Less frequent posts

We’re currently working on a book to be published later this year, so things might be a little slow around here…

Cheers!

Top 25 children of rock

4) Miley Cyrus–Billy Ray Cyrus: This is what I’m talking about. Put your kids to work, so you don’t have to! Yee-Haw! Miley practically prints money these days. At a time when oil prices are where they are and people are losing their homes, parents still find the scratch to send their kids not to college, but to a Miley Cyrus concert and then of course there are the lunch boxes and swimsuits and whatever other stuff they can put her likeness on… It really is a shame my kids are going to grow up to be ugly. – Y!

Married people having sex

Today, the Browns report they have sex approximately six times a month, or double their frequency before their adventure. The Mullers decline to discuss their habits, except to say that they fall well within the national average. And, Brad said, the sex is better. “It made it much easier to be open to the idea, more spontaneous,” he said, “So you don’t go back to that always gaming for it and always trying to get out of it.” – NYT

My wife and I once read an article/blog post about a mom who would call her husband into the bathroom to “fix a leak” while their kids watched television. Being somewhat conservative we lauded the woman’s post-nuptial ingenuity and then employed a prudish version during days at home while our preschooler takes his mid-day nap and one of us is taking a shower, “Hey, there’s a leak in the bathroom…” We are always smart enough to lock the door.

Well the other day as we were engrossed in ‘fixing the leak’ our son woke up unbeknownst to us and from just outside the bathroom we heard the trill of his referee’s whistle. Laughter ensued as we exited in towels to face a grinning, inquisitive 4-year-old.

I’m positive (and hopeful) that he had no idea as to what was going on in the bathroom, but we have noted this as one of those funniest-moments-in-post-nuptial-sex — right under the time when one night as he slept he mumbled “Guys you’re forgetting me,” as us plumbers were in toiling away, fixing a very large leak in our bedroom.

Wish you could bottle Mom’s spit?

Dirt affects us all, and MomSpit™ knows no boundaries. Inspired by the original, it’s for everyone, children and adults alike. Whether you’re urban, suburban or good old country, a soccer mom, golf dude, fashion diva or business suit, MomSpit was designed with versatility in mind. It’s for you when you’re on the move and in your groove. – MomSpit

I’m awake

But if I act as if I’ve had a full night’s sleep, if I get up and do things, I will be pitiful tomorrow. I will confuse the TV remote with the cordless phone and try to answer it. I will not notice any of my typos—I will type “pubic school” this and “pubic school” that in e-mails to people whose public schools I am looking at for my daughter. I will say, “I saw store at the Shelly,” and then I will have to make one of those dumb Alzheimer’s jokes. – NewYorker

Taming the toddler

The other day was a particularly testy one and I decided to try the Supernanny’s naughty spot routine. This did not go well. It’s one thing watching those poor parents on a Supernanny episode from the comfort of your lounge room while yelling at the TV “It’s not that hard, just follow through.” Especially when you are childless and therefore have the benefit of being an expert on parenting, as I was when I watched it last. But when you’re going through it yourself it SUCKS.. – SydneyMorningHerald

Innoculating the play group

My daughter’s play group consists of children ranging in age from infancy to 4 years old. One mother revealed that she does not vaccinate her son. After much frank but cordial discussion and opinions from pediatricians — some thought she endangered our vaccinated kids; others did not — she felt pressured to leave the group. Did the group behave ethically? – Answer – NYT

The Prattle #011

Jacob Frere was making a mad dash along a Manhattan sidewalk on a recent afternoon. Ducking in and out of pedestrian traffic. Jacob giggled as he weaved his way to what he thought was certain escape. But Jacob didn’t get very far, as twelve or so steps into his getaway the gRrabber stopped him. Bethany, his mother, ran over and scolded him and then assured the flustered onlookers that her toddler son was never in any real danger.

A few moments earlier Jacob had given in to the sudden and insistent urge to bolt. “He’s a runner,” said an exasperated Bethany. “You either have to have lightning-quick reflexes or be Elasti-Girl when you’re out with him… Unless you have this.” Bethany tapped her half of the gRabber, an electrical box that resembles an old wireless pager.

Paul Felix invented the childcare gadget. It is no coincidence that Mr. Felix is also the inventor of another device, one that keeps canine pets within an unseen boundary by sending electrical pulses through their collars. This fact makes the gRabber a very controversial parenting aid.

The gRabber debuted at the annual New York Toy Fair last month. At the booth flat screen televisions broadcasted a closed-circuit promotional video that featured a computer rendered toddler wrestling free of his mother’s grip and headed toward traffic, only to be saved by an inhumanly stretched arm that extended from a black box worn on the mother’s belt. “The gRabber,” said the narrator’s voice, “The long arm of parenting.”

The booth attracted a crowd of parents who munched on hors d’oeuvres and discussed situations in which they would employ the use of the grabber. One mom imagined it being a biting deterrent, another as a long distance squabble stopper. Mr. Gates, a dad visiting from Chicago, imagined that the gRabber would have come in handy a few weeks ago when he happened upon his daughter, Lacey, squeezing a bottle chocolate syrup into his drawer full of expensive neckties. “I would have only used it if I caught her before the act,” he said.

One parent yelped when her husband accidentally stunned her with the gadget. The salesperson, in an attempt to prove the benign nature of the gRabber’s shock, invited parents to give multiple transmitters a test run as he sang the kids’ classic, Old McDonald, while wearing the receiving end of the device around his wrist. He only mooed here and there before he could no longer hide the involuntary twitching that gave away his discomfort.

“Okay, that’s enough guys,” he said. “You’re all a bit trigger-happy today aren’t you?” It was easy to determine that he had gotten this job more for his baritone vocal delivery than for his presentation skills.

Ms. Carly Phillips, a local advocate from the children’s rights group Friends of Urban Community Kids, was invited to the demo with the hopes that she would back what the company sees as a product that would reduce child injuries in urban settings.

“It’s horrible to think that parents have to resort to Abu Ghraib-styled torture because they are either too lazy or too fat to keep up with their kids,” said Ms. Phillips. “I’d like to see that guy sing the Sesame Street song with that thing wrapped around his scrotum. That would be a good test as to how it would feel to a three-year-old whose skin is still extremely sensitive. I bet he’d sound more Elmo than Oscar then.”

The gRabber has not passed standard child safety tests and the patent is still pending.

Mom battles Monkey Brains

Ooooooh, this oatmeal’s called Monkey Brains! Monkeys are hilarious! Brains are gross and therefore even funnier!

My four-year-old wasn’t the one begging for the $5/box oatmeal (on sale). Instead, I was snatching a box of the raspberry-flavored oatmeal off the shelf, shoving it in my daughter’s face and shrieking, “Monkey Brains! How funny is that? Should we take some Monkey Brains home?” – Well Fed Network

Die Hipster Scum

Early to extricate my son from his Williamsburg preschool (a feat as difficult as pulling a snake out of its hole) I decided to while away the minutes window shopping for my wife. Headed toward the shoe store I passed a mom pushing what my mind remembers to be a Bugaboo stroller (but sometimes my mind lies) wearing this t-shirt. I found it funny, because as a new parent I had designed this t-shirt (based on this t-shirt) as a tongue-in-cheek response to the influx of moneyed moms to the once sketchy neighborhood. But who am I to criticize? After all, I did willingly grace the cover of New York magazine representing what a grup is (was?). So as I’m firmly located at the intersection of Williamsburg hipster and Park Slope parent I’m not sure if I should have found humor (which I did) or humiliation (maybe so) in this woman’s one-person tirade… Then again, this might just have been another case of misinterpreted irony–once a frequent occurrence in the ‘Burg’s heyday.