Strollerderby : mommies

Moms of the Famous Tell Us How To Raise Successful Kids

Brett Singer — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 16:00:00 GMT

Page Six reports on a new book where the mommies of various famous folks reveal how they raised their offspring.

If the rumors that Brett Ratner is a jerk are true, we may have his mother to blame. Momma Marcia Ratner apparently "coddled, pampered and ultimately embarrassed her son Brett." (Just in case Brett is hiring for "X-Men 4," I would like to point out that I'm not saying he's a jerk. Just that other people say he's a jerk.) Derek Jeter's mom Dot forced him to get good grades if he wanted to play baseball, and Steven Spielberg's mommy thought he would maybe work in a supermarket when he grew up.

The book is "Mother Nuture: Life Lessons from the Mothers of America's Best and Brightest," and while author Stephanie Hirsch did land some good interviews with moms, there are other good stories out there. On the Howard Stern Show, Richard Lewis talked about the time he called his mother to tell her some exciting news: he was going to be on The Tonight Show. Her response? "Who else is on?" Shocking that he's a bit neurotic.

Howard Stern's own relationship with his mother is well documented, including that she raised him "like a veal." Stern's father famously yelled at him in a recording studio when he was 7, something that Howard has turned into a bit on his radio show.

Then there's Eliot Spitzer's dad Bernard, who reportedly used Monopoly to teach life lessons to the future Tainted Gov: during a game of Monopoly, Bernard ordered Eliot, then 7 or 8, to sell him a piece of property, then reduced his son to tears when Eliot couldn’t pay the rent. The lesson he was teaching? “Never defer to authority,” Bernard said. Nice.

I'd actually rather hear from people like Bill and Hillary, since Chelsea seems to have turned out so well. As long as we never have to hear parenting advice from the Spearses.

In Defense of Judgmental Mothers

Madeline Holler — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 16:26:00 GMT

She takes a lot of crap, Judgmental Mother. Or maybe you know her as Sanctimommy or, more generically, “that asshole who offered unsolicited parenting advice.”

Andi over at “Poot and Cubby” (would it be judgmental to say that blog name makes me shudder?), calls Judgmental Mother “HOB” -- Hateful, Opinionated Bitch or, alternately, Horribly Obnoxious Bitch. And Andi runs in to HOB everywhere. Understandably, Andi thinks she's a real menace.

Not only does HOB judge Andi for dressing her child too warmly (typical HOB), she thinks the baby is going to fall out of the sling (typical aging HOB). I don’t need to recount the details, because you have your own experiences with the gal (or, sometimes, guy). We all do.

For me, she told me my baby would suffocate in a sling, while I strolled through the airport; he said that my 1-year-old needed shoes (didn’t notice the double-layer of socks) one cold spring day in D.C. She proclaimed my 2-year-old ready to use the potty (I was changing her diaper at the science center), and that I shouldn’t highlight a 4-year-old’s hair (we don’t. Good genes.)

I seethed about these incidents loooooong after they happened. (And for any of you who had to hear my rant – real sorry. I must have seemed a tad defensive.) But that was then. I’m sure I’ve been HOBed loads since, but somewhere along the line, it stopped bothering me. And I actually think – from a much broader perspective – is kind of cool if not a little misdirected.

Recently, a parent at my daughter’s preschool cried, “oh, aren’t you chilly!” to my toddler, who was wearing a skirt without tights and quite possibly a short-sleeved shirt. In December, sure, but it’s Los Angeles County. She’s a cold-weather kid by heritage, so 67 degrees doesn’t merit the parka and multiple layers of her native peers. Anyway, the morning shirt battle is one we stopped waging months ago so if it's February and you see spaghetti straps, you'll understand. In any case, I smiled at the lady and signed my daughter in.

I’m pretty sure I would have been savagely pissed off at the self-badged sweater cop had this happened early in my mothering career. But I gotta tell you. Right now? Nearly 7 years and two kids into it? I could give a shit less. In fact, I’m oddly comforted.

So the lady had never seen a bare-legged kid withstand Southern California's punishing winter weather. She spoke up! I kind of like that. Maybe she’ll speak up too if she sees something shitty going on at that preschool (which, except for drop-off hours and monthly tuition, I know soooo little about). Maybe she’ll look out for my kid in other situations, not just wardrobe ones, like if a teacher is mean to her or if she’s pissed herself and not immediately changed.

A person who butts into someone’s business regarding socks or slings or snowsuits – or breastfeeding or immunizations or signs of autism -- would certainly say something to a parent slapping around kids at the mall. It takes a loud-mouthed, judgmental, butting-in type to want to call someone out on a perceived danger with the big stuff. Sometimes (often?), they’re going to cross a line in the smaller, none-of-their-business stuff too.

I’d rather cheer on the one and just smile ignore the other. I'm not saying we should usher them in as True American Heroes. I'm just saying there is something good below all that undermining. So I won't let it get to me. I've got enough to make me angry. You know, like my kids.

Drunken Mommies: What's Okay and What's Too Much?

Karen Murphy — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 17:26:00 GMT

Yeah, yeah, maybe we've done the whole "look at these irresponsible mommies who drink!" thing to death, but looking over this (admittedly rather old) post up at Feministing got me to thinking. But what's really telling are the comments to the short post, which mostly quotes a survey that revealed that about a quarter of mommies got drunk over the weekends, and a quarter (maybe the same quarter, who knows?) admitted to having been drunk in front of their kids, and significant numbers also admitted to drinking while under the influence, missing work due to hangovers, blacking out, and being unfaithful while drinking.

Whoa, a lot of judgment going on there! And extrapolation.

First: why aren't we also discussing the daddies? Second, a few definitions here might help. For instance, define "drunk". Are we talking tipsy here? Or slurring-words-falling-down? Makes quite a difference in my estimation. And the comments bring out some interesting ideas regarding cultural mores, in terms of what's socially acceptable in the U.S. vs. in Europe.

So what about you? Is it okay to unwind over the weekend (or, hell, on any evening) over a glass or two of wine? In front of your children? Does that make a difference? When does it become "too much?" Where do you draw that line? And is the line the same for yourself as it is for other people? What message do you want to send your kids in terms of responsible use of alcohol? Is it even an issue?

Me, I'm okay having a drink in front of my kids. I grew up in a house where there was wine served at most meals. As a tween I was invited to have my own (tiny) glass of the night's libation, though frankly I seldom made good on the offer. I still did the rebelling thing as an older teen, in fact plenty of it, even though the atmosphere in my own house was pretty liberal. I'm not sure it makes a difference, really, I mean, I think it depends on other factors as well. My own kids express only occasional interest in what I drink, and there's been a little tasting here and there, usually with a horrible face accompanying it. For me, a glass of wine here and there or a cocktail is simply part of life and no big deal; by sending THAT message (the no big deal part) to my kids I feel I'm setting them up to later draw their own conclusions and make their own decisions.

What do you do?

True Dad Confessions: I Want a Hooker

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Tue, 12 Jun 2007 20:55:00 GMT

Sometimes I just want a hooker. I love when my wife does that thing with her little finger. My son gave me a card and I cried. Work is kind of like my vacation.

Holy sweet lord, man -- I am loving True Dad Confessions! Brought to you by the same people behind True Mom Confessions, the web site lets a dad anonymously post confessions -- and I'm digging what appears to be a glorious consummation of catharsis and rubber necking.

Some gems include:

I wish my wife would just leave. But the kids are staying.

I wish the kids would go to bed so my wife ad I can have round two of great uniterupted sex! YEE HAW!

My own kids annoy me! Why did I not put that condom on? I was so stupid for my 15 mins of "fame"!

These are among the more sanitized comments. Seriously, you should check it out. There are some messed up dads out there, and it's quite possible you're married to one of them.

Though I have to admit that after reading a few score comments, I began to feel something along the lines of shame or pity or maybe just sadness. There is all sorts of wife-hating -- serious, scary wife hating -- going on, so I was pleased to remember that moms have a confession outlet, too.

Or maybe that's just the genius of the site? If a dad actually gets it off his chest, he doesn't need to puff his own at home? I hope that's the case.

Of course, it's not all scary. Far from it. A lot of the confessions are downright hilarious. And insightful. From all the comments, I've learned that dads seem to enjoy the blow job. Huh.

(True Dad Confession: I wrote half of those last ones. But thank god for anonymity, right? ... oh.)

Giving Mom a Break on Father's Day

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Wed, 30 May 2007 15:33:00 GMT

Embezzlement. Stripping. Sodomy. Now there's a stress relief plan I can follow -- even if it wasn't meant for me at all. Tired of all those crappy "Take 5 for Mom" articles in every parenting magazine known to mom, Baby on Bored's Stephanie Wilder-Taylor offers a few alternatives.

Embezzle and go on vacation. Get a tattoo. Offer TV newsman Anderson Cooper a tip ... so to speak. And my personal favorite:

2. Punch Elisabeth Hasselbeck in the teeth.

Ahh, now there's the pause that refreshes. Well done, Stephanie. But I'm sure there's plenty more where that came from, right moms? What's your formerly unspoken stress relief?

Just please, oh please, don't let it involve singing "Wind Beneath My Wings."

Angelina Jolie Voted Hottest Mom by Deluded Women Everywhere

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 15:01:00 GMT

Beer tastes good. My kid is the cutest kid. Ever. And "dad's night out" does not in any way involve strippers. In other news, Angelina Jolie was voted hottest mom.

Women's Day Magazine surveyed 1,000 women who had nothing better to do, and they chose Angelina Jolie as the hottest mom out there -- right in front of Kelly Ripa (those voters must be deaf), Jennifer Garner, Brooke Shields and Gwen Stefani.

Cleary these women are deluded. Trust me, Angelina Jolie will not take your child off your hands. Not even to babysit. Believe me, I've tried. She's only interested in the kids Madonna left behind.

As for dads, I was for one reason or another left off the list. *Stupid Johnny Depp.*

"Bluetooth Parents" Need to Hang Up the Phone

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Mon, 19 Feb 2007 18:57:00 GMT

I can't tell you how many nannies and mommies I see at the park with cell phone earbuds and Bluetooth hookups attached to their ears. "Hang on, hang on, Lizzie's swinging and I've got to get her down ...." Of course, the conversation could go like this: "I'll call you back; Lizzie's swinging." Sadly, it never does.

I'm not the only one who finds it annoying. Jenny Blackburn at the Seattle Post-Intelligencer's "Adventures in Parenting" blog calls them "Bluetooth Parents" -- that elite cadre of men and women who feel "compelled" to look like crazy insane homeless people who chat with themselves.

OK, I made that last part up -- but I do think they look silly. Still, Jenny wonders, why do people wear them even when not in use? Good question.

It's almost spring (hope, dear god, hope), so hang up the phone and enjoy that ~~childhood~~ fresh spring day with the kids.

Valentine's Day Is Dead; Long Live VD (Valentine's Day, Silly)

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 18:07:00 GMT

In third grade I handed out Valentine's Day cards just like the other 30 or so members of my class, making sure everybody got one -- even the dork nerd dweebjobs. I praised myself for thinking of the little people. Then I returned to my desk, counted my bounty -- a handful -- and came to a sudden and very sad conclusion.

When I was in middle school, I received a Valentine's Day gold chain bracelet from the first girl I french kissed. I must not have been a good kisser, because a few days later my wrist turned green. We broke up not long afterward.

On our first Valentine's Day together, I drove Dana to a strip mall, pulling into a parking space just in front of a dingy, plastic-chair Chinese restaurant that we had come to know as our own. "I love your sense of humor," Dana said. "So really -- where are we going? Some place romantic?" I was 20 and didn't know any place romantic. So I called a restaurant in Napa she had heard about, praying and stepping on the gas at the same time. We waited an hour and a half to share a seat at the bar.

For some reason, I've never quite enjoyed Valentine's Day. Maybe it was the bad memories or maybe it was the silly notion that true love comes in the form of an electronic dancing hamster purchased at Walgreens. I'm not sure. But I was still hoping to make yesterday a special one, because it would be our first as a couple with a child - our first as a new family. I wanted to let Dana know that despite the hardships and happiness a baby can bring into your life, our relationship was as strong and loving as ever.

Things didn't start out as I planned. A little after midnight, Dana woke up with a terrible, hacking cough which, in turn, woke me. Together we tossed about for the rest of the night, waking too early to the sound of Emmeline's cries. "Happy Valentine's Day," I said. Dana coughed, "Can you get her?"

After Dana went to work, I strapped Emmeline into her stroller and we spent the morning checking off our shopping list. Dinner. Dessert. Chocolates. Check. Check. Check. I put Emme down for an early nap, eager to start preparations for a big night and maybe catch a nap myself. Emme woke up a half hour later with a fever. For the next three hours, she wanted to be held. I gave her some Motrin and after awhile stripped her down to her diaper and brought her into our bedroom. We sat in front of an ancient floor fan, drifting off to sleep together as a dusty breeze tickled our noses.

Dana came home early. "I don't feel so well either," she said. "Do you mind if, maybe, we have Valentine's tomorrow night?" Instead of making dinner together, we gathered on the living room floor. Emme crawled between us, lumbering over our legs or tumbling into our arms. Occasionally she would open her mouth and burrow her burning face into our necks, laughing at her own antics while I slowly came to a new conclusion: If an exhausted, hacking, feverish new family can still enjoy a few laughs together, maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all. I don't know about you, but I can't wait until next year.

Moms Too Drunk to Tackle Today Show "Momtini" Debate?

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 14:24:00 GMT

The last time the Today Show ran a segment on mother fuddlers, the blogosphere lit up with heated debates about mixing alcohol with playdates. Personally, I mix my alcohol with gin, but to each her own. This time around, however, all seems quiet. For now.

Maybe that's because Today Show guest Stefanie "So Hot She Must be Anorexic" Wilder-Taylor yesterday debunked some people's perceptions that moms who drink around their kids are loutish lushbags. She was funny. She was intelligent. She asked for more beer. Who wouldn't like her?

No one that I could find. And I searched -- I swear to god. In putting together this list of the blogosphere reaction to the latest segment, I couldn't find an anti-drinking stance anywhere following the show yesteday. Maybe, and most likely, I'm just a moron -- but I'd like to think people have come to see this issue for what it really is: B.S. Who doesn't drink in front of their kids? Who doesn't drink because of their kids?

Z Recommends offers blogger solidarity with "Mothers for Social Drinking " blog badges. Go get one. Now!

IzzyMom has had enough of the non-debate. "Christ…it’s no wonder we’re NOT all self-medicating after dealing with such nonsense for two weeks in a row."

A Mommy Story believes moms can, gasp, make their own damn decisions. "Personally, I don't think moms are scared of being called a bad parent. I think we're sick of being told that anything we do could make us bad parents, as if we are incapable of making reasonable and sane parenting choices."

Suburban Bliss Melissa Summers, who got unfortunately railroaded when she was on the Today Show the first time this topic came up, rejoiced when host Meredith Viera was asked her opinion and stumbled. OK, rejoiced is a weak word. "I think I had an orgasm at that point."

Desperately Seeking Sanity has no problem with a few drinks, just watch what you say: "Just please refrain from telling me I’m a horrible mother….I might have to console myself with lots of alcohol and that would endanger my children and it would be all your fault … KIDDING!"

MamaKBear loves her some Jose Cuervo.

Elizabeth McDonald at 451Press wonders when parents will stop judging each other and start teaching their kids to make awesome margaritas.

To include some type of counter opinion, Viera herself defended her role in the debate, saying last week she thought making a comparison between moms and babysitters was fair - although she does enjoy a drink "from time to time."

The way I see it, drinking occasionally isn't her problem. Not drinking all the time is.

I'm sure I've missed a lot of great voices in this debate, so if you're not sick of it -- let me know about them and I'll update this. I'd especially like to hear from the anti-drinking side, if only to silently mock you.

(Photo from I'm Not a Wino, Not Yet a Girl -- check her out.)

Angsty is the New Happy: Parents Eschew Therapy for Blogging

Rachael Brownell (Redsy) — Fri, 26 Jan 2007 12:17:00 GMT

Her Bad Mother is a wonderful writer who has an impressive ~~Google ranking~~ following for someone who has only been blogging since January of last year (could be all those references to "sore nipples.") She is a professor who lives in Toronto and is part of an excellent group of writers at UrbanMoms. She writes today (and quite frequently) about the angst and worry she feels about parenting her darling daughter, Wonder Baby. As Wonder Baby gets older and more active, the trouble seems to get deeper. The adorable giblet pictured at right is now a wild and challenging toddler.

Like many parent bloggers she uses her blog as therapy. And while her style has often been derided (as popularized by the now defunct TrainWrecks), reading her blog, one is keenly aware of the difference between solipsism and soulfulness. Blogs like hers are honest and vulnerable and true. Like all things of this nature, they inspire awe and gentleness rather than snark and sarcasm. And in their own way, they make the world better.