Flat Martini returns to one of his favorite places but this time in a new city!

When I got an email from Rachael Koenig, the blogger behind Maxisms, I felt terrible. She had just seen Flat Martini’s latest adventures to the wax museum and her post was next. A post about her taking her sons to the wax museum with Flat Martini! She asked me if I wanted her to do it over, to do something completely new. But I told her what Flat Martini once told me – every adventure is unique and different!

And I’m so glad I did because this one is awesome. You might think it’s because of the celebrity wax figures but it’s not. It’s because of the people in her life she puts in the picture. Like her adorable sons whose facial expressions seriously cracked me up. And her commentary is hilarious!

Rachael is awesome – you should really check her out! You can find her on her blog Maxisms and on Facebook and Twitter.


As I prepared for our visit from Flat Martini to our home right outside Washington D.C., I began to panic.  Although initially I was certain I was funny and entertaining enough to be an adequate host to a laminated piece of paper, as I have read through his many adventures across the country, I worried I wouldn’t be up to snuff.  For God’s sake, over the past few months, this martini has BEEN places! He’s become a cultured, sophisticated glass of vodka!  He probably started off on the bottom, but he’s reached the top shelf now!

Quickly, I rethought my original hosting plan, which had included a trip to the mall and some homemade potato salad in my backyard. (Potato salad?! What was I thinking!? How offensive to a glass of vodka!) No, I obviously needed something bigger, something more fabulous…. Something with more fireworks……or explosions…… or maybe elephants….

I enlisted the aid of my entourage – my ten-year-old and five-year-old sons – and we hatched a plan to create a fitting reception for our friend that was more shaken than stirred.  Where could we find a group of suitable contemporaries for Flat Martini? A crowd that was just as famous as he had now become, but also a bit two dimensional?

We found the perfect place! Madame Tussaud’s really gives you the best that celebrities have to offer – captured for posterity at the height of their popularity, with good looks, perfect hair and no political commentaries or preachy childcare advice.

We were greeted by none other than Marilyn Monroe, who in a moment of confusion, leaned over my son and tried to drink Flat Martini. Thankfully, I intervened and Marilyn only suffered a small paper cut on her tongue.


Madame Tussaud’s allowed us to introduce Flat Martini to important historical figures. Here are my kids crossing the Delaware with George Washington in search of more olives.


Here’s my son enjoying a laugh with Abraham Lincoln while watching ‘Our American Cousin’.  The play was good, but I heard Lincoln gave this theater a pretty poor Yelp review….


Thomas Jefferson was so taken with our friend Flat Martini, that he insisted on writing him into the Declaration of Independence, adding to the original text with ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident that all martinis are created equal…’ which of course sparked a heated ‘gin vs vodka’ debate between John Adams and Benjamin Franklin.

I think the one thing we can ALL agree on is the unalienable right to a delicious martini.


During the revolutionary disagreement we were battling out, no one noticed that Flat Martini went missing!

Richard Nixon swore to us that he wasn’t a crook, even after we found him red-handed….. Er, actually martini-handed, I guess.


Bill Clinton was really excited to meet Flat Martini. Everything was going great until Clinton asked me if I had a cigar.  Then I knew it was time to leave.

(Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve heard a Clinton joke…)


Our visit was starting to get a little too political at that point, so we introduced our flat friend to a guy who certainly LOOKS like he knows a good martini when he sees one.  Hmmm…. I’m trying to decide who the best looking guy in this picture is – it’s a tough call….


Speaking of good looking guys, here’s me and Flat Martini swooning over my late night crush, Stephen Colbert.

If I were ever to have an affair, it would be with Colbert.


What I really like best about Jimmy Fallon is that he seems to be a kid at heart. He made my boys hysterical doing one of his famous impersonations – this time of Flat Martini.  Isn’t he just dead on??  He looks sooo glassy-eyed and stiff….just like a martini!


We finished our star-studded visit appropriately enough, with giving Flat Martini an up close and personal examination of Jennifer Lopez’s best asset, which proved we had a great time all the way up until the END.


I really hope we showed Flat Martini a good enough time while he was here with us. Since he’s left, we’ve been hanging out with fewer celebrities as we’ve been banned from Madame Tussaud’s for life.

But, it was all worth it!

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Her first tooth… Entering the Land of the Tooth Fairy.

first lost toothThere are moments in parenting that are just plain fun. Moments like the first time your kid projectile pees on your husband. Or instead of eating their first birthday cake, they simply slam their head down directly into it. Ya know, stuff like that.

And then there’s their first tooth.

For weeks you watch them wiggle it, run away when you try to touch it, push their tongue repeatedly against it, and ask you over and over again, “When is it going to fall out?”

And then, after contemplating getting a pair of pliers when they are sleeping and just pulling it out yourself, you hear the words you have been waiting for. The words that make your heart sing.


And you dance a huge dance of joy. And you scream loudly with glee. And then you brace yourself for what is going to happen next.


It never crossed my mind to maybe explain that when you lose a tooth, there… uhm… might be some blood. Whoops. Parenting fail #7,658.

But after the gauze, the crying, the laughing, back to crying, and then amazement – there is happiness. Pure and utter happiness.

And you, as a parent, have now entered a new world. A world without governing rules or universal agreement. A world called “The Land of the Tooth Fairy.”

Do you give $1 or $5? Do you get a dollar coin or give a bill? Do you leave a note or does she leave one back? Do I sprinkle fairy dust on her pillow and leave the window open?

You hear all these ideas – all these extravagant ways to celebrate the death and rotting of a tooth the size of a peanut.

So in the end, we settled on $2. No glitter. No fairy dust. No window left open like a creepy stalker. Just $2.

And oh yeah, the damn tooth in a ball of wax. Because for some reason, my girl wanted to keep it. Which, might just be creepier than a miniature fairy sneaking into your room to take dead teeth.

letter to the tooth fairy


She didn’t ask me to do it…

My daughter is six and my son is three. He looks at her like she is the best thing since sliced bread and she usually looks at him like he is an old moldy muffin.

Every single day, he wakes up basically living on this earth to play with her.

And every single day she wakes up cranky and just wanting to watch Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. (Which, by the way, has about 30,000 seasons and yet they never can defeat the bad guys. Seems like it might be time to take the “Mighty” out of your name, guys. Just sayin’.)

So when my son looked up at me with big sad eyes to play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with him, after asking his sister three times in less than two minutes, I decided to take a new approach to parenting.

I sat down my daughter, looked at her straight in the eye and told her the truth.

“I birthed your brother so I wouldn’t ever have play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

She looked confused.

I continued, “I birthed him so that you can be the person who is more fun than I am. The person he’d want to play with.”

She thought for a minute. Sat herself up and said, “I didn’t ask you to do that. You did that all on your own. You always tell me – you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”

Then she sat down with her granola bar and turned on the Power Rangers.

Damn her. And damn me for thinking that something like birthing might actually get me out of having to pretend I’m a freakin’ mutant turtle.

Daughter: 1, Mother:0


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A letter to my poor, poor tube of toothpaste…

letter to toothpaste

Dear sad, sad toothpaste,

Hi. It’s me. The grown up woman you see come into the bathroom everyday. The one who sees you and shakes her head in shame.

I’m writing to say how sorry I am for all you go through. For your struggles and hardships. I see how day in and day out you try to give all you can to my family. You let them push on places you aren’t ready to be pushed. And still, you bring out all you are made of each and every time.

I try to make you a priority when I look around at things to clean. To hold you gently and wipe the blobs off your chin. Or clean up your top so you can close and have your privacy.

But some days it’s just too much.

Some days there is just more toothpaste than even I can handle.

I’ve tried to get you out of this unhealthy relationship. I tried to talk to the little people who leave you open and exposed without even a care. But they don’t seem to care. They don’t seem to realize that their actions have consequences. That one day you might have to leave. To go to that trash can in the sky for being… oh I can hardly say it… dried out.

I’m sorry, I know those are painful words to hear.

Please accept my heartfelt apologies for all you have gone through. I can only promise you this – someday those little humans will go to college and the bathroom will go back to a happy, peaceful, clean place to reside again. Until then, please know that I’m thinking of you every time I see your innards stuck to the sink. I offer my greatest sorrows for your loss.


The mother of those toothpaste-challenged children

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The cookbook that brought me to tears… New Prairie Kitchen by Summer Miller

new prairie kitchenOne of my first writing gigs was as a restaurant reviewer for The Reader – Omaha’s local hipster newspaper. It was an awesome experience. To eat, write and actually be paid to do both – it was pretty sweet. But one of the best parts of the job was meeting a woman named Summer Miller. She was a food writer for the newspaper and we instantly clicked – not just of over our love of food, but on everything – kids, life and alcohol. She’s damn funny and a killer writer – an awesome combination, if you ask me.

I remember her telling me about her book idea. That she was starting on it and what it involved. My jaw dropped. It sounded amazing.

And the coolest part – it IS amazing. And it happened. (I’m suddenly flashing back to Seinfeld when that girl talks about her boobs and says, “They are real and they’re spectacular.”)

So why did I title this blog post the cookbook that brought me to tears? Because what Summer created isn’t just a cookbook. It’s a collection of stories about farmers, chefs and artisans from all over the Great Plains. Stories that literally bring you to tears. Like the young farming couple who saved for years to buy their own land only to have it destroyed the first year from hail damage. You feel inspired by how they built themselves back up and the journey they are on to make it in the world of farming.

And the recipes. Oh the recipes! And the pictures of the recipes by Dana Damewood! Amazing. Absolutely mouth-watering.

Here’s a pic of the granola my family replicated. Easy, heavenly, and perfect for this completely and utterly cooking-challenged mom.


But I didn’t write this post just to tell you about the cookbook, I wanted to introduce you to Summer. I wanted you to see why I like her so much and why her idea was so damn cool. So I switched gears on her. Instead of her asking the questions and doing the interviews, I decided to interview her!

talking with summer

Summer, growing up, tell me how food affected your life. What are your memories that revolved around food?

My parents always had a large vegetable garden, but cooking was little more than just getting food on the table. I remember as a young child my brothers and I would just eat and snack right out of the garden while we were playing. It was the early 80s. Parents sent their kids outside back then and refused to let us back in until dinnertime so we had to fend for ourselves. : )

What made you first want to start writing about food?

It was practicality. I always enjoyed food. I worked as a journalist and then I had a family. When my son was born food and community mattered more to me than it ever had. I wanted to find a way to merge my passions, meet the needs of my family while continuing my work as a writer and connect more deeply with my community — food writing was how I did that. I also find food and the people involved in food fascinating. I never tire of the subject or it’s tributaries.

What was your first job in regards to food?

Well, when I was really young, maybe 6 or 7, I spent Saturday’s at my grandmother’s antique store. It was always my job to walk up the street and buy donuts from Ferd’s Bakery before they sold out. Many years later, when I was 15, I worked as a grocery sacker at Baker’s Supermarket. It was also my first writing job. At the time, Baker’s was a locally owned family supermarket. I think it’s owned by the national chain Kroger today. When I applied for the job they asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I told them I wanted to be a writer. When it was time to put together the store newsletter they let me write an article for it. I don’t think I had ever taken anything so seriously in my life, I spent a remarkable amount of time on the article. Here’s some perspective — I used a typewriter.  I had to submit it at the corporate headquarters, which was in a shiny office building. They even edited it in red pen and gave it back to me. I was devastated. I had to rewrite it and submit it again. I really felt like I had made it to the big time. I was paid for it too. I remember feeling an immense sense of pride in that accomplishment and I have often looked back on the adults, whose names I have long forgotten, and wonder if they knew how meaningful that investment was to me as a 15-year-old kid. They didn’t have to do that or put in that kind of effort, but they did.

It’s a Sunday morning and the house is filled with family, what’s your favorite thing to cook/make for them?

We try to go to church on Sundays, but usually breakfast is simple — fruit and wholewheat pancakes. I always make a double batch from scratch and then freeze the leftovers between sheets of parchment paper. It makes for a quick, hot and relatively healthy weekday breakfast. I just pop them in the microwave for a minute and if I’m really feeling ambitious — the toaster. You would never know they weren’t fresh off the griddle. If we have our extended family over for brunch, I enjoy making egg strata. It’s a great way to feed a large group and there’s a simple and quick egg and ham strata recipe in New Prairie Kitchen. The recipe came from a bakery in Hastings, Nebraska. I just love it.

Who was the first farmer/local food producer that you interviewed for this book? How did that shape the feel of the book?

The first chef was Clayton Chapman of The Grey Plume in Omaha, Nebraska. The first farmers were Matt and Terra Hall of Rhizosphere Farm in Missouri Valley, Iowa. Both the farmers and the chef had compelling stories to tell. At the time Clayton was just finishing up his first year at The Grey Plume. He had a young family and they were all putting everything they had into this dream of opening a farm-to-table restaurant in a city that, at the time, had only recently embraced the concept. I found that determination, and his commitment to quality especially with a young family inspiring. Starting a business is difficult regardless of the stage of life you are in, but doing it when you have young children involves a completely different level of sacrifice and the responsibility of that success or failure and its impact on your family, I think, adds an extra level of stress to the experience. Not only for the entrepreneur but for the whole family, which is why I wrote his son and wife into the story.

As far as Rhizosphere is concerned, the Halls are favorites among the chefs and Farmer’s Market goers in Omaha. They understand the value of not only providing a good product, but also presenting it in way that is appealing to the end user. They had a tough go of it their first year on their farm in Missouri Valley because of extreme weather conditions. It was crippling for them,  but through perseverance, hope, and community support they were able to overcome a terrible season and continue farming. I hope the stories add depth to the conversations taking place surrounding local food in our communities. New Prairie Kitchen includes the photography and the stories of the people in addition to the recipes because I think it’s important the we understand the human experience that goes into what we eat.

What was the process like working with a photographer for this project? How did you two collaborate?

It was great. Dana Damewood is an incredible talent and I’m fortunate to have her in Omaha with me. So much of what we did was in the field so her ability to work with natural light in various conditions and her technical aptitude with a camera was critical. I would put together shot lists for things we knew we needed then we would go on sight. The circumstances in the field would guide the rest of the photography. In many ways the book is a documentary of that moment in time on those farms. It took us 4 1/2 years to put the book together. Some years, were drought years, which you can see the spread on TD Niche Pork. You can see the this haze in the images, but it was actually dust in the air because the drought was so bad. There was a deep valley in the area and you could see mist trapped in the valley below this farm where water was desperately needed. Dana is a smart and intuitive photographer. She saw the beauty in those conditions from a photographic perspective and was able to create stunning spreads by using what was happening in the moment.

Many of my readers are writers of all kinds of genres, what was your publishing process like? 

First, I looked for books similar to mine — regional, farm-to-table cookbooks. Then I sat on the floor of a bookstore and wrote down the names of the publishing houses who published those books, next I would read the acknowledgments section to see who the author thanked — specifically agents, and write those names down. I took the list, started searching websites, found proposal submission guidelines and began writing and submitting proposals. I received quite a few beautiful rejections before finding a publisher. Each letter was encouraging, so I kept at it. An agent who didn’t represent me, recommended I submit to the publisher I’m with now. You never know where your opportunities are going to come form, so my advice is to cast your net wide. I am fortunate to have an incredibly supportive publisher, who listened and received my input on selecting photos, design, and recipe formatting. It’s been a truly positive experience. I feel like we are in a partnership. I honestly couldn’t be happier.

Thanks Summer! Readers, I want you to know something. I reached out to Summer to do this. That’s how excited I was about her book. So when I tell you that I think you should buy it – it’s because I truly believe that these farmers, chefs and artisans have stories and recipes you should read. That we should support. Cause I believe that deep-down in all of us, we have a Midwesterner just screaming to come out! :)

To find out more about the book, check out Summer Miller’s website Scalded Milk and on Facebook. And you can buy it directly from Amazon HERE.

(Photo credits:  Summer author photo: © Alison Bickel, Recipe image:  © Dana Damewood

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How to Make A Water Blob That Your Children Will Never Play With

how to make a water blob

Step 1. Spend 1 hour on Pinterest researching ways to make a large plastic blob of water. Be excited by the joy on the faces of the children in all of the photos.

Step 2. Drag your own children to two different hardware stores to find 4 mm painters plastic, parchment paper and duct tape. Make sure to bring 7 different snacks because said children will ask for one every 15 minutes.

Step 3. Return home to where your children will “help” you by asking every 3 seconds if the blob is done. Note: The blob will not be done for another 2 hours.

Step 4. Use parchment paper to seal the two pieces of plastic together with an iron. Make sure you burn yourself and proceed to curse loudly in front of Christian neighbors at least 4 times to reach full pissed-off capacity.

Step 5. Leave slight hole in the plastic to put hose inside. However, be sure not to be a dumb-ass and turn the hose on before putting into hole. (cough cough)

Step 6. Be horrified at the ridiculous amount of water you are wasting to fill this thing for the next hour. But not horrified enough to stop.

Step 7. Seal hole with duct tape. Make sure you use your teeth to rip the tape so you can spend your child’s future college fund on dental work.

Step 8. Spray water on the blob to make it slippery in hopes that you can laugh at your children when they fall.

Step 9. Call excitedly to your children to come immediately outside and play for hours on this amazingly beautiful blob of water while you check email, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram while in air-conditioning.

Step 10. Curse profusely at Pinterest when after 3 minutes your daughter yells to you, “So what are we supposed to do on it besides lay down?”

Step 11. Dream about letting all the water out of the blob, filling it with wine, poking a hole in it and using it as an adult-size Capri Sun. (Idea from my awesome friend Molly of Crazed in the Kitchen)

Step 12. Throw out water blob and just go to a pool.


Flat Martini Meets The Naked Cowboy & A Whole Bunch of Wax in NYC!

These adventures of Flat Martini just keep getting more and more hilarious! And I had no doubt that Leigh-Mary Hoffman would seriously bring it. How did I know that? Because she had the locker next to mine all four years of high school and kept me laughing the entire time. These days, she’s the awesome blogger behind the great blog Happily Ever Laughter Blog. And let me tell you – you NEED to go check it out. She’s a mom to a blended family of 5 kids and writes about the hilarity of living with so many people, her diagnosis of MS, and her amazing daughter being on the autism spectrum. And she does it all with the most amazing sense of humor you have ever met. She’s a good egg this one.

So check out her blog Happily Ever Laughter Blog and say hi to her on Facebook, and Twitter. And what’s awesome is that she is in a new book that is perfect for me! Martinis & Motherhood: Tales of Wonder, Woe & WTF?!  The book pairs up thirty-seven tales of motherhood with customized martini recipes inspired by the stories themselves. How cool is that??? 

Without further ado… here’s Flat Martini’s adventures with Leigh-Mary!

happily ever laughter flat martini

So this lady – some chatterbox over at Happily Ever Laughter Blog – decided it would be fun to take me on a visit to Manhattan. Always up for a good time, I enthusiastically obliged and hopped on the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) with Happily and her daughter, as I tagged along for their mother-daughter birthday weekend.

The plan was to walk around the city and, eventually, end up at Madame Tussauds wax museum. Can you imagine people thinking it is fun to pose with imaginary figures? Sounds pretty boring to me. By the way, does anyone want to get in a selfie with me?

So we are walking [well, they were walking…I was being carried like the prince that I am!] the streets, among the – what-seemed-like – millions of other people in NYC that day and guess who we ran into? A Naked Cowboy. Yeah, that’s right. Apparently tourists love to take pictures with this bare-chested, hat wearing, guitar playing guy, so I went along with it. You should see what’s behind that guitar. I think I may have to pick myself up a ukulele and find out if this dude wants a sidekick. What do y’all think?


Next, we ran into Olaf. This pile of ice (reads: gross, germ-infested, cheap costume-wearing, still-lives-with-his-momma weirdo) told me he likes warm hugs. Hey freak, we just met … make like your girl Elsa and LET IT GO!


I wanted to go to Ellis Island and see the Statue of Liberty, but we couldn’t make it happen this trip. Luckily, she found us. Gotta love Lady Liberty – God Bless the USA. (To be honest, I think this particular Lady Liberty was actually a dude – and not a very happy one.)


When I heard Happily say to her daughter that we were going to Disney, I was ready to head straight for the airport and fly to Florida. Space Mountain, here we come! Waaaaiiiiiittttt a minute, the Disney Store? What a gyp. Helllllllo….I’m lost among all these plushies!!


We went to our hotel room, and I must admit, Happily did good with this one. Comfy bed, lots of room and check out that view. Wait!!! Don’t look down you’re afraid of heights. Actually, if you’ll excuse me, I think I may puke – I shouldn’t have had that last olive.


Once at the wax museum, we encountered lots of cool look-a-like wax figures. Yes, I admit, I was skeptical at first, but Happily was right, it was pretty neat. First we saw Miss Bette Midler. I was tempted to burst into song – “Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?” – but singing in public is not my thing. I prefer to be a Cocktail Idol … if you know what I mean!


Next, we snapped some photos with a few of Hollywood’s leading men.




And then, I got in on this. Ummmmm…those boobs. Hummina, hummina, hummina.


Happily admits that she loves singing along to this artist’s cathcy tunes. No denying that Ms. Swift is uber talented. You don’t agree? No? Well: “the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.” Don’t be a hater – it’s not cool!


This next guy looked pissssssed. Maybe someone should get him a drink. Perhaps a martini?


Hey Happily, can I borrow your cell? This, ummm, thing Must. Phone. Home.


It was super awesome to snap a pic with the queen of all talk shows. I think I heard her say: “And YOU get a Flat Martini. And YOU get a Flat Martini. And YOU get a Flat Martini.”


Is this sponge ALWAYS this happy? Happily totally admitted to me that she watches the show whenever the kids have it on. And even then they leave the room. Sing it with me…”Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?”


After the yellow square, it was all about the bass. I mean, the presidents.

“Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.” – Abraham Lincoln

True that, Abe!! (He’s kinda smiling!)


Hey, wasn’t this guy an actor, too?


Guess he’s not smiling because of that whole “not a crook” thing.


I can not tell a lie, dude looks like a(n) (ugly) lady.


And then, the Pope. (Repeat to self: do not make inappropriate jokes. Do not make inappropriate jokes.)


I don’t know what she meant, but when we got to this guy, Happily just kept repeating: Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?


Thinking about naming us: “The Fab Five.”


And last, but certainly not least, Mr. Robin Williams. RIP funny man.


We did a few other things in NYC, but the highlight of the trip were the hundreds of people starring at Happily with a WTF?-look-in-their-eyes as she held up the line Every. Single. Time. to take pictures of me with the wax figures.

Since returning home to Long Island, Happily has tucked me away in her desk but has promised me that the next time Bette Midler comes on the radio, she will take me out of the drawer and we can sing together as she pours herself a martini.

Cheers, my friends.

P.S. – if you see a cheap ukulele, can you pick it up for me? I won’t even ask for a tip when me and the Naked Cowboy sandwich you in a selfie! : )


Race Doesn’t Define a Parent. My Reaction to Rachel Dolezal’s interview.

rachelI’ve been following the Rachel Dolezal case over the past week more out of curiosity on how it unfolds than any political or social interest. I hadn’’t thought too much about what I felt about her actions or what my stance might be. Mainly because the world hadn’t yet heard directly from her. And believe it or not, and I know this goes completely against my New York nature, I actually like to give people the benefit of the doubt.

But something changed when Rachel Dolezal did the Today show interview this morning.

The issue went from her deception to her completely damaging statement about parenting a child of a different race.

Dolezal, a Caucasian woman who is president of the NAACP Spokane chapter who has been claiming to be African-American, finally spoke out about why she “identifies herself as African-American.”

When she first spoke, I felt supportive of what she was saying. She was talking about all the good work she has done to bridge the gap in race. How she didn’t want any of this scandal to take away from her work.

I didn’t even feel angry when she talked about not correcting people who identified her as black or when Matt Lauer asked if she purposely colored her skin and she said “I certainly don’t stay out of the sun.”

None of things really phased me too much because she obviously is helping and doing good in the world with her work.

However, where things took a turn and where I felt she disgraced the parenting community is when she talked about the situation in adopting her son, Isiah, who is African-American.

Dolezal said. “[My son] said, ‘You’re my real mom.’ And he’s in high school, and for that to be something that is plausible, I certainly can’t be seen as white and be Isiah’s mom.”

This is the quote I can’t shake. The one that makes me cringe.

Why can’t she be seen as white?

A dear friend of mine is white and has adopted two children. One from China and one from Ethiopia. Does she have to be seen as Chinese or Ethiopian to be their mom?

The color of your skin does not define your role as a parent. The way you parent your child defines your role as a parent.

I’m completely and utterly baffled how someone who strives for equality. Who fights for it tooth and nail would make a comment about the negativities of being seen white with an African-American son.

Here’s how it should be. To be seen as a parent, act like a parent. Love that child, be honest with that child, teach that child the truth in life, and be an example to them of how to live. That’s a parent. Be whatever race you are – that doesn’t matter. What matters is teaching them about theirs and appreciating the union that comes from uniting the two.

So I’m glad she resigned. Not because she pretended to be African-American but because maybe now she can show her children what truth looks like and be able to really truly make a difference in the world. Show the world that race doesn’t define a parent. Parenting defines a parent.


The importance of mean girls

wpostI thought I would have until middle school before I’d have to hold my daughter in my arms as she cried about the way mean girls were acting towards her in class. But I was wrong.

I’d have to do that in Kindergarten.

But when I did hold her, something happened.

I realized something.

Come read what happened. And what I learned about myself in my latest post for The Washington Post’s On Parenting.



My advice to Molly Sims after her interview with People magazine…

baby cryingWhile my children beat each other to a pulp in a game they called, “Who Can Tackle The Other Person From The Couch Without Causing Bleeding?” I snuck away to my computer to play a game of “I Should Be Working But I’m Checking People Magazine Online Instead.”

But it wasn’t the usual headline about Kim Kardashian’s ass or which celebrity couple is “surprisingly” breaking up that caught me eye. No, it was this headline:

Molly Sims: My Baby Has Only Cried 6 Times – Ever!

I had to read it because obviously this was a case of an editor picking a completely ridiculous headline. Like the time I read an article about breastfeeding and the headline was “Boobs or Bust.”

But unfortunately,that wasn’t the case.

It was a case of a celebrity not knowing when to just keep their mouth closed.

Molly Sims is quoted as saying, “I don’t know why, but I make calm babies. She’s probably cried six times in her whole life! I don’t know how.”

Oh girl. Oh girl. Oh girl.

You are a mother now. Without realizing it, you have been brought into a special society of women. And in this society, there are rules. Kind of like the fight club but without Brad Pitt. Though, damn, that would be some awesome mom club.

The greatest of all the rules is not to gloat.

What I mean is this. It’s awesome that your baby hardly cries. Honestly, considering your gorgeous, rich and annoyingly tall, it seems perfectly fitting that life gives you a chill-ass baby.

However, life doesn’t give everyone a baby that hardly cries. Life gives mothers colicky babies, babies with pain, babies who can’t figure out days and nights, and babies that are just plain pissed.

And how do you think those mothers feel when they read that your baby only has cried six times in her first two months of life? The mothers who are pulling their hair out, not sleeping, over-caffeinating, and basically just trying to survive.

Look, I’m not telling you to lie. Definitely don’t do that. What I am telling you is to know when NOT to say something.  You are a public figure. You get asked all sorts of questions about things I can’t even imagine. But when it comes to babies, just remember that millions of moms are reading. Sometimes it is better to say nothing at all than say something that makes you look cocky and bragging.

And I like ya, girl. I have since you kicked ass on Las Vegas. So take this from one mom to another. Telling the world about your baby’s lack of crying is only going to make mothers around the world cry themselves.

Now get back to your very-silent baby and let us mothers with crying babies go back to reading about Kim Kardashian’s ass.




Flat Martini goes on an EPIC Girls Weekend!

Oh my oh my oh my! When I set the guidelines for Flat Martini to visit everyone, I had no idea that Jessica from the awesome blog Domestic Pirate would take them and BLOW THEM OUT OF THE WATER! This girl took Flat Martini on an adventure that made the olives pop out of his drink! There’s love, tattoos, and oh so much more that you have to see for yourself.

So after reading their hilarious journey together, be sure to go visit her blog and follow her on social media on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest. She’s definitely worth it!

jessica domestic pirate

Hi all. Flat Martini here. Allow me to show you what makes up “An Epic Girl’s Weekend.”

1 shaving legs

It starts with preparations. Can’t have an epic girls weekend with prickly legs, so, Step 1 was a close shave.

2 gathering makeup

Gathering makeup. It takes a lot of makeup to look like you aren’t wearing makeup. Can’t forget deodorant, either, because a lady isn’t supposed to smell like anything other than butterfly farts. Male butterfly farts, because ladies don’t fart either.

3 picking accessories

Accessorizing is important. And it takes foreeeeeeevvvvveeeerrrrrr.

4 cleaning kitchen

If you have children, you must make sure everything is clean and functional before you leave. Because Mommy Guilt.

5 buckle up

Pick up your bestie since middle school. Make the car rental guy double over in laughter, say “Shit” and “Fuck,” and give you a free quarter tank of gas. Then Buckle Up, Buttercup. Safety first on girl’s weekend.

Drive for several hours listening to them chat about the biggest clusterfuck of topics you have ever heard. Wife swapping? Check. Essential oils? Check. Disaster relief for third world countries? Check. Nasty husband foot warts? Check. I wish I could have drank myself.

6 watching tattoo

Stop for a tattoo?!  What kind of chicks am I hanging out with?

7 getting tattoo

Peer pressure.

8 tattooed

You don’t think I’ll regret this, do you?

9 manicures

At another bestie’s house we did group manicures. I guess this is a thing? Girls really do sit around and do their nails together?

10 pikeplace

Sight seeing! Pike Place Market in Downtown Seattle was pretty cool, even if the traffic was just as terrible and the people just as weird as all the memes on the internet say. It wasn’t even considered odd for two grown women to walk around with a laminated clip art Flat Martini.

11 hawaii

We experienced Hawaiian BBQ at our lunch stop with yet another bestie. Sure, she’ll commit to one man for the rest of her life but she can’t pick just one friend!

12 quick change

No place to change from day to evening? Just use the back of the car! Though ‘Quick change’ may not be the most accurate of terms.

13 3d martini

It happened. We were sitting there, waiting for the rest of our party to arrive when the waitress brought Her over. Oh, she was gorgeous. Glimmering green, her glass damp from condensation, cucumber garnish set just so…

14 selfie distraction

Quick selfie break! I was walking on air. I barely needed my hostess’s purse to prop me up. I was a laminated clip art martini in love.

But then, she was gone. I don’t know what happened. One minute she was there in front of me, full of wonder and life and the next…

15 emotional eating

I wished I could drink myself, again. But at our destination for the weekend, the Seattle Mom Prom, the tables were filled with candy. I drowned my sorrows in the company of Moon Pie & Kit Kat.

16 boobs

The cleavage at this fancy party helped, too.

17 dressup

I perked up eventually.

18 mom prom

19 d.j. vinny

Tried out the turntables. Apparently you need longer arms to be successful.

20 prom

21 cardsagainsthumanity

What’s a party with an after party? Ain’t no party like a filthy minded party of moms without their children around.

22 morning after

The morning after though…

Girls clearly have more fun.

Until next time,

Flat Martini

P.S. Could you help me find my dream girl? I can’t get her out of my olive.

We were at Terra Plata in Seattle. You were green and gloriously 3D. I am white as a sheet and laminated paper. I couldn’t do anything but stare at you, mouth agape, eyes wide, as the condensation rolled down the sharp angles of your chalice onto your stem. Your cucumber garnish quivered each time you were raised to my friend’s lips. I longed to wipe away the gloss that was left upon your rim. Sadly, I became distracted, and you were whisked away before I could properly introduce myself. Please, Goddess of Cocktail Delights, have pity on my poor, flat heart and let me know you felt the same connection I did. I await your response, eagerly and with bated breath. Forever yours, FM

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My first family camping adventure…

Okay, so you’ve probably figured out by now that I’m not exactly the sporty, outdoorsy type. Don’t get me wrong, I love a leisurely bike ride that doesn’t require me to sweat, go up hills or figure out how to use the gears. But in general, I like to sleep indoors whereas bugs and things that cause swelling do not typically enter.

However, I married a man who has a deep, and I mean deep, love of all things camping.

And marriage is about compromise.

Well, honestly, our marriage is usually about him compromising because I’m so damn stubborn that he just throws his hands up most days and yells, “Uncle.”

But every once in a while I feel bad about my bossy nature and decide to throw the guy a bone.

Camping was my bone. My very big, not feeling natural to a New Yorker, bone.

So the husband went to the sporting goods store, spent our retirement money on supplies, and we were on our way. And this picture was how it all began. The fakest smile I have ever sported in my life. The one we put on for our children every time they say, “watch me!”

fake smile

But then this happened.

her first firsh

My girl caught her first fish ever. And to see the smile on her face and the pride she wore for the rest of the day, well, damn. It’s pretty amazing.

And then this happened.


And camping got kicked up a major notch. And a special thanks to Dana Zucker from TriWivesClub for donating to the “Danielle needs alcohol to survive camping” campaign. Your donation was greatly appreciated.

But then, after all that. This happened.

rained out

Thunderstorms came blowing in and we had to pack up and head home a day early.

And you know what’s weird? And scary? And slightly unnerving?

I was bummed.

No really. I’m not kidding.

I was actually bummed to not finish the experience. To get a taste of it all and not be able to do all the things we hoped to do.

So it looks like I might go camping for a second time sometime soon.

You’ll probably want to mark this date on your calendar. I can only assume Armageddon is coming with this unbelievable news and change in the atmosphere. Get water and canned vegetables immediately. The world is definitely coming to an end.


Flat Martini goes to Daytona Beach!

I’m Jenny Kaelin and I’m not a blogger, just a huge fan of Martinis and Minivans.  When I heard about Flat Martini going on adventures, I just knew I had to be a part of it and that he had to come to Daytona Beach.  It made my day when I found out I was selected to hang out with Flat Martini for a while!

Everyone was super excited when Flat Martini, aka Flat, arrived in my mailbox.  Of course there was a lot of explaining about what he was and what it was about, but everyone loved him!  My neighbor’s daughter, Jasmine, insisted on being the first to have her picture taken with him.


Flat’s first stop was the beach.  He was quite adamant that you don’t come to Daytona and not go to the beach.   Unfortunately, it was quite windy and hard to get a good picture of Flat and I so he picked this one to show off the beauty of the beach.

flat 4 again

Flat met some of my husband’s coworker’s and thought they were a lot of fun.  He even worked with them for a few hours.  Apparently he’s pretty good at swinging a hammer and using a drill.  They said he was a huge help and is welcome anytime!


Then it’s Bike Week 2015 in Daytona Beach!  Flat had tons of fun and met lots of new people but the camera we were using went MIA.  We did manage to get one picture on the way down there, however poor Flat is stuck in the saddlebag on my neighbor’s bike.  He still wanted to share the picture though…..such a good sport!  He’s super excited about Biketoberfest in October.  He wants a redo on those pictures!

flat5 again

Flat was even in town for my son’s 15th birthday!  We all went to a hibachi grill.  I begged, pleaded and attempted to bribe my son into letting Flat cook with him, but apparently he was being the typical “it’s embarrassing mom” teenager.  Flat understood and even managed to calm me down.


Finally, Flat’s last excursion during his stay was a BBQ/pool party.  He was so excited to be there!  In fact, he was first in the pool!  Of course he had me hold him as he’s not much of a swimmer.

flat (1)

I had a great time visiting with Flat and hope he had a fantastic time too!  He’s a great sidekick and is welcome anytime!

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My bite of The Big Apple. My trip back home to New York

I’m from Long Island. So that means that when I was a teenager I had large, permed hair and one earring with a key dangling from a hoop like Janet Jackson.

Last week we visited my parents and family still living there and it was definitely one that constantly put a smile on my face. If you have never been to New York, stop what you are doing and buy a plane, train or bus ticket right now. You could drive yourself as well, but the large number of curse words that would come out of your mouth attempting to drive around might cause you alarm.

I can’t tell you how much I loved this trip. I was trying to place my finger on exactly what made this trip different from others and it finally hit me. My kids are one year older than the last time we went. And that year has made a huge difference. We don’t use strollers everywhere, we don’t change diapers and we can actually talk to them about the things we are seeing.

Things like Friendly’s ice cream and how it’s the most amazing ice cream on earth. Let me put it this way. If you believe in God, I’m sure that he created Friendly’s ice cream on the 8th day when everyone thought he was resting. Plus, they give out free balloons to kids. Or grandfathers.

Dad and  balloon

Living by the beach growing up was amazing. As a teenager, I would escape to the beach at the end of our road when I was feeling teen angst and just sit and write horribly-rhyming poems. Now, I sat and watched my children laugh down the peer and find seashells. The circle of life.

kids on beach

And I smiled the biggest smile when my children ran to the big Dum Dum statue from Night at the Museum when we went to the Natural History Museum. They hugged him as if he was an old friend they were finally reunited with many years apart. An old friend that doesn’t talk, is the size of a house and is also made of stone. What a friend.

hugging dum dum 
kissing dum dum

And look at my mom showing a view of Central Park to my daughter from the museum window. A cute moment where I looked like a psycho stalker taking pictures behind them without them knowing…

mom and addi

My heart was full when after the museum, my cousins and family came out to meet us for a big old picnic in Central Park. Seeing our children play together was absolutely awesome. However, not as awesome as getting my mother to take her first selfie.moms first selfie

And when the family fun was over, it was time for macaroons, martinis and merriment with my agent Jessica Sinsheimer. You knew it was going to be a hilarious time when we started the night off with a trip to the store Intimacy for bra fittings. Now you might be thinking, “What the hell did she just say?” ‘

But it’s true. I went bra shopping with my agent. (Disclaimer: She didn’t see my boobs. That would be horribly awkward. For her. She waited politely in the waiting area.) Intimacy is a store that doesn’t use measuring tapes or devices to see the size of your girls. Nope. Their trained salespeople use different bras to determine the best fit for what you are looking for.

Of course, I was looking for boobs that made me look 20 and didn’t go down to my ankles. Surprisingly, they were only able to accommodate the latter. This pic was from before the appointment. After the fondling and boob touching, I was happy as a clam.bra shopping

After boob-land, I got to pretend that I stay out late and go to hip places like blue-lit lounges and Soho restaurants. Of course, I fell asleep on the train back to my parents house and might have drooled on my Target fake-silk shirt, but either way, it was a blast.

jessica and i

blue lounge

And in the end, when the week of merriment and fun was over, I boarded the plane home with my kiddos (hubby had to come back home early for work) and I felt complete joy in my heart from all the great memories made.

That is, I felt joy until my son figured out that he could fart on command. Figured it out on a crowded plane with two hours still left to go and a sister that wouldn’t stop pulling his finger.

World, please take this as my official apology for the air quality that occurred in the atmosphere for those long, painful hours… Trust me, I’ve never wanted an oxygen mask to drop down more in my life.



The many facial expressions of Flat Martini!

When I went to BlogHer for the first time a few years ago, I was amazed by the kindness of the fellow bloggers I met. It was where I first learned that we are all part of this crazy insane world and need to work together, rather than against. And no one understood that better than the amazing women behind Science of Parenthood – Norine Dworkin-McDaniel and Jessica Ziegler. I instantly formed a friendship with them that has only grown and made me appreciate all their kindness and talent.

And so I was THRILLED when Jessica wanted to take Flat Martini, our little cocktail of love, out for an adventure. And my oh my, did she ever! Jessica and Norine just published the second in their hilarious series of books. It’s called The Bigger Book of Parenting Tweets and it’s getting awesome reviews. I also love it because I was in the original book, The Big Book of Parenting Tweets.

And so Jessica brought Flat Martini along on one of her press stops. (You can see the finished taped segment by clicking HERE.)  I should add, Jessica is an illustrator so these pictures are just freakin’ awesome.

So without further ado, here’s Jessica and my laminated lover. And be sure to stop by Science of Parenthood on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram and tell them that Martinis and Minivans sent ya!

Jessica Sign

“Hey Flatty, can I call you Flatty? Cool.

pic 1

So Flatty, what say we take a little trip this weekend? Where to? Why, fabulous Kansas, of course! We’re going to the KU graduation, doesn’t that sound exciting?

pic 2

No? Well, how about this–while we’re there we are going to have our three-to-four minutes of fame on the Kansas City Live’s morning show to promote The Big Book and the Bigger Book of Parenting Tweets. Pretty cool, right?

pic 3

Limo? Ah, no, there won’t be a limo. Nope, no private jet … Actually, you’re going to have to ride with the luggage.


I know. I’m sorry.

I’ve got to tell you, Flatty, I’m a little nervous about this interview. Will I remember what I should say? Become tongue-tied? Ack! I changed my mind, I don’t want to do this …

It will probably be fine. It’s just talking to a person, like you’re sitting in a restaurant, right? I can do that, maybe be a little funny. Right, Flatty?

pic 5 again


The next morning on the road to the studio an hour away

Oooooh, shit, Flatty, look at all this traffic!

pic 6

All right, all right … let’s just calm down. CALM DOWN, MAN. Let’s take a deep breath. Hooooooooooooo. Ok. It’ll be fine.

pic 7


20 minutes later

Phew! We made it with time to spare. See, Flatty? Leaving two-and-a-half hours early doesn’t seem so crazy NOW, does it?

pic 8

Ok, get changed, check the makeup, crap! These nylons are making me slip right out of my shoes. Whatever. Just scuff-shuffle out to the studio, that doesn’t look stupid AT ALL. Ok, sit up straight, try to find a position for your legs that doesn’t look super weird, fix hair, position book … LET’S DO THIS THING.

Four minutes later

Well Flatty, I’ve got to be honest. I’m not really sure how that went. I think my hair was in my face, and I was afraid to move it. I kept thinking DON’T MOVE YOUR HANDS AROUND! Eventually I just did it.  Also? I think I said “abbreviations” when I meant “acronyms”, then I think I might have corrected myself mid-stream. That’s bound to be awkward. And I know I was holding the book in such a way that the cover would be visible while I was sitting there. That probably looked odd, too.

It was all so fast that I forgot to take a picture, not just in the studio, but, more importantly, of my outfit. Goddamn it, Flatty! You were supposed to remind me! Oh well, whatever. At least I remembered to get this shot of us in the dressing room:

pic 9

Can you see the panic in my eyes? And I haven’t even had coffee yet!

Let’s remedy that RIGHT NOW.

pic 10

Whew. I’m glad that’s over. Now I have a whole week to obsess about how it turned out before it airs on the 26th. So that will be fun…