Top Ten Things I Did On My Kid-Free Vacation

Ahh…vacation. It’s something that I don’t take nearly often enough. But I took one last week. And if a vacation by itself wasn’t sweet enough…then a kid-free vacation made this one even more incredible.

Mama needed a break real bad.

The hubster and I took a little trip to Aspen/Snowmass, CO with three other couples…and we totally rocked out. It was awesome, and yes, you should be jealous. And here’s why:

“Top Ten Things I Did on my Kid-Free Vacation”

1. I indulged in the simple pleasure of taking a shit in peace every day without simultaneously having to recite a Scooby Doo story.

2. I read two books. Like from cover to cover. Without interruption. It kicked ass.

3. I drank (several) margaritas in the middle of the day and noshed on tequila soaked blueberries. And I sort of moaned while I ate them and didn’t worry about anyone looking at me weird. (They were all into the blueberries too).


I already ate the blueberries...that's why you can't see them...

4. I went to the best spa that I’ve ever visited in my entire life at the Viceroy Snowmass, and I locked up my Iphone in the locker and didn’t even THINK about my blog while sipping champagne in the relaxation room. That is, until my massage therapist asked me what I did and I told her I was a blogger and she looked at me and said, “Are you The Mommyologist?” It was one of the top five coolest moments of my life. And I’m pretty sure that nothing like it will ever happen again.

viceroy snowmass spa

Relaxation Room At Viceroy Snowmass Spa

FYI…if you ever have the pleasure of hitting the Viceroy…book an appointment with Sara. BEST. MASSAGE. EVER. (And I’m not just saying that because Sara made me feel cool).

5. In the locker room at the spa at the Viceroy, I got into the hot plunge pool naked. The end.

viceroy snowmass spa locker room

Viceroy Snowmass Spa Hot Plunge Pool

6. Back to the margaritas…I sat outside in front of a fire pit in the snow and drank those margaritas surrounded by good friends and plenty of laughs. And not once did I worry about rushing home to pay the babysitter thanks to the fact that my wonderful mother kept my son back at home so that I could get my drink on in Colorado. It was sheer bliss. And I’m praying that we get invited back on a trip with these people sometime because they are all freakin’ A-plus. I might even start stalking them.

7. I vowed to sleep in each and every single day, but for whatever reason the hubster and I were always the first ones up. Somehow not having to cater to incessant demands for service from an almost-five-year-old rested me up enough that I didn’t need the extra sleep.

8. I went on national television with the hubster when we got back to NYC, and it was tons of fun. But I also signed some damn waiver saying I wouldn’t blog about the experience, so there goes any hope of me trying to pimp myself out. But it didn’t say anything about tweeting, so stay tuned for tidbits there if the curiosity is killing you.

Where am I? I'll Never Tell!

9. I spent Valentine’s Day in the city with the hubster at our favorite restaurant…Del Frisco’s. I had three martinis (big surprise). I had a fat steak. I had scrumptious potatoes. And I took a HUGE slice of lemon cake to go. I’m salivating now just thinking about that meal.

10. I recharged. I re-energized. And I reconnected with myself by not being plugged into a computer or mobile device 24/7. But now I’m back, and the snow is finally melting, and I’m ready to rock and roll with work until the next kid-free vacation. That is, if I ever catch up on everything I missed while I was living it up in Aspen.

*Viceroy photos courtesy of Viceroy Snowmass website

10 Things I Never Thought I’d Say Till I Had A Kid

I wrote a similar post to this one over a year ago…and honestly, I could probably crank out a brand new one every single month. Without further ado, I give you:

10 things I Never Thought I’d Say Till I Had A Kid…


1. “No bare butts on the dining room chairs!”

2. “Stop farting on your finger and smelling it!”

3. “Put your weiner back in your pants.” (Or at least, I never thought I’d say this in a situation other than turning down some frat daddy in college).

4. “DON’T wipe that booger on the table. Give it to me, please…I’ll put it in my purse.” (Said at a restaurant…)

5. “What you do with your wiener when you turn 18 is your business, but until then, I get to tell you what you can and can’t do with it.”

6. “No honey…my wiener didn’t fall off. Mommy doesn’t have a wiener.” (Anyone else noticing a trend here)?

7. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to call you back. I just peed in my pants a little bit.”

8. “Did you poop at school today, honey? What color was it?”

9. “Sure…I’ll get you a snack sweetie…right after I get off the toilet.”

10. “For the love of GOD…watch where you’re aiming that thing and quit pissing on the walls!”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go fetch the Clorox wipes to try and salvage what’s left of the powder room.

I Speak English, A Little French, And I’m Fluent In Bullshit

Ok, so since I started this blog a little over a year ago…most of you have gotten to know me pretty well. You know that I’m not afraid of discussing shit at the dinner table. You know that shaking my ass is at the top of my list of extracurricular activities, and you also know that I get paid to talk about celebrity smut all day long.

What you probably don’t know about me is that in addition to speaking English and the tiny bit of French I’ve retained from high school, I’m also fluent in the language of bullshit. And I’m talking about the bullshit that parents put out there to try and make sense of the fact that their kids have completely turned their lives upside down and given them grey hairs in places where the sun don’t shine. You know…the LIES PARENTS TELL to hide what is really going on.

May I present…

The Mommyologist’s Parental Bullshit Translator

Bullshit Statement #1: “Our little angel never cries…ever!”

Translation: “Holy motherf*&ing SHIT. This kid never shuts up. EVER. Oh for the love of GOD…get me some friggin’ earplugs before I’m catatonic in the corner crying for my own mother. I can’t take it anymore.”

Bullshit Statement #2: “My hubby is an absolutely DREAM with the new baby! I never lift a finger and he gets up with her every night!”

Translation: “I seriously can’t believe I married this prick. He hasn’t done one middle-of-the-night feeding, or changed one shitty diaper since this kid came home from the hospital. Now I understand why people get divorced.”

Bullshit Statement #3: “I was back in my skinny jeans the day after I left the hospital with this little munchkin!”

Translation: “F*&k you, I’m skinny because I’m blessed with an incredibly perfect gene pool. But I’m insecure in other areas so I choose to boost my own self-esteem by making you feel like a Twinkie-loving cow.”

Bullshit Statement #4: “Tomorrow is our 6-week post-partum check up at the OBGYN! I hope he gives us the ok to have sex again!”

Translation: “Holy shit. Tomorrow is our 6-week post-partum check up. That means that this asshole I’m living with is going to expect sex again. I just spent over 24-hours pushing a living thing out of my cha-cha, and the last thing I want to do is stick something back in there again. Oh for the love of GOD. If I don’t have sex with him tomorrow night, then he’s going to expect something else. Help me.”

Bullshit Statement #5: “I guess I’m lucky…I’m one of those women who doesn’t get tired, so getting up three times a night doesn’t even phase me!”

Translation: “I’m hallucinating due to lack of sleep, and I’m speaking gibberish. Just ignore me.”

Bullshit Statement #6: “My little prince listens to every single word I say! He never talks back, and he always minds his manners, because that’s what I’ve taught him to do!”

Translation: “Earlier today, this little rugrat stuck his tongue out at me, called me a poopyhead, and then proceeded to shove his finger up his nose, pull out a fresh picked booger, and wipe it on my leg. Stick a fork in me…I’m DONE.”

Bullshit Statement #7: “My kids always eat their vegetables at every meal, and they have NEVER had one grain of sugar.”

Translation: “If you consider sweet potato flavored Gerber puffs to be vegetables, then my kids eat veggies at every meal. And last night, after they polished off a cansiter each of puffs as they were screaming and kicking each other under the table, I shoved a rice krispie treat in each of their mouths so that I could manage to make a thirty-second phone call to the hubby to tell him to pick up more vodka on his way home from work.”

Bullshit Statement #8: “I don’t drink” or “I have never even thought about drinking since I had a kid.”

Translation: “Fix me a friggin’ martini before I either break down and cry or piss my pants from total lack of control.”

Bullshit Statement #9: “We’re having so much fun figuring out this whole parenting thing together!!”

Translation: “This kid is four months old, and we still have no idea what in the hell we’re doing. And it’s a miracle that we’re still sleeping in the same bedroom. Oh my GOD…what in the hell happened to our lives??”

Bullshit Statement #10: “I felt SO sexy while I was giving birth!”

Translation: “How did I feel while I gave birth? How do you think I felt, genius? Everyone in the room was staring at my crotch, which hadn’t been shaved in like two months because my belly was too big for me to see what I was doing as far as grooming goes, I farted uncontrollably in front of the hot anesthesiologist, I almost shat on the table, and then there was that whole episiotomy thing. Yeah…I was one sexy bitch, alright!”

A Life’s Manual For “Not-Quite-Preggo” Gals

Not too long ago, I had a nice little chat with a cute-as-a-button girl who just got married. And when I say cute-as-a-button, I actually mean totally gorgeous, with no dark circles or bags under her eyes, and a much cuter outfit than I could ever dream of pulling off. Basically, she had the classic look of a chick who doesn’t have kids yet.

I congratulated her on her marriage, and then told her to “enjoy her husband for a bit” because there is plenty of time in the future for kids. I told her to go out to dinner, travel, etc…you know…all those things that we never even had to question doing before our little bundles showed up.

And then she looked at me and said that she and her husband had been dating for seven years before they got hitched, and that they’ve already been out to dinner, already traveled, etc, and were already trying for a baby.

And all I wanted to do was look at her and say, “Oh no…you don’t understand what I’m trying to tell you. EVERYTHING changes after that baby arrives.”

I’ve been meaning to write this post since talking to her, and then I got even more inspired after reading this post from Shell at Things I Can’t Say.

May I present my Life’s Manual For “Not-Quite-Preggo” Gals:

1. Have sex NOW. Like a lot. Like all the time. And yes, having all that sex may possibly result in you getting knocked up sooner, but just have the sex anyway because it’s unscheduled sex. It’s un-tired sex. It’s uninterrupted sex. Pre-kid sex is having sex just for the hell of having sex, not having sex just because you haven’t had sex in two months and you figure you’d better have sex real quick before one of the kids wakes up. Trust me girls…go hump your man NOW.

2. Let’s talk about going out to dinner again. GO OUT TO DINNER. AT A NICE PLACE THAT REQUIRES RESERVATIONS. And make it a LONG dinner. Order a bottle of wine. Order an appetizer. Don’t put in your entree orders until after you’ve finished the appetizer and the bottle of wine. Order ANOTHER bottle of wine. Order dessert. And then go home and have lots of sex.

3. When you wake up in the morning after going out for that nice dinner, have sex again, and then park your ass on your couch with your man for the entire day and do nothing but watch TV, movies, etc. Only get up to use the bathroom, get more food from the kitchen, or if you feel the urge to have some more sex.

4. When you do go out to dinner with your hubby, and there is a couple at the table next to you with two kids who won’t stop whining and can’t seem to sit still, don’t roll your eyes at that couple. Don’t clear your throat and shoot them looks of disgust as they attempt to shove their food down their throats so that they can get the hell out of there as soon as possible. What you don’t know, is that they are looking at you and your pre-kid life with complete envy. They wish they were you. And they definitely aren’t having sex tonight. And before you know it, you will be THEM, so cut them some slack. Karma’s a bitch, ladies. Remember that.

5. Enjoy taking a poop in the privacy of your own bathroom with no one watching you, or yelling at you that your poop stinks, or telling you that they need to poop at that exact same moment, which means that you have to stop mid-poop in order to turn the toilet over to your kid so that you don’t wind up cleaning poop off the floor, which means you’ve missed the moment and wind up constipated for the next two days. Trust me…savor the pleasure of taking a shit by yourself while you can.

6. For the love of GOD…sleep as much as you possibly can and never feel guilty about it. I never realized just how incredible sleep was until I hadn’t really had any in three months. The sleep deprivation is just as bad as everyone says it is after you bring home a new baby. It sucks. It sucks REAL bad. Nothing can possibly prepare you for it, so just do us all a favor and sleep in and be a lazy ass now. Your time will come.

7. When your hubby does something really sweet and you look at him and think about how much you love him and how you are the luckiest girl in the world and you wonder how you ever lived without this man in your life, TAKE A MENTAL PHOTO of that moment. You’ll need it later. I don’t care who you are, at some point after bringing home a new baby, your husband WILL piss you off. But it’s not because he doesn’t love you or the baby or isn’t being a good husband, it’s because the whole experience of having a child is life changing and overwhelming for him too. Remember those moments of sheer bliss and call them up when you find yourself ready to scream “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE” at the top of your lungs. Because five minutes later, you’ll love him again. But you still probably won’t get laid.

8. Pick at least one day a week where you have an hour or two to be extremely bored. I mean, like REALLY bored, with nothing to do but stare at a blank wall. Do you know what I’d pay to be bored even for ten minutes? Boredom is GOOD. Though I really don’t remember what it feels like.

9. Enjoy your friends who don’t have kids now, because if you have kids before them, there is a good chance that you won’t really see them until THEY have kids. I’ve already said that your life totally changes after having a child, but what also changes is your “life’s STAGE.” When you have kids and your friends don’t, you go from having everything in common to practically nothing in common overnight. After I had my son, there was really only ONE of my non-kid friends who took a genuine interest in my life and my son, not because she HAD to, but because she cared about me that much. Savor your friends now…(though once your non-kid friends join the baby bandwagon, you do reconnect. I promise).

10. Never feel guilty about being selfish. The time right before you have kids is the last time that you CAN be selfish for the rest of your life. And milk your pregnancy for all it’s worth. Put your feet up. Let people wait on you hand and foot. Make requests and demands whenever possible. Because once that baby arrives…you’re fired. No one gives a shit about you anymore. No one, that is, except the incredible little munchkin who will no doubt, capture your heart and become the center of your world forever.

It’s all worth it, I promise!

NOW STOP READING BLOGS AND GO HAVE SOME SEX, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!!!!

Poop: A Fine Dinner Party Topic

“Oh yeah, the mustard seed looking poops are just way less gross than those black ones that come out for the first few days after bringing the baby home.”

Those exact words (roughly) came out of my mouth the other night at a dinner party hosted by my husband’s boss and his wife just as I was about to sink my teeth into a nice fat juicy piece of pesto shrimp.  And I bit down on that jumbo shrimp like it was my job and it was absolutely delicious and I didn’t even flinch at the fact that I was chomping down on that shrimp while enjoying a delightful conversation about baby poop.  And I didn’t even consider once that the pesto on the shrimp sorta resembled mustard seeds.  Because once you have a baby, your whole world completely revolves around poop and it is just totally irresistible to talk about the poop with other parents at every chance you get because you know that other parents are the only people who you CAN talk about the poop with and not run the risk of someone losing their lunch.  Or in this case, their shrimp.

You see, the couple hosting the party just had a baby like three weeks ago.  And I love how they just went ahead and jumped feet first into the whole poop euphoria thing without a second thought.  Because the first step to accepting the fact that your world is now being completely controlled by a pint-sized poop machine is being able to talk about it without any reservations.

And of course, me being The Mommyologist sort of has me under the delusion that I am some sort of baby poop expert even though I know better than to think that I’m really that knowledgeable just because I’ve outfitted myself with a fancy title. And of course, our little discussion opened the floor for me to throw in one of my favorite poop stories from our son’s infant days.  There’s nothing like regaling a tale of your son shitting himself while sitting on an airplane and waiting a good 30 minutes to take off to make you feel just a tad bit nostalgic for your diaper changing days.

And yes, I’m totally kidding.  But now I’m kind of panicking a bit because as I typed out that last sentence, the thought went through my mind that my son is OUT of diapers now, but when he has to shit, he HAS TO SHIT, and if we are ever stuck on an airplane runway again and aren’t allowed to get up and use the lavatory, then we’re probably going to have a SERIOUS “Code Brown” going on in our row.  Good grief…I need a vodka just thinking about that scenario.

Ok, back to the dinner party and back to the baby poop…not that we were ever really OFF the poop topic.  Once you become a parent, it’s almost like you’ve entered some kind of secret club or fraternity or something like that.  And the initiation into that elite club?  Oh yeah…you guessed it!  BEING POOPED ON.  Or AT.  Or in the GENERAL VICINITY OF. Whatever. You catch my drift.

I thought that a nice way to welcome these two new parents into the club would be to open the forum and let my readers tell me their favorite poop story.  Because you all know you have one.

C’mon…you KNOW you are just DYING to leave a comment detailing your story.  We’re all in this together folks!

This is your chance to shine.  Make it count.

32 Going On 80?

Good morning everyone!  I hope that you all had a wonderful holiday weekend with your families and that you had some gorgeous Spring weather just like we did here in the Northeast. Seriously, it couldn’t have been more perfect up here the past few days!

At the beginning of last week after viewing the upcoming weekend weather forecast, the hubster and I decided that it would be fun to take a little overnight trip on Saturday with our son. We went back and forth between whether to go to Boston or New York City, and due to a last minute killer deal on a prime location hotel, the Big Apple won.

This was our little man’s first trip into the city and he was such a trooper! And of course he loved FAO Schwartz, and Toys R Us with the big ferris wheel, and running around Central Park, and…well…I guess not much else really matters when you are four years old!

When we finally got home around 4:00pm yesterday, the hubster and I collapsed on the couch like we had just run the New York marathon.  I mean, we were POOPED!  Of course, our little dude had slept in the car the whole way home from the train station, so he had a total second wind and went right into building various Lego “vehicles” out of the new sets that we’d bought him at the big city toy stores.  And he really didn’t seem to care too much about the fact that his Daddy and I had completely run out of gas and were merely surviving on fumes at that point.  My hubby turned to me at one point and asked how it was possible that two grown adults had completely been kicked in the ass by a four year old.  The answer to that one was pretty apparent.  WE ARE GETTING OLD.


And the fact that we were completely worn out after our little weekend excursion wasn’t the only indicator to that fact.  There were quite a few other tell-tale signs that the hubster and I just can’t quite hang like we used to before our little stud arrived.

(Note:  The following list is in random order, though I have to admit that #1 IS my absolute favorite)!

1. I sneezed in the middle of Times Square and peed in my pants a little bit and had to kind of waddle into the hotel with my knees stuck together so that I didn’t lose the entire contents of my bladder right there in the lobby. And yes, this happened more than once.

2.  My cousins from Pittsburgh were also in NYC this past weekend and they had their 14-year old daughter with them, who offered to babysit our son on Saturday night so the four of us could go out for some adult time.  The hubster and I turned her down because we were just way too exhausted to go out to dinner.  And we were in bed that night before 10pm.  (I mean, who turns down a babysitter)???

3. I actually noticed the crowds in the city and even mentioned something to the hubster about how I couldn’t believe how many people there were and that it must be because it was a holiday weekend.  He then reminded me that NYC is ALWAYS packed no matter what weekend it is.  I guess I just never paid that much attention to it before.  But this time I really just wanted to yell, “MOVE PEOPLE!!” every time the walk signal changed so that we could get across the street before the little orange hand started flashing because I had such an irrational fear of our stroller being run down by an out-of-control taxi cab.

4. I caught myself making a comment to the hubster about how I didn’t understand how “all these young chicks” walk around the city in stilettos when I am barely managing to stay upright in flats.  And then we passed the Easy Spirit store and I seriously considered stopping in for an impulse buy.  (For the record, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.  I mean, I’m not THAT old yet.  And please don’t go hatin’ on me if you own a pair of Easy Spirits. This is not an insult directed at you, it is just my personal philosophy that if I purchase a pair of their shoes then I’ve officially made the transition from semi-cool mom to old lady).

5. This morning, even though I only had one measly glass of wine last night because that’s all that was left in the bottle after my cousin and I had taken part in an all-out guzzle fest during her visit here last week, I feel completely and totally hung over, minus the whole sick part. My feet hurt. My eyes burn. And it’s only 8:30am and I really feel like I need a nap.

That’s all I can manage to squeeze out folks.  Time for another cup of coffee.

FYI: I am having trouble signing into my Google Friend Connect account, so if you are a new follower and I’m not following you back yet, it’s not intentional!  Hopefully I will get it figured out soon…if I can manage to wake up today!

My Vision for 2020

On a particularly cold and windy day last week, I resorted to taking my son down to the basement to play on the new John Deere ride-on tractor we bought him for his birthday. As he did countless laps around the mile-high mounds of clutter, I found that I just couldn’t seem to resist the urge to start going through boxes of my old stuff. When I say old stuff, I mean the stuff that I packed up and brought with me when I married my husband and moved to Denver to be with him. And the bulk of that “stuff” consists mainly of old photos from college and even a few from high school. I won’t elaborate on those old college photos, but I will say that it’s a good thing that I never plan on running for office. Somehow I don’t think that frat party shenanigans and politics mix very well.

Amid the piles of snapshots, I found one single letter-sized envelope.  When I saw the return address, I immediately recognized it as a letter that I wrote to myself during the last months of my senior year of high school.  It was actually an assignment that one of our teachers gave us, and we were supposed to write a letter to ourselves detailing where we thought we’d be 10 years from our high school graduation.  After skimming through the first couple of sentences, I just knew that the letter fit perfectly with a post that I’d been tagged in by Ambitious Gurl.

In this post, we are supposed to write a little paragraph about where we think we’ll be 10 years from now, in the year 2020.  All I can say is that I hope that I have my head screwed on a little bit better than I did back in 1995.  Before I touch on where I hope to be 10 years from now, I’d like to go over that letter that I wrote in high school.  Things didn’t quite pan out the way my uber-inflated head expected.

Here’s a little excerpt:  (I’m warning you, I was one cocky little bitch back then, though I totally didn’t think so at the time).


“I want to be happy later in life, and I do want the finer things in life.  Eventually, I hope to marry a man with great ambition, and a boat would be nice too.  I’d love to marry someone who had something to do with sports, maybe a coach.  However, he’ll have to pass my tests.

1. Table manners

2. Does he know the 4 parts of a boat?

3. I WANT SOME CLASS!!

As I’m reading this 10 years later, I hope to be ready to go on vacation to the islands on a yacht, where I’ll stay at one of my beach houses.  If I’m not as well-off as I’d like to be, hey, a Bojangle’s biscuit would be nice right about now.”


Ok, I don’t exactly know who in the hell that arrogant little chickadee was, but I’d like to go back in time and hit her over the head with a frying pan, because things definitely did NOT pan out quite the way she’d hoped. (Although the hubster does indeed know the 4 parts of a boat because he used to be in the Coast Guard.  Total coincidence how that one came true).

Now, I know that we are past the 10 year mark and that I’ve actually been out of high school for almost 15 years, but according to my 18 year old self, you would think that if I had my own home on a private island after 10 years, then I’d probably own the whole damn island after 15.  Yeah…not so much!

Instead of setting sail on a yacht for the island of my wildest dreams, I was doing something a little different the other night.  I was sitting on my couch with my foot propped up on my knee and was filling my husband in on the wonderful experience I had at Bloggy Boot Camp in addition to trying to put together a “sea vehicle”, as my son referred to it, out of Legos.  I was also sipping a glass of wine and trying to relax a bit.

Now, you all know that my son has some serious butt issues.  Well, apparently they haven’t completely gone away and he has devised new methods of coping, because he’s sick and tired of me yelling at him to stop digging in his bum.

I raised my wine glass for a little Pinot Grigio action, and somewhere mid-sip, my son sort of backed up close to me, wedged my big toe into his butt crack, and proceeded to wiggle like it was his job.

That’s right!  Instead of getting a pedicure on some luxury yacht, my toe was now being held hostage in my son’s ass crack.

That girl from high school needs a total reality check.  I mean, there is just nothing less glamorous than a big stinky ass toe.  I went from imagining myself as some sort of yacht traveling princess to a personal butt scratcher to my 4-year old.  And I don’t live in the South anymore, so I can’t even have that Bojangle’s biscuit that I was willing to settle for as a consolation prize.  Yep, I was WAY off the mark on how glamorous my life would be at 32.

And this brings me to a new little phrase that I’m going to start using periodically in my posts to reiterate the fact that when you become a mother, YOU CHECK YOUR GLAMOUR AT THE DOOR. Forget having a reality check.  In this case, I need a GLAM CHECK!  I decided that it just wouldn’t be fair to keep the GLAM CHECK! to myself, so you can now find the cute little button that Lauren at Restored316Designs made me over on my left sidebar.  Feel free to grab it and use it where you see fit!


The GLAM CHECK! is also going to become a permanent feature in a new series that I’m working on.  It should debut in the next couple of weeks, so keep checking back!

I guess this brings me back to figuring out where I’d like to be in 10 years. I’m determined to avoid having another GLAM CHECK! in 2020, so here’s my more realistic version:

“Ten years from now, my son will be 14 years old (yikes)!  And I sincerely hope that by then his ass issue has corrected itself.  If it hasn’t, then I’m just praying that he will keep his butt-digging activities confined to the privacy of his own bedroom.  I’ll even let him lock the door.  And for the record son, I don’t care what other kind of games you play with your developing body in that room.  You are a boy, and yes, all boys “do that.”  Just please do me a favor and hide the smut magazines somewhere where the cleaning lady can’t find them.  I really don’t want to lose her.”

“And as for myself, I’m just really kind of hoping that 10 years from now someone has invented a cellulite cream that actually works, or that a magic pill has been invented.  Or that cellulite actually becomes all the rage and that it is totally hip and trendy to bare your cottage cheese on the beach.  The more, the better.  And it would be really nice if my husband and I are getting ready to set sail on a Caribbean cruise on some semi-fancy ship. I don’t need a private yacht.  But it would be nice if we could have a cabin with a balcony.  And it would be even nicer if one of my dear friends will let my 14-year old ass-diggin’ son stay with them for a week so that the hubster and I can get some alone time.  Or if that won’t work, can we please take your kid with us so that my son has someone to hang out with besides his totally embarrassing parents?  And I’m definitely over the whole Bojangle’s craze because I was over it back in 2010, but how about hookin’ me up with a fat order of McDonald’s fries?  (And don’t forget about that cellulite pill.  And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a bottle of Pinot Grigio to wash it down).