how do you mend a broken heart


Zoë called me this morning.

Yeah! I love hearing her voice.

I answer the phone and I am greeted with sobs…choking, gasping sobs.

Oh dear. I wish she didn’t live so far from me. She needs me and I am here, under the Big Top and she is down in LA.

She continues to cry and sob over the phone because her best friend, her very first friend was attacked by her puppy.


Oh dear…

Squishy!!

Yes, I started to cry too because I know what this little Puffalump means to my daughter. I know of all the adventures and misadventures and close calls these two have been through. I know that know matter how grown up and independent she might be, sometimes she needs Squishy.

Here’s where I wish that Mommy Dearest had had the patience to teach me how to sew; or perhaps I had actually paid attention in Home Ec back in 8th grade and not let Mommy Dearest just take over my little sewing projects and do them for me.

Can she be fixed?

Anyone?

I just want to make this all better for Zoë because Squishy is so much more than an old, stuffed toy.

:::SOB!!!:::

mugging for the mamarazzi


Daniel is always willing to mug for the camera which makes it so much fun for me to take pictures. His sisters aren’t so much the willing subjects which I get now that they are older…their hair, their makeup or lack there of…

OMG, MOM! Don’t take a picture of me now, like this!

I love taking pictures. I take a lot of pictures. Sometimes I manage to take a pretty good picture. Rarely I get lucky with a really GREAT picture. Which I guess, according to Dictionary.com‘s definition, would make me a photographer:

a person who takes photographs, esp. one who practices photography professionally.
But some might quibble over my referring to myself as that. Okay, some might actually get all hyped up and just a little pissed over who may call themselves a photographer and refer to the pictures they take as their photography.
Really.
I found myself in such a discussion just last night. Of course when I pointed out the definition of “photographer” I suddenly was one…me, with my semi-professional camera. And my massive collection of photographs is actually considered to be photography.
Imagine that?!
So what do you think? Are the terms “photographer” and “photography” exclusive to professional photographers?
I don’t believe so. By definition (again) it is an art, a practice and even, for some, an occupation of taking photographs. I have not hung out a shingle, nor do I make a living from my photographs…even if I have been paid on very rare occasions but I still see myself as a photographer. Okay, maybe not a great photographer, but still I am a photographer as I practice this art form, this hobby of mine everyday.Yet when I take a giant step back I see that I am so much more, much, much more than just that…woman, daughter, friend, lover, wife, mother, grandmother, future mother-in-law, nurse, writer, runner, musician, slacker, dreamer, whiner, thinker…They are all parts, just parts of the whole, big package that is me.

it’s about that blog


I just came home from a weekend-long dance competition for my dancing darling daughter #4. Of course Jodie rocked it bringing home more golden trophies. But I’m not thinking about her dancing awesome-ness as I write this. I am thinking about this blog, this blog of  mine. Yet I can’t help but find myself humming along to Prince’s “It’s About That Walk” because it would seem that there is an unspoken code that at least  four or more dance studios will have a dance choreographed to that song at any given dance competition. This weekend I lost count after the sixth dance done to that song…so it’s about that blog.

You’re welcome for the ear worm!

A friend of mine this weekend made a comment to me that perhaps I could show her how to make six figures blogging.

Um, sure.

Actually I can’t. For the record, I. Do. Not. Make. Money. Blogging. I don’t. I never have. In the five years of blogging I have received a few books, tickets to the circus (once) and tickets to an ice show (once). There are no ads on my blog the generate revenue for me. There is no corporation underwriting my blogging about life with teenagers, an adult child planning a wedding on a shoestring, an incredibly gorgeous grandchild, an amazing son who manages to steal everyone’s heart with just a wink and a smile or any other thing going on in my life here under the Big Top. A local newspaper occasionally picks up my writing from here and a local moms’ forum but there is no money making from that. I am very fortunate to now be writing for SV Moms Group‘s 50-Something Moms Blog too…again, not making any money. Sorry, but no, I am not making my riches writing about my perceived rich life. I write here for the sake of writing and I write what I want to write here. It’s a love I had as a child that I re-discovered through blogging. I’m just fortunate, VERY fortunate that so many find what I have to write about so interesting…or perhaps not-so-interesting but rather something to mock. Nevertheless, I write Adventures In Juggling first and foremost for me.

An article appeared in Friday’s New York Times Fashion and Style that seems to perpetuate many of the misconceptions people have about women who happen to be mothers who happen to blog. On the surface it would seem that “mommy bloggers”  are in it in order to rake in the six figures and all the perks that come with creating their own brand which is why they would attend something like Bloggy Boot Camp. It’s all about the monetizing baby…at least that is what Jennifer Mendelsohn, herself a “mommy blogger” would suggest because we all seek to have the kind of blog that will generate 28,549 page views of our tutu-making prowess that you too can learn. Ms Mendelsohn did make some good, rare points but I’m afraid much of her article was cloaked in her own self-loathing as a mommy blogger and gross assumptions that were off the mark. Having had the good fortune to meet Tiffany Romero at another blogging event, SITScation, that was also her “brainchild”, I would have to say that there is so much more to events like these; and, sorry, but part of it is the enthusiasm, excitement and warmth that Tiffany brings.

The mommy bloggers who do make the six figures are a rare breed. The mommy bloggers who do monetize their blogs mostly make enough to feed their latte habit, pay for their domain or cover the groceries. Given that there are a helluva lot more families barely living paycheck to paycheck these days what is so wrong with a resourceful mom adding to the family income? How is that any different than the moms who sold Tupperware when I was a kid? Oh wait, Mendelsohn put them down too.

Moms are so much more than the sum of their parts whether they blog or don’t blog, work outside of the home or not, get their whites whiter or just toss them and buy some more gym socks and underwear at Target.  It’s long overdue that we recognize this rather than look for any angle to put down and poke fun at those who are mothers. Mothers are bright, articulate, creative, resourceful, industrious, talented and much, much, much more. We are all unique, amazing individuals just like our amazing children are.

when we see their shadow it really only means six more years of childhood


There has been much ballyhooing in the mommysphere about the new Dora all grown up. Based on just a shadow many fretted and worried that her pre-teen shadow was just too sexy. The wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth has gone on as parents stressed that letting a cartoon character and toy grow up a little just might be a slippery slope for our children into sex, drugs and teen pregnancy. Of course we as parents should be paying attention to what influences our children but could we have gone a little overboard on this?  Then Mattel and Nickelodeon bowed to the uproar and released the image of the tween-age Dora.

Is she sexed up? Is she really trampy?

Perhaps it is because I am the mother of teenaged and tweenaged girls but all I see is a cute cartoon rendering. I see nothing sexy nor am I worried that Dora growing up a little bit is really going to lead to the downfall of my tweenaged daughter. After all, I am a bigger influence in her life than Dora the Explorer is or was back in the day ten years ago when Jodie was one of her biggest fans.

Like Jodie said when she checked out the older Dora, “Well you know we can’t be preschoolers forever, Mom!”

:::sigh::: out of the mouths of babes…