It’s a classic. It’s animated, smart, funny, and it’s Dr. Seuss. Sure, these are all good reasons why Horton Hears a Who should be a great movie. But they are also the reasons why I was positive I would leave the theater disappointed. {You can imagine it not meeting even your most basic of expectations. Remember that God-awful Alvin and the Chipmunks? Hopefully you were smarter than I am and didn’t think you might like it, read a review that said it was good, and go see it only to realize that it’s one of the worst children’s movies ever made ever in the history of really bad children’s movies}.

Well, Horton Hears a Who is a good movie. In fact, it’s one of the best children’s movies ever. Sure, the colorful characters, suspenseful storyline, and heartfelt moral are capturing. But what really convinced me that this Dr. Seuss adaptation is a movie like no other was when Hayes and I sat staring at the big screen with our heads together. Because it was in that moment that I felt a stray hair tickle my neck. I took the stray between my fingers and pulled. But the hair didn’t detach, and since I felt nothing, I decided it must have been tangled in a knot. So I yanked really hard…and Hayes let out the loudest scream I’ve ever heard in the history of really loud screams. But instead of bursting into tears—which would have been totally justified considering the way I ripped that stray hair clear out of his head—he simply went back to watching the movie as if nothing was going to stop his from enjoying this classic.

Who knew? Horton Hears a Who soothes boo-boos, prevents tantrums and entertains too.

What the...? Part Tray

I just completed a very extensive survey that included a host of random and regular people around me about birthday parties. And apparently I'm wrong to think the birthday party Hayes and all of his classmates were "invited" to was weird. I found out that these school parties happen all the time. So, I stand corrected...and very confused. Whatever, people!

Throwback

...for all you 80's babies...reminisce and enjoy!

What the…? Part Duh

FYI: The poorly planned party from my previous post turned out to be one of the most well-planned I have ever seen, so I stand corrected. Although I won’t take it back that it was altogether a very weird idea.

There was an invitation sent to all classmates, even though the party was taking place at school during school hours. So by default, everyone would attend. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the fun in classmates acknowledging birthdays. But holding a full-blown party complete with balloons, family members taking photos, a piñata, and don’t forget the cake, during regular classroom time is weird.

And what’s weirder is that when I picked up Hayes from school, I noticed that some kids had come to school with gifts. I should also mention that most of the kids were wearing the suggested costume. So my small rebellion turned out to be nearly everyone’s rebellion. It’s good to know I’m not crazy for ignoring the instructions but yo!... What kind of party is this? Am I crazy for assuming that one of the reasons for the formal invitation was so that people would show up with gifts? Scandalous.

What the...?

So, here’s a story:

Hayes was invited to a school birthday party for a classmate. The party is being held at school during school hours. {You may already be thinking what I was thinking: Why the invite? Well, there’s more}.

The invitation, sent home Friday, also announced that each child should come to school on Monday dressed in his best pirate costume. Yikes! A costume and a stipulation that it be the best. Can I scream now? YO! It’s March—not Halloween costume season. Am I crazy to assume that I’m supposed to get all artsy-craftsy and actually make something? And are they crazy to assume that I’m really going to get all artsy-craftsy and actually make something? Because there’s just no way last-minute-artsy-craftsy is happening around here. Ever.

I do feel kind of bad that Hayes may be the only kid not dressed for the occasion—and with no better excuse than that I refuse to participate in poor party planning. But I can only hope that all the other parents who read the invite will join me in my small rebellion.

Kick Pick: March

There is so much to think about in a day (i.e. how many times you can hit snooze before you're officially late, who to vote for, what's for breakfast, where's lunch, who can you get to buy dinner, how'd that smudge get on your pants, et cetera, et cetera). I know somewhere on that never-ending string of ramblings is a nagging thought about what Hayes is wearing these days. Well, put your mind at ease. He's wearing a classic this season.

Tee-hee!

I just read a NY Magazine article about a toy manufacturer at last week's Toy Fair. If you enjoy laughing at people as much as I do, click here.

Finally...

Happy Snow Day!...from the backyard.

Mmmm!...

Ahhh... Pregnancy and parenthood. The best times to pamper yourself. A little cosseting is necessary if you want to get your body back into any kind of respectable condition after being on loan for nine months. And if baby has been here for a while, relaxation and self-indulgence can literally save your sanity.

Since chocolate is finally getting the good attention it deserves, here's a simple recipe a friend passed onto me. It's originally from Moosewood Restaurant. You'll actually have time to make this cake since it only takes 6 minutes to prepare and 30 minutes to bake. And if you have a toddler, you'll both have fun with the recipe because the vinegar has a really cool reaction with all the other ingredients.

I usually skip the glaze and just eat it as a big, and unexpectedly light, mass of chocolate yumminess straight from the pan--not because I don't know the proper way to slice and eat cake, but because it's actually supposed to be eaten that way. If you're looking to make something more elegant, you can use parchment paper, oil and flour like a real chef.

Serves 8
Preparation time for cake: 6 minutes
Baking time: 30 minutes
Preparation time for glaze: 15 minutes
Chilling time (if using glaze) 30 minutes
Equipment: 9-inch round or 8-inch square cake pan, 2-cup measuring cup, double boiler

Cake Ingredients
1 ½ cups unbleached white flour
⅓ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
½ cup vegetable oil
1 cup cold water or coffee
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons cider vinegar

Chocolate Glaze
½ pound semi-sweet chocolate
¾ cup hot water
½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 375º.

Sift together the flour, cocoa, soda, salt, and sugar directly into the cake pan. In the measuring cup, measure and mix together the oil, cold water or coffee, and vanilla. Pour the liquid ingredients into the baking pan and mix the batter with a fork or a small whisk. When the batter is smooth, add the vinegar and stir quickly. There will be pale swirls in the batter as the baking soda and vinegar react. Stir just until the vinegar is evenly distributed throughout the batter.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes and set aside to cool.

To make the optional glaze, melt the chocolate in a double boiler, microwave oven, or reset the oven to 300º and melt the chocolate in the oven for about 15 minutes in a small ovenproof bowl or heavy skillet. Stir the hot water and vanilla into the melted chocolate until smooth. Spoon the glaze over the cooled cake. Refrigerate the glazed cake for at least 30 minutes before serving.

Enjoy!

Not a Mommy

Organizing, multi-tasking, creative thinking, self-motivation, dedication, endless overtime,... And the list goes on. Trust what I say; being a parent is a job. And the rewards are plenty, but not guaranteed.

So, yesterday when a woman--and fellow mommy--nearly fainted from surprise when she found out that I am actually a mom, I considered it the biggest compliment.

"I just never pictured you in that role," were her exact words.

Cool. Because neither have I.

Red Fish, Dead Fish

Hayes and I recently acquired a fish. Since we’re vegan, and experience has taught me that fish inevitably die in my care, we have no business with them at all. But it showed up without our consent all pretty and red and educational. So, whatever. Hayes named it Azo.

Well, despite my efforts to avoid it, Azo acquired friends; two small, orange fish that Hayes named Scientist and New Mexico. Again, they showed up without my consent. But I figured everyone needs a friend so… Whatever.

Everything was fine and everyone was getting along swimmingly, so to speak, until it came time to clean the tank. Now, allow me to interject that I was a clean-freak way before having a kid. But now that I share a life with Sir Germ-A-Lot, forget about it. A Clorox doused surface makes me feel more comfortable than a hammock on the beach in the Caribbean. If anything, my prior fish-raising experiences have taught me that tank-cleaning day can be a crucial turning point in a healthy fish's life. They either live through it, or they die slowly afterward.

Poor New Mexico didn’t survive the water change. And Hayes and I suffered through the entire flushing ceremony. A friend joked that I can kill a mouse with hardly a flinch but a dying fish pulls at my heartstrings in the most sentimental, animal-activist kind of way. So, I vowed to do a better job next time. I would try to keep most of the murky water and floating debris in the tank, no matter how much it grossed me out. Afterall, this is supposed to be an educational experience on how to take care of a pet, not Hayes’s introduction to the helplessness of death.

Well, yesterday was tank-cleaning day again. And today I noticed Scientist nose-down in the rocks—exactly the way New Mexico looked hours before the flushing ceremony three weeks ago. Needless to say, I’m sad and bracing myself for another emotional evening.

Thankfully, I already have a plan to get Hayes ready for the event. I’m telling him that we’re vegan. And we have no business owning a fish anyway. So, it’s time to set little Scientist free before he becomes anymore miserable in our care.

…And then we’ll watch Finding Nemo. How’s that for education? I don't really care. I just hope it works.

FAQ

Last night began as simply as most evenings do around here; Hayes and I were pleased to be out for a walk on our way to visit friends. I would spend the better half of the evening being pseudo intellectual and analyzing the behavior of celebrities and various others while Hayes, I’m sure, anticipated the joys of playing with someone else’s toys.

It was on my mind to check my bag for the chocolate I had hoped to pack, and to remind Hayes to play nicely—in a selfish attempt to delay any misunderstanding that would inevitably escalate to a scuffle that would lead to the meltdown signaling the end of what was going to be a relaxing evening commiserating with my friends—when I noticed him looking pensively up at the sky.

Then he asked me why is the sky purple.

I stood there baffled—but noticed that his shoelaces had managed to unravel from their double ties in the seconds it took to walk out the door. It was that quintessential parent moment when you’re thrown a simple question to which there is no simple answer. That moment when you realize you’re rearing a thinking being who’s growing way too fast for you to keep up with. That magic moment when it becomes clear that you are experiencing all of the firsts for the second time around.

Of course, my son is two years old. So I knew I could get away with an unsophisticated answer. What did I say? I decided to tell him that the sky can appear different at different times throughout the day and it just so happened to look purple that night.

Whatever. Scientific accuracy was not as important as the reminder that tying his shoelaces every other second [and all the other big but small things I do] is something I might very well forget entirely. Because before I know it... well, you know what they say about raising children.

Nips

Somewhere in the nooks and crannies of my Brooklyn apartment is a post-it I can remember writing Hakurei turnips on because I read an article claiming they are as sweet and crunchy as apples. Turnips sounded like just the kind of vegetable I want Hayes to get used to finding in his school lunch box every now and then. So I thought to grab a few on my next grocery store visit.

But I recently found myself at the store without my post-it. I carefully read each sign hoping one of the vegetable names would jog my failing memory. And I nearly left with a bunch of Brussels sprouts because I remembered the same article mentioned those are good glazed with maple syrup. I decided to take on one wild and crazy experiment at a time and grabbed a bag of pre-packaged parsnips because something about the name sounded familiar.

So today, when I reached into my vegetable bin, I happened to glance at the word PARSNIPS printed in big, red capital letters across the bag. Suddenly, the post-it came to mind. I recalled the words as clearly as I had written them. And they read turnips. Not parsnips. Aha! It was the second syllable that sounded so familiar.

I immediately googled parsnips because, until then, the bag of pale root vegetables waiting to be opened was a source of salvation that would keep my fastidious toddler from turning into a macaroni noodle, since pasta is the only meal Hayes eats without a fuss. I thought the parsnips were vegetables that would taste like sweet, crisp apples. No, because they're parsnips. And, truth be told, I didn’t even know what a parsnip was.

Well, I found out parsnips are like carrots—which is not helpful considering Hayes has a love/hate relationship with carrots; he loves them and wants them when his friends are enjoying them but hates them and will have nothing to do with them the rest of the time. However, I tossed them into a stir-fry tonight and they surprisingly made their way to Hayes’s belly without too much of a struggle.

So maybe there’s hope for the occasional root vegetable around here afterall. And as for my memory,... Well, that's another story.

NY Kids Club

Global warming is frightening, sad…and makes for a very comfortable winter. So go outside and play all you can before the snow comes, the city hibernates and you resort to entertaining your kid with the same lame arts and crafts activities that once amused you as a child.

Or skip the cabin fever induced melt down and add one more thing to your schedule: Check out NY Kids Club.




They have three NYC locations and one arriving this spring in BK.

Hayes and I were recently introduced to the Amsterdam Avenue location. It was merely an introduction—so I don’t have a good sense of what the classes are really like. But I did notice the following:

A large, enclosed play area with the carpeted, padded, springy floor I've always wanted for my daredevil child.

Lots of equipment [mostly gymnastics stuff].

A rock climbing wall. [Very cool]!

And a staff that speaks to kids in that high-pitched I’m-talking-to-a-iddle-biddy-baaaaby sing-songy way that I find extremely annoying. Though they were clearly from some strange baby planet, they were knowledgeable, attentive and friendly--which, I suppose, is what really matters.

We'll definitely be back before spring.

Love Me (Not)

I have a love/hate relationship with machines: I love them for all the cool things they do. And I hate them when they don't do all the cool things they should--like turn on, for instance.

Recently, my precious mac has been unkind, temperamental and downright disobedient to me. So I sent it away to get it's head checked. Now we're back!

Sorry for the delay.

Mama Von D?

I could see Kat Von D's mom potential months ago when my LA Ink obsession began. {See the August post if you don't believe me}. So now that she's expecting--according to comments on her MySpace message board--I'm feeling real psychic.

Just thought I'd brag. Oh yeah, and I guess a congratulations is in order.

Mom About Town: Tanya Fly

Let’s face it; unless you’re doing it all wrong, getting a total body workout is usually no fun—mostly because it’s hard and accompanied by deep burning sensations. I, for one, always want the burning to end so that I can change back into my skinny jeans, kick up my feet and enjoy some ice cream. You know, just to speed the cool-down process along. But since that would be counterproductive, I sweat it out and settle for a cold bottle of water instead.

But when I heard about an exercise class someone described to me as ‘getting a workout while watching The View,’ I had to try it for myself. And since I can admit to stealing some time every now and then to be entertained by Barbara and the gang, I had a feeling I might even enjoy myself.

And I did. I sweated and burned and laughed…a lot. And later I found out that Tanya Fly, creator of the Nu Method, is a mom, and that’s what makes all the difference. Tanya helps women through transitions using what she has learned as a mother to provide a total body workout tailored to their physical and emotional needs, especially those of new moms.

The best part is that time with Tanya gets results. After only three weeks of working out, I got a butt compliment. And it was from a woman, so the fact that I have a nice butt is official. So I decided to get to the bottom of this amazing Nu Method-thing. (No pun intended). And like for every cool NYC mom I meet, I had a few questions for Tanya.

What inspired you to start doing what you do?
My marriage ended and I was already in the fitness industry, but the dream had died. I had to figure out how to dream a new dream. So I stopped dreaming about us and started dreaming about me—not just for myself, but also for my boys. And that manifested itself as the Nu Method.

The Nu Method is choosing something new knowing that you have the choice to be new. Under the guise of fitness, my ultimate goal is health and the well being of the soul.

Tanya explained that her biggest fear was becoming a single mother. But through personal fulfillment, self-motivation and finding balance—the tenants of the Nu Method—she has transformed herself into an independent woman for her sons, eight-year-old Jadun and five-year-old Hunter.

What’s the most satisfying thing about the work that you do?
When I can see that people feel good about where they are in the class.

What’s the best advice anyone has ever given you about being a mother?
I don’t know if anyone ever said this to me but I think it’s the best advice there is: Try to be who you really are as a mother so your kids can know you, not only as a mother but as a woman. I think kids appreciate that.

The thing I regret the most about my relationship with my mother is that I didn’t know her as a woman. All that sacrificing of self to “benefit the child,” doesn’t.

What’s the worst advice anyone has ever given you about being a mother?
The opposite of what I just said. Don’t allow yourself to die in the process. I can’t stand to see that mother. Motherhood should be an extension of what you are—not all of what you are.

Amen! You’d think she’s been reading my blog. Actually, she has her own blog that expresses personal fulfillment very well.

What is your favorite bedtime story?
We’ve graduated from reading bedtime stories to keeping journals because I just wanted to plug in more. We talk in the journal. It’s been working really well.

What is your favorite children’s song to sing?
Lost Ones by Lauren Hill. The world is influencing them.

What do you think is the most overrated kid’s toy?
Any and all tech-TV games. Don’t get me wrong—I have them and we just got a Wii. But at least with the Wii they have to move.

Where is your favorite place to eat with your kids?
We don’t go out much, so when we do, we end up having chicken nuggets from McDonald’s. No, they’re not healthy but it’s what they like.

Moms never cease to amaze me. Let’s appreciate the irony here. Tanya, who has worked in the fitness industry for 10 years, is the first to admit she doesn’t always choose the healthiest meal option. She has that extraordinary mom ability to focus on things bigger than herself, and decides that sometimes the chicken nuggets are good enough because they’re a quick source of protein that make the kids happy.

What’s the one thing your children do that makes you cringe?
When they tell me they can’t (do something). I hate hearing them limit themselves.

How would you describe your parenting style?
I don’t think I have one particular style. I just try to give them an idea of what is expected and try to create stability where there’s instability.

If you were invisible for one day, who would you spy on?
Oprah Winfrey. Absolutely.

Big O is two for two.

Name one NYC mom you would nominate to be interviewed by me?
Ann Holloway.

Ann is a writer from one of Tanya’s classes. And I hear she’s amazing.

Mom About Town: Jenn Cattaui

I’ve decided to do something different for the holidays and offer more than my usual self-absorbed banter (which I still deliver with just as much finesse as I did before I had a kid, thank you very much). I’m setting out to profile a new generation of moms doing cool things in NYC. I hope you enjoy getting to know me and some other mommies this way.

Allow me to take a moment to admit that I’m a novice. However, despite my virgin interviewing skills, I aimed high and contacted my first choice—NYC cool mom and owner of Babesta, Jenn Cattaui. When she replied that she would be delighted, I was happy to have secured my dream guinea pig…ahem, I mean, my first interview.

Mother to soon-to-be-four-year-old Amina and 16 month-old Camille, Jenn’s a Jersey girl who graduated from law school, moved to New York, Paris, then back to New York to take a good job that would allow her to vacation with the best of us—until September 11th changed her perspective. With the help of her husband Aslan, she turned her shopping side gig into something lucrative. Now it’s her business to present the baddest children’s clothes to the public—and by bad I mean the freshest—and by fresh I mean… Well, you know what I mean.

When I ask Jenn what the best thing is about what she does, she replies that it is seeing the customers’ reaction to the clothes and hearing them say they’ve never seen anything like her store before. Then there’s the story of the customer who came looking for the perfect ensemble for her son’s recent portrait sitting. She decided on something by Ed Hardy, the famed tattoo artist design team, and was so pleased with her purchase that she sent a photo back to the store of her son donning the gear rock star style. The framed portrait now graces the walls of the trendy Tribeca store that has Jenn convinced she could stay in New York forever.

And when I ask her about her most prized possession and she mentions a sculpture and plate combination designed by Takashi Murakami and Vik Muniz that she found at a consignment shop in Princeton, I had a feeling I was going to need more than the twenty minutes I had arranged with her. So I delved into asking her the same questions I ask every NYC cool mom.

What’s the best advice anyone has ever given you about being a mother?
Take it as it comes.

What’s the worst advice anyone has ever given you about being a mother?
Put butter on burns. I think I got it from my mother who got it from her mother. It doesn’t work. It makes it feel worse…and get shiny.

What’s your favorite bedtime story?
From Amina’s collection: What Cats Want for Christmas by Kandy Radzinski, Olivia…and the Missing Toy and Olivia Saves the Circus by Ian Falconer, and The Octonauts by Meomi. From Camille’s collection: Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown and The Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton.

What is your favorite children’s song to sing?
You mean besides Party in My Tummy? Little Boxes, the theme song to Weeds.

What parents everywhere can agree on is that Yo! Gabba Gabba’s frenzied kid’s show song is like a manic acid trip (not that many of us would admit to knowing about such things). So I decide that Jenn is just being facetious—until she mentions that she often plays the song in the store. And then I decide that she’s really good at what she does.

What do you think is the most overrated kid’s toy?
Amina really wanted Aqua Dots. Unfortunately, they contained the date rape drug. So they were recalled.

Perhaps since my son is only two, I didn’t know what an Aqua Dot was. But I made a note to add ‘stay updated on all toy recalls’ to the never-ending mommy to-do list.

What’s your favorite place to eat with your kids?
Their uncle’s house. He cooks and he lives three doors down. And The Soda Shop because with two kids, I look for a different kind of restaurant: good food and kid-friendly. It’s an old-fashioned place with nice owners. The kind of place that looks down on cell phones.

There’s a kind-of-place that looks down on cell phones in this city? I make a note to check out the magic time machine immediately.

Where’s your favorite place to travel to with your kids?
When we had Amina, we didn’t change our lifestyle at all. We vacationed in Switzerland, where Aslan is from. But having two completely changes things. It’s much harder. So we’re closer to home now.

Where is your favorite place to play and have fun with your kids?
Hardly a day goes by that we don’t go to the park. The girls like to spend time with my parent’s dog. They want what they can’t have. And anywhere there’s water. Amina’s a water bug and I think Camille will be the same way.

By the way, Jenn is referring to Washington Market Park in Tribeca—a park I happily trooped to the city for several times this summer. The cleverly designed, tactile-rich playground provides hours of age-appropriate fun for the toddler set. And Jenn is already the happy owner of Mr. Brown, Little Blue and Spike, her three cats—which is why the girls cannot have a dog. (She even sponsors a few fowl a year through an animal awareness league in Jersey).

How would you describe your parenting style?
I don’t know if I’m more relaxed or type A. I go between the two extremes.

If you were invisible for one day, who would you spy on?
Salman Rushdie. But I would have to be visible because I don’t know what might be going on. And Oprah. I’d like to see what she’s up to.

Name one NYC mom you would nominate to be interviewed by me?
Jessica Seinfeld.

Is it some cruel joke that she thinks I could interview Jessica Seinfeld? Of course not. That’s just Jenn being good at what she does.

Two hours after walking into Babesta, I walked out with a cramp in my hand but very excited to head around the corner to The Soda Shop for a Cherry Lime Rickey, and off to an electronics store to price a reliable tape recorder.

Because now I know.

Mini Minimalist

Kooky. Stylish. $60 by Oeuf. Totally impractical.

Throwback

Let the reminiscing begin...