining (very attractive people living totally unrealistic lives with money that seemed to fall from the sky and closets full of awesome clothes for the times - high waisted pleats are not my thing), Girls is a much more relatable tale of what might have actually happened to me if my alternate universe had included a move to NYC in my 20s. And by that I mean, living in a shabbily furnished apartment featuring knick-knacks made mostly in Guatemala and purchased from street fairs instead of a magazine perfect place outfitted by Pottery Barn, having friends over for opium sessions (JUST KIDDING, WORK PEOPLE) rather than meeting for Cosmo's at the newest club/restaurant, and hooking up with commitment phobic men who, for no good reason, I imprint on, Twilight style, to no avail.

And while Girls is truly HBO's best decision since Six Feet Under (IMO), the biggest reason I have for loving this show is its 24-year-old creator, Lena Dunham.

She writes it. She stars in it. She directs it and created it. Never heard of her? Neither had I until I started watching. Why would I have heard of her? She's a girl, who, let's be honest, has done not very much until now. But now she's shown us what's floating around her unbelievably talented, somewhat weird, very quirky mind and I for one, love it. It's uninhibited yet completely inscure. It portrays the best part of female friendships and the worst side of girlfriends. It uses otherwise dirty words, has entirely awkward 24-year-old sex scenes and quote-worthy lines that are so hysterical it's hard to imagine they're coming out of such a young girl.

At 24 I was not even myself yet. I don't know who I was and I'm sure I showed traces of the me I am now but I wasn't me. Not yet. So it's hard to imagine that this genius is coming from Lena Dunham's 24-year-old brain.

Everyone's favorite chick-flick writer, Nora Ephron, died this week. It seems Nora and Lena were friends and an article that appeared yesterday in The New Yorker that summarizes their short friendship (or mentor/mentee-ship) gives a glimpse into not only their relationship, but also a peek at Lena Dunham and her brilliant, expressive writing. It also soldifies the fact that she takes her advice from the right places - not from people who nod and smile in that disingenuous way people do but from the likes of Nora Ephron who seemed, from what I've read, to be a real, down to earth person who told the truth rather than what you wanted to hear and liked lunching at the cafe at Barney's because, well, so do I (even if I can't afford those delicious $31 salads).

Lena Dunham has an awesome show. She has surrounded herself with awesome actors (aren't the smartest people those who surround themselves with people at least as smart as they are?). And she's going to make many people into stars. That Zosia Mamet is seriously God's gift to comedy right after Lena Dunham.

Lena Dunham is the next Nora Ephron even if Meg Ryan will never be her protagonist. Girls everywhere can relate to an awkward sexual experience even if they can't imagine faking an orgasm over pecan pie. Not that orgasms and pecan pie don't rock. Cuz they do.

RIP Nora Ephron.

Rock on, Hannah Horvath.

 

Cirque du Soleil's Totem is Amazing

I don't get to the theatre very often. A crazy busy schedule coupled with an admittedly short attention span (I know, sad) puts theatre low on my list of priorities. But given the opportunity, I never regret being treated to an evening of escapism.

And that's exactly what Totem, the latest Cirque du Soleil show to hit Boston, offers. Prepare to forget the stresses of the day the minute the show opens, with its unbelievable costumes, almost inhuman performers and intimate "big-top" setting.

Having seen several Cirque shows in my life, I know what to expect each time, but the story lines are always different and its the accompanying theme that predicates the music, the vibe, the direction the performance takes. 

If you've never seen a Cirque performance, you don't know what you're missing. Seriously - you can't imagine that human beings are capable of such unbelievable acrobatics. The skill required to perform the acts that are presented so perfectly, is almost hard to put into words. Cirque performers were made to be Cirque performers. They're like a breed unto themselves (in a good way).

The music in Totem gets your adrenaline going from the first act. The costumes look as real as if they actually were born onto the skin of the performers. If you've seen the show, you might understand why my favorite character was the Crystal Man who seems to come out of nowhere and literally light up the set during the course of the show. Of course, mostly I was jealous of his crystally, sparkly outfit.

Totem is like the circus on acid. I can't think of a better way to describe how Cirque differs from a traditional circus. With neither a traditional circus ring nor animals, Cirque shows rely completely on the performers and music to draw in the audience. And it works. While I saw a few children at the premiere, Cirque shows are intended for adults and are far too sophisticated for a child. Though who wouldn't be wowed by the surreal synchronicity of six unicyclists who juggle metal bowls - sometimes without using their hands - while keeping balanced. Some of it is impossible to describe - you'd have to see it to believe it.

Totem is in town until July 15 - click here for tickets. For other cities and dates, click here.

I received two tickets toTotem to facilitate this review. All opinions are my own.

Blogger Responsibility - You ARE Important!

I'm a PR gal who moonlights as a blogger and a social media hack. Or rather, I am a blogger who parlayed my past experience and my love of social media and the blogosphere into a job. Then I morphed that experience and moved the needle forward at a new job - all of which speaks to the importance of what I did while being a work-at-home-mom who blogged between Mommy and Me classes.

Even I didn't realize that what I was doing while wearing Lululemons and bouncing a baby on my knee would be part of a picture that was larger than I could have imagined. And maybe you are too. And that's why it's important to read why taking responsibility for yourself - as a blogger - is so important.

I have blogger friends. I have friends who are both bloggers and client-facing social media consultants. And while the two are complimentary, sometimes it becomes frustrating when bloggers who simply blog do not know what goes on behind the scenes. I've seen the other side. I've pulled back the curtain and glimpsed the wizard. And like Dorothy, I’ve a much better understanding of what makes this space tick. As a blogger, it's important to share with you the bigger picture - the daily frustrations, successes, trials, and triumphs of bloggers as well as the daily frustrations, successes, trials, and triumphs of the social media folks.

As bloggers, we are often privy to the good fortune of being part of a blessed group who gets to test drive new products, experience awesome trips, and meet smart, new people. In doing what we enjoy, we get to build our brand, collect some very awesome experience, and possibly become exempt from birthday present shopping.

In return, we provide a service, a very important important service, to companies and brands. After all, giving fair and honest reviews of a new product or service is often pivotal in leveraging a brand's consumer-facing image. Moms trust moms and brands know it.

That said, it's important for bloggers to understand not only how important they are to their readers, but also to the people and/or agencies who believe enough in their blog's brand to select them to be on the receiving end of a new washer/dryer or app or food delivery service or book. Or how important it is to show up at a brand event if you said you would. 

While blogging might be what you do in between carpools or how you spend those precious evening hours after a full day's work, it's important to recognize that to the brands engaging with bloggers, this is not a hobby. And to the social media team hired to select you, this is a job.

It's business. And you are regarded as a professional so long as you behave like one.

When bloggers opt-in to participate in a campaign, accept a product or service, or RSVP to attend an event and then can't find the time to write their review or even show up, it’s just unprofessional. I know, I've been there, too. The campaign seems interesting when it arrives in your inbox, but once it hits your doorstep, life happens. Maybe something more compelling has taken top of mind. Or you simply don't feel like blogging. Or maybe you decide to take a vacation. 

Don't get me wrong - you are a free agent unless you are contractually obligated through a spokesperson gig or freelance contract. And you absolutely have the right to not review a product or service if you can't find anything redeeming to say about it.

However, writing an objective review where you cover what's great – and not so great about the product – is what you “signed up” to do. But to ignore the product altogether is to breach the implied “gentlewoman’s agreement” you entered into when you signed up to participate in the campaign.

If you should find yourself unable to attend the screening, test out the vacuum, or review the diaper pail, let the agency/brand person know that you're no longer able to do the review.  If you can no longer attend the event, shoot a quick email off to the organizer - preferably with enough time that they can replace you.  Tell them why and be honest.

To simply toss the product or not attend the event at the last minute (everyone understands that emergencies happen), is not going to help to propel you forward in the blogosphere. Plus, it's not fair to the agency who invited you to participate in the campaign.

I never thought much about the client before I pulled back that curtain. I never considered that bloggers are a part of a much larger marketing initiative. I didn't give much thought to the fact that someone else might have enjoyed participating in this campaign had I thought out my editorial calendar better.

But I do now. As a blogger, I'm part of something much bigger than “just a review.” I'm a professional providing a service in return for a product, experience or service I deem worthy of the exchange. And it's my responsibility to live up to my end of the deal.  If I fail to do so, the social media person who selected me might have her hand slapped, the brand might be one review short, but ultimately I know I'll be excluded from the good stuff. And it's the good stuff that makes this so much fun to do.

Fiesta Carmelita

Every so often, I come across a recipe on the internets that speaks to me.  It doesn't happen often, but a few months ago I fell on these crazy looking Carmelita's on Pinterest (courtesy of Lulu the Baker). Everything about them appealed to me.  The drippy caramel, the melted chocolate, and the fact that all this was sandwiched inside of an oatmeal crust - just thinking about it makes me... hungry. But one cannot subscribe to healthy eating and to a world where Carmelita's are a regular occurrence so I tucked the recipe into that little spot in my brain that I reserve for naughty stuff and went on my way. Then, the perfect event reared its head - we were invited to a Mother's Day BBQ and I was tasked with dessert!  So I cracked open that naughty nook and got to work.  And now, I share with you, the sickest dessert in the history of desserts - I even added a little party to the name for affect - the Fiesta Carmelita.

Ingredients:

• 2 bags of chewy Werthers caramels
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 3 sticks of butter (I never said they were healthy!)
• 1.5 cups brown sugar, packed
• 2 cups flour
• 2 cups old-fashioned or rolled oats
• 2tsp's baking soda
• 1 bag of chocolate chips

While I amended some of the ingredients a bit, I followed Lulu's instructions to the t:

"Combine caramels and cream in a small saucepan over low heat. Stir until completely smooth; set aside. In a separate bowl, combine melted butter, brown sugar, flour, oats, and baking soda. Pat half of the oatmeal mixture into the bottom of the pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes. Remove pan from oven and sprinkle chocolate chips over crust. Pour caramel mixture over chocolate chips. Crumble remaining oatmeal mixture over caramel. Return to oven and bake an additional 15-20 minutes, until the edges are lightly browned. Remove from oven and cool completely before cutting.

*A stint in the fridge will help them cool off if you're pinched for time. They shouldn't be served cold, but all of that molten caramel takes a long time to cool down. They should be stored and served at room temperature."

Yield - A 9x13 pan of perfection.

Happy Mother's Day!

 

Are you mom enough? I know I am!

Time Magazine released their latest issue today and unveiled a provocative cover that features a hot, blond mom standing with her boob exposed and her dumbstruck three-year-old suckling at it. 

Without reading the story and based on the headline, you'd think it would be about that beaten-to-death "Mommy Wars" topic that rears its head every 25 minutes (and I've written about more than once).  But it's not. It's actually a profile of Dr. Bill Sears, the 72-year-old doctor and author who began writing books 20 years ago that say parents must wear their babies as an appendage at all times, sleep with their babies lest they feel abandoned for 8 hours, breast-feed for at least one year to even be considered a mom, and pretty much arm your children with zero independence, no self-soothing skills and ensure that they need mommy and daddy for ev-er-y-thing until they at least 15.  He even warns that that babies who cry too much — even those who are left to "cry it out" for short periods at night as they learn to go to sleep on their own — could suffer permanent brain damage, leading to a lower IQ, behavioral problems and more. No, seriously!

But my own opinions aside, I learned about the Time cover only secondary to a segment that aired on this morning's Morning Joe (below), during which Managing Editor Rick Stengel of Time Magazine appeared, most likely to promote the new issue, but also to be on the receiving end of a host and a guest, both of whom have vaginas, about the potentially gratuitous boob shot it portrays and the message that the headline, "Are you mom enough?" sends.  I heard about it from my boss at work who saw the segment and said she thought of me as she is aware that I sometimes struggle with being a good full-time employee and being the type of mom my girls deserve.  She too is a mom who works hard, and undoubtedly has stuggled with the same sometime feelings of guilt - both about kids and work - and has encouraged me to work hard but not to miss those moments with my kids that can't be recovered.  I think about her advice often as I decide whether I can be spared at work for a few hours to chaperone a field trip or attend a religious service on a friday morning.

The opinion that moms must be all-mom-all-the-time in order to be a successful parent, along with Stengel's smug attitude about the cover, lit me a fire just hot enough to bother writing this post.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of breast-feeding, I'm a fan of bottle feeding, hell, I'm just a fan of feeding your child using whatever method ensures nourishment.  I've said it before, I don't judge how other parents parent, so long as a child is not put in harm's way. 

What I'm not a fan of, is slinging mud at both sides just to see who screams louder.  And you know, this cover, regardless of what's inside of it, will prompt countless conversations, blog posts, tweets, status updates, Pins, etc about who is the mightiest parent of them all.  Is it the stay-at-home-mom who wore her baby until her back broke, nursed till baby was enrolled in kindergarten, and snuggled baby and (all previous kids) in the "family bed" forcing daddy to lock himself in the bathroom with nudie magazines and a sock?  Or is it the parents who kept baby beside them until they decided it was time for his/her own room, nurse or bottle fed or combined the two till it was time, encouraged their kids to walk, talk, and eat at their own pace, and wore them once in a while just to get dinner on the table in a timely manner?

Really, who cares.  That's so not the point for me.  If you watch the segment below, the two points that do resonate for me are:

1) According to Stengel, the image on the cover "represents the attachment between mother and child."  There is SO MUCH WRONG with this statement that it's crazy.  According to Stengel, if you don't have a kid hanging off your boob, you have failed at bonding with your kid.

Loving that this comes from a MAN.  I guess to complement this view, Stengel sees no way for dads to bond as strongly with their children, since they have no boobs.  I mean, how could they?  And if you're a mom who didn't nurse then obviously your bond with your kid is far less than if you had.  I mean, obv.

2) The hosts brought up a great point - if you're a dad who leaves work early to go cheer on your kid in little league you are a hero.  But if you're a mom who needs to cut out early to take little Junior to the pediatrician?  Well, that's coming outta your vacation time.  And you can be sure that your promotion just moved a little further south, Mom.

Oh, the double-standards that abound in our modern, post-feminist, tech-savvy, contemporary society continue to astound.  Personally, I feel lucky to have found a place of employment filled with managers who are moms and get that even though I'm not at the top of the food chain, my kids sometimes take priority, even between the hours of 8:30am and 5:30pm.  Lucky me, but it's cover pieces like this that send a message to women that screams if you don't sell your soul to your children, you are not worthy of having any.

And that, my friends, couldn't be further from the truth.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

The One Where the Kid Turns Six

I don't typically blast out my kids birthdays on my blog because, let's face it, who really cares.  But this post isn't so much about a birthday as it is about the fact that there's this crazy thing that happens after your kid turns five and goes to kindergarten and then turns six and you notice all these changes, and some are big and others small, and is this happening at your house too????

Alex was my first child, often lovingly referred to (by me) as my "original" baby.  She came just when I needed her most, and we've been a dynamic duo ever since (well, trio if you count her really cute lil sister).  She has promised me that that we can live together forever and ever and I've promised her that I have never loved anyone as much as I love her and her sister.  My feelings are 100 percent truth, and in all honesty, if things keep going this way, she may actually live up to her promise also.

Bottom line - she's an extraordinary kid and oh-so-loving.  Which works out for me.

But in the last year, in between the tulips and butterflies and rainbows, there have been moments of OHMYGODWHOSEKIDISTHAT and I blame kindergarten.

A month or two ago, my not-quite-six-year-old came home and told me that two kids in her class were going on a date.

"A date?" I asked, keeping my voice even even if I was half in shock.  "What's a date?"

"It's when a boy and a girl get together at night."

"What do they do on a date?  What's the difference between a date and a playdate?" I was scared to hear what was next.

"The kids go out to a restaurant and eat dinner - a boy and a girl." I pressed her for more.  "That's all I got," she said (for real).  "But at the end you can kiss on the lips."

"Oh, and I forgot - you don't sit next to each other, you sit across from each other so you can look at each other."

I was totally appalled and not at all ready for this but the part of me that appreciates irony entertained the conversation.  "They go out to eat? Who drives? Who orders? Neither kid can read!  WHO PAYS!!!???"

We laughed.  Because seriously, the whole thing was ridiculous.

Then the other day she came home from a playdate (with a girl) and proceeded to define "sexy" for me.

"It means stylish and pretty, mom," she told me like I'm an idiot.

While she wasn't wrong in her description, my heart sank.  My sweet little six year old, my Spongebob Squarepants loving daughter who can't sleep unless I cuddle with her and still comes into my bed in the middle of the night several times a month - she was explaining what sexy means.

There's nothing to be done.  As proof, we were listening to a popular morning show on the radio a few months ago and the word slut was being tossed around as casually as the forecast and before I could switch it (or even noticed), a little voice from the backseat says to me, "Mommy, what's a slut?"

I wasn't going there.

No matter how hard we try to shield our kids from the overly sexualized, less gentle world than my generation grew up in (and that's not saying much), it's just not possible.  And I don't blame those kids who are teaching her these things prematurely.  They're good kids who are learning from older siblings who have friends with older siblings.

So now she's six and in a few months she'll go to first grade and the social scene will only become more intense with each year.  And each year, I'll lose a little more of the control that I struggle to hold on to due to the simple fact that I let her out into the world. And she'll lose a little more of that beautiful innocence that I wish she could possess forever.

So here's the plan.  I'm going to do everything I can to instill decent values in my kids while they're under my roof.  So with work and school and stuff, that leaves about two hours a day, plus weekends, to make my mark.  I think it's going ok.  They don't curse (Mommy!  That's a BAAADDDD word!) and they know when they're saying something I won't like.  They have nice table manners, say please and thank you, and other parents tell me that my girls are a pleasure to have in their homes.  I'm sure they'll be privy to pretty much everything within the next few years, but I'll do whatever I can to protect those little people so they grow up to be big people who can feel proud to be who they are.

Happy sixth birthday to my delicious little girl...