Jon Stewart Skewers Democrats, Mass. Senate Race

The Daily Show's Jon Stewart is ticked . . . totally ticked, angry, really, with the Democrats for bungling the Massachusetts race for U.S. Senate, a race that was, just a month ago, purported to be a lock for the Democratic candidate.

Noting that the president on Sunday injected himself (and by extension the fate of the health care bill) into the race which is perceived to be going down in flames for the Democrats, the left-leaning Stewart went ballistic last night and asked how "a naked guy who drives a truck" could be poised to win the seat formerly held by Senator Ted Kennedy, adding, "It's not that the Democrats are playing checkers and the Republicans are playing chess, it's that the Republicans are playing chess and the Democrats are in the nurse's office because once again they glued their balls to their thighs."

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Vast Riches, My Children, Don't Take Them for Granted

I was up, late into the night, watching the Boston Celtics win their first national championship since I was but an awkward high school student who didn't sufficiently appreciate the likes of Bird & Co. when I watched and rooted for in the 80s. ("Don't the Celtics always win?" I remember thinking.)

The Eldest Son stayed up with The Spouse and I, watching until the bitter end, almost making it to see the televised images of the champagne showers in the locker room.

This morning, The Spouse had spread our newspapers across the kitchen counter, all with huge, glorious images of the triumphant Celtics for our three kids to see. Looking at those images and at the children who've become accustomed to their teams winning, I don't know if my three children can entirely recognize how very lucky they have been, with the shocking (I still remain shocked) 2004 Red Sox World Series championship, the Patriots' Super Bowl victories, the 2007 Red Sox win and now, the Celtics' championship. They think, that Boston teams -- with the exception of the Bruins -- always win.

Silly children. Enjoy it now, while you can. You never know when we'll be this lucky again.

Image credit: Associated Press/Charles Krupa.

Big Papi Patriotic About Whole Nation, Not Just the Sox Part

Big Papi, one of my favorite Boston Red Sox players, has officially become a citizen of the American nation, not just of Red Sox Nation, according to media reports.

The Sox designated splendid splinter -- currently nursing an injury -- attended a luncheon at the Kennedy Library in Boston before taking the oath of citizenship accompanied by his wife, two of his children (ages 7 and 3), his father, and the president of the Boston Red Sox organization, the Boston Globe said.

The Associated Press quoted Ortiz as saying: "My whole family, kids, and everyone have been born here. It's a great country, proud to be here, now proud to be a part of it."

"He is the personification of what a great citizen should be," Red Sox president Larry Lucchino told the Boston Herald. "He’s the heart and soul of Red Sox Nation."

Amen.

Image credit: Jezebel.com.

Sports in the Morning . . . Sports in the Evening

Early this morning: TV was tuned to the Boston Red Sox season opener in Japan (played in the evening in Japan, in the wee hours of the morning on the East Coast). Kids watched the Olde Towne team during breakfast with their dad, while I drove to work and listened in on the radio, and then cursed when the game went into extra innings and didn’t end before it was time to teach my first class of the day. (My students did, however, seem to enjoy the updates I provided them as I repeatedly checked my BlackBerry for the up-to-the-minute score during the first half of the class.)

This evening: TV will be tuned to my alma mater playing in the National Invitational Tournament (NIT). Kids will be allowed to watch some of it . . . probably more than they should, considering it’s a school night.

Early tomorrow morning: The Sox are slated for another pre-dawn ballgame on the tube.

We’re going to be one tired sports family.

Don't Count Your Chickens . . .

Last night’s colossal let-down (re: the Patriots’ collapse and the victory of the team nobody thought would win) provided my three kiddos with a big life lesson on why you should never smugly assume that things will always go your way (like planning a victory parade in Boston before anyone set foot on the field) no matter what sports commentators or conventional wisdom may lead you to believe.

As two of my three kids went to bed in tears last night – The Girl wisely put herself to bed at 9:15 p.m. and received the bad news early today – I tried to hide my disappointment from the rug rats as I mulled over what I’d tell them in the morning once the reality of a perfect season eluding New England’s grasp had sunk in.

By morning, I decided to apply this lesson – it’s not over ‘til it’s over — not just to sports but to life and to politics. I used the example of the presidential race to try to illustrate this point, that regardless of what the media, quoting opinion polls, believe will happen on Super Tuesday, what really matters is what people do once they actually set foot in the voting booths, just like no one knows who’s going to win a Super Bowl until the final whistle. (After all, the pundits have done a lousy job prognosticating about what voters would do in this primary season thus far.)

Of course, none of this has dispelled my children’s sadness and remorse as they cast forlorn glances at their Tom Brady jerseys lying on their bedroom floors. Sadly, election day isn’t as exciting to them as the Super Bowl. Maybe playing our DVD of the triumphant Sox might be the right kind of salve they need as opposed to my ramblings about politics and elections. After all, Spring Training is right around the corner.

Three for Thursday: Presidential Election Begins, Maternal Profiling and Holiday Round-Up

Item #1: What’s Up with Iowa?

What’s up with Iowa? Unless you’ve been living under a rock, it’s been hard to miss the mass hordes of reporters and politicos who’ve descended upon the farm state for the first official contest of the 2008 presidential election that starts tonight. What do the primaries have to do with parenting? That’s what my January Parents and Kids essay is about. If parents can get their kids all revved up about “American Idol” – as millions of parents do – why can’t they direct that energy and interest into something that really matters, like who’s going to be the country’s war-time commander-in-chief?

(Speaking of politics . . . the razor-sharp satirists at JibJab, who create funny animated bits about politics and current events, just released their 2007 year-in-review cartoon. Warning: The video is distinctly kid- and work-UNfriendly. Plus, it may offend those who are easily offended.)

Item #2: Maternal Profiling

The Huffington Post has an interesting entry this week about how the New York Times declared that the term “maternal profiling” -- a fancy way of describing the employment discrimination that some mothers encounter – was one of the hot buzzwords of 2007.

Item #3: Holiday Round-Up

Gifts: Santa bestowed upon my three rug rats: A Lego Star Wars Jabba the Hut barge, a Lego Star Wars Republic Cruiser and -- God help us -- a kid-sized set of drums. Grandma gave the Girl a karaoke machine (with which she’s been belting out all tunes “High School Musical” and “Hannah Montana” related. Non-stop.). Auntie Ellen gave the Eldest Boy a robot that, according to the box, not only is able to travel all around the house and see in the dark, but will develop its own personality and -- get this -- respond to aggression. Frankly, I’m frightened, and have already informed my beloved sister-in-law that if the four-legged robot gets out of hand, I’m going to abandon it on her front doorstep so it can exact its metallic aggression on her house.

Mirth: We got through Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year’s, the Patriots’ regular season finale and a Festivus celebration (with my awesomely snarky friends) in tact. No one contracted a stomach bug (as I did last Christmas). No one was besieged by lice (as the Girl and I both were when were planning on marking the dark, grievance-filled holiday of Festivus with the same friends last year). No one died. So, as far as I’m concerned, ‘twas all good.

Family Togetherness: The day after Christmas, The Spouse and I took all three of our offspring, plus one friend apiece, to see “Alvin and the Chipmunks” at a movie theater. The three sets of friends all wanted to sit in three different rows, as if they didn’t know the grown-ups except when I distributed bags of popcorn and drinks . . . oh, and when our Youngest Boy wanted to hold his Daddy’s hand. After the movie, after they devoured Christmas cookies at our house, played the drums, played video games, sang karaoke and all the friends had gone home, each one of our children, one by one, got angry with The Spouse and I for insisting that it was time for bed when it was an hour-plus past their usual bedtime. Each one of the ingrates told us that we were ruining their lives. Plus we were accused of getting a secret thrill out of bossing little kids around. Nothing like gifts, a hyper-saccharine kids’ movie, time with friends, oodles of sugar and late bedtimes to bring a family together.

(Image from CNN.)

Six-and-a-Half Hours

That's how long it took me to get home from work yesterday.

Six-and-a-half hours.

I could've driven from the Boston area to Baltimore in that time. Instead, I spent those clenched, nerve-wracking hours driving on the snow-covered, clogged and slippery (UNPLOWED! Even on major highways that were not congested) trying to make it home in what is normally a 90-minute trip.

Before I even left work, I received an automated phone call on my cell phone from my children's school department telling me that school was letting out two hours early. Even if I'd left work the moment I got that call, given the conditions of Massachusetts highways yesterday (gridlock beyond belief) I would've never made it back in time. I wound up placing several frantic phone calls, trying to find anyone who could get the kids off the bus. Lucky for me, one of my neighbors was indeed available. Initially, I thought she'd only have to watch the three kids for a half-hour. Then, after I came face-to-face with the worst commute of my life, she wound up watching them for four-and-a-half hours and fed them dinner, which was a good thing seeing as though I still had no food in the house yesterday.

When I finally made it home, leaving my minivan in the street in front of my house because I couldn't get into my driveway, then trudged through 10+ inches of snow to my neighbor's house to pick up the kids, they, the charmers that they are, gave me grief. They didn't want to leave. It had been a kid-friendly winter wonderland over there. They'd gone sledding, had snowball fights, had dinner and snacks, watched "Rudolph" on TV, played a pretend game of Harry Potter and were in the middle of filling a Mad Lib with all manner of juvenile, toilet-related humor when I arrived and dragged them out of a warm, magical neighbor's home. As we slogged through the snow, they said they couldn't understand why I was in such a foul mood.

"I was in the car for six-and-a-half hours!" I wearily replied. "I had to stop on the side of the road tons of times to chop ice off of my windshield wipers. I was so nervous."

"You've already told us that Mom," my 9-year-old son quipped as he tossed his snowpants into the garage. "We get it."

As for The Spouse, he tried repeatedly to get home, but when his car got stuck in a snowbank, he abandoned it on the side of the road, until about 9:30 p.m. or so when he got a group of guys together to shove his car out of the snow and onto the streets. He rolled in at around 10:30.

Between now and New Year's, I am officially not singing any snow-related Christmas songs that speak in glowing terms about the white, freezing matter. Me and snow, to crib a line from an old "Gilmore Girls" episode, we're not on speaking terms right now.

(Image from the Boston Herald.)

World Champs, Bay-bee (With Many Sleepy Fans)

By the 5th inning, both of our boys had fallen asleep in the family room in front of the TV, snug in their sleeping bags. (The Girl put herself to bed at 9 p.m. after confiding in me that watching the game was making her nervous. Like mother, like daughter.)

By the 7th inning, I broke out the antacids, fearful that this was too good to be true.

By the 8th inning, I wanted to break the audio on the TV so I would no longer have to listen to the Fox announcers prattle on . . . and on . . . and on about A-Rod’s future given the fact that both A-Rod and the Yankees went home oh so long ago. (I would’ve tuned to a radio broadcast of the game if only I could get a clear AM signal at my house after dark instead of a wall of static.)

The Spouse and I briefly panicked after seeing Gagne warming up in the bullpen (the prospect of Gagne coming into the game nearly sent me, the exhausted shell of myself, to bed). After another Colorado homerun in the 8th, I made second trip to the antacid bottle.

In the 9th inning, The Spouse and I started taping the game to determine whether it would be worth it to rouse our snoozing trio. After we witnessed the Red Sox WIN THE WORLD SERIES, we re-wound the broadcast and tried to unsuccessfully wake The Girl, received growls of protest from the 6-year-old who didn’t want to get up and got a groggy grin from our 9-year-old son as he sat between his parents and watched Papelbon and Varitek celebrate the final out.

By this morning, with the newspapers telling tales of triumph spread out across our kitchen table, our children’s perspective that their hometown team is a winning force from whom World Series’ wins are expected, was cemented. For me, despite everything that has transpired, this remains a hard concept for me to grasp. My grandfather, who didn’t live to see the 2004 glory, would’ve been so pleased.

Three for Thursday: Bomb Scare, Wimpy Kids, and Hopkinton Halloween-Themed Event (With Book Signing)

Item #1: Bomb Scare

If I had known that I could’ve slept a little later this morning after having stayed up until the bitter end of last night’s Red Sox game (I know, I should be over the fear of them blowing a huge lead, but I’m not) and NOT driven out to UMass to teach my first class because the campus was closed early this morning after someone found a suspected explosive device in a classroom, I’d be a much happier person right now.

Item #2: Wimpy Kids

This San Francisco Chronicle article by Peter Hartlaub about what he called, and I quote, “the wussification of American children,” is on the mark. An excerpt:

“We pamper our kids, over-schedule them, overemphasize fairness in
competition (the score ends in a tie . . . again!) and keep them indoors too
much, to the point that we’re doing them a huge disservice. Kids aren’t learning
how to get hurt, lose, fend for themselves, find their balance and discover
minor dangers on their own – all important parts of growing up.”

Item #3: Hopkinton Halloween-Themed Event (With Book Signing)

If you’ve ever been to downtown Hopkinton — near the starting point of the Boston Marathon – you’ve likely seen the local drug store/gift shop called, cleverly enough, Hopkinton Drug. Well, I’m going to be on hand there this Saturday during their Halloween Open House event. No, I won’t be dispensing pharmaceuticals, making gift recommendations or musing about marathons. Instead, from 1:30-3 p.m. I’ll be signing copies of The Book, “A Suburban Mom: Notes from the Asylum.”

Including among the Hopkinton Drug Open House festivities for the kiddos and their ‘rents: A Halloween costume contest, an arts and crafts table, candy tasting, balloons and Halloween stories. The store can be found at 52 Main Street on the corner of Routes 85 and 135.

Unbridled Glee in Mudville Amid the Jet Lag

The kind pilot flying our plane from San Francisco to Boston last night tried his best. He tuned into a Chicago radio station so we, the Red Sox fans on board, could listen to the Olde Towne Team play a do-or-die game the winner of which would punch a ticket to the World Series. When we could no longer get the Chicago station’s muddy signal, the pilot switched to another station. And then another until we could barely make out what was happening in all the static.

By the time we set foot in Boston and then got home to witness the game’s final triumphant moments, my jet lag (I’d never adjusted to west coast time during my stay) was a non-issue, at least for me, as I stayed up watching the team party at Fenway Park. (I’m expecting the jet lag to catch up with me tonight, or tomorrow.)

The Spouse and I spent several days in San Francisco so I could attend the Mommy Track’d/Flexperience seminar on women and work (I’ll blog about it in a later entry), where I signed copies of my Book – A Suburban Mom: Notes from the Asylum – and could appear on a San Francisco TV program the "View from the Bay" with co-host Janelle Wang. (Watch the interview here.)

And while it’s going to take me a while to get back into the groove of EST, one thing that won’t need adjusting to is the fact that the Sox are in the Series.

Appeals Court Judge: Breastfeeding Mom Med Student CAN Have Breaks During Exam

Finally, a voice of reason, untainted by irrational Neanderthal attitudes.

A Massachusetts Appeals Court judge today reversed the lousy, anti-working mom ruling a lower court issued last week regarding medical student Sophie Currier’s request to have extra time during her medical license exam to express her breastmilk.

According to an Associated Press news brief, “Appeals Court Judge Gary Katzmann overturned that [earlier] ruling, finding that Currier needs the extra break time to put her on ‘equal footing’ with the men and non-lactating women who take the exam.”

The National Board of Medical Examiners initially refused to afford Currier additional breaks during her nine-hour medical license exam to express her breastmilk by saying that lactating doesn’t qualify as a disability and therefore they didn’t need to give her extra time. A judge last week said Currier could instead just wait until she had finished with all that messy breastfeeding business before she tries to take the exam again.

Thanks to Judge Katzmann, Currier won’t have to choose, her baby’s breastmilk or her own career.

(Image from the Associated Press.)

Breastfeeding Mom Denied Extra Time for Medical License Exam

This just in . . . a Massachusetts judge has denied a Massachusetts woman’s plea to compel the National Board of Medical Examiners to afford her additional breaks during her nine-hour medical license exam so she can properly express her breastmilk for her 4-month-old baby. The National Board of Medical Examiners initially denied her request for extra time saying that lactating doesn’t qualify as a disability and therefore they don’t need to give her extra breaks.

“The plaintiff may take the test and pass, notwithstanding what she considers to be unfavorable conditions,” said Norfolk County Superior Court Judge Patrick Brady (who has likely never tried to express breast milk for a newborn baby). “The plaintiff may delay the test, which is offered numerous times during the year, until she has finished her breastfeeding and the need to express milk.”

Did I mention that the dispute is over time to take a medical exam? So that the mom can become a doctor? And that doctors’ associations and the federal government are the ones who love to admonish new mothers that if they don’t breastfeed their babies for the first year that they’re condemning their children to myriad health problems? (Let us not forget that some officials have likened baby formula to poison.)

Yet . . . when a woman has a medical need to express her breastmilk every few hours so she will not develop an infection, and so her breasts won’t explode all over her test (that would constitute “unfavorable conditions” Judge Brady), they tell her to kiss off, to pick one, her career or breastfeeding.

And they wonder why more women – particularly working moms – don’t breastfeed?

Four for Friday: UnFunny, Parents Should Have No Fun, Bad News and Troy Loses a Leg

Item #1: The UnFunny

I’ve been informed by my eldest son Jonah that I am not funny. Not amusing. Not in the slightest. None of my jokes, funny voices/impersonations or silly renditions of popular songs display an inkling of humor. Therefore, he’s told me – nay, begged me – to cease and desist from attempting to engage in anything that I think is humorous while I'm in his presence.

When I occasionally forget about his no-Mom-jokes ban and answer the 77th question in an hour about what I'm making for dinner with a reply like, “Rocks and seagull stew,” he glares at me darkly and growls, “Moooom!”

His father, it should be noted, is NOT banned from trying to make jokes, not because he’s funnier, but because, as our son says, “I don’t have to see him all the time.”

Item #2: I Should Pack It In, I’ve Had My Chance

The same son who has placed a ban on my attempts at all things comedic, recently told me that I shouldn’t complain about the fact that it's hard for me to find time to do grown-up things (things that have nothing to do with my children, like, say, working, reading newspapers or having an uninterrupted conversation with another adult) because, and I quote, “You already had your time to be a kid" -- when you get to be self-centered and only look out for yourself --"and now it’s over.”

Thus, according to his pediatric brand of logic, I should devote the remainder of his childhood, my every waking moment, to serving his happiness. And to refrain from telling jokes.

Item #3: News My Kids Can’t Use

Watching television news or having a news radio station playing in the kitchen or the mini-van has been treacherous this week for those with young children.

First, there was the non-stop footage, even on serious news programs, of Miss Britney’s failed attempt to dance and vamp it up at the MTV awards. “There’s that naked lady on the news again,” my first grader Casey said casually. “Why do they keep showing her?”

Then my third grade daughter Abbey tearfully asked me if it was true what she’d heard from her friends, that one of the co-stars of her beloved “High School Musical” movies, Vanessa Hudgens who plays Gabriella Montez, had been fired by Disney for having a naked picture taken of herself and distributed on the internet. I sighed heavily. I’d hoped she wouldn’t hear about that. I told her that, as far as I could tell from the news I’d read, the teenaged starlet had NOT been fired, that she didn’t mean for people to see her naked and that she was sorry it happened. Then I launching into a finger-wagging this-is-why-you-should-never-let-anyone-take-photos-of-you-naked lecture to the wide-eyed 9-year-old who, for the life of her, couldn’t understand why anyone would want her picture taken while in the buff.

Finally, the news broke that the New England Patriots, in particular their head coach, had been accused of cheating. Fines and penalties were meted out and the team's image is tarnished nationwide. And, after a long week of bad news, The Spouse and I are girding ourselves for a discussion this weekend with our little Patriots fan before the football game about what happens when you break the rules.

Item #4: Troy’s Missing Limb

My “High School Musical” addicted daughter received several HSM items for her birthday, including a set of singing dolls representing the two lead characters, Gabriella Montez and Troy Bolton (played in the flesh by Zac Effron). In order to purchase the hard-to-find dolls in time for her birthday last month, I skipped the whole racing around to various stores business and simply ordered them online. But within a single day of play, Troy’s right leg broke off. (No, I didn’t inquire what Troy was doing to sustain such a serious injury. Maybe he was attempting to do one of Ryan Evans' jazz squares.)

I spent several days trying to glue his leg back into place, but to no avail. For weeks now, Troy has been sitting on a shelf in our kitchen, sadly overseeing days and days of children refusing to eat what their mother has cooked for them. I finally got sick of seeing Troy sitting there and yesterday offered to buy Abbey the new Troy doll now on sale to coincide with the premiere of “High School Musical 2.” Only none of the Troy dolls, neither the old version nor the new one, can be found at my local stores. The only HSM dolls I found on the shelves of local Target and Wal-Marts were Sharpay dolls and naked Gabriella dolls. Just kidding, and badly, as my son says I’m apt to do. The Gabriella dolls were indeed clothed.

So I guess it’s back to the internet in a quest to find a replacement Troy. In the meantime, I’ll superglue the Gabriella doll’s clothes onto her body, just in case.

E-mail Meredith

(Image from Amazon.com.)

Three for Thursday: First Day of School, 7-Year-Old Orthodontic Appointments and Boston Pre-School Application Mania

Item #1: School, Day 1.

And after Day 1, here’s what I have to report:

The school bus was 45 minutes late coming home yesterday afternoon. Forty. Five. At 35 minutes I was starting to panic and wondered if I’d missed some important memo about buses and drop-off procedures, whether my clocks were wrong and if I had unknowingly fallen into a short-term coma and somehow didn't see the bus. I called a neighbor, then the school and was trapped in the hell that is an automated answering service when I finally spotted the bus.

The Daughter immediately informed me that she was missing three of the required folders from her big bag of school supplies and needed them ASAP. I KNOW that we bought the white, orange and green, two-pocket folders when we went to Staples last week. I saw them go into her school supply bag in the store. (Each of the three children took their own school supplies home from the store in individual bags . . . I’ll have to apologize to Al Gore for the three separate plastic bags later.) Upon receiving the bad news, I quickly e-mailed The Spouse to ask him to please pick them up on the way home from work.

The Youngest Son’s teacher wasn't there on the first day and, according to him, will be out sick for the remainder of the week, so his class was in a holding pattern of sorts. When asked to name his favorite moment of his first day of first grade, he paused and then replied, “Lunch.”

The Eldest Son, who was very excited to have his very own assignment/datebook in which to write down items that are due on certain dates, panicked (like his dear old mom) 10 minutes after he went to bed last night because he hadn’t yet had a parent initial his entry denoting that he read for 20 minutes.

Item #2: Orthodontics and Your 7-Year-Old

I’m a bit concerned that my latest screed for Parents and Kids -- where I complain about the recommendation that 7-year-olds go for consultations with orthodontists -- will inspire orthodontists to send me hate e-mail. But, take heart orthodontists: You’ll likely be the beneficiary of thousands of my family's hard-earned dollars as at least two of my three children will likely require your services and 1.2 tons of metal in their mouths in future years. And we will be at your mercy, and in the end, you'll win.

Item #3: Boston Area Pre-School Application Mania

The latest issue of Boston Magazine contains an analysis of the pluses and minuses of Boston area pre-schools, along with a first-person piece written by a parent who thought that the madness of the pre-school application process would be relatively easy in Boston as compared to her former locale (New York), only to discover she was wrong. (“Suddenly, I became convinced that unless I installed [my daughter] in the perfect institution of learning by age three, my daughter would be consigned to a life of academic failure and an inexorable drift toward petty thievery to support her addictions to crystal meth and the Home Shopping Network.”)

Here’s the lead from the main article on pre-schools, “Junior Achievers:”

“Not so long ago, in what was a gentler, more forgiving era, the good children of Boston didn’t face their first make-or-break interview until they were fully formed college aspirants, or at least looking to sew up a spot in the prep school of their choosing. Now the decisive moment happens a bit earlier. Like at, say, about two, two and a half years old.”

*Bonus Item*: The web site Mommy Track’d – for which I write weekly about pop culture (TV, movies, media and politics) and news tidbits – has undergone a dramatic redesign. Check it out and be sure to leave a comment or two.

E-mail Meredith

Thanks to Tom Brady . . .

I got to have an awkward, torturous conversation, highlighted by pretzel-like contortions at the dinner table last night when my kids asked me how New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady (whose jersey they have, a poster of whom decorates my 6-year-old son Casey’s wall) can become a father without being married to the mommy.

After attempting to gracefully explain the situation without getting mired in graphic detail as my first grader, who still watches “Sesame Street,” was sitting at the table – and uncertain as to what type of information they were actually seeking – I punted:

“Um . . . Well . . . It’s complicated. He’ll be the dad, but he won’t live with the baby . . . What’s that? HOW did they make the baby? Well, Casey, they just did. It takes a mommy and a daddy to make a baby together . . . Why did they make the baby? I don’t know. Um . . . Could you pass the chicken please? And, hey buddy, wouldn’t you like some chocolate ice cream for dessert?”

When Casey is a bit older and mature enough to handle solid information (like the kind I’ve given my nearly 9-year-old daughter), I can explain the nuances of unmarried parenthood to him. Or maybe provide a fuller explanation as to why Lorelai Gilmore on the “Gilmore Girls” — which Abbey and I like to watch together — had a baby without being married either.

E-mail Meredith

New England Mamas, Blogging

Eighteen moms. From four different New England states. Working moms. At-home moms. Writers, educators and a professional dog trainer. Moms of babies through moms of grown kids. Boston Red Sox fans and at least one New York Yankees fan. Blogging about everything from casino gaming and gay marriage in Massachusetts, to childcare issues.

Since May, Massachusetts blogger Tania (her last name was withheld per her request) -- who goes by the name “Mrs. Chicky” on her two-year-old blog, Chicky Chicky Baby – has been their ringleader for a group-written blog called New England Mamas. Mrs. Chicky agreed to field questions about the blog:

Meredith, Suburban Mom Blog: Why did you start New England Mamas and how is it different than other blogs?

Mrs. Chicky, founder of New England Mamas: It was started to connect all the New England women whose personal blogs I was reading into one space where we could discuss regional topics that may not have been of any interest on our personal blogs. We've discussed ideas on where to finally meet in person -- beyond the blog, as it is -- as well as places where we might have play dates with our kids. But I think we can do more than just talk amongst ourselves. The New England Mamas are a group of very dynamic, intelligent women who have strong opinions that deserve to be heard and I think there's a real need for that beyond our own computer screens.

It's not so much different from other blogs as it is different from any form of communication for mothers in New England currently available. There are message boards and meet-up sites and all that, and they're all great for what they do, but through blogging we have the incredible power of free media to reach out to those who may not know how to find others like them. It's incredibly empowering to do a Google search for a specific topic, maybe related to parenting or maybe not, and find yourself on someone's blog and make that instant connection. Especially when you're a mom who believes that no one out there thinks the way you do.

It may sound trite, but when you strip away everything but words it's much easier to get to know the real person behind them. We believe in what we write and we'd like to share our knowledge on a wide number of topics, for good or bad, with others.

Meredith: What are the concerns of New England Mamas right now? What are people talking about?

Mrs. Chicky: The last three really interesting posts were: The proposed casino in Middleborough [MA] and its possible impact on the area, the sunflower sale at Buttonwood Farm Ice Cream Stand in Griswold, CT to benefit the Make-A-Wish foundation, and the Edward Hopper exhibit at the MFA. And, of course, the Red Sox.

We're all mothers but we have interests beyond diapers and playgroups -- though we discuss those too -- and we want to use our knowledge and experience to help other parents in the New England area. We have a very important national election coming up, for instance, and the outcome could have a major impact on important topics to us, like health care, child care, and woman's reproductive rights.

We also want to connect mothers to other mothers through our blog. Motherhood can sometimes be an isolating and downright scary experience, as I sort of alluded to before. We want moms to know they're not alone. I know I've personally met some incredible women through blogging, women I may have never had the chance to meet without my blog, and it's changed my life.

Meredith: Who are your fellow New England Mamas, and do they have any areas of expertise?

Mrs. Chicky: Currently we have contributors from all over New England except Vermont and Maine, and we are looking to fill those spots as soon as possible. The New England Mamas are published writers, educators, graphic designers, and other professional or former professional women from different walks of life who are passionate about everything from the Red Sox to cooking to education and health care reform. And each one has their own personal blog outside of the New England Mamas.

We are extremely diverse in our passions as well as in our areas of expertise. I mentioned the educators in our group of bloggers so I believe we'll have some interesting discussions about education standards in New England. We also have a couple of women who formerly worked in the beauty industry, which is very exciting because what mother doesn't want tips or product reviews that will help them look and feel better? There are some serious political junkies in our group who will, no doubt, be covering the upcoming national election from a parent's perspective. Our moms are very interested in the skyrocketing costs of child care in New England as well as the state of our national and state health care systems.

And, just to rattle off a few more, we have: Animal rights advocates, moms with disabilities, women who work in the field of law, and SAHMs [stay-at-home moms] who are breaking down the perceptions of what it means to be a mom.As a matter of fact I just found out that Alex Elliot one of our contributors who also blogs at www.flexibleparenting.com is flying to NYC today to be on the Mike and Juliet show to discuss a blog post from her personal blog on formula
feeding. We're all extremely excited for her.

Meredith: What has been your blog's most popular, or controversial, post thus far?

Mrs. Chicky: By far it was a post written about the seventeenth Constitutional Convention in Massachusetts to consider the amendment (H 4840) that would have banned same-sex marriage (which was defeated). Not all of our contributors, or our readers, consider themselves to be liberal so there was an interesting back-and-forth discussion in the comments about whether or not marriage was a civil or a human right. It was extremely respectful and I know I took a lot away from it.

Meredith: Are the New England Mamas Red Sox fans, or do you think there will be any infighting when the baseball playoffs come around and, inevitably, the New York Yankees will face off with the Sox?

Mrs. Chicky: I'm a card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation so I love this question. I took a poll of our Mamas and it seems like most of us are hard core Red Sox fans. There are some contributors who have no allegiance or even particularly care for sports -- and we love them anyway -- and I believe there is one woman whose husband is a Yankees fan. Now that should make for interesting reading! Go Sox!

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Three for Thursday: Mothers in the ‘Hood, A Breastfeeding Café & Booster Seat Bill Advances

Item #1: The MotherHood

The blogging team of Emily McKann and Cooper Monroe have launched a new web site community for moms entitled, The MotherHood. The site features an array of stuff including entries from blogs about parenting, places to create interactive groups to discuss parenting issues and link lists to interesting posts.

One of the key rules here, as opposed to some other mom-oriented sites: You can’t be mean. As Emily and Cooper wrote:

“Don't judge or be mean. If you don't have anything productive to say, don't
say it. We embrace different opinions, and we do not tolerate nastiness of any
kind. We are all on our own life path, and we ask you not to criticize others
until you have walked a mile in their shoes.”

Item #2: Salt Lake City’s Breastfeeding Café (Seriously)

No lie. It’s a café. In a Salt Lake City Library. Which city officials have named “The Breastfeeding Café” in an attempt to make moms feel more comfortable nursing in public. (Now, now . . . please refrain from snarky “stacked” comments.)

Library spokeswoman Christy Porucznik, who has a toddler, told a Utah news outlet that she “wants to show women that it is possible to breastfeed in today’s hectic world.”

I, for one, think this is great and hope the moms don't find themselves on the receiving end of nasty comments from library patrons.

Item #3: Bay State Booster Seat Bill Advances

A bill to mandate that children under the age of 8 or are under 57 inches in height ride in booster seats was passed through the state Senate this week. Under the proposed legislation, parents found driving with children who are not restrained in booster seats face a fine. The current law requires that children be transported in safety seats until the age of 5 or when they're under 40 pounds.

In order for this legislation to become law, it must make it through the House of Representatives and secure the governor’s approval.

(Go here for my position on this bill.)

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(Image from The MotherHood.)

Of Mosquitoes, Cape Cod and Family Vacation Adventures

I stopped counting at 30.

Bug bites, that is.

It’s hard to enjoy a family vacation by the shores of Cape Cod when you’re busy scratching at bug bites. And pulling a tick out of your youngest son’s curly hair.

While my family of five did enjoy our vacation week — frolicking in the ocean, making a Harry Potteresque-Hogwarts’ sand castle (the kids actually thought they could keep high tide at bay with a series of crude moats), ambling around various downtowns (Wellfleet, Provincetown, Chatham), playing a Mulligan-filled round of mini-golf, sitting on whoopee cushions (purchased at the mini-golf course’s arcade, however the first cushion popped, then the replacement one popped, then I foolishly bought three more), seeing “Ratatouille,” and catching a Cape Cod League baseball game – my personal experience was marred by insects.

At one point, after counting the dozens of bug bites Abbey and I sustained (Casey collected a fair number as well), I became fearful that our rental unit had either bed bugs or fleas. So, under cover of darkness, The Spouse and I inspected all the beds and bedrooms in the beam of a flashlight, and then later inspected the beds and rooms under the full glare of the lamp light as well as in natural light. We found nothing, and assumed that we’d simply been beset by evil, nocturnal mosquitoes.

Throw in the fact that my parents – who were staying in the same Cape Cod town but in a different rental unit – found a live tick crawling through Casey’s hair, and I began feeling itchy all the time. (Reminded me of the nightmare that came home from school with one of the kids earlier this year: Head lice.)

Thankfully, The Spouse could sense my extreme discomfort and agreed to leave a night early. At 10 p.m. When we arrived home – at 12:30 a.m. – we showered all the kids, put our pillows in the dryer on high heat for 20 minutes, and finally got to sleep at 2:30. And blissfully slept all the way through the night, awaking with no new bug bites.

But, all things considered, this vacation wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, in spite of the fact that my father probably re-injured his knee (on which he’d recently had surgery) by walking around on it prematurely on beaches and through the streets of Provincetown in the pouring rain, and in spite of the fact that the slip-cover on the sofa and the rug in one of the bedrooms in our rental unit stunk of unpleasant odors, odors that were impervious to repeated applications of Febreeze.

I wrote an essay for the forthcoming August issue of Parents and Kids – which is now posted on the publication’s web site– advising folks to expect the worst on their family vacations, and then, if they’re lucky, the vacation won’t be as bad as they feared. This vacation wasn’t as bad as the one I had when I was a teenager, where my blind, feeble family dog fell off a deck, broke all her legs and had to be put to sleep, plus the fact that my brother’s leg cast practically melted off his leg after he swam in the ocean with the cast covered by a trash bag. Or the get-away vacation The Spouse and I took with our then-infant twins who rendered us sleepless and covered us with various bodily fluids as we tried to keep them quiet in our very small room at a New Hampshire inn where we were staying.

At least this year, the only thing with which I had to cope was bug bites.

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(Image from this web site.)

Dude Looks Like He’s Pregnant: Male Columnist Wears ‘Empathy Suit’ and is ‘Pregnant’ for 24 Hours

If you’ve ever been pregnant, it’s likely that at one time or another, you wished that your spouse or partner could experience one iota of what you were experiencing. When I was pregnant with twins, and then years later with a single baby, there were many, many moments when I wanted The Spouse to be the one who was pregnant, so he would stop telling me that all of my pregnancy woes were in my head and that I should stop reading, “What to Expect What You’re Expecting,” which he thought was putting bad ideas into my head. (Yes, I did hit him with the book after he uttered that little chestnut of empathetic support.)



Well, a former male UMass colleague of mine, donned one of those empathy bellies in an attempt to try to figure out what his wife – who’s currently pregnant – is experiencing. Boston Herald writer Darren Garnick wrote about his “pregnancy” in a column and in a 24-hour pregnancy journal. He also agreed to field my snarky questions about wearing the “empathy suit.”


Meredith: Why on earth did you decide this would be a good idea?

Darren Garnick: I thought it would amuse my wife, Stacy, who is mere days away from giving birth. Of course, the journalistic curiosity also always burns for an unusual opportunity like this one. I did not do it to prove any point or to show how “sensitive” I allegedly am. Depending on the day, I don’t always wear the “sensitive” brand very well.

Meredith: Did you REALLY think that putting on a suit would give you an inkling as to what your wife’s going through?


Garnick: An inkling, yes. A complete understanding, no. I never realized how tough it is to reach things when you’re pregnant or how quickly standing up can feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. But I am absolutely under no delusions that I “know what it’s like to be pregnant.”

Meredith: What surprised you the most about your time in the suit?


Garnick: Besides my sleepless night? This exercise evolved to be just as much about sociology as women’s physiology. I was surprised by how most strangers I encountered treated my appearance like it was no big deal. I mean, look at how ripe I look in so me of those pictures posted in my 24-Hour Pregnancy Diary.


I suppose this is an encouraging sign that Bostonians aren’t as rude as we think we are.

I wasn’t trying to do the Tyra Banks-fat suit thing here. Especially since I probably weight the equivalent of five or six Tyra Banks already. But I did feel self-conscious and awkward walking around with fake breasts.



What really stunned me later was learning – in a phone interview – that the Empathy Belly company received death threats when the product was first introduced in the early 1990s. Some rednecks were angry about schools allegedly forcing teenaged boys to wear the suits in sex ed classes. According to belly creator Linda Ware, no one is ever forced to “become pregnant.” The curriculum stresses participants must be volunteers, she says.



Meredith: Do you secretly wish you could be a woman, so you could actually experience the mind-blowing pain of labor and the glories of pregnancy, like stretch marks?


Garnick: I’m pretty happy with the stuff God gave me, but would be proud to be an “Honorary Boston Mommy.” Do you have any certificates suitable for framing?


Meredith: Now that you’ve experienced “faux pregnancy,” are you going to try to experience “faux labor?”

Garnick: No thank you! I’ve been in the delivery room once, and am looking forward to the next time. But I’m thrilled with my role cheering from the sidelines.

Given that Darren did wear a pregnancy suit in public, for all the world to see -- and then documented it online -- I think that’s sufficient grounds for me to bestow upon him the dubious honor of being my first ever “Honorary Mommy.”

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(Image from the Boston Herald.)

Book Event: Bellingham Barnes & Noble Tuesday, July 10

If you’re up for some literary book talk with Massachusetts authors – including yours truly – I’ll be appearing on a panel with four other writers on Tuesday, July 10 at 7 p.m. at the Barnes & Noble Booksellers in Bellingham, MA.

I’ll be talking about why I wrote The Book (A Suburban Mom: Notes from the Asylum) reading an excerpt and then signing copies afterward for any kind souls who wish to have copies signed.

(To read some reviews and comments about The Book, check out the right-hand column on the blog.)

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