Category Archives: parenting

Missoni for Target Why are you Toying with My Emotions?

Don't be jealous, but I have the dresses at far left and far right. OK, be jealous if you must.

This goes out to all my fashionistas, with or without the budget to buy what they crave.

Look, we can’t all be Suri – playing in our $100,000,000 tree houses while waiting for our own “personal shopper” to come home bearing the hippest of clothes without ever having blinked at, or even looked at the price tag.

So this is what $100grand gets you in the treehouse real estate market.

 

But any good fashionista knows how to get what she desires, whether she can afford it or not.  She knows how to shop a sale, how to shop an outlet, how to shop online and when to shop a low priced chain.  Plus it never hurts to have friends in the industry from one’s days as a stylist.

Like a great detective, a good shopper always gets her dress.  But how is one to take advantage of a designer who decides to do what we all did in college and, slum it for a week or two, if she can’t get the goods in her cart?  Virtual or otherwise?

I know, I’m supposed to love being an American because of terms like “laissez faire,” “capitalism” and “free enterprise,” but damn you eBayers for ruining my ability to buy Missoni at Target!  Like Roseanne Barr singing the national anthem, it’s really unpatriotic of you!

For weeks I have anticipated Missoni’s arrival.  Sure, being bombarded with commercials, print campaigns, and an enviable fashion week show made my desire stronger.  Yes I know, another American perk – ad space.  Sure, I wanted the bike and the pillows, maybe a throw or two, that cute little espresso cup set with multiple patterns and a

I did get one of these, but who has a dinner party for 5? Hello?

stand for your countertop, 

 

and let’s not forget the clothes.  Oh, the clothes. Continue reading →

Our Babysitter May be in a Cult, but at Least She’s Available Saturday Night

Sunday morning my son informed me of that our new babysitter is Pescatarian.

“You mean Presbyterian?”

“No Pesc,” Jake corrected

“Well, it’s actually Presbyterian,” I said trying to right his wrong.  Unlike when he was little and I found total amusement in his mispronunciation of words.  So much so, that I would repeat them back to him in the wrong way that he would say them.  Do you wanna look at your self in the “mirriour,” or type on Mommy’s “computue?”  Look, for nearly a decade I referred to grapes a “bops”

“Mom you’re wrong, she said Pesc,” he insisted

“Ok Jake, Pescatarian.”  Yep, now I just give in out of “fustration,” I mean frustration.  Sorry, old habits die hard.

“How do you know that she’s Pescatarian, did you ask?”  I questioned uncomfortable with the idea of him asking her about religion.

“No, I didn’t ask, she told me.”

“Was she asking YOU?” I questioned, now worried that she was also having him read pamphlets or asking for a donation or that Pescatarianism is some cult off shoot.  (Religion seems like a heavy discussion to have with a 9 year old unprovoked.)

“She was wearing a shirt that said Vegetarian,” he said, as if that were enough information to answer my question.

“Jake that doesn’t help me here.  How does her Vegetarian shirt relate to the story?”

“Well, I asked if she was a vegetarian and she said no, I’m a Pescatarian.

“Presb”

“Pesc”

“That doesn’t make sense Jake, Vegetarianism is not a religion.  I don’t know much about this Pescatarianism, but I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive.”

“Could a vegetarian eat a pescatarian?”

Wow that was an unexpected turn in the conversation, I bet you didn’t see that coming either… and you thought my cult theory was soooo off base.

“Umm, no. Because Pescatarians, are still meat… I would assume.”  I hate to give out incorrect information.

At this point I was slightly concerned about the origin of his question, “Did she happen to tell you she was a cannibal?”

“No,” he responded as if that was a normal thing to ask.

“Did she look at any of your babyfat while licking her lips, tying a napkin around her neck or sharpening cutlery?”

“No.”

“Well that’s good.”

I think that conversation went well.

PS- here’s a picture of our new sitter, Lilly.  She was teaching drums at a local Music school.  She seems nice enough, right?  Best of all, she’s available Saturday nights.

A good Saturday night babysitter is hard to find

 

In an unexpected turn of events a reader let me know that a Pescatarian is a vegetarian who includes fish in their diet.  Umm, Nevermind.

Conversations with Produce | How to Handle Ornery Oranges

On my way back from a recent trip to Whole Foods, I was in my car thinking about my highly inflated purchases, and wondering how much of my food’s airfare I had paid for. My grapes were imported from from Chile, my oranges from South Africa, and my avocado from Argentina.

It dawned on me that my fruit is worldlier than I am!  So, I thought we could kill some time while stuck in traffic by discussing travel, good hotels, and sightseeing.

The grapes were extremely friendly. Well, they were seedless, so what would you expect? They went on to warn me about their country. “Ay dios mio, jou don want to go to Chile. It may mean cold en Ingles, but esta muy caliente . Also, jou should remember to wash us bueno. We may be organic, but jou have no idea how much bug poop jour eating.”

“Wow that was overly informational Grapes, I’m glad we spoke.”

The oranges were not so pleasant. One cantankerous orange spoke from my biodegradable sack made of recycled hemp or some such product and  said, “You call yourself a conservationist!?”

“What do you mean?”

“You live in Florida and you just bought oranges from South Africa! How do you sleep at night?”

“So, you’re a ‘Greenie’” I should have guessed, you being organic and all. Well, I will have you know whenever I see an empty plastic bottle I throw it in my SUV and drive 3 miles out of the way to take it to a collection site. You can’t say I don’t do my share.”

“Yeah? And I bet you leave your car running while you drop it off.”

“Well, of course I do, it’s super hot in Florida. Or, as your bag mates would say, muy caliente.”

“Waster!”

“Orange”

I know, not so creative, but it’s hard to think of a good comeback to fruit.

I continued, “It appears the history of unrest in your country has caused you to become bitter. In addition, I don’t appreciate your tone, Orange. Sheesh, I was just trying to make polite conversation. That is the last time I talk to produce!”

Later that day, I got my revenge on that sour orange. First, I sliced him in half, and then I squeezed him to a pulp. Next, I peeled off his skin and ate his carcass.  I made his friends watch, and then set them free, so they could send a message to other sour citrus.  (What, it worked for Keyser Söze)

Between this post and “Camp Phone Calls Could End my Marriage,” I feel I may be ordered into anger management.

By day I’m a lifestyle expert, by night I write false facts on Wikipedia.  The blog is gaining steam, so if you like it please take a sec to share it and check out the right side for RSS, bookmark, email, and newsletter sign-ups.  Sooo appreciated, if I can grow this thing I can stop screwing up kid’s reports.

xo

-Jenny From the Blog

 

Everyone Farts: Even Moms

I live in a house of extremely competitive people.  We have family races to bed and guitar hero rock-offs complete with behind the head Hendrix style antics.  My son at 5 was using phrases like, “I’m gonna crush you” and “you just got schooled.”

The latest thing in my house is family superlatives.  You know like, “Most likely to make their bed” or “Best looking in a Barbie wig,” (thankfully my daughter won that one).  My son is doling out the titles and my little girl wants in on the good ones.  Each day she asks me to think of things she can be the best at, because Jake already has throwing, catching, guitar hero, whistling, streaking and tying his shoes.

So, I gave her “Noise Making” and “Underwear Putting On.”  Listen, this has been going on for a week or two, we’re well past “Most Spirited,” and “Best Smile” I’m running out of accolades… I’ve even managed to assign “Biggest Flirt.”

Last night at dinner, while giving themselves some big ones like “Artistic Ability,” “Most likely to be President,” and “Best Imagination,” I hear, “Hey Mommy do you know what you’re the best at?”

Finally, I’m in. “What?” I replied excitedly.  “Is it best dressed?”
“Nope.”
“Best Cook?”
Pause, small snicker… “Nope.”
“Funniest?”
No pause, big snicker as if to say ‘As if’… “Nuh-uh”
“Singing, accents…laundry?” at this point I’ll take anything.

Ryan: Farting
Anything but that.
Jake:  No Daddy wins “Best Farter.”
Ryan:  No Mommy doe s.

Am I really listening to this debate? Continue reading →

When Date Night Turns into a Seinfeld Episode

Certain names have been misspelled to avoid search engines.  I have faith you’ll know who I mean.

Ever have one of those nights that’s more like a Seinfeld Episode… Be warned: This is what can happen when facial hair goes terribly terribly wrong!

Now, I may be generalizing, but Atlanta seems to be a hotbed for outdated facial hair.  While on a recent trip to the ATL, my hubby and I found ourselves in a lovely upscale restaurant called Aria.  We were struck by our waiter’s very pronounced handlebar mustache (Please pronounce Moose-tashe for the proper feel) and pointed chin puff, basically the beard of the devil.

Not our ACTUAL waiter

Oh, the irony!

While ogling that for some time, he approached us, “Would you care  for a roll?”  “Oh, G-d did he say can I have your eternal soul?”  I asked my husband before answering.
After a few references to the “Joker’s Wild,” my husband noticed that seated at a ledge across from us was a man with a toothbrush mustache.

You may think you are unfamiliar with the toothbrush variation,   but it was seen on Charlie Chaplin, Hardy of Laurel and Hardy,

 

 

 

 

oh yeah and this guy:

I’d venture to say that the only mustache rarer and more disconcerting than the devil is what’s also known as the H1tler. In fact, I’d wager a bet that few people have rocked the H1tler since Adolph himself performed mass genocide on 14 million individuals.  Distressingly, this person not only donned the H1tler; he bore an uncanny resemblance to him, which made me that much more uncomfortable.  As a Jew in the South, no less, this guy actually sent a shiver down my spine.  Not unlike seeing a swast1ka on your neighbor’s replica WWII German war plane (which happened: see article here for that doozy).

No matter how handsome you look in a H1tler, I would think that after the war, it’s pretty much considered a fashion faux pas for anyone wanting to avoid public stoning.  I wondered if this gentleman was at our restaurant to visit his old friend, our waiter… AKA Beelzebub.

The man with the H1tler and his wife were out with another couple.  All I could think was, what if the couples hadn’t seen each other in a while or maybe he was the husband coworker?  How would one react if they found themselves at dinner with a man who looked like he’d be hired to make balloon swast1kas for a white supremist’s birthday party?

I looked at Mark as he was discretely pretending to text while taking a picture with my iPhone.  “Honey, this is an episode of Seinfeld.  In this scene George would be going on a double date with his new girlfriend’s sister and brother-in-law.”

Girlfriend:  George this is my brother-in-law Jan, Jan this is George Costanza, the guy I was telling you about.

George:  (After taking in the view and shuddering.)  Why would you be telling him about me?

Girlfriend:  Jan is into name genealogy, I thought he would want to look up Costanza I also gave him Seinfeld.

George:  Oh, so you’re into names and you found Costanza and Seinfeld interesting?

Jan:  mmm yes, interesting names, what Russian and Polish, no?

George:  Ah, you know I’m not really sure.  We never kept in touch with our ancestors… their boat sank.  Umm, Jan is also an interesting name?

Jan: Yes, it’s origin is Deutschland.

George:  Of course, If you excuse me, I’m just gonna make a trip, I gotta…

Jan:  Wait, I gotta hit the head myself.

Jan would then get up and goose step his way over to the bathroom.  George would look back at the girlfriend and return her cheerful smile with a forced one of his own and then run off.

Cut to:

Girlfriend: (to Sister) I see  Jan‘s gout is acting up again.

Sister:  Oh, He’s having a terrible flare up.  Between the gout and the arthritis he’s locked at the elbows and the knees.  You should have seen him trying to shave this evening.  I didn’t have the heart to say anything.

Girlfriend:  Poor guy.   I know how he hates the scar from his cleft pallet.

Cut to:

George:  (at the pay phone calling Jerry) Jerry, I’m at dinner with H1tler, H1TLER I TELL YA.

Jerry:  What are you talking about?

George:  Ingrid’s brother-in-law is a reincarnation of the man… he just did the deathmarch back to the table.  I’m telling you he’s looking up the origin of our names.  I think this is a set up, they’re in cahoots, they wanna exterminate me and if they get me you’re next, SEINFELD.

Jerry:  You gotta get outta their.

Of course it would go on from there, the usual… the brother-in-law would make a few off color remarks and motions alluding to his doppelganger, finally ending by heiling the waiter for the check. (Arthritis, remember?) In a side story, an orthodox Rabbi friend of Kramer’s who accused George and Jerry of being bad Jews would be seated across the restaurant taking the whole thing in to include in his next sermon.

Some couples have a romantic night at a nice restaurant.  We simply make fun of the staff and patrons.

PS By day I’m a lifestyle expert, by night I’m a do manscaping- just kidding – I do this blog.  It’s gaining steam, so if you like it please take a sec to share it and check out the right side for RSS, bookmark, email, and newsletter sign-ups.  Sooo appreciated, if I can grow this thing I can stop shaving mens’ private parts, I mean, oh forget it.  JUST SIGN UP!

xo

-Jenny From the Blog

The Day My Son’s Ladybug Ran Away | Best of Jenny From the Blog

ladybug–Dealing with a lost pet can be extremely daunting… even if it’s a ladybug.

I can still hear the faint murmurs of my son Jake’s 40-minute meltdown when his pet ladybug, “Lady,” flew away. We kidnapped this 4 year old (or 4 day old bug – whatever the spot things mean), at the top of Mount Aspen. Jake loved her, cared for her, nurtured her, taught her to ride a bike, and started a 529 plan in her name. About a quarter of the way down the mountain, Lady flew to the ceiling of our gondola and made a mad dash for freedom.

Jake jumped out of his seat and bounced towards the door. This caused the gondola to start swinging. According to the warning sign that pictured a man falling out of the gondola to his unexpected demise, wild swinging was strictly forbidden. “Jake, you can’t jump around. Do you see what happened to the unfortunate man on the sign?”

This is seriously the picture!! What???

Jake continued searching, intensely focused on the whereabouts of Lady. “Hey, do you guys hear her? I can hear her. Do you hear her?” he said desperately, like someone who could put a straight jacket to good use. Continue reading →

Camp Phone Calls Could End my Marriage

Who knew the highly anticipated camp calls would be such a blow to my relationship? (BTW – I’m not always this overbearing, but when my baby is 1000 miles away for a month and I get 10 minutes to talk to him… it’s ON….)

Okay, it’s camp time and everyone is getting their calls from the kids.  What I’m finding is that I want to strangle my husband during and after each call.  The crazy thing is, I’m apparently not alone.

Look, we moms are ready.  We’ve stayed up until the wee hours waiting for the pictures to download and we’ve studied them.   We know what our kids have done each day and whether they look like they’ve made friends or they’re feeling left out.  We know whether they’re arms are around a friend or they’re sitting uncomfortably next to someone with their hands in their lap. 

We can tell every detail and our minds are racing to find out the truths behind the images and we want to hear their sweet little voices.  We also know that what we have to say is way more important than what our hubbies have to say and we let them talk simply because well:

DONOR, Ahem, Father

Me:  “Jake, your hike looked insane yesterday.  Was it fun?  How cold was the water?  Were the rocks slippery?  Are you wearing your sunblock?  Your headgear?  Do you love the rock wall?  How long is the zip line?  Who’s the other boy with braces?  Is he your best friend?  Is anyone mean?  Are the counselors nice?  What are you eating?  How big is the zipline?  Was your camp cooler looking than the one you played baseball against on Tuesday?”

Sure, I spouted off a lot of questions… there’s a lot to ask and only 10 minutes to talk.  After he gave me a one or two word response to each, I moved on to the next.  I looked over to see the frustration in Mark’s eyes.  A couple of times he started to butt in with an “ummm, Hey Jake, do you umm” and I bowled right over him with my inquisition.  Then he looked at me sideways and I whispered, in that angry whisper that would be a yell if you could speak louder, and say “What?  Have your questions ready.”

Mark:  Jake, have you gotten all my letters?

Jake:  Yep

Mark: Which ones?

Jake:  Ummmm, Well the one about my new team when I get home, and ummm, I don’t know, I don’t remember them all.

Is he f-ing kidding me?  I sit on hold for Verizon longer than the time I have allotted to talk here, and my husband wants Jake to rattle off about letters???  This is not an acceptable caliber of conversation!  And I’m am the conversation rater, I’ll have you know.

Mark:  Did you get the one where I bowled a 300?

Jake:  Oh, yeah.  That was awesome.  Did that really happen?

Okay readers, I have to interject here.  You’re thinking this is high enough caliber right?  Well, I mean how often does someone who is not a pro, actually bowl a 300?  What I should share is that he’s not so much talking about this:

as he is talking about this:

Yep, I’m listening to my husband waste time talking about Wii f-ing sports!

So, I interrupted again…. “How was your camp-out?  Were you scared?  Did you sleep through the night?  What song did you do in the lip-sync; you looked like Eminem.”

Again, Mark gave me the look, but this time he put the phone by his side in annoyance.

So, again I did the whisper/yell: “You are so selfish, you don’t want to hear him talk ‘cuz I’m asking all the questions?”

Me:   Do you have a girlfriend?  Do you like the go carts?

Mark:  How many go carts are there?

Did he just ask that question?  I told him last week there are 2.  TWO Freakin’ go carts.  Great, now he’s wasting my time with shit he already knows.  Tic, Toc, baby.

Mark then went on to rattle off the line up for his travel baseball team this season and tell him about the bat he just ordered…

Mark: Guess which bat I got you?

Jake: The Louisville Vertex?

Mark: noooo

Jake: the new Worth?

Mark: noooo

Jake: Nike Aero?

Mark: noooo, I’ll give you a hint, it’s made by Easton.

Is this happening?  Does anyone feel my pain here?

Apparently, you do… I had a friend tell me that she just took the phone out of her husband’s hand when she felt he was done. Two minutes she gave him and then she plucked it right away from his eager ear. They didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the night.

Another said she arranged all calls while hubby was at work.

A third said Her husband’s only question was, “Is your bed comfortable?”

“You gave him one question and that’s all he could come up with?” I asked.

“No, I would have given him more but he lost his privileges based on his first.”

And yet another told me she can’t deal with the calls because her hubby’s voice changes. “It gets all high like he’s talking to a dog– Hi Lindseeeeeeey, how are your Friennnnds? Are you, woushey woo having fun? Hmmm? Huh?”

Tell that man to "HEAL"


In the end, I realized that we moms want OUR time to be all ours. Even if the hub is right (and he was).  All my babe wanted to do was hear us and all I wanted to do was get answers to every thought and query I’ve stored in my head from the minute he set foot on the plane.

Luckily for my hubby the calls are infrequent enough that our marriage will withstand these bumps in the road. Next year, I’m just gonna tell him they did away with calls altogether due to the rise in the divorce rate.

Take a sec to check out some of the humor that any parent can relate to:  The Day My Son’s Ladybug Ran Away – who knew saying goodbye to an insect would be so hard?  or  I May Have Run Over an Elderly Person While Driving Carpool.  OH, ENTER TO WIN a robotic floor cleaner and a bag of goodies from iVillage’s “Stuff We Love” leave a comment here to sign up.

 

– JENNY FROM THE BLOG

 

What’s Hot for 2011-2012 School Year

Tips for Back to School Shopping,  What’s hip for 2011-2012 and where to get it on a budget.

I know, it’s still 10,000 degrees and the kids are way more exited about slip and slides than sliding scales, but it’s back to school time. Part of me wants to give a woof woof a la Arsenio Hall and the other part realizes, that simply referring to the dog pound makes me seem really old and shockingly uncool.

He was doin the "fist pump" long before the Situation

 

So let’s just go with a pound don’t forget to explode it… cuz that’s cool.

Now, the question is, How do I get the kids equipped, organized and on trend… on a budget and on the bus? Look, mine are at each other’s throats. Frankly, no school in the animal kingdom maybe the reason some eat their young. Well, except fish… they have school. But when was the last time you heard about fish eating their young? Hmm? I think I’ve made my point. Continue reading →

Why Can’t Moms Let Boys be Boys | Jenny From the Blog for Momtourage

What if he doesn’t catch that kid!???

I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time with the rough-housing and horseplay that comes along with having a son. Okay, those are totally 50’s terms, yet I can’t think of a better way to say it.

Girls definitely give us moms a huge mental workout. Mine came into this world with an attitude; my closest friend swears she gave her the evil eye on day one. Those little lasses are often cranky and snippy. They can get catty, jealous and yes, they even fight over boys before they’re out of Pull-Ups.

Oh, she will get her way!

 

But boys are a different breed. Sometimes they can be so mushy and sensitive, like little Prince Charmings, and other times they’re more like Neanderthals. While my little girl is busily primping in her room, trying on outfit number seven, and attempting to apply eye shadow, my son is out front flying across the yard with reckless abandon, as he tackles a neighbor’s son in a “friendly” game of “touch” football.

My neighbor, who has two sons and a brother, looks on half-heartedly as she files a chipped nail. I, on the other hand, am on the edge of my seat, well, my patch of grass, ready to hurl myself onto the makeshift field at the first sign of injury. Was that a wince? Was that a double- blink? A groan? A sigh? I’m on it, like a ski patrolman on a toboggan.

How can “neighbor mom” be so calm? Does she not realize that this is bound to end when somebody gets hurt? Could an eye not be poked out here? Continue reading →

No One is Immune to Peek-a-Boo | Jenny From the Blog

Jenny From the Blog goes beyond any beauty pageant hopeful in the question/answer portion and not only strives for World Peace she finds a means to achieve it.  Please, hold your Pulitzers until you’ve read the piece.

Today, I was in a crappy mood.  I walked into Starbucks, as is my routine, with a sluggish gait knowing it would take my half-caf grande, no fat, no foam latte to remotely tackle my morning.  When I entered I realized 22 other people had the same thought and my crappy mood got exponentially worse.  An acquaintance two people ahead of me foolishly tried to make chit chat, which I quickly put a stop to with my terse responses.  Don’t try to talk to me right now lady, I’m pissy and I haven’t had my coffee.

 

Frankly, there should be a rule that no one talk to you in the morning coffee line, because we’re all in the same boat (barely awake and coffee-less.)  Unfortunately, the person in front of me did not get that memo or maybe she did, but she couldn’t read it because she was approximately 1 year old.

She was also being carried by her mother and therefore facing me directly.  The one thing about lines that you can usually count on is that people face front in anticipation of their turn, which means less talk.  Kind of like the way people stare at the doors of the elevator until it’s their floor.

It would be odd to have someone facing you in an elevator… and this was my current situation.

 

 

 

Sure, she was cute.  She had fiery red curls and sweet blue eyes.  But she wouldn’t break me, uh uh.  I was not smiling for anyone and some baby was not about to change that, even if she flashed me her own 4 tiny, little toothed smile.  Then out of nowhere she started laughing this adorable little giggle.  Clearly, she sensed my disdain and was taunting me.

Puhlease Baby, you think you’re soooo cute don’t you?  But not to me, uh uh.  I’m in a bad mood and your precious, I mean dumb little laugh does nothing for me… NOTHING. But this baby was not giving up; she was relentless in her torture.  She cooed and ooed and ahhed, but I would not crack.  It was my will against hers and I would win.  Finally, in defeat she buried her head in her mom’s shoulder.

Ha, Ha Baby, I’m the winner, yes I am… Wait, what’s that?  What’s she doing now? She popped her head back up and put her hands over her eyes, she wasn’t cowering as I had hoped; she was playing peek-a-boo. Nooooo, not peek-a-boo.

She opened her hands to show me her eyes and I clenched my fist ready to weather the storm.  “Peek-a-boo,” escaped from my mouth before I could reel the words back in.  She giggled and next thing you know I had my hands over my own eyes.  Then she giggled, then I giggled, then I smiled like a big pile of mush.  She was working me like a marionette.  Oh, she was smug one… cooeing and flashing her 4 tiny teeth.

My mood had picked up, even before gulping down my latte.  I wasn’t all daggers and evil thoughts, I was rainbows and unicorns.  Don’t judge me for crumbling.
No one and I mean NO ONE is immune to peek-a-boo.

In fact, I think we deal with the unrest in Libya and Egypt by sending cute little babies to the front lines.  What would enemy militia do if a Hummer pulled up and a bunch of babies trained in the art of peek-a-boo waddled out?  Hmmm?  Sure, you’ve probably been asked that before, but have ever given it any real thought?  What if we air dropped babies over enemy lines with their tiny little baby parachutes?  The campaign would be called “Drop Babies, Not Bombs.” Brillaint, right?  Sheesh, why do I have to come up with all the ideas? Gaddafi and Mubarak you better watch your step, chubby legged cooing babies with parachutes will be dropping in when you least expect it.

Okay, I’ll take my Pulitzer now.

For Other Articles I’ve Done on Hybrid Mom or to comment directly at their site: HYBRID MOM

COMMENT QUESTION:  Do You Got Any Better Ideas? and if not could I borrow your baby?

Beer, Cash, and Mix Tapes? – Best Tips for Father’s Day Gift Giving EVER

How miniatures, cash, beer, and spa products can make the dad in your life giddy on Father’s Day.  And who doesn’t like a giddy man?

“It’s a sweater!!!”  Yes, that was the infamous (in-famous) exclamation of the great El Guapo.  See pic below.

El Guapo's banditos knit him a birthday sweater. See how happy he is? (Three Amigos)

And yes, that was some good acting and yet… it’s the exact response I look for from my hubby on Father’s Day and rarely – ok, never get.  I don’t know how to make you men happy.  Well, I know, but I don’t want to go there.  Please, I’m a nice Jewish girl.  I’d never do that kinda stuff… after marriage.

Besides, I prefer the old fashioned way of keeping a spouse happy:  Material Goods.  Unfortunately, you men don’t seem as wowed by a new pair of stilettos or a spa day as we chicks do and that is why you suck to get gifts for and also why we married you.  Oh, the irony.

On the Sunday after next, men all over America will open slender boxes and say, “It’s a tie” yawn.

Why?

Because we don’t know what the hell else to get you.

And we like very much that you’re currently employed.  Also, Because you never tell us what you want.  So, I, Jenny from the Blog, Lifestyle Expert extraordinaire, have compiled a  list of the best gifts for the guy that doesn’t need, want, or ask for anything.

Was $88 Now $49

1.  The wallet full of stuff.  Oh, I truly looooove this one.  Take a look at your guys money holder, if it’s falling apart or has Velcro located anywhere on it, it’s time for a new one.  The best part isn’t the wallet, it’s the thought you put into it.  You need to go to Starbucks, Blockbuster, and Sports Authority or a rounder at your supermarket and pick up gift cards from some of your man’s or your Dad’s favorite places.  The denominations can be small (you will have to get the cards in store if less than $20), but it’s worth the smile on his face.  Oh, and don’t forget to put in pics of the kids or yourself if you are “the kid.”  PS – Cole Hahn outlets are the best.  They are an average of 30%-60% off all the time and they smell like Italy (or at least how I imagine Italy would smell.)

2.  Lot’s of guys like beer, name one who wouldn’t like their own tap?  See, you can’t can you?  The Krupps BeerTender fits on your counter and keeps your beverage at optimal serving temperature.

$80 with a 20% off coupon from BB and Beyond

It features a temperature indicator, signaling when the beer reaches its optimal 37.4° F serving temperature and lasts up to 30 days.  Plus you can remove the tap so the kids can’t access the beverages.  Like the key the liquor cabinet.

If you don’t get a coupon from BB&B like every other day, sign up for their mail online and you will soon receive one.

If you want to make it super thoughtful, get frosty mugs from your hubbies favorite team at Bed Bath and Beyond or if you’re willing to get a dozen you can have his initials or name laser engraved into a mug at DiscountMugs.com for an amazing price.


3.  The Mix Tape for the Millenium.  Remember how much you loved getting a mix tape from your high school beau?  You know, a little Journey, maybe a Chicago tune or two?  Well, now you can give that dope gift to the man you love.  Pick him up an MP3 (I recommend an iTouch) and fill it with songs for him.  Your song plus anything else that feels right and don’t forget to put on a few from the kiddies.  I’m thinking Yeti Stomp by the Backyardigans and let’s not forget C is for Cookie from the Monster himself or if your kids are like mine maybe some Zepplin, Who, and of course Ke$ha for my 6yo.

If your man has an MP3 steal it and add a few and then surprise him with a pair of high tech headphones.

$14 - $20 at Best Buy, depending on sale.

 

$95 from $179 at Best Buy

4.  Everything’s better in mini size, well not everything, but miniatures do make things cuter (get your brain out of the gutter and think Tea Cup poodles). Get the dad in your life a Dopp kit, which is a small toiletry bag that’s used for storing men’s grooming tools for travel. Then get a bunch of mini’s to fill it with, think: comb, brush, deodorant, shaving cream, shampoo, conditioner, scissors, toothbrush, toothpaste, cologne, men’s eye cream, moisturizer and of course a razor and extra blades. It’s a gift every guy LOVVVVVVES.

Great Buy Cabela's leather Dopp Kit on sale for $29

5.   It’s Tee Time baby.  Give the golfer the newest gadgets.  If you don’t know what’s big now, I’ll lay it out for you… I mean fore you.

Taylormade R11 Driver

$399 not crazy for a driver.

Taylormade R11 Driver – This could be the biggest golf product launch of the year. It’s a Golf Digest Hot List Gold Metal Winner, and was selected as Editors Choice for drivers for 2011.


Only R11 can be adjusted in 48 combinations of:

Loft

Increase or decrease launch angle to get more distance

Face Angle
Select and open, closed, or neutral address setting for more distance

Flight Path

Promote A Fade
– Heavier weight in toe, lighter weight in heel for more distance
Promote A Draw
– Lighter weight in toe, heavier weight in heel for more distance
In other words, if you’re confused, go with this club!

$200 with mail in rebate

Garmin Approach® S1, a GPS wristwatch for golf courses with no annual fee.

 

  • Preloaded with over 13,000 courses (and counting), US and Canada
  • Includes par & distance to front, middle, & back of each green (accounting for dog leg distances)
  • Measures last shot distance
  • Odometer provides distance walked on or off the course
  • Watch mode features GPS time & date, alarm and automatic time zone detection
  • Easy to use interface featuring automatic hole transitioning
  • Waterproof design with high sensitivity GPS
  • Rechargeable lithium-ion battery – 3 week watch mode / 8 hour GPS mode

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Check Golf Galaxy for online coupons.

Well, there you go no need to buy a tie this year unless it’s this one:

"it's a tie"

Did I mention I like irony?

My Son was the Featured Student and I’m Pretty Pissed about it

Any mom who gets that “featured student” backpack sent home, with a stuffed animal and journal instructions, knows why this “honor” is better left to somebody else’s kid.

Don't let the smile fool ya. He was miserable... miserable, I say!

Last week, my son was the featured student in his class.  Oh, don’t get all congratulatory; I’m pretty sure his teacher picks the names out of a hat.  On top of this, my son wasn’t even happy to be featured student, and frankly, I understand why.


One of the perks of being “featured student,” is that both student and mother get extra “homework” each night, so that the class can learn more about said student.  Let’s not forget the obligatory schlepping around and journaling of a stuffed animal.  Sure, watching my kids carry around Clifford in nursery school was cute… well, minus the barrage of snot and germs each of the other kids left on him before it was our turn, but carrying a stuffed dog around in the 3rd grade could ruin a kid’s rep.


Day 1: Took a picture of my son pretending to play basketball with a stuffed dog, which he was actually using as the ball.  Who could blame him, a 5th grader was watching.  That evening I was required to write an essay about why I love my son, and what’s special about him.  (yet another writing assignment that I’m being underpaid for).

Let’s face it, writing about your kid for the whole class to hear is cheesy and prohibits you from saying what you’d really like to say.

Hello, parameters people.

Clearly I didn’t want to embarrass my son in front of his friends.  Hence, a sentence such as, “I love it each night when you beg me to come lie with you, and we giggle as I give you a kiss attack,” though true, isn’t advisable.  Also unacceptable: “You’re the best at insert sport, smartest at insert subject, and easily the cutest kid in your class, even better looking than insert name. Yep – extremes, though you’re certain are true, are totally frowned upon.

Day 2:  Took a picture of my son pretending to feed cereal to his stuffed dog, and ended up wiping spilled milk from both parties’ faces (secretly prayed that dog didn’t reek of rancid dairy by recess). We also had to find pictures for him to bring in which showed the major occurrences in his life from birth to date.  I printed a bunch from an SD card and wrote Disney with varying years on them.  (No one will be the wiser)

Disney 2010

Day 3:  Took pic of stuffed dog, among all my son’s other stuffed animals.  It was meant to be ironic, like in E.T., except it wasn’t because the stuffed dog is in fact also stuffed.

Notice how you can barely distinguish the dog from the stuffed animals? Crazy!

Also, pulled stuff together for “collection” day.  When my son asked what the heck he collects, I said, “Bring in the last 5 books I bought you, and tell them you collect dust.” Ba da bum. In reality, I handed him a bunch of pennies and said, “Tell the class each is from a different year.”  What, like someone’s gonna check?

Day 4:  Took a portrait with stuffed dog as if he was part of the family.  (That picture turned out good.  Note to self: photo-shop real family cat in later.)

Not a holiday card... but not bad.

Also, brought in a special lunch for the featured student.  After allotting an hour to get the stuff together, including cupcakes for the class, (a precedent some mom started 10 featured students ago,) I was ready to enjoy a meal with my kiddo.  I arrived to find that it happened to be “Lunch and a Movie Day.”  Yep, the kids were watching the “Cat in the Hat” on a huge screen at the front of the lunch room.  What the hell am I paying for at this school?  Oh right, I don’t pay… figures.

We didn’t get movies at school; we got some hostess pies, a roll that was seran wrapped with a pat of butter on top and a “full fat” chocolate milk, and a bunch of other deliciously fattening junk, that’s what we got.

Remember him?

“You guys are so lucky,” I said to my son and his friends.  A few of his friends responded.   My kid, who recently told me not being able to do more than one thing at a time was his downfall, was captivated by Mike Myer’s portrayal of Cat and barely nodded in my direction.  Correction, that wasn’t a nod, he was tilting his head to see around my head, as I was blocking his view… silly me.

I then conversed with a few of his friends about how my day was going and what they had learned thus far, but a woman screeched onto a mic and interrupted, “If you can hear me clap 2 times.”  We all clapped like cattle, ok, cows don’t clap, but you know what I meant…

Or Do They? Mawahaha

The woman continued, “Now, let’s use our movie manners!  We are not here to socialize so let’s not talk to our friends and let’s just eat and enjoy our movie.”

Really, they’re not at lunch to socialize?  They get like a 15 min recess and now they can’t talk during their 20 min lunch? – Which, didn’t even get them to the introduction of Thing 1… or Thing 2, for that matter.  (Leave it to a school to ruin movie lunch.)

Day 5:  We returned stuffed dog and I breathed a sigh of relief.  “I get a year’s reprieve from this awesome task.”  Maybe in 4th grade the boys can bring home something a little more masculine, like a sword… or a condom.  Well, that was just silly, a condom would look ridiculous sitting next to grandma in a family portrait.  Of course we could always photoshop in a pet snake or this guy:

See ya next year!

What is the worst thing the school has your child do?

If you enjoyed this, read about the time we got Clifford the Big Red Dog Drunk. Oh, and you have to read the Duck Porn article if you haven’t yet… it may be my all time fave!

One last question for a segment I’m doing on CBS:  How do men mess up on Mother’s day?