Fabulous Finds Friday: Do You Know How Fast You Were Driving (In Your Bathrobe?)

About a week after we moved into our new house, in a new town in the suburbs, I got up late to drive the kids to school. I had a choice to either shower and get dressed, or make them their lunches and get them to school on time. Being the selfless uber-mommy that I am, I naturally threw on a bathrobe, slapped together a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and piled the kids in the car. I dropped them off in the nick of time, zoomed around the corner, and immediately got pulled over by a cop for making an illegal left turn.

Being new to town, I was pretty sure I could plead street sign ignorance and talk him out of giving me a ticket for making the illegal turn. However, I was not so sure I could talk him out of giving me a ticket for driving in an ugly bathrobe.

Ten years later, I have still not mastered the art of getting up early enough to get dressed before I drive the kids to school. The one thing that has changed, though, is my taste in bathrobes has improved significantly.

I have never been a lacy or satiny bathrobe kind of girl. I am more of a fluffy bathrobe girl. I like a big, snuggly bathrobe you can sink into on a chilly night, or, in my case, drive to school in.

I went through a generic velour phase for a while, followed by a light terry phase. I had a brief flirtation with cotton waffle weaves. But now I am all about the Aegean Apparel bathrobes. For the bathrobe sophisticate, there is the Hotel Spa Line that features ankle length solids in plush microfiber and terry velour. For the woman who is touch with her inner sleepover party side, the Mina Lisa collection has adorable, knee-length microterry robes with fun appliqués like puppies and flamingos.

Will these bathrobes get you out of ticket? Probably not. But you will certainly look cute handing over you license and registration.

To see the entire Aegean Apparel collection, click here
To shop for Aegean bathrobes, click here

©2009, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

To read my column, LOST IN SUBURBIA, click here

To buy my book, "Rebel without a Minivan," click here

Bringing out the Animal in Me

So much attention has been paid to the concept of Cougars, lately, that lesser known parallels between women and their animal counterparts have not gotten a fair shake. I am a 44 year old woman and personally, I don't have any friends my age who fit the Cougar description by dating a guy who is significantly younger than they are. However I do have some friends who resemble some other animals in their dating and mating habits.

First there is the Emperor Penguin. Emperor Penguins have sex only once a year for a period of 2 to 3 minutes. I know quite a few Emperor Penguins in my mommy circles, and they would attest that the 2 - 3 minute number is being generous.

Most of us know at least one woman who is a Praying Mantis. After she has sex, she bites the head off her partner. I usually just bite the head off my partner when he leaves his dirty socks on the floor, but to each his own.

Female Alligators often do not eat for 8-9 weeks before copulation. I can somewhat relate. I often do not eat for 8-9 weeks before bathing suit season.

If a male turtle wants to mate with a female, he is required to suck on her feet one at a time. I think this is a little extreme, and personally, I would be just as happy with a five minute foot massage from my husband every once in a while.

To attract a mate, the male Bowerbird builds an elaborate nest and then decorates it with all kind of accessories to make it really homey and pretty. My husband doesn't even know what a window treatment is. I would like to be a female Bowerbird and come home to a houseful of new furnishings and appliances, but I'm not holding my breath.

Elephant courtships most resemble ours. The male spends weeks cooling his intended off with squirts of water, bringing her food, and generally trying to show her what a great guy he is. Once she signals her interest, though, he becomes indifferent and stops returning phone calls.

Lastly there is the female Horseshoe Crab. Female Horseshoe Crabs will only mate in the summer, on beaches, under full moons.

Now THAT is an animal I can get on board with!

©2009, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

To read my column, LOST IN SUBURBIA, click here

To buy my book, "Rebel without a Minivan," click here

Driving Down the Turnpike with God

The traffic driving into NYC the other day was the usual nightmare because a) it was just slightly past rush hour b) it was raining and c) this is the Jersey turnpike... it is always a nightmare.

The biggest problem, I find are usually the trucks. These big hunkin trucks slog up the left hand lane and drive right next to other big hunkin trucks in the right hand lane so you are trapped in this big hunkin truck vortex. The amusing thing is, they all have bumper stickers that say, "If you don't like my driving, call 1-800- blah-blah," but clearly no one does or if they do, nothing happens as evidenced by all the big hunkin truck drivers that still drive poorly.

Normally, this scenario is frustrating enough. But today is was made that much worse by a car behind me that was tailgating so close to me I thought it was going to drive right through me. Since I was trapped behind one truck and next to another, there was no where to go, and I was worried that the truck in front of me would stop short and the car behind me would ram into me at top speed.

Needless to say, I was very unhappy with this situation and was thinking that this would be a good time for a piece of satellite debris to fall out of the sky directly onto the car behind me.

We went along like this for a couple of miles until we started heading downhill, at which point the truck in front of me picked up speed, finally passed the truck next to it, and changed lanes. I floored it, passed both trucks at NASCAR speeds, and then changed lanes myself. Of course, the tailgater was hot on my heels and as soon as I changed lanes, he flew past me. As the other car passed, I took the opportunity to see who my tormenter was.

Glancing over, I saw that it wasn't a he.

It was a she.

And it wasn't any old she.

It was a NUN!!

Normally, in a similar situation where there was no nun involved, when the other driver passed me I probably would have flipped him the bird.

But since this was one of God's special messengers, I felt that would be inappropriate.

So, when the nun passed me, I asked God to bless her,

and THEN, I gave her the finger.

©2009, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

To read my column, LOST IN SUBURBIA, click here

To buy my book, "Rebel without a Minivan," click here

It's Not Easy Being Purple

When I lived in New York City, I wore the typical city girl uniform of all black. I’m not sure why we all chose to look like we were en route to a funeral. Sure, black is sophisticated, and slimming, and sexy. But I think it was more of a practical decision than anything else: Bus exhaust, pigeon poop, and subway grime are less likely to show on black clothes than something with color in it.

Once I moved out to the suburbs, however, I decided it was time to inject a little color into my wardrobe. I started cautiously with a few gray pieces and a smattering of brown. Then I worked my way up to some olives and teals. Finally, this fall, I went all out and bought a bunch of colored jeans, and jackets and sweaters in purple, orange and green. At first I conservatively mixed my colored stuff with black. But then this morning, I decided the time had come to let out my inner grape. Who says purple can't be sophisticated and sexy too? I was ready to take the purple plunge.

So, I put on a fabulous new purple jacket I had bought this season with purple pants, black boots and a lime green scarf. I had seen this color combination in fashion magazines so I knew I was not making any kind of horrible fashion faux pas. As I admired my cool, colorful reflection in the mirror, I decided I looked fabulous and was proud of myself for turning over a new leaf and moving on from the Morticia Adams look.

With a bounce in my step and a decided air of happy purpleness, I went downstairs to greet my children. As they scooped spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into their mouths, I twirled and modeled my new look for them.

“What do you think?” I asked gleefully.

They eyed me up and down.

“You look like Barney the Dinosaur,” said my daughter.

Not exactly the look I was going for.

©2009, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

To read my column, LOST IN SUBURBIA, click here

To buy my book, "Rebel without a Minivan," click here

Announcing "See Mom Run: Side-Splitting Essays from the World's Most Harried Moms"

I wish I could say that I am the only funny mom out there, but the truth is, there are a lot of funny mom bloggers, some, I dare say, even funnier than I am. Beth Feldman, founder of Role Mommy, had the genius idea to put together the best essays from the best mom bloggers and the result is a hilarious new book called "See Mom Run: Side-Splitting Essays from the World's Most Harried Moms." The book debuted this week and moms everywhere are being treated to a nationwide book tour to party with the bloggers and hear some excerpts from the book. The fun continues tonight for the New Jersey crowd at 7pm at the Ridgewood YMCA, and I will be there with some of my "See Mom Run" crew to celebrate and entertain. If you are in the area, come join us for the festivities. For more info, click here.

If you can't make the event tonight, click here to see the other dates and locations for the rest of the tour!!

Fabulous Finds Fridays: The Coast(er) is Clear!

There were many years when our house was decorated in what my husband and I called “Early Childhood Eclectic.” In case you weren’t sure, this is not particularly high-end design. Part of it was that we couldn’t really afford nice furniture. But the real reason was that with little kids, it just didn’t make sense to have good stuff that would get spilled on, spit up on, play-doh’d, crayola’d, and in every other way, ruined. For our kid-friendly décor, we favored leather sofas and plastic tables because they were easily washable and difficult to destroy. This made our house look less like House Beautiful and more like Fraternity Monthly.

Eventually our kids got older and we upgraded to nicer furniture… just in time to get a dog who now jumps up on the sofa, spills things on the rug, and slobbers on the tables.

Fortunately for today’s parents of young children, there are a lot better ways to safeguard your furniture than covering your couch in plastic or suffering with black lacquer coffee tables.

One really fun way to protect your tabletops is with the Tiny Design® coasters. These brightly colored, molded rubber coasters for kids are so cute, kids will actually want to put their drinks on them. They come in sets of four and feature whimsical designs such as orange juice, milk, apple juice, & water. For your adult houseguests, there is a set of coasters featuring beer, coffee, wine, & cocktails. They fit right in with homes that have a more modern design or offer a nice contrast in more traditional homes.

The Tiny Design® coasters are washable and durable. As far as I can tell, the only problem with them is they don’t have a version our dog can use.

Check out the Tiny Design coasters at www.tinydesign.net

It's a Dog's Life

After we got back from our four day jaunt to San Francisco, the harsh reality of the post-vacation to-do list set in. First on the list of course, was to pick up the dog. He gets shipped off to a dog sitter's house whenever we go away and he loves being there because at her house, he gets to sleep on the bed, jump up on the furniture, and get lots of treats. We run a much tighter ship at our house and I'm always amazed that the dog actually gets back in my car after his little vacations and comes back home. I know we give him lots of love and attention, but if it were me, I would definitely stay at the place where they give me cookies all day.

I was actually, really puzzled about this, until this past weekend. I went and picked up the dog, as usual, brought him home, and gave him dinner. Then I ran out to the supermarket to restock the fridge. When I got home an hour later, I noticed that Riley was sprawled out on the rug, looking a lot like I do after I have eaten too much at Thanksgiving dinner.

"Hey Riley, come here," I beckoned to him.

He lifted his head up off the rug, groaned, and lay down again.

I went over to him and lifted up his head.

"Hey Ri, what's up with you? Are you sick?" He opened his mouth and burped.

At this point I was a little concerned, so I called in the troops.

"Does anyone know what's going on with Riley?" I asked them. "He seemed fine when I brought him home."

"I don't know," said my husband. "After you left for the supermarket, I gave him dinner and he was OK."

"Uh-oh," said my son sheepishly. "I gave him dinner too."

"Oh-no," I said. "Before I left, I gave him dinner too."

Just then the phone rang.

"Hi," said the dog sitter. "I forgot to tell you that I gave Riley dinner before you picked him up." I shook my head in disbelief.

"The dog had four dinners," I told the troops as I hung up the phone. "No wonder he looks like that. He pigged out."

My daughter bent down and peered at the dog. "I wonder how he feels?"

We all looked at the dog stretched out across the rug, snoring loudly.

I rolled my eyes.

"Happy."

©2009, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

To read my column, LOST IN SUBURBIA, click here

To buy my book, "Rebel without a Minivan," click here