Silicon Valley Moms Blog

Food Fight

Dinner is the only meal in which I require everyone to sit down at the table.  It’s an important tradition from my childhood.  As a busy working mom, dinnertime is the time to reconnect with my family.  We talk about our day, about current events, about really anything.  When I get home from a day at the office, I quickly get a wholesome meal on the table so that we can spend time as together as a family.

Yet dinnertime at my house is rapidly reaching Code Red status.  What was once a pleasant meal has turned into a power struggle of epic porportions.  No, my son isn’t refusing to eat dinner.  No, he isn’t exihibiting any bad manners.  In fact, my son will eat everything you put on his plate.

It takes him over 90 minutes to finish.  The battle I face every night is to get my son stay focused to eat dinner in a reasonable amount of time.   

Has the world gone insane? A “black” Friday indeed.

I’ll admit, we were at Sears Friday morning for Black Friday. We knew what we wanted, we found a great deal and we woke up insanely early Friday morning to go shopping.  My husband and I don’t normally shop on Black Friday, but we did this year and it was actually fun. But while we were there, we saw one middle-aged gentleman LOSING IT because he had to wait 10 minutes to get his TV. I mean, the guy was STEAMED. Come on, dude, it’s 10 minutes.  Big deal.  And it was obvious the employees were stressed, busy and doing the best they could.  I wanted to tell him to chill out, but I was afraid he might knock me out instead.

Then we got home and my sister shared this story with me (read it here).  A Walmart employee in Long Island was trampled to death by crazed shoppers when the doors opened at 5:00 am. Four shoppers, including an 8-month pregnant woman, were also injured.  It made me sick to my stomach.  I thought the guy we saw at Sears was out of line, but apparently he’s a saint compared to the crowd at that Long Island Walmart.

What is our society coming to?  Stuff was more important than life on Friday morning at that Walmart store. 

No More Toys!

“Do NOT throw those toys down onto the ground!  You’ll break it” I said to my son in frustration.  It was the third time he decided to throw down the special Transformers his grandpa had brought back from an international trip (my son’s specific request was for Bumblebee – and wouldn’t you know Grandpa just happened to find a toy store in France that had it).  The Transformers were supposed to be the ones to duking it out in an epic battle – but the pavement seemed to be winning the war.

“It’s okay, mom” he nonchalantly replied.  “”If it breaks, you’ll buy me another one at the store.”

Uh, excuse me? what did you just say? back up it up, buster!  My four year old son thinks that it is perfectly acceptable to trash his toys because he knows more are coming?  When did this kid put that reasoning together?  We aren’t at the store buying toys left and right.

My pre- post-racial birth certificate

On the eve of this historic election, I was reminded in a very personal way how far we have come as a country and as a society. I was copying my Michigan birth certificate (more on why below) when I noticed some of the boxes on the form.

I was born in 1966 and my parents had to fill out the field "Color or Race". And while my father had an "Occupation" box to fill out, my mother didn't have that.

This is a stark reminder that we are barely a generation into being a "post-racial" society. It's sometimes hard to remember that the Bay Area is an anomaly, a racial melting pot with half of the population being non-white. Being a highly transient region also means that we are much more open to new people coming from different communities and cultures.

My Green Pregnancy

It's been about three months since I've sorta fallen off the face of the planet. For the few times during the week I've managed to crawl over to my computer, I knocked off my work emails first and replied to a few personal emails.  The result is that I've failed miserably at responding to emails and voice mails within the unspoken 24-48 hour turnaround period.  I've lowered the bar, and figured if it didn't seem urgent, I tried to get back to friends and family within a week.

It's basically been a question of survival.  You see, I'm one of those pregnant women who end up incapacitated, flat on my back with morning sickness.  The really bad kind:  curled up in a ball and unable to get hardly anything down.  Even water repulses me.  And sleep?  Forget it. 

Since my nausea went past 18 weeks, I kinda lost it morale-wise. Just in despair. One of my friends said ominously, "Oh, no.  Maybe you are going to have a green pregnancy."  In this case, "green" does not stand for environmentally friendly.  Just kill me now, please..I implored Hubby.  I can't take it anymore. 

 

Love in the face of tragedy

NieNie, a wonderful mom blogger from Arizona, was recently in a terrible plane crash.  A wife and young mother of four, she is in a chemically-induced coma, sustaining burns to over 80% of her body.  Her husband is also in critical condition.  The pilot of the plane has passed away.  NieNie’s siter, CJane, has been writing about the experience and keeping people up to date on their progress on her own blog.  Her posts are heartbreaking, inspiring, sad, wonderful.  Last night my husband caught me sobbing at my computer as I read about this young family and the unreal tragedy that has affected their life in recent days.

This story has aroused so many different feelings in my heart.  Sadness, for NieNie, her husband, her children, her family and friends.  Gratitude for each and every healthy, wonderful day I have with my own children.  And awe at the outpouring of love for this family.  And not just from friends and family in their immediate circle, but from the blogging world.  It’s amazing.  Another fantastic mom blogger has declared today NieNie Day and has spearheaded a silent auction project to raise money for the family’s inevitably high expenses.  Guess how many auctions started today?  20? Guess again.  100?  Not even close…nearly 300! 

There’s been so much talk lately about mom bloggers and the power that they have...

News Media in a Toddler's Eyes: Old White Guys

At BlogHer recently, I attended a session on op-ed writing and media training.  Most of it was review, but the piece of the training that really shocked me were stats provided by Catherine Orenstein of the Op-Ed Project.  She said that 85% of op-ed pages are written by men - mostly older white men, 85% of Hollywood producers are men, 84% of books on the New York Times bestseller list were written by men, and only 1/20 of the top politcal blogs are by women.  She also cited stats about the number of women in Congress, which I already knew.  Looking at these numbers, it's tough to argue that women are getting our fair share of exposure in the media.  We have a much longer way to go than I realized.

This lesson didn't really hit home for me until this week, however, when I was sitting literally at home with my daughter.  At age 2 1/2, she's just learning about television and she's like a sponge, learning and repeating everything people say.  As I rarely get the opportunity to read the news, I took a few moments to see what was on one of the news channels one day and so I tried to get her excited about it: "Wanna watch the old guy with mommy?"  This was my non-PC way of describing whoever was anchoring the program.  She said yes at first, but we watched for about ten seconds before she realized it wasn't anything she was interested in viewing.  "I don't wanna watch old guy."

The Dream That You Wish Will Come True...Maybe

The other night while watching the Olympics I came to a realization.  The Olympics are heartbreaking.  Sure, the Games are exciting, unifying, inspiring. But more than anything, they tend to break my heart.  I had just finished watching a women’s hurdles semi-final, where the 2nd athlete in the world for that sport tripped on the first hurdle and was disqualified.  My heart went out to her and it just made me sad.  All that work, only to end up tripping in a semi-final.

Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing the underdog win, or one of the greatest athletes of all time take home 8 gold medals.  But you can’t help but feel bad for the countless athletes who walk away from the Games having not achieved their dream.  Despite the fact it can be a bit disheartening, it is, in fact, a great metaphor for life.  I have been thinking about this theme lately in relation to raising my kids.  The song from Cinderella says our dreams WILL come true. We grow up hearing that message, and we may even go on to pass the message on to our own children.  If you work hard enough or are good enough, you can achieve whatever you want.  But this isn’t necessarily the case. I am not the fastest woman in the world and no amount of running is going to change that fact.  But it’s okay.

Transformation of a princess

Something is happening to my daughter. That thing that no one warns you about when you have kids.

Sure, we’d heard about stranger anxiety. Our mothers warned us about the terrible twos. And we all remember what we were like during the teen years. But what nobody talks about is the fact that some most kids, when they reach the age of five, become (and I say this with the utmost love and affection) beasts.

My Dirty Little Secret

My palms are getting sweaty, my breath is becoming shallow, and my eyes dart from side to side.  I quickly walk up to the merchandise and pick one off the shelf and bury it under the other groceries in my cart.  When I check out, I refuse to make eye contact with the checker.  I am embarrassed.  When I get home, I quickly stuff the goods into the top drawer of my dresser.  I take a deep breath. 

I’m a 30-something mother who is mortified to buy *gasp* condoms. 

It’s like I’m a teenager again - doing something that I know I’m NOT supposed to be doing.  I am an adult in a loving committed relationship.  I’m not seventeen.  I’ve been having sex for all of my adult life and yet buying condoms still invokes a sense of shame in me.  I am mortified every time I buy condoms.

A Mother's Musings on July 4th

I should be honest.  It's kinda embarrassing, but I don't think I've truly celebrated July 4th every year.  Not on a personal level, in the true spirit of Independence Day.

July 4th has mostly been a date on the calendar to be out of school or a long weekend away from the office.   It's the best time to take vacation days off, to get more bang for the buck and go on a long trip somewhere.

But, to cherish July 4th as Independence Day?  ... To think about how a group of patriots struggled for many bloody years against the goliath, apparently stronger nation?  ... To imagine how an amazing group of independent thinkers, all determined (stubborn) in their own ways, could agree on the most important document that set the course of a nation?

... And to consider what does it mean to me, today as a woman, as mom?

I am a mother, "too happy to be comfortable"

“Too happy to be comfortable.” This is perhaps one of the loveliest phrases I’ve heard in connection with motherhood. I’m reading Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner, Pulitzer-prize winning writer, environmentalist and long-time Los Altos resident (please read his work, it’s beautiful). Last night I reached the point in the story where the protagonist has her first baby in the “wild west,” far from home and family. When she and her husband write home to report the good news, she describes herself as “too happy to be comfortable.”

I love it. I think it poetically yet accurately depicts what being a mother (and father) is all about. I would say for most of us, having children makes us happy, but that happiness comes with a serious amount of discomfort. From Day 1, we are exhausted. This new little person pretty much sucks the life out of us. They are completely dependent on us for survival. Then your child starts to grow and the challenges just get more, well, challenging. Despite all of that, having these two ‘little women’ in my life makes me deliriously happy.

And while being a parent causes discomfort and we are happy in spite of that discomfort, I think the other take on this line is even more beautiful.

My daughter's first long summer and she doesn't want to go to camp

My daughter is "graduating" from Kindergarten on Wednesday and so will begin her first official summer.  Sure she's had summer breaks in preschool, but I always signed her up for summer preschool.  Before any type of school, she simply grew as the seasons passed and I needed to put her in slightly different clothes.   For the first time, she has three months of no school aka summer.

My daughter has opted only to sign up for swim lessons half an hour a week for the entire summer, three days of camp at Happy Hollow and one week of gym camp.  So far she's refused repeated offers of other camps and classes and the bay area offers a ton.  I'm not sure whether to be pleased that she recognizes that acres of free time shrink smaller and smaller as one ages until they're reduced to a precious commodity, or that she simply can't comprehend how long a (relatively) hot summer can be.  Her younger brother will be attending summer preschool part of the time, so it will be just me and her for some of the day.

How To Get a Mom Excited

Wanna know how to get a mom excited?  Wax her floor. And, no, that is not a euphemism. I just finished waxing my kitchen floor and I’m SO HAPPY.  It’s this old yucky linoleum that I haven’t been able to get clean since we moved in.  It’s been driving me cah-ray-zeeeee.  I finally did some linoleum research and learned how to properly clean, strip and wax the floor.  So that’s how I spent my weekend.  And now it’s done.  And I’m thrilled.  Beyond thrilled.  Ecstatic.  (Of course, I'd be even MORE ecstatic if someone else had cleaned, stripped & waxed my floor, hence the title of this post...)

As I was thinking about how deliriously happy I am about this floor, I stopped in my tracks.  THIS is what makes me deliriously happy?  What is going on here?  What has happened to me? It’s pretty astounding what can get a mom really excited.  My daughter pooped in the potty! Butter is only $2.50 at Trader Joe’s! My kitchen floor is waxed!  Oh, be still my beating heart…

I saw a book at Papyrus the other day called something like “Porn for New Moms.”

I'll have the champagne, the halibut...and a label maker

Yesterday I awoke to the following:

Isaac: I want to play on the computer!

J [stage whisper]:  Okay, Bean, go wish your Mommy a happy Mother's Day, then you can play on the computer.
[poundpoundpoundpoundpound down the hall]

Isaac: Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!

Me: Thank you sweetie! Can I have a hug?

Isaac: No.  [Hugs me].
[poundpoundpoundpoundpound back down the hall]

Isaac: Step one, say Happy Mother's Day to Mommy!  Step two, play on the computer!

I fell back to sleep until 9:40.  Bliss.

Maria Shriver’s Journey: Up Close & Personal with Silicon Valley Moms Blog

“Change doesn’t have to be huge, but it may have to be deep.  A deep change for me was realizing I’d have to take the time to know what I feel, in order to know who I am and who I want to be.”

As I read these words from Maria Shriver’s new book, Just Who Will You Be?, I felt as if I was peeking into a page from her personal journal.  Last night, I got the chance to meet Maria up close and personal at a private book signing, hosted by Silicon Valley Moms Blog at Books Inc, Palo Alto.

Maria kicked off the evening by calling our time together a “neighborhood girls night out” and treated us to a sampling of Lovin’ Scoopful, a yummy new ice cream that’s close to her heart.  Maria, along with her brother and “two other guys”, came out with this ice cream, donating 25% of proceeds to go to Special Olympics.  (I was surprised to find out later that this creamy ice cream is only ½ the fat and 1/3 of the calories.  I should’ve eaten the whole scoop, rather than holding back the last few bites!)

With ice cream in our tummies, all the mom bloggers were all ears.  For the next 30 minutes, we listened and laughed with Maria, as she opened up about her journey to self-discovery and answered questions from the group.  Maria was as candid, down-to-earth, and humorous in person, as she is in her writing.  Passionate and kind, she was even more beautiful in person than she already is in her photos!

25 Things Worth Doing

I would like to be able to claim my inspiration for this posting as my own brilliant idea.  I would like to, but I can't.  Instead this random list is inspired by Maggie Mason's post on her website, Mighty Girl, of 100 Things Worth Doing.  It reminded me to take stock and think about my best moments.  Am I on track to where I want to be?  Is it about getting somewhere or just enjoying the precious joys as they happen? 

I have pared my list down to 25 for now, possibly the first of a couple of installments.  These are things that I have done in my life to date that I will always remember as the best of choices, adventures, etc. in my world.  It is in no particular order and at the end I added just a couple of things I would love to see on this list if I were to write it again a year or two from now:

xxx
1. Being Pregnant (even though I hated it at the time) Twice - for no other reason than the two beautiful daughters in my life

My Top 5 Mommy Guilt Offenders

Last week, I spent a good amount of the week in bed, sick as a dog. Because there was quite a bit of Mommy Guilt that accompanied my days curled up under the covers, I wrote up a posting on my personal blog about it: When Mommy is Sick.

This week, I'm back on my feet. Yeah, the things that made me feel guilty when I was sick have ebbed away. But, like the tide that always returns, a new list of guilt-inducing items washes up to greet me on any given day as mom.

I try not to let these things drag me down. I kinda picture my days as mom like my walks on a beach. Sometimes, the beach is totally beautiful and clean, especially after a storm or a spelt of rain has hit. The beach is clear because not many people have returned yet. No paper bags, styrofoam cups, or broken beer bottles. Just smooth, virgin sand, waiting for my footprints, as I trek across, eager to make my mark.

Days like these with TJ seem magical. These are the times when I've just finished something major. Maybe I just completed ordering fabric and materials for the line of shopping cart covers I've designed. Or it could be something monumental, like clicking through that last screen on the TurboTax Wizard and all my papers are filed in newly labeled folders. Or it could be something as simple as getting my weekly grocery runs done. With my fridge newly stocked and meals fresh in my mind for the next couple of days, my time with TJ is filled with lots of fun, play, and creative ideas for first time moments.

Baby on the brain

Since Darius was born, I've been saying that he would be an only child.  And if not an only child forever, at least for a very very long time.  I was 26 when D was born - and in Silicon Valley, I felt like a teenage mother.  The women in my office and the women in my mother's club were, on average, 10 years older than me.  Darius was a surprise pregnancy.  My birth control failed after an antibiotic interaction.  10 days on penicillin and wha-la my precious baby was conceived.  So needless to say, we weren't in a phase of our lives where we really thinking about children.  We wanted to travel, to live through our twenties as care-free young adults, to pursue our careers.   And while my son has changed most of that picture, I didn't want to jump into my "baby-making" phase of life just because we made a baby.  One was enough, thank you.  I didn’t need to start having more.

I have held steadfast to my opinion that we wouldn't have more children until my spouse finished grad school and Darius was in school.  Until now. For the last month I have daydreamed about getting pregnant.  I have this fantasy about it.  About quitting work and staying at home for a year to nest and make a family.  About staying fit and having a clean house.  And doing crafts with the kids and going to the park.  And having a clean house.  Like I said, it's a fantasy.

Turn your kid into a couch potato in 7 days

My two year-old daughter has been kept away from the TV as much as possible until recently.  Most books say to wait until they're two before introducing TV and that was just fine with us.  She watched Baby Einstein a few times when she was little, but that was it.  Then she got sick recently and really didn't feel up to much of anything, so we went down the dark path...

J discovered Dora the Explorer first.  Lucky for us, a study recently came out that some of it is actually educational for kids.  Our daughter is learning some songs, letters of the alphabet and counting.  The show has a linear, simplistic pattern that works well for the little ones.  She's now totally hooked.  She gets up in the morning and asks for Dora.  She negotiates asking to "watch Dora a couple more minutes?!" with her angelic little eyes.  We're doomed.

Reinventing Date Nights

A friend and I were having breakfast one morning at the Woodside Bakery, catching up over coffee, a split fritatta, and fresh pastries. It was great to take a break from our grueling toddler-run treadmills and escape for a morning.

It's fun to hangout with this particular friend because we share a similar timetable for getting hitched and married with children. We became friends when we were both single and in our 30's. We met our spouses around the same time, dated and walked down the aisle within the same year and popped our first baby out after celebrating our paper anniversary.

During our precious time away from being time-crazed women back at home, we didn't talk about parenting or tantrums. Naw, that kinda stuff is left for everyday fodder, playground conversations. No, we got the scoop on top priority topics. One of which was the lack of time with hubbies and missing table-for-two evenings and weekends.

How realistic is it to inject romance as a regular part of life as couple with kids? And did we actually know any long-married couples who were "still in love"?

Redefining Progress: The Genuine Progress Indicator

At my son's preschool, teachers stuff the latest glue and glitter creations along with school newsletters in cubby holes for each student. Last week, when I picked TJ up from his morning class, I noticed that his was packed full. Shoot!  Because TJ's afternoon nap time is my break time, I tend to be in a rush, getting TJ in the car and whisked back home in time for lunch and down to catch a few zzz's.

I hate missing the occasional notes-to-parents or school newsletter. There have been too many times I sported the deer-in-the-headlights look when Mrs. Preschool Teacher asked for the whatever-you-call-it form.

So, as I'm stopped at a red light, I quickly scan the newsletter for any action items, when a line from the preschool director's letter catches my eye. 

An Incurable Romantic

A new year has crept up on me.  And I couldn't be happier.  Other than Christmas, there isn't a better time of the year for me.  Not because of any great New Year Party I often hear about or see glammed up in the movies.  Hey, I'm in bed by 10pm if I had it my way.  Sleep trumps all else for this mom of a toddler.  And it's not because I'm away on vacation somewhere far and away, like Paris or Hawaii. 

No, the reason why my world suddenly becomes shiny and new during the month of January is because I'm a  die-hard romantic.  Now, I'm not talking about the Valentine's Day, hearts-and-boxes-of-chocolate type of romance. I call it Life Romanticism, where I fall in love with life and look for meaning behind every little moment and significance in any old thing. I don't believe in circumstance or randomness. 

So, I thought I'd start the new year off with a confessional:  I am an incurable romantic. Yep, I'm one of those people who (tries to) save every card I get, scrapbook pieces of wrapping paper from my baby/bridal showers, have a box full of letters from my childhood friends, and is often obsessed with finding reasons to celebrate (Hey, it's the

Mommyblogger Tips for Avoiding Being Groped

Going to a recent fundraising event, the last thing I was thinking about was getting hit on by men.  My job was to cover the occasion, meet people, take pictures.  My friend and I made our way through the various areas of the venue with our purpose 100% in focus.  It was a fabulous organic event with one unintended consequence: a meat market on the side.  While the food was excellent, we were unprepared to encounter single men hitting on us and invading our personal space as we perused our surroundings.

Lucky for us, we learned a great trick that I'm going to pass along to all the other mommybloggers out there.  During that time between first contact (whether it be a look, an approach, a hello or some sort of line to get your attention) and the point where he discovers your wedding ring are some uncomfortable moments where you know there's... interest... from the new person you're talking with.  Sometimes that space can be more than uncomfortable - disconcerting, even.  In that empty space, the sooner you talk about mommyblogging, the faster you can get to the imminent disembarkment of the wannabe-beau, stalker, whatever.  Try it next time you're out by yourself and you get hit on or feel that vibe - watch the color instantly drain from mens' faces.  It's really a priceless social experiment.

The Right Outfit at the Wrong Time

I've always said any outfit is appropriate, it just depends on where you are when you wear it. For example, I wore a nightie and yoga shorts to a pole dancing class last year, but I wore a conservative tweed skirt and black sweater with an attached bow (almost prissy!) to my grandfather's funeral. Last Tuesday, forevermore to be remembered as Forgotten Child Day, I had slipped into an outfit to attend the Gorgeous and Green fashion show in San Francisco with fellow SV Mom Blogger Sarah G. who was covering the story for her blog, SF Bay Style.

I'm certain that when Forgotten Child's Mom rang my doorbell at 5pm and found me in a somewhat sexy backless black outfit and too much mascara for a playdate mom, that I got the Bimbo of the Day award in her world. I'm sure her first thought was "what is she DOING dressed like this while hosting a playdate??" If I'd danced Victoria Jackson's "I am not a Bimbo" song (1990s Saturday Night Live) in my entry , it might have actually helped the situation. My first thought was, "OH...MY....GOD... I forgot to calendar the playdate and left the boys at Kids Club." 

Dear Shutterfly: will we still be friends in the New Year?

Dear Shutterfly,

Thanks for the $400 credit to my Shutterfly account. Your customer service rep was very nice to me. However, I'm still more than a bit miffed that after I submitted my finished holiday card to you, the message text on the inside front cover reverted to my first draft.  Thank goodness I didn't write anything snarky or incriminating, or I would have a bigger issue with you.

I thought the worst part of the card would be our family photo.  While my 5 year old daughter, Kitty Cat, gave a half-smile and looked decent, her twin brother Guy-Guy refused to smile.  Actually, he refused to make a normal face. He looks like he's having an eye-rolling seizure in the photo. That was pretty bad, but his outfit was even worse - a camouflage shirt and pant get-up, otherwise known as "army-army" in our house.  This is one battle with my husband I should have picked, but didn't when he insisted that army-army on Guy-Guy was just fine for Thanksgiving dinner with his parents.  Maybe so, but it wasn't fine with me for our annual chance at a four-person family photo.  Why is it so hard to get four people in a photo? 

So, Shutterfly, how could our card have been worse?  Well, you know why.

Toys that will not be under our tree this year

Christmas is one of my favorite times of year. I have great memories of Christmases past. It was the biggest holiday in our house. A big deal. As a parent, I want to pass on the Christmas traditions of my youth. Leaving cookies and milk for Santa, reading the Bible and the birth of Jesus, and looking forward to opening what we called the "big gift." I didn't realize how hard it is to find that perfect gift. Kids are fickle. One day they want a bike. The next day, an iPhone. On my quest to find the perfect gift, I ruled out a few that fell into the "Is this for real??" category.  So for my humor, I present you with the toys that will not be under our tree this year.

Dora the Explorer Talking Friendship Adventure Doll

This Dora is lifesize and has the famous (infamous?) giant head.  And I really mean lifesize.  She stands nearly three feet tall. 

Boy I am glad that we never brought Dora into our house.  Her giant head is already giving me nightmares.

I swear, if this toy was around in the 80s it would have replaced the uber-scary clown in Poltergeist.

The Jessica Seinfeld Mystery - Gym Romance, Vegetable Plagiarism and 21 Pairs of Shoes?

Yesterday morning after I slaved over serving my three boys oatmeal for breakfast, I sat down to have my cup of tea and read my favorite section of the Sunday New York Times: Sunday Styles. Yesterday's Sunday Styles had yet another celebrity mom gossipfest about Jessica Seinfeld, Jerry Seinfeld's wife, in an article called "How I Met Jerry Seinfeld, Scene 1, Take 2".

At first I was excited to read some juicy gossip, but then I wondered if this is just another attack on a celebrity mom, well, because she is a celebrity (wife). I guess the hot issues are that she met Jerry Seinfeld at the Reebok Gym in Manhattan while she was still married, she is a accused of plagiarizing another writer's recipes for her children's cookbook "Deceptively Delicious" and gave Oprah Winfrey 21 pairs of Christian Louboutin shoes as a gift for inviting her on the show to discuss her cookbook. A blogger at the Huffington Post even calculated the cost of the shoes to be $16,000 - $20,000.

First of all, after I came out supporting paperless thank-you's so how could I criticize someone for giving

There are some things money can buy, for everything else there's Mama

My favorite Halloween tale, told in the style of a certain popular ad:

Jack Sparrow costume (new): $40
Power Rangers costume (new): $30
Candy corn costume, used (from Craigslist):  $7
Wire, pantyhose, paint and glitter for wings, headband and purse:  $7
Nights spent turning a candy corn costume into a candy corn fairy costume:  4
Seeing the joy in my daughter's eyes when she won Best Costume at a Halloween contest last night: Priceless.

Bongga-mummy is currently suffering from Halloween hangover but trying to blog it away over on her personal blog, Finding Bonggamom.

Heather Mills: Victim or Phony?

I normally don't that involved in the whole "celebrity mommy meltdown" stories that are rampant in the press these days. But there is just something about the very public ranting of Heather Mills that bothers me.  I find myself having a hard time lending a sympathic ear to her.  Maybe it's because I love the Beatles.  Maybe it's because she seemed more wacko than victim.  I don't know.  All I know for sure is that the price of celebrity seems way too high these days. 

Doing maternity leave right