mombrain

Broken Bones

Here at MomBrain HQ, we have just taken our very first ride in a wheelchair. This is because I broke my delicate, princess-like foot last night when I took a wee tumble on the stairs. This morning my foot was not so delicate looking, so the Big Guy whisked me off to the ER where a nice man wheeled me down shiny hallways in leatherette comfort. Then they parked me in the hallway and forgot about me. Thank goodness I had the New Yorker with me.

The Little Guy is very excited that I have crusses. But I'm not sure the Big Guy is so excited. In the best of times I am just the tiniest bit high-maintenance, and I think he fears that I may be a demanding patient. Which, of course, I will be.

Recovery Ward

In which MomBrain marvels at the smart, funny, talented women she knows ...

MomBrain has just awoken from a deep, deep snooze. A bookstore reading on Sunday, a second reading on Monday, then a Mother Talk party on Tuesday depleted my batteries, and only one thing can recharge them: sleeeeeeeep, my pretty, sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. The Big Guy has been on Little Guy duty for nearly a week, and I am very, very lucky that he was willing to put in another day so I could swoon.

Mother Talk Seattle was a fabulous success, with opinionated women telling fascinating stories about everything from pain to power to judgment to being a working mother in corporate America. For a blow-by-blow rundown see Andi's blog.

And now ... another nap. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Pass the Kleenex Brand Facial Tissue

In which MomBrain sniffs. A lot.

Wow. Yesterday's reading was one for the scrapbook. First, Queen Anne Books is the loveliest and most beautiful bookstore you will ever see. And the crowd was so warm and receptive. We laughed! We cried! It was the must-see event of the winter! You missed it? Never fear - you can see a repeat performance tonight at Third Place Books. I am hoping not to repeat the entire performance, though. I would like to leave out the sobbing, tomato-faced, raccoon-eyed part. In fact, we will soon announce a new corporate sponsorship from Max Factor Waterproof Mascara.

The Price of Fame

In which MomBrain debates the merits and pressures of fame ...

MomBrain is in a tizzy, and not just because she is overcaffeinated. No, today is a milestone. This afternoon I will give my very first public reading to what I hope is a sympathetic audience. I will be reading my essay from "It's a Boy" and trying very hard to remember to breathe.

I have no problem with public speaking; I'm actually kind of a microphone hog. But the writing life is lived almost entirely inside the head. It's downright freaky to hear words that until now have only been imagined. And because this is an essay about my crazy grandmother who wields power from beyond the grave, I am just the tiniest bit afraid that lightning will strike.

Then of course there is the problem of WHAT TO WEAR. Do I go with the Hip Mama look? Earth mother? June Cleaver? Well. It's not really a question. My wardrobe, she is a tiny thing. And I am reading to mothers, after all, so as long asI don't smell like Spaghettios I should pass  muster.

Sex and the Single Blogger

Why is there a "Sex for Dummies" and not a "TypePad for Dummies"? If we're so dumb we don't know how to insert tab A into slot B, then don't we also need help changing a CNAME record to map a domain?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Mommy Quiz

Question: It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning in the dead of winter, and your five-year-old son asks for fresh strawberries. What do you do?

A. Use this chance to discuss growing seasons and the cost of fruit when it's out of season, then suggest an apple instead.

B. Hand him the car keys and tell him when he can reach the gas pedals he can get strawberries himself. Return to your coffee and newspaper.

C. Just. Say. No.

D. Grab your boots and a ponytail holder and race to the expensive grocery store that sells anything anytime for a cost. Take out a second mortgage to pay for fresh strawberries that only yesterday were sunning themselves happily in the mountains of Chile.

Answer: D. Because when your kid asks for food that might actually contain a vitamin and isn't entirely composed of white flour, chocolate, or cheese you fly to Chile and climb the mountain yourself if you have to.

Geek Speak

The Little Guy is only in kindergarten, but his school teaches kids technology from the get go. Evidently it's working, because LG is becoming quite the computer pro:

Little Guy: Mommy, guess what a server is?

MomBrain: I don't know, what?

LG: It's a computer that links other computers together.

MB: That's right! Did you learn what the other computers are called?

LB: Yup. Macs.

MB: Macs? Not clients?

LB: No, Macs. It's short for Maximum.

MB: It is? Maximum what?

LG: Maximum fun. Because that's what computers are.

MB: Oh.

MomBrain's Favorite Things 2005

It's the post you've been waiting for! It's the annual list of MomBrain's Favorite Things, conveniently posted just before Christmas. However, unlike Oprah, I will not be giving away free goodies to members of our studio audience. No, my ducks, you must satisfy yourself with hot links. So ... here are the things I just can't live without.

Past years have featured my favorite tea, but coffee has now joined my morning routine. And nothing else will do but Torrefazione Italia.

Revlon ColorStay Lipstick is my mainstay. Make mine "Spice."

My very favorite PJs are Nautica English Floral Lawn. Yes, they're girly. I wear them straight out of the dryer and miss them when they're in the laundry. They are also popular among cross-dressers and drag queens. I know this becuase they are highly reviewed on fagnits.com. I am not sure how this makes me feel.

If Santa has any kind feelings for me at all, he will leave this sweet little number in my driveway.

Time to go shopping!

Madonna or Whore?

In which MomBrain gazes at her delicate, princess-like navel ...

Today I had the great good fortune of bumping into my writing friend Martha at a party. I did not know she would be there. I did not know she knew the hosts. I did not expect my writing world to collide with my school-mommy world. But collide they did, with many happy fizzy bubbles as a result.

Martha and I finagled a few quiet moments next to the 18-foot (!) Christmas tree, and out came all my existential writing angst. It's the old dilemma: write for love, or write for money? I say I want to write for love. In fact, I sold my soul to the devil at the GAS* Company so I could afford to write what I want instead of what sells. And yet I find myself writing about hoochie mama diaper bags and stretch mark cream. I am not helping humanity. I am not provoking people to think. I am not adding beauty to the world. I am a shill. I write about the products that are advertised in magazines.

Make no mistake: The magazine business is not about selling content to readers. It is about selling readers to advertisers. When you buy your favorite magazine at the grocery store checkout line, the $4 you plunk down barely pays for shipping and handling. Everything else - the writing, the photography, the design, the celebrity interviews - is paid for by advertisers. And so it is the advertisers who control the content, and therefore the writers.

That's okay. I mean, producing magazines is expensive, and someone's got to pay for it. I do wish readers were more cynical, though. For example, when a beauty magazine recommends using moisturizer on your dry winter skin and then adds "One we like: Acme Skin Lotion!**" that's not a recommendation. It's a product placement that was probably paid for. So you buy Acme Skin Lotion because Beauty Queen Magazine*** recommended it, when in fact that lotion is nothing more than mayonnaise.

I don't begrudge magazines (or the snake oil supplement companies who own them) from making a buck. It's a business, after all. But it's not the business I want to be in. Hence the navel gazing. What do I want to write? What impact do I want to have as a writer? To get you to buy Acme Skin Lotion? Or to somehow make the world a better place?

I pimped myself out for the GAS* Company because I wanted the money. And it was worth it. But I'm not especially interested in being a whore for the makers of Acme Skin Lotion. How else can a girl make a living, though?

* Giant Acme Software

** A fake product. Please. I have no interest in being sued for slander.

*** Again with the fakery.

Dinner, Death and Destruction

In which MomBrain detects the unmistakeable whiff of testosterone ...

Here at House O' MomBrain we are trying very hard to make Family Dinner the rule rather than the exception. This is a challenge because the Little Guy would eat at 4:00 if he could, the Big Guy would eat at 9:00, and I would skip dinner altogether and spend my wad of calories on pancakes the next morning.

All this has changed, though, since we began telling Shaggy Dog Stories at the dinner table. Suddenly the Little Guy would rather starve than eat before us, and the Big Guy races home from work to eat at 6:00. Then we hunker over dinner and take turns starting a story. Now. MomBrain is proud to say that she is a gentle creature intent on telling tales that enlighten and educate. The Big Guy is more about slapstick entertainment. But the Little Guy is all about destruction. Tonight our stories began like this:

MomBrain: Once upon a time there was a squirrel and a nut.

Big Guy: Once upon a time there was a pirate ship and a treasure chest.

Little Guy: Once upon a time there was a fire bomb catapult and a cannon.

And because these are shaggy dog stories, they head south as soon as one of the Guys takes over. Boys will be boys. Even when the poor hungry squirrel is just trying to find the nut he buried, it is guaranteed that a shot will ring out, a fire will burst forth, or a scream will be heard in the distance. Sometimes it is my scream. But more often it is a sigh of resignation.