Month: February 2016

Momma Vs. MoMA


It’s the last week to see the Picasso sculptures at the MoMA, so obviously we had to skip school for it. The lady checking tickets gave each of my kids a tiny sketchbook and golf pencil on the way in. My daughter immediately sat on the floor in front of a large wooden sculpture and started drawing, as there is nothing she loves more than a “project.” After about ten minutes, a guard with one of those mouth breathing party pooper faces came over and said, “No sketching on the floor, sorry.” I asked, “Why did they give her a sketchbook then?” He got very red and flustered. “Well…can she sketch standing up? This is really a rule! I’ll show you.” I just stared at him while my oblivious daughter worked happily. He frantically flipped through some sort of brochure he had pulled out of his pocket. Did he have a rule book in there? Weird. I inched away from him slowly. She sketched for another half hour. I guess he never found what he was looking for. It was a great day.

Baby CrossFit Instructor


My daughter has a pretend mommy named Nina. One day a few weeks ago she said, “Mommy!” and I said, “Yes sweetie?” and she said, “No, not you, I’m talking to my pretend mommy, Nina.” And that was that. Around the same time my 1 year-old started waking up every morning saying something that also sounded a lot like, “Nina! Nina!” For a couple of days I was worried I had lost both of my children to the elusive Nina, until one morning when he went to the fridge and got out my dumb, pricey quiona and berry superfood salad. My husband said, “OH! I get it now. This whole time he’s been saying ‘QUINOA!’ Well, at least he still thinks you’re his mom.” Now he eats a whole container of quinoa salad every day like some sort of baby CrossFit instructor, and wakes up every morning shouting “QUINOA! QUINOA!” Yeah sure I guess he’s healthy and all, but he’s also eating all my adult snacks I bought because I thought I would have them all to myself, because what child is that interested in quinoa salad? Just ask for an Eggo once in a while, kid. Your mom is hungry.

Mini Christopher Walken

My toddler’s favorite word is “whoa.” He says it about 850 times a day, and has three variations that he uses depending on the situation. Sometimes it’s a one-syllable “whoa,” like for when he’s just climbed on the back of the couch¬†for the first time, but you can tell he knew he would eventually. Cool, but not a huge deal. Then there’s “whoa-uh!” This he reserves for little surprises like when I give him a bigger apple slice than usual. “Whoa-uh! Big!” But my favorite is the 3-syllable version he uses when he’s extra excited. Imagine Christopher Walken saying it. “UhhWHOAuh!” It’s¬†really all he says right now except for a long, drawn-out “Hiiiiiiieeeeeee,” both in a raspy vocal fry. So basically I hang out with a very friendly, surprised, mini Christopher Walken all day.

Ketchup: The Blood of Satan?

My husband is a very patient, understanding father who tries his best to take our children’s feelings into account when making decisions about their lives. Except when it comes to putting ketchup on certain meat products. I first suspected his prejudice one day when my daughter came in from the kitchen where he was cooking and innocently asked, “Mommy, why does this family never put ketchup on steak in this house ever and that’s final?” I was packing her lunch for school this morning and asked her, “Do you want mustard on your salami sandwich today?” She clearly didn’t think her father could hear, and whispered, “ketchup.” Before she could even get the word out he walked in quickly and said in a very serious yet disappointed tone, “NO. We do not put ketchup on salami. You know that.” I had a vision of our future. “I love your new tattoo sweetie, you did such a great job designing that. But…what’s that? That red stuff in the corner of your mouth? I can’t believe you would disappoint us like this after all we’ve done for you. You better have been eating french fries, that’s all I have to say.”