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Move over, Kelly Ripa! My new TV mom idol is Kate Gosselin from "Jon and Kate Plus 8." For the uninitiated, it's a reality show on TLC centered around the family of Jon and Kate Gosselin, parents to one of the only set of sextuplets in the U.S. Yep, sextuplets! Crazy, right? But wait! I'm not done yet. Add to that, the twins that they had prior to the sextuplets and they have a very full house. It's nuts to watch -- just see what is required to feed them all one meal and you have to hand it to Kate and Jon.

But it's not all just high drama. They're great parents! Funny and charming and they have great rapport. I know that we'd be friends if only we moved to Pennsylvania.

So...here's my top 5 reasons why Kate is my mom idol (I feel like David Letterman):

5. She's hilarious. Just because you've given birth to sextuplets and twins doesn't mean you'll be interesting or funny in front of the camera. Thankfully, Kate really is! And we can all use a few more laughs in our day, right?

4. She's organized. Check out the way she organizes laundry. Or plans her supermarket shops. Or  packs for trips (yes, they actually go away on vacation! She's fearless, I tell ya!). If she can do this for 8 kids, I know I can do the same for my one son.

3. She's real. Sure, she gets flack for badgering her husband Jon,  but who hasn't been there? On my best (and worst) days, I am like Kate.

2.  She knows her kids. Really knows them! Never mind the fact that she has 8, count 'em 8, to get to know. She knows their likes and dislikes, quirks and personality traits of each and every one of her kids (did I mention her kids are absolutely ADORABLE??!). She takes time in each day to have some one-to-one time with each one and sees the importance of doing that. 

1. She helps other moms through the power of TV. Honestly, I can watch a half hour episode and instantly feel prepared to clean, organize, plan, cook, play... and I actually do it! 

Thank you, Kate! I don't know how long they plan to have cameras filming their daily lives but am hoping it will continue for many years to come!

 
 

This morning on our drive to daycare, I sang to my son "Itsy Bitsy Spider."

Both versions.

What? You didn't know there were two versions? Ah, well there are! There's the American version (The usual "Itsy Bitsy Spider" that you know and love) and the British version ("Incy Wincy Spider" - same melody except Incy Wincy is the spider's name...hold the "The" in the title)

For the record, there's also two versions of...

*  "Ring around the Rosie" (same as the American version except for the genius "A-tissue, A-tissue" line where the more solemn "Ashes, Ashes" would normally go)

* "If you're happy and you know it" (same as the American version except for the line "If you're happy and you know it and you really want to show it" is subbed for the "If you're happy and you know it then your face will surely show it" that I grew up with)

* "The Wheels on the Bus" (again, same as the American version except for the ending "All day long" instead of "All through the town")

I love that there are two versions of these songs and I love that my son will know them both. Sure, he'll probably get teased mercilessly in pre-school and on up when he unfortunately whips out the "Incy Wincy" version in company that is decidedly "Itsy Bitsy"-centric, but hey, that's part of being dual-nationality.

My husband is British. I'm American and I love the fact he's going to have both cultures to drawn on.
 
For now, learning starts with songs.

Next year, learning will continue with food. We'll try him out with bangers and mash, spotted dick and toad in the hole (Are we setting him up for a childhood of being teased mercilessly or what?!!)

My cat Poppy was so supremely smart that she never touched my son's baby toys. Ever. It's amazing, really.

Take a look at a good cat toy (excluding the obvious catnip and Cat Dancers). Typically small. Soft. Biteable. With maybe some feathers or faux hair on it for added flair.

Then take a look at a good baby toy (excluding the obvious cars, drivable toys and bouncers). Typically small. Soft. Biteable. With maybe some feathers or faux hair on it for added flair.

You see the problem.

But as I said Poppy has never touched his toys. My son can be chewing on something that quite honestly I have to wrestle away from him to make sure it isn't a cat toy (Whew, I say, when it turns out to be a billowy hunk of laundry lint on, say, a clove-studded orange left over from Christmas) and my cat will amble by quite disinterested. At night, baby is asleep leaving a veritable treasure trove of baby toys but cat leaves them alone. She has one basket of cat toys that she goes to instead and from this she never strays.

Last weekend, my son who is a full-fledged crawler discovered her basket of goodies and by God, it was like Christmas morning! He pulled toy after toy out of this basket with a look of miraculous wonder on his face. Where have these toys been all my life? he seemed to say.

And with that, the precious line separating cat toys and baby toys was crossed. I've moved the cat toy basket to a high shelf (which leaves my cat meowing on a daily basis, "Where are my toys?") and am hoping my son has forgotten those toys ever existed (not likely...).

Which begs the question: Are cat toys so much better than kid toys? Should I trade in the trips to Toys R Us for PetSmart?

Well, at least for now, that's something my son and cat agree on.

When I first met my husband, I was thrilled to find out that he could cook.

Now, some 13 years later, it's still one of his most endearing qualities. Especially since our son was born.

Nowadays I rarely have to slave over a hot stove, especially on a busy weeknight (unless I’ve just watched something on the Food Network and am feeling like unleashing my best Giada impression!). He’s quite content to get in the kitchen and make dinner while I get our son ready for bed. By the time he’s down, dinner is done (and I’m usually starving and ready to eat!)

He made aioli from scratch last weekend. Flipping aioli! To put on the sautéed potatoes (our guilt-free word for what is essentially sliced potatoes fried up to a crispy golden brown) and accompany the hanger steaks that he grilled. How great is that!

So this blog is essentially a love letter to him to say thanks for the meals. Love on a plate.

I’m not a big makeup fan.

Don’t get me wrong. You won’t see me shlepping around town looking like something from a “Celebrities Caught Without Makeup” shocker spread in Life and Style Magazine (man, I LOVE those!) but I also don’t spend a long time in front of the makeup mirror. On a typical where-did-my-morning-go day, my routine is streamlined: Moisturizer. Eyeliner. Lipstick. Done.

But since my son was born, I do understand makeup’s raison d’etre and have expanded my makeup repertoire in kind.
 

Starting with BLUSH. Blush? Nah, that’s what grannies wear, right? Or so I thought until I read about and then tried Nars blush in Sin (perfectly berry). With a quick swipe of a brush, it can absolutely turn an exhausted mommy into something sun-kissed, glowing, great!

 
Next: Clarins Beauty Flash Balm. I used to use this 10 years ago when I was going out way too much and sleeping way too little and it still works wonders! Hides puffiness under the eyes. Erases signs of fatigue. Creates an aura of radiance (dang, I think I missed my calling as a professional makeup describer…)

 
And lastly, lip gloss! Sure, it sticks to your face in a windstorm but for a quick fix, there’s nothing else that can create such a polished and put-together look. Watch an “Oprah” makeover and you won’t go five minutes without seeing someone showing off their pouty, shiny lips.

 
So there you have it. My mini-magic in my makeup bag. What’s in your makeup arsenal?

For the past week, Munchkin has been sick. Well, actually for the past month. He caught the cold bug right after Easter, passed it to daddy, got better, got reinfected by daddy, got conjunctivitis, made mommy and daddy paranoid about getting The Dreaded Pink Eye, started to get better, passed it to mommy, then passed it to daddy once more, and then finally appears to have caught it once more. Can you almost hear Elton John belting out "The Circle of Life"?

We are at an impasse. It's like a constant game of Hot Potato.

This weekend, my husband and I got on a very serious (aka neurotic) handwashing routine, per the doctor's orders. We had to combat The Dreaded Pink Eye. We didn't need that floating around our house for the next month. So, we washed our hands followed by a couple pumps of Purell.  Over and over and over. And so it went...

Now, three days later, my hands look like the cryptkeeper's. Okay, the cryptkeeper's wife's. Red. Raw. Bleeding. Hand creams wither upon contact. It looks like something I might stumble upon with horror while googling rash (as an aside, I made that stupid stupid mistake a few weeks ago when I noticed a very small, possibly allergy-inflicted rash on Munchkin. It wasn't, but left me with some leper-ous images burned in my brain).

And a lot of good it did - we've both caught Munchkin's cold! Sniff, sniff...

The only positive out of this whole affair is that we are still free of The Dreaded Pink Eye! (Now let me just take a moment to scratch my eye....ahhhh.....)

So it's D-Day for taxes and for the first time in, I'd say my entire life, I have something to smile about! Every year, it's been the same rigamaroll for us. We enter H&R Block, smiling, hopeful, a little smug even, with dreams of how we're going to spend our tax refund...and every year we leave the tax office completely deflated, depressed, dejected (you get de- picture), stuck with owing the IRS $2,000+.

We've donated more to charity. We've upped our withholdings. We bought a house. We have modest jobs that pay modest wages. We've tried just about everything - everything, that is, except having a kid.

Enter the glorious year of 2007, the year of our first born. Ta da! We finally are getting $2,000+ back. So that's the way it works, eh?

I left the tax office this year proclaiming, "We shall have more kiddies. We'll repopulate the earth with them!" and laughing maniacally all the way to the bank.

I wonder if that's how Chris O'Donnell got started.

Tick tock. Tick tock. There are only 30 hours separating me from an amoxicillin-free life (well, at least for the time being!)

Munchkin got an ear infection last week and has been on 4 mls of the pink stuff twice a day ever since. Not since I had to administer flea meds to my cat (who knew squeezing a tiny tube of liquid on the back of the neck could be so hard?!) have I experienced such a battle of wills. I hold Munchkin down while my husband uses a dropper to squeeze that stuff into his mouth. Munchkin writhes around like something from "The Exorcist." And then it's done. Well, at least for another eight hours or so.

I can't imagine what the stuff tastes like. The smell is a heady combo of Pepto-Bismol and paint thinner and sadly, this is the second time in the past three months that Munchkin has had to endure the big A bomb. The first time he took it straight up, no flavors to mask it. This time, when I hit the pharmacy, they handed me a lengthy list of flavors - everything from bubble gum to watermelon - to add to it. Now that was surreal. Baby hasn't been exposed to most of these -- how could I choose? I knew he didn't like grape (based on the vomitastic face he makes whenever we give him Tylenol). I knew he didn't like banana (based on the vomitastic face he makes whenever we give him banana baby food). And so I twirled my finger around the sheet and finally settled on raspberry. They added the flavor shot to the medicine.

But as I said, it really hasn't made an iota of difference. He still hates it. And so do I.

I look forward to tomorrow when I can say bye-bye amoxicillin, hello sanity!

For the past few weeks, we've been on a holy grail of sorts. A sojourn for spoons. And finding that the right one isn't easy -- at least not for a picky mom like me.

Some friends of family gave us some to start with at Christmas and those were fine enough. Then I started to worry about whether they were BPA and phthalate-free so started expending far too much energy locating the right spoons. Meanwhile, Munchkin had a mind of his own and wanted to start trying to feed himself every time he used the ones we had - pastel-colored spoons - smearing food all over his hands and face and weeping angrily every time I tried taking it away to feed him.

So after another night of wrestling with the Munchkin over a key lime pie-colored spoon, I tried one of our spoons - one of the silver dessert spoons we got as a wedding present. No bisphenol A or phthalates in sight! Not only does he eat very well when I use them but he doesn't try to grab it out of my hands.

I guess one worry about silver is that it can heat up quickly but in our case, I never make food hot so it's a non-issue. The only negative I can see is the sound of metal against his little teeth -- worse than nails on a chalkboard.

Moral of the story: This baby wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth but he sure does like 'em now! Who knew!?!

Munchkin doesn’t understand Daylight Savings Time. And quite frankly, neither do I.

Last fall, when the clocks went back, I had a newborn that was getting up with the chickens at the dream-piercing time of 5 a.m.  

This time around, with the clocks moving forward, I have a baby who can’t get to sleep. Last night, it wasn’t until almost 9 p.m. before he actually headed to Dreamland. This morning, when I dragged myself out of bed and woke him at 6:45 a.m., he looked at me like I was a little crazy. Couldn’t I see it was still dark outside? Shouldn’t he still be fast asleep? What did I think he was anyway? A farmer?  

And so I don’t understand Daylight Savings Time. Not one bit.

Thankfully, what I do understand is coffee. Lots of it.