In a New York Post expose that made my stomach turn, I learned that rich, Manhattan mothers have discovered the most despicable way imaginable to bypass long lines at Disney World: hiring disabled people to pose as family members so their precious children don’t have to wait in line.
According to the rules of the theme park, patrons with a wheelchair or motorized scooter can bring up to six guests to a “more convenient entrance.” The only other way to get preferential treatment at Disney World is to purchase a VIP Tour Package for $300-plus an hour, which includes a personal guide and fast passes. But even with the package, the park warns patrons that there “may be a waiting period before boarding.” In comparison, these “black-market Disney guides,” as they’re being called, cost about $130 an hour and are allegedly more efficient when it comes to cutting the line. Keep reading »
When I was pregnant, everyone warned me not to judge myself against other women either positively or negatively. They told me not to compare myself to the Super Moms, the Momzillas or even the Deadbeat Moms. People warned me that once I was a mother there would be some things I would do effortlessly, and others I would fail dismally at.
Largely, I ignored their advice and trusted in my own self-worth and confidence. I was a little older than most of my mom friends and figured that with those extra years came extra wisdom. I instinctually understood that hanging out on online baby forums leads to intense paranoia about teething, and battling it out with anonymous strangers is stupid. I never thought I would succumb to the motherhood comparison game. But in the end, I was wrong. I did judge myself harshly. But it wasn’t against other moms. It was against my own husband. Keep reading »
Save the breakfast in bed, chocolate, flowers, and handmade macaroni necklaces. This Mother’s Day, I’m after something just a little bit more. On a day created to honor and respect all mothers, I feel that we sometimes fall a little short. And so, I humbly present to you my list of alternative Mother’s Day gifts: Keep reading »
Now that I’m an old-ass boring married lady, spending all my time vacuuming in heels, watching my stories and making martinis at 5 p.m. in anticipation of the imminent arrival of the most interesting man in my world, the only thing left for me to do in life is get pregnant.
But that is not the plan. Well, the making myself martinis at 5 p.m. is frequently part of the plan. Which would be a bad plan if, indeed, Patrick and I were trying to have kids. But this Sunday, and every forseeable third Sunday in May after that, I will celebrate my mom and my mother-in-law, and never be celebrated myself.
By my own design. Of my own volition. With the express agreement of my husband, who will similarly find himself celebrating his dad and father-in-law on future third Sundays in June, but never receive a hideous tie of honor himself.
I realize this isn’t normal for most people. But whether it’s normal or not, let me ask you to err on the side of not being a presumptuous snoot when talking to people who don’t have kids and who, moreover, don’t want to have kids. Keep reading »
When my youngest son was maybe 2 years old, he crept outside our bedroom door very early one morning while my husband and I were still asleep. I awoke to a deadpan, tiny voice whispering, “Let her in. Let. Her. In. Let her in,” over and over and over.
Turns out the cat was pawing at the back door, and he was just informing us it was time to, you know, let her in. But holy shitballs, that wasn’t even remotely my first thought. (My first thought was vampires, okay? IT WAS VAMPIRES.)
That was a legitimately spooky moment, but it doesn’t even hold a (flickering, ghostly) candle to this hair-raising Reddit thread titled, “Parents, what is the creepiest thing your young child has ever said to you?” Clocking in at over 11,000 comments, the forum is filled with an amazing array of stories ranging from hilariously weird to downright terrifying. Read more on The Stir…
Meet Gail Horalek, the busybody parent to top all busybody parents. She is very concerned that her daughter’s copy of The Diary Of A Young Girl is pornographic. It would seem that it’s not offensive enough that a vibrant young woman was a victim of the Holocaust. It’s also very offensive that Anne Frank played with her clitoris.
Horalek’s 7th grade daughter chose to read the newer, unedited “definitive edition” of Diary Of A Young Girl for a class project. This version was long blocked by Anne’s father (the only surviving member of the Frank family) because it contained more sexual themes; however, schools have been reading it for over a decade now. But Gail Horalek will not abide this smut! Keep reading »
If you have been in a one mile radius of me anytime in the past few weeks, you have probably heard me tell you all about how I love “Call The Midwife,” mention I’m going home to watch “Call The Midwife,” or suggest you watch “Call The Midwife.” That is because — yup — I am obsessed with the PBS drama “Call The Midwife.”
The premise is this: Jenny Lee (actress Jessica Raine) is a 22-year-old midwife in the 1950s hired for her first nursing job in an impoverished section of London’s East End. She’s had a privileged, sheltered upbringing and the poverty she sees in Poplar is like nothing she’s ever experienced. Nurse Jenny lives at Nonnatus House, a convent run by nuns who are also nurses, with three of her other 20something midwives: Nurse Trixie is the house glamour girl who loves boys, dancing and gossip; Nurse Cynthia is the thoughtful, quiet one, and Chummy is a gawky, awkward nurse from a titled family who is an embarrassment to her parents but finally finds a place in life working amongst the poor. Keep reading »