Author Archives: jaclynschoknecht

The Effect of Snow Days on Otherwise Sane(ish) Mothers

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grown_up_snow_dayThe madness of yet another major snow and ice storm in Atlanta has rendered my brain just about completely useless. You’ll be relieved to know that my autonomic nervous system is functioning as usual. My heartbeat, breathing and digestive systems are still on autopilot. However, complex functioning required to make plans, follow directions, make decisions or reason through any sort of cause-and-effect analysis is completely out of the question.

According to my own extensive research, the evidence conclusively shows that snow days are terrible for your health. My hypothesis, that proximity to one’s children and spouse/partner for extended periods of time with no option for escape can interfere with brain function has proven scientifically accurate. Moreover, my research has undergone stringent testing through the peer review process which turned up identical results. Subjects across the country were observed and polled. Local subjects participated in numerous round table discussions generally while imbibing copious amounts of wine. Other peers who responded remotely from across the country via Facebook and Twitter also reported similar results.

To be clear, I use the umbrella term “snow day” to mean any day in which weather conditions have caused the closing of schools, daycare centers or offices. As we’ve learned this winter, a “snow day” may include actual snowfall or, merely, excessive cold that makes standing on a bus stop a life-threatening activity. Because of global climate change, in the future, the term “snow day” may be extended to include drought, famine, floods, earthquakes, plagues of locusts and other potentially disastrous acts of nature. The following is a brief summary of my research notes after observing one subject who has chosen to remain anonymous.

The subject is a 44 year old, female in generally good physical health with the exception of a noticeable layer around her midsection that in no way resembles muscle. Subject is a stay-at-home mother of two elementary school aged daughters.  Subject has been married for, what she reports, “feels like two lifetimes…maybe more.” Her spouse is a 43 year old advertising executive with a high-level position in a global advertising company. During the observation period, subject’s husband was often observed being grumpy and lacking patience with the subject and their children.  This behavior tended to become more frequent in direct correlation with the number of snow days that kept him from the safe haven of his office.

During the observation period, there were two extended stretches of time in which the subject was exposed to the effects of snow days. In my report, I refer to these stretches of time as “Snow Week 1” and “Snow Week 2.” As with her spouse, negative impacts on subject’s mental and physical health became measurably more pronounced with each snow day. I will outline the subject’s changes in behavior and mental/emotional status separately for each Snow Week.

Snow Week 1

  • When the subject was presented with meteorological evidence indicating an impending snow day, she began a period of sharply increased activity during which she was observed hoarding food and drink, focusing mainly on gathering various alcoholic beverages.
  • The subject became notably more agitated as snowfall began and her spouse and children remained away from the family home. The subject reported having entertained a number of doomsday predictions during this time period.
  • Upon the return of subject’s offspring and spouse, her panic response reportedly lessened significantly.
  • Subject’s relief was short-lived however.  Realizing that she would be stranded in the house with her spouse and offspring for the foreseeable future, the subject’s panic response quickly returned to dangerous levels.
  • Subject reported becoming increasingly sensitive to various sounds during Snow Week 1. These sounds included, but were not limited to, her offspring’s whining, the theme songs to children’s television shows and cartoons, news reports incessantly repeating details of the snow event, and her husband’s low-level grumbling in response to any and all stimuli.
  • Subject’s activity level sharply decreased during this time period and her intake of sugar and alcohol markedly increased.
  • Subject became more and more sensitive to the taunts of peers living in the West who continued enjoying beautiful weather.

Following Snow Week 1, when the weather regulated and subject’s spouse and children returned to their usual work and school schedules, the subject demonstrated an increased level of optimism, bordering on inappropriate giddiness. Subject did, however, show evidence of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. In one incident, the subject thought she spied a snowflake and was halfway to a panic attack before realizing that the offending item was merely a leaf. It appears this Snow Week will have ongoing emotional repercussions for the subject.

Snow Week 2

  • When the subject became aware of another predicted Snow Week, subject showed evidence of a serious break with reality. When she realized that denial was having no effect on the weather, she again entered a period of increased activity, seeking out and gathering children’s activity books, Nerf guns and an increased supply of alcoholic beverages.
  • As subject’s spouse and children were safely at home at the onset of Snow Week 2, her panic response was muted. Instead, subject’s behavior indicated evidence of sad resignation bordering on depression.
  • The subject’s physical activity slowed to sloth-like levels. She began baking and ingesting sugar and fat-laden comfort foods at an alarming rate.
  • On a handful of occasions, the subject was observed vocalizing in expletive-laden tirades apparently aimed at ice crystals raining down from the sky.
  • The subject was later observed eating Xanax like candy.
  • The subject’s parenting skills deteriorated to dangerously low levels. The subject reported having to repeatedly fight the overwhelming urge to eat her young.
  • The subject is catatonic, curled up in the fetal position. Her last words were, “Who are these people and what are they doing in my house?!”

I fear the subject may not survive another snow day. In fact, snow should be avoided at all costs. My recommendation is that the subject get on an airplane bound for a tropical island immediately…ALONE!

The Sochi Low-Down, Part I

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Olympic_Rings_SochiTodd Copilevitz of Now Wait a Minute… has asked me to be a guest blogger for his coverage of the Sochi Winter Olympics. I will be posting my Olympics updates here as well. Todd is a digital marketing guru who posts in-depth analyses of stories and issues that have been missed, or intentionally ignored, by NBC Sports and the mainstream media.

I, on the other hand, claim no such lofty credentials or goals. Those of you who already know me from this blog and have read my ‘Superficial Movie Reviews’ are already well aware that there are few things I enjoy as much as overanalyzing miscellany for my own amusement. (And, hopefully for yours as well.) I guess the best way to differentiate Todd and me would be to say if we were in a book club together, Todd would be the one who read all of Proust’s Swann’s Way and had pertinent observations noted for later discussion and I’d be the one who only got through fifteen pages, but baked some delicious madeleines and brought two bottles of wine for the group in hopes that no one would notice.

usa_sweatersSo, without further ado, I bring you MommyEnnui’s random thoughts about the 2014 Winter Olympics thus far. First, and most importantly, what the hell was up with the U.S. athletes opening ceremonies outfits!? Ralph Lauren, designer of the questionable garb, used to be the final word in chic, classic, old-money, American style. What we saw at the opening ceremonies was Ralph officially jumping the shark and it wasn’t pretty. The athletes’ sweaters were reminiscent of those proudly worn by crafty-Grandmas everywhere. The ‘more is more’ aesthetic did not exactly say ‘sleek, modern, young, athletic’ or any one of a million other adjectives that could best describe the U.S. athletes. Instead, Ralph Lauren and his band of esteemed designers went for crazy-quilt cardigans, ill-fitting cream colored pants and hiking boots. I could go on, but there’s no use beating a dead polo horse.

sochi_open_flying_girlOverall, I’d say the opening ceremony was the spectacular, elaborately choreographed event that we’ve come to expect from the Olympics. I do have one little bone to pick, however. Is it absolutely necessary that each opening ceremony must begin with an adorable young girl, floating around in a nightgown or sundress, dreaming about the history of whatever host country happens to be planning the party that year? Is there maybe a fresh, new way of telling that same old story? Aren’t the worlds’ most creative producers paid approximately a bajillion dollars to plan these things? Just some food for thought.

My very favorite part of the opening ceremony, though, was when Vladimir Putin’s “rumored” girlfriend, former rhythmic gymnast Alina Kabayeva carried the Olympic torch in the final leg of the torch relay. Kabayeva who is now a member of the parliament, is believed to be one of the causes behind the Russian president’s divorce from his wife Lyudmila. The other cause is rumored to be his apparent inability to rinse off the goddamn dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. (Or so I’m guessing.)

vlad_alinaI’m aware that Putin (or as my daughters like to call him, “Poo-tin”…always while giggling maniacally) has not asked for my opinion on the matter, but it’s clear that his buddies in the Kremlin are giving him some seriously bad advice. So, Vlad, if you’re reading this, here are a few tips for you in case, hypothetically, you’re trying to keep your relationship with some young hottie on the down low. Don’t have a life-size, nude, ice sculpture made of her and display it prominently at your big winter bash. She can’t wear your letterman’s jacket or your class ring. And–I can’t stress this one enough–she can’t vote in favor of every single one of your pet projects in parliament. It’s just common sense, dude. You must have people who can quietly whisk her in and out of the Kremlin for booty calls, right?

Olympic officials did show some restraint by not giving Kabayeva the highest honor of lighting the official Olympic torch that will burn for the duration of the games. No, that honor was awarded to two other Russian athletes, one of whom was another member of parliament, Irina Rodnina, former three-time gold medal winning pairs figure skater. If Rodnina’s name sounds familiar, it’s because she’s the Russian politician who posted an obviously doctored, racist photo of President and Mrs. Obama on Twitter last year. Charming.

In response to the controversy, Rodnina was quoted as saying, “Freedom of speech is freedom of speech and you should answer for your own hang-ups.” With similar qualities of diplomacy, discretion and subtlety as her boss, Vladimir Putin, Rodnina should have a great future ahead of her in the Russian government!

Superficial Movie Review: ‘Gravity’

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GRAVITY‘Gravity’ is one of those movies that people either love or hate. Well, except for me. I loved it and hated it at the same time. Because in a world of black and white, I’m about a thousand shades of gray. No, not those Shades of Gray!  But, then again, who knows? Maybe if you got me drunk enough…(Dad, if you’re reading this, I’m just kidding.)

But, as usual, I digress. Please bear with me as I get this off my chest then I’ll move on to more important things like the US astronauts’ space suits versus those of the Russians from a pure fashion standpoint. Here’s my very brief review of the merits of the movie itself. First half? Amazing! Second half? Cornball. Special effects, sound, cinematography and acting…great. Writing…not so much. See? I told you I’d make it brief.

Now on to the, far more fun, superficial stuff. The first thing I thought when the movie began was, “Holy crap! I really should have taken a Xanax before seeing this.” Much of ‘Gravity’ is a wild and terrifying ride. Imagine you suddenly find yourself untethered, floating around in space where it is absolutely silent and uncomprehendingly vast. Sounds kind of like a really expensive spa, right? Now imagine your oxygen supply is running out and if anything damages the pristine white space suit or helmet you’re wearing, you will immediately explode. Hmmm, not so fun anymore. I would not want to be hurtling through space even if I were tied to George Clooney.

As you know, unless you’re completely unconscious to pop culture, the token chick in space, named Ryan, is played by Sandra Bullock. There had to be at least one woman in this movie because you’re not going to get a bunch of space nerds to see a film with only men in it unless there’s an interstellar war involved. Marketing also needed someone attractive to put on the movie poster and, let’s face it, George Clooney doesn’t look as good in a tight tank top and hot pants as Sandra Bullock.

Speaking of which, there was quite a bit of hoopla in the press about Sandra Bullock’s impressive physique in this film. It seems not one journalist could get through an interview with her without mentioning her hot bod. I found this a little disconcerting. The only time journalists ask male actors about their bodies seems to be when they’re bulking up to play superheroes. Was it really that shocking that a 50 year old actress could be in great shape? My friend K is 50 and she’s a total hardbody even with two kids, a pretty intense career as a lawyer and no chef or personal trainer. Now that’s impressive!

Anyway, the movie opens with Ryan complaining that that pesky lack of gravity has given her motion sickness. She then spends the following two hours somersaulting through space and not once does she barf in her space helmet!  How does that make any sense? After realizing this, I spent much of the rest of the movie wondering what would happen if an astronaut actually did barf in his or her helmet. That would be even more disturbing than catching your child’s vomit with your bare hands, a parenting skill at which I excel.

My other random thought was, I’ll bet my boobs would look awesome in space!  Zero gravity, baby. That whole colonizing Mars thing doesn’t seem like such a bad idea now, does it?

There was some controversy over how scientifically accurate the movie is. Even astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson weighed in on the subject via Twitter, which is notable given how many other pressing matters he could have been attending to. Former NASA astronaut Garrett Reisman joked in Forbes that “What do you think of “Gravity”?” was becoming every astronaut’s least favorite question, even more so than “How do you poop in space?” I can understand the intense scrutiny of this film because, you know, every Hollywood director’s ultimate goal is complete scientific accuracy.

As a non-astrophysicist, I have no clue what was fact and what was fiction in ‘Gravity.’ I do know that I learned a number of important things from the film that will almost certainly come handy in my everyday life. These are just a few of them:

* Don’t bother taking a keyboard class if you plan on being an astronaut. Spaceships are apparently all push buttons and toggle switches.

* Russian spacesuits are more slimming than American spacesuits.

* When in space, hold on to your important shit at all times!

* There’s a ton of crap just floating around in space. The place is littered with abandoned space stations and satellites and broken rocket parts.

* Things are always smashing into each other in space, not lightly floating and gently bumping as you’d expect.

* Filmmakers never, ever run out of metaphors for rebirth.

* If you’re in space and you need a ping pong paddle or a Buddha statue, check the Chinese space station.

So, you see, despite the cheesy dialog and tenuous grasp on reality, ‘Gravity’ is an intense, but fun, action movie.  If you haven’t seen it yet, run to one of the last few theaters in the country still playing it. You’ll be able to imagine yourself floating in space, gaze upon the gorgeous face of George Clooney and the fine ass of Sandra Bullock, and you may even learn a thing or two.

For those who’ve seen it, what did you think of ‘Gravity’? Are you a lover or a hater?

Poor, Sick Ad Man

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ad_man_beach_flaAd Man stayed home from work today. He’s terribly, terribly sick. Kind of like I was last week when I was snowed in with two children and he was at a conference in Florida. You know, while he was posting photos like this one from his morning run on Instagram because he thought I wouldn’t check it. He wouldn’t dare post it on Facebook since learning his lesson with the six-foot foot sculpture incident. Oh, how he underestimates me. Doesn’t he know I have people everywhere?

So, I’m out doing errands and writing while Ad Man is home sipping tea all snug in the little nest he’s created on the couch. He’ll likely spend all afternoon listening in on some three hour conference call, the phone on mute so he can cough pitifully or more clearly hear the old episode of West Wing he’s watching simultaneously on Netflix. See? He works when he’s sick…just like me!

writer_ad_manActually, every member of the family, with the exception of Jacques the beta fish, has had this same illness. Biggie, Smalls and I survived it last week with the only casualties being about five boxes of tissues. I’m not so optimistic about Ad Man’s chances of survival. He’s a bit of a delicate flower. I have no doubt he got the most severe case of this bug. He has the sorest throat, the runniest nose and the worst cough.

In fact, that’s why I’m posting this dear readers. Ad Man could use all the thoughts, prayers and healing vibes you can spare. If there are any priests reading this right now, please stand by. I may need to call on you soon to give him last rites. Not that we’re religious…I just think his mom would appreciate it.

In the meantime, I’ll be on the phone with our insurance agent bumping up Ad Man’s life insurance a cool $Mil or so.

A Snowy Night in Hotlanta

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As I sit outside at Starbucks writing and enjoying a sunny, 65 degree day, it’s hard to believe that just yesterday, we still had patches of snow on the ground. I’m sure you heard about the storm that hit Atlanta this week. Let me tell you…no matter what you heard, it was both more surreal and far more devastating in reality.

I started my week with a sick kid so, instead of getting my Monday reprieve from the munchkins and a doing little freelance work, I got a big dose of “Mom, entertain me…my fever is down and I’m ready to party!” Ugh. I can’t be the only parent who has been tempted to withhold Advil so the sick kid stays lethargic on the couch watching Nickelodeon. When I called school to let them know that Smalls wouldn’t be in, the woman in the office said, “It looks like she may just get a snow day tomorrow, too!” at which time I ran to my computer to check the forecast. Yessiree, another winter shitstorm coming our way, only this one was bringing more than just arctic temperatures.

TJ's Pre-Snow

Trader Joe’s, Pre-Storm

Because I’ve lived through one big snowstorm in Atlanta that had us iced in for a week, I headed straight to the grocery store when Ad Man got home that evening. Many of the shelves were already bare, but I managed to get some necessities…beer, wine, frozen pizzas and kale and went home to await the inevitable call that school was cancelled for the next day.

Only that call never came. This was odd. The last time we had a winter storm, the Atlanta Public Schools (APS) cancelled classes upon just the rumor of snow. This week, we had a damn good idea what was coming our way since it was already barreling through parts up north. I assumed we’d be getting a call in the morning saying the kids would have a half day of school, but nope, still no call.  So I put the girls on the bus, ran to Toys R Us to see if they had any sleds (sold out), and then ventured no further than the Caribou Coffee a few blocks from my house where I could write and await the call to go get the kids or head home to meet the bus.

I sat staring out the window of the coffee shop when the flurries started. They were quickly followed by big, fluffy, Chicago-style snowflakes. I went home to avoid having to later drive on slick roads and still there was no message from the schools. Finally, the APS tweeted a notice saying that the middle-schoolers would be released one hour early and the elementary schools and high schools would get out at their usual times. APS specifically requested that parents allow children to return home the way that they had arrived so as not to create chaos in carpool.

I wasn’t thrilled having to wait what I thought would be another three hours for the girls to come home on the bus, but after frantic calls to Ad Man and a number of neighbors, I was assured that the bus was safer than heading out to retrieve them in our relatively light, non-four-wheel-drive car.  So, I sat tight as the snow started sticking and creating a winter wonderland in our backyard that would have been thrilling on any other day.

vb_sledding_hill_0114

Our Street as Sledding Hill

Biggie and Smalls generally get home on the bus around 3:15 pm. Instead, I got a call from Biggie’s teacher shortly after that, letting me know that the buses hadn’t even arrived at the school to pick the kids up yet. We and our neighbors quickly decided to divide and conquer, each heading out to a separate campus of the school to pick up stranded kids. I’ll spare you all the gory details, but the short story is, it took Ad Man more than an hour and a half to retrieve Smalls and it took our neighbor almost three hours to bring Biggie home from the other campus.

The girls reported back that there were still lots of kids and teachers stuck at school and the buses still hadn’t arrived when Biggie left at 5:30 pm. The girls were exhausted, but excited by the snow so we played outside a bit before heading in where we lit a fire in the fireplace and I poured a glass of wine to calm my frayed nerves. After dinner, the girls passed out, but Ad Man and I sat glued to the television watching horrific news pour in.

Traffic was at a bumper-to-bumper standstill all over the city. No one could move because of thick ice covering all the roads. Kids and teachers were stuck in schools, people were having to spend the night in their offices. And, those were the lucky ones. People were stranded in their cars everywhere, many whom ended up sleeping in them overnight. Others had abandoned their vehicles and walked for hours trying to get home to their families or find somewhere safe to sleep for the night. Cell lines were jammed. Every hotel in Atlanta was booked solid and a baby was born on the freeway.

Atlanta Traffic Map During Snowstorm

Atlanta Traffic Map During Snowstorm

At about 10:30 pm, I got a text from the neighborhood bus chain saying that our beloved bus driver Mrs. W was still out on the road trying to get the last few children home from school. She was stuck on an icy hill with five kids and couldn’t take her foot off the brake or they’d slide down the hill and crash into the cars abandoned there. The “bus mom”, my friend A, managed to get a hold of a few families on that street who brought out food, drinks and blankets. Ad Man drove as close to the bus as he could before the streets became too icy and had to walk the rest of the way. He and a neighbor on the street with a 4-wheel drive managed to get the last of the children home to their anxious parents.

Mrs. W never once left that bus, even when Ad Man offered to take her place so she could rest a bit. Despite many offers of a warm place to sleep, after waiting forever for a sand truck, Mrs. W ended up getting back to school at 3 am and slept there.

But Mrs. W is just one of thousands of ordinary people who did extraordinary things last Tuesday night to help out others, many of whom they didn’t even know. It was amazing. I’d like to believe that good people anywhere in the country would rise to the occasion in a situation like this. I know it happens here in Atlanta. When I sat down to have a cup of tea last Tuesday morning, I was intending to write a humorous account of what happens on the rare occasions that it snows in the South. I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined the story that I’m sitting here recounting today.

How to Spot a Well-to-Do Southerner in the Wild

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southerners'_handbookAs many of you know, I am not a native-born Atlantan. I do, however, have one daughter who is a native Southern belle and one who was born in LA, but moved here at 18 months so she might as well be a native. Many of my best friends are born-and-bred Atlantans (which, these days, is like saying you’re a native Los Angeleno…a rare bird indeed). A number of others are from different parts of the South and, in that I include Texas and Florida though purists may dispute their “southern” provenance.

Our friends back in the midwest and California find this fascinating and love to ask about our life in the South. I know many of them have been waiting for a snarky essay from me about being surrounded by rednecks and right-wing conservatives. What they don’t understand, though, is that I live in the city of Atlanta which just happens to be surrounded by the state of Georgia. I don’t necessarily consider myself a Georgian. In fact, unless we’re headed to a friend’s lake house or we’ve rented a cabin in Blue Ridge for the weekend, Ad Man and I rarely venture outside the city limits.

So, while they may be expecting a field guide to spotting hicks and fire-and-brimstone preachers, the truth is, we don’t see too many of those folks in the big city, or at least, not in the places where I hang out. Moreover, we live in a neighborhood that’s considered the “Beverly Hills” of Atlanta. This is not to brag. Believe me, we paid about the same amount for our house as we would have for a kickass parking spot in San Francisco. So, we live in the midst of lots and lots of conservatives, but very few rednecks. Plus, in these days of ‘Duck Dynasty,’ I highly doubt you need my assistance spotting a redneck in the wild…unless, of course they’re passed out drunk in the bushes dressed in head-to-toe camo.

What this post will do, however, is allow you to spot a well-to-do Southern lady or gentleman from a mile away. A few months ago, I flew into Chicago’s O’Hare Airport to spend a weekend with some law school friends. Heading home, I was wandering around far from my gate when I spotted a woman in the crowd who, I had no doubt, was from Atlanta. She was a perfectly coiffed blonde, dressed in a Tory Burch tunic, cropped white jeans, Tory Burch wedges and carrying a Louis-Vuitton handbag. A few hours later I saw her again on my plane back to Atlanta. That’s when I realized I had a gift.

tory_burch_store_xmasI have since developed a bit of a checklist that I’m now passing on to you, dear readers, for spotting a well-to-do Southerner in the wild. First the women…ladies from the South tend to display a number of distinctive characteristics. Just as the woman at the airport, they tend to have an affinity for anything designed by Tory Burch. As you’ll see from the attached photo, I’ve personally spotted them lined up en masse outside the Tory Burch store at the crack of dawn the day after Christmas. Even a wealthy Southern lady loves a bargain.

They are perfectly turned-out at all times. I defy you to try to sneak up on a proper Southern lady and find her in sweatpants, hair in a ponytail, no makeup on and in need of a manicure. It simply does not happen. They’re even pristine in their tennis wear. I swear the women have no sweat glands!

There are a number of other brands around which you may find them flocking. Hermes is one because, well, why should Grandaddy’s horses get all the fancy leather accessories? They and their female young bear the distinctive markings of matching Lilly Pulitzer shift dresses all summer. They also tend to have a strange infatuation with quilted and garishly printed bags and other accessories from Vera Bradley.

monogrammed_houseSoutherners (women and men) monogram EVERYTHING. They monogram clothing, of course, including every single piece of their childrens’ wardrobes. (Forget about getting hand-me-downs from a wealthy Southerner.)  But, clothing is just a start. They monogram beach bags, beer cozies, iPhone cases, linens, insulated cups for concealing bourbon and ginger ale roadies, even their cars. This is not an exaggeration. As an outsider, I can only surmise that this is a way of marking their territory without the mess of having to go around peeing on everything.

A Southern lady has a vast array of crisp gingham shirts and white jeans to choose from. In winter, they reach for their (ironed) blue jeans, barn jackets and riding boots.

It’s a rare Southern lady that doesn’t love a diamond the size of a grape. Some of the diamonds at my children’s public school edge into Kardashian territory. (I guess that makes sense given their classmates include the children of NFL players and country music superstars.) In fact, the theme for the school’s big semi-annual fundraiser this year is “Denim and Diamonds.” Enough said.

As for Southern men, they seem to have latched onto the east coast preppy style when it was ubiquitous and never let go. Spotting a well-to-do Southern man isn’t difficult. His casual wardrobe consists mainly of polo shirts, wind jackets, sweatshirts and other items of clothing emblazoned with the logo of this favorite college football team…generally his alma mater. To this fanwear, they add pleated khaki shorts or pants, a braided leather belt and loafers without socks.

A Southern man of means sticks to a wardrobe of perfectly tailored suits, generally purchased at Brooks Brothers or Sid Mashburn in Atlanta, Gucci loafers, a pocket square (always!) and, ideally, a bow-tie, though some do deviate and wear long neckties. Distinctive, bright markings intended to attract a mate are generally limited to ties and expensive automobiles. As mentioned above, suits, shirts, golf bags, socks, swim trunks, whiskey tumblers and cigar cutters MUST be monogrammed.

seersucker_chickenThe stereotype of a Southern man dressed in a full seersucker suit and white bucks is absolutely based in fact. In the dog days of summer, this is the Southern gentleman’s uniform. As an aside, when we first moved to Atlanta, Ad Man and I went out for dinner one night with our real estate agent and her husband. As soon as I saw her husband, I exclaimed, “Ooohh…look at you in your cute seersucker pants!” only to realize that he was wearing them with absolutely no irony. Oops!

When at the country house, a Southern man can be identified by the bird dog and shotgun that accompany him. After the hunt (and most evenings), you’ll find the Southern male clinging to a bourbon, neat, or a gin and tonic.

Well, I hope you now feel better equipped to spot a Southern lady or gentleman should one wander onto your land. One may no longer simply rely on listening for the call of the southern accent to identify these creatures in the wild. The southern accent, at least in cities, seems to be going the way of the blue-footed boobie…with the exception of ‘y’all,’ of course. ‘Y’all’ is here to stay. If I ever hear a Southerner say, “you guys,” I’ll know the rapture is coming and I’ll soon be the last person left standing in the Buckhead Barnes & Noble.

Please check in next week when I describe the many, many ways in which I am a pathetic failure as a Southerner.

Are You Happy Now?

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goofy_familyMany moons ago when Ad Man and I were childless and living in Los Angeles, the family I worked for as a nanny in Chicago came out for a visit. Ad Man and I took the kids while their parents enjoyed their first weekend away in eight years. I remember thinking at the time that it was insane that they hadn’t had even a night away together since their oldest son was born. That was mind-blowing to me.

Fast forward to the other day when I was asked the following question by Gabriele Neumann of Basically I’m Complicated:
Q: You get a free one week trip for two to anywhere in the world! Where do you go and who do you take with you?

In formulating my answer, it occurred to me that Ad Man and I haven’t been away together without the kids since Biggie was born…eight years ago. We have a number of married friends who take trips alone fairly often but they all live close to family members who are happy to take the offspring for a weekend. We, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury. But, I don’t think we’re alone in this situation. Many people tend to neglect their relationships once children hit the scene.

Which brings me to an article I read recently from the Telegraph. The headline was ‘Happier Relationships for Couples Without Children.’ The article addressed a study done by Open University in the UK that surveyed and conducted extensive interviews with 5,000 couples of different ages, financial conditions and sexual orientations who were in long-term relationships. The research showed that, overall, childless couples reported more satisfaction with their lives and felt more valued by their partners.

As a married, mother of two, my first reaction to the article was, of course, “How dare you! I am blissfully happy with my loving husband and beautiful children. Every day is like a honeymoon for my Ad Man and I, the kids are perfectly behaved at all times and I feel completely fulfilled.” Just kidding!  Would I have named my blog MommyEnnui if that’s really how I thought?

baby_birthday_someecardIn reality, my reaction was, “No shit!” I mean, think about it. That’s like saying, “We were so much happier when we had money, could go out for dinner or see a movie any damn time we liked, got to sleep in on the weekends, had sex on a regular basis and lived close to all our friends in our city of choice. Ever since we bought that failing farm far away from loved ones, and started getting up before dawn to feed the animals and milk the cows, never, ever getting a day off, our relationship is less satisfying.” Did they really need to do a study to figure that out?!

Are Ad Man and I less happy now than we were during the nine years we were married before having kids? I can only answer for myself (though I’m guessing he would agree) and I would say absolutely. Despite what Biggie and Smalls say, my life today bears only a slight resemblance to my life prior to children. Back then, I had a successful career, was a newlywed, lived in LA and had lots of friends who I saw often. Ad Man and I had plenty of disposable income and were able to travel. Of course I felt more valued by my partner! We had a relatively simple life with lots of time and energy to dedicate to each other.

This isn’t to say that my life is less happy overall. Interestingly, the Open University study also found that mothers were the happiest of the research subjects despite reporting that they were less satisfied in their romantic relationships than they were before having children. Since having kids, my life is far more complicated. My worries are deeper…will we have the money to send the girls to private school in a few years, let alone college? Will my children grow up to be fine, upstanding young women or will they be psychopaths? How in the hell am I going to survive their teen years?

But, my highs are also higher. These two monsters bring me more joy than I ever thought possible. When I watch them learn to ride a two-wheeler, or make a new friend or listen to their hilarious observations, my heart just about explodes in my chest. Are they pains-in-the-ass much of the time? Yes, but they’re my pains-in-the-ass!  And,18 years goes by shockingly quickly. So, Ad Man and I know that we’ve got a little more than 12 years of having a kid in the house and, after that, the world is our oyster again. Hopefully, we’ll still have something to talk about other than our children!

How about you? Would you say your marriage was happier before having children? What about life in general? How has it changed? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

The New Phonebook Is Here!

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liebsterMy first Liebster!  I feel like Steve Martin in The Jerk when the new phone book arrives!* The lovely and talented Gabriele Neumann from Basically I’m Complicated has nominated me for the Liebster Award. The Liebster is given to new(ish) blogs by other bloggers who dig them. And, when another blogger says she digs MommyEnnui, that makes me one happy girl. Thanks, Gabriele!

The rules for the award appear to be somewhat fluid. There are numerous variations floating around the internets, so I just chose the ones I like the best. Sometimes I’m wild like that.

As a nominee, you are required to:
1. Thank, mention and link to the blogger who nominated you.
2. Answer their 10 questions.
3. Nominate 5-10 other bloggers with less than 2000 followers.
4. Give your nominees 10 questions to answer.
5. Notify your winners by commenting on one of their posts and linking them back to your post that nominates them.
6. Proudly display your Liebster Award button on your page.

Here are Gabriele’s (extremely difficult) questions and my answers:

1. If you could only to listen to one album for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?
If I could listen to only one album for the rest of my life, I’d be really depressed. So, my choice would be The Smiths ‘Louder than Bombs.’

2. If you could never have to eat or even see one food again, what would it be and why?
Any kind of meat because I’m a vegetarian and it makes me squeamish.

3. If you could ban one fashion trend, what would it be and why?
High-waisted, super short denim shorts.  Ad Man and I were at a music festival this past summer where approximately 85% of the women were wearing awful, high-waisted jean shorts. I refer to them as “denim diapers” and they’re flattering on exactly NO ONE.

4. If you could learn a language you don’t already know, which one would it be and why?
French. I’ve always wanted to learn it because I love Paris and would like to be able to say more than just “Deux, s’il vous plait” while pointing at a bakery case of pain au chocolat. Also, my daughters are learning French in elementary school and I want to make sure they can’t swear at me in another language without me knowing.

5. What is your least favorite quality about yourself and why?
I am a huge pessimist.  I wish I could be more positive because I suspect I’d be more likely to take chances and risk failure thereby also risking wild success.

6. What is your proudest accomplishment in the past year?
MommyEnnui, baby!  I’m thrilled that my first experiment in writing anything more than a legal brief has been so wonderfully well-received.

7. What are you really excited about that’s coming up in 2014?
Getting back to Los Angeles. We haven’t been back in a year and a half and I’ve been terribly homesick lately.

8. Who (or what) do you think is really overrated?
Sex in the shower. It always sounds like a good idea but ends up being really awkward.

9. You get a free one week trip for two to anywhere in the world! Where do you go and who do you take with you?
I would take Ad Man with me to The Four Seasons Bora Bora. We haven’t had even a night away together without the kids since Biggie was born eight long years ago. That’s just sad.

10. If you could be best friends with a fictional character, which one would it be and why?
At the risk of sounds like a giant nerd, I’d have to say Dr. Who so I could travel through time. Having people constantly trying to kill me might get a bit tiresome though.

Questions for my nominees:

1. What dead person would you least want to be haunted by?
2. If you had to be trapped in a TV show for a month, which show would you choose and why?
3. If you could have personally witnessed one event in history, what would you want to have seen?
4. What three words do you think are the most fun to say?
5. If you could cast any actor now alive to play you in a film about your life, whom would you cast in the role and why?
6. If you could trade one body part with anyone else, what part would you choose and with whom would you trade?
7. What are your five favorite smells?
8. What place in the world would you least like to live?
9. If you could choose your own nickname, what would it be?
10. What one book could you read over and over again?

Thanks for celebrating with me! I’d love to hear your answers to my or Gabriele’s questions.  Please comment below.

* Here’s a special bonus for those of you who read my whole list of questions…

Waiting for Spring

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tree_buds_horizIt occurred to me recently that I should just have my psychiatrist read this blog to track how I’m feeling. I’ve realized that writing is what you might call a “canary in the coal mine” for me. When I’m doing well, the writing comes easy and is fun as hell. Unfortunately, there are other times when the chemicals in my brain are not cooperating and I can’t seem to have a funny or original thought to save my life, let alone put it down on paper in any engaging way.

I’ve been working on a post for the last three days that I finally had to set aside today. The writing felt laborious and, no matter how much editing I did, I just couldn’t make it come together.  I’m clearly depressed despite what I told my shrink last week. You’d think by now I wouldn’t have to be hit over the head with glaringly obvious clues to know it’s time to remix the old antidepressant cocktail.

Instead, it took a complete meltdown in Starbucks during a conversation on the phone with Ad Man about the girls’ swim lessons for me to realize what was up. (You can understand why that might be a very emotional conversation. WTF?) I’m officially a wreck and cannot take another day of winter! When we moved to Atlanta, I knew the summers were going to suck, but I didn’t imagine that the winters would suck too. I’m like the poster child for Seasonal Affective Disorder. It also doesn’t help that I’ve had a migraine every day for the last week and a half.

Fortunately, there was a tiny glimmer of hope as I was walking down the street after my Starbucks breakdown today. I passed by a tree with buds on it! The trees are budding despite the unseasonably cold weather and threats of snow. I stopped to take a photo to remind myself that no matter how long and hard the winter is, it eventually comes to an end and is followed by spring. No matter what.

Anyway, this is a very long way of asking you to please be patient with me if my posts seem to be sparse and less than hilarious these days. I’m just holding on by my fingernails, waiting for spring.

Superficial Movie Reviews: ‘American Hustle’

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I’ve been in a bit of a movie dry spell lately, which is really not like me. Usually, I’m out the door at the slightest provocation, happy to leave the kids and Ad Man to their own devices for two blissful hours. Recently, though, the weather has been miserable and the film offerings have been less than enticing. But, you know what starts after Christmas? Oscar season, baby!

After living in LA for ten years and working in “the Industry,” albeit tangentially, I still get that giddy feeling when the studio heads start releasing their best films in hopes of bringing home a few more of those little golden men. And, I am a sucker for a good movie. So, yesterday, I headed to my favorite theater (the one with the reclining seats, of course) to see ‘American Hustle.’

american_hustle_castAs I was enjoying the movie and analyzing the interior decor of the sets and the actors’ hairstyles, an idea came to me.  Why not start a series of movie reviews for MommyEnnui? These will be no run-of-the-mill film reviews, however. You can read any number of reviews by people much more qualified than I am to weigh the quality of films. I, on the other hand, am uniquely qualified to provide you with what I’ll be calling “Superficial Movie Reviews.”

Want to know the merits of a particular script or an actor’s performance? Check in with Manohla Dargis of the New York Times. Want to read a review that discusses the leading man’s unconvincing hairpiece or why a character would never have that lame tattoo in real life? I’m your gal!  So, without further ado, I bring you MommyEnnui’s first Superficial Movie Review of ‘American Hustle.’

first_gap_storeFirst, while it’s completely irrelevant to this review, I must say, I loved this film. As I’ve mentioned previously, I have a soft spot in my heart for the 1970s and this movie is steeped in the spirit and style of the decade from the very first moment. In a cool bit of nostalgia, the film opens with the 1970s Columbia Pictures logo. The font used for the credits is perfection. It’s that groovy, rounded ‘70s lettering used in the original Gap logo. (For those younger than me–and that’s a disturbingly large number of people–I have provided a photo for reference.)

The soundtrack was also pretty damn fantastic. I immediately flashed back to riding in my parent’s Buick LeSabre with the windows rolled down, my stringy hair whipping my face and occasionally getting stuck in my bubble gum. Soundtrack highlights range from soft rock hits like ‘Horse with No Name’ by America and ‘Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?’ by Chicago to disco greats like ‘I Feel Love’ by Donna Summer and ‘Don’t Leave Me This Way’ by Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes. There was also some jazz thrown in for character development. (Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all deep and film school-y.)

The ‘American Hustle’ soundtrack actually brings up a few questions. For example, how many bands of the ‘70s were named after a city, state or country? Also, is there still a genre of music being made today that would be considered light rock or “adult contemporary” or do us oldsters just cling to the music of our youth? Discuss amongst yourselves.

christian_bradley_hustleIf there’s one thing that ‘American Hustle’ succeeds greatly at, it’s making male actors who are very attractive in real life look wildly unappealing on film. I’m not going to lie, it’s a bit of a tragedy for straight, female viewers. Never before have Christian Bale, Bradley Cooper and Jeremy Renner been so difficult to gaze upon. If Christian Bale’s paunch and comb-over and Bradley Cooper’s man-perm don’t already have their own Twitter accounts, I’d be shocked.

In fact, all the hairstyles in this movie are amazing…either amazingly awesome or amazingly awful. While the male characters tend toward awful, the female characters’ coifs are almost uniformly awesome. Jennifer Lawrence is her usual gorgeous self with a romantic, messy updo that’s a perfect counterpoint to her loopy, unhinged character and Amy Adams’s mane of Donna Summers-esque disco curls is a thing of beauty. Color this straight-haired girl green with envy!

And, speaking of disco, there’s a scene in which Bradley Cooper and Amy Adams are dancing the night away that is H-O-T.  Why don’t I remember disco being this sexy? In my memory, disco was about as beguiling as line dancing. (And, I challenge anyone to try to make line dancing sexy.)  I guess it could be because I was in elementary school at the time and, at that point, was way more into Shaun Cassidy than Tony Manero. I don’t know. What I do know is that the disco scene in ‘American Hustle’ almost made me forget about Bradley Cooper’s perm…and that’s saying a lot.

As for the costumes, the women take this category hands down as well. Leisure suits, ties as wide as your head and brown-on-brown-on-brown are men’s fashion trends that were left behind in the ‘70s for good reason. The women’s costumes, however, are slinky, very low-cut and either menswear-inspired or flowy and feminine. I guarantee you that Tom Ford, Stella McCartney and Phoebe Philo have screeners of this movie playing on a loop in their design studios as we speak. Expect models with Amy Adams’s small, perky boobs and uber-deep v-neck blouses to be all over your nearest runway come fall.

Amy Adams;Jennifer Lawrence

Christian Bale who plays Irving Rosenfeld, lead hustler, has some of the best lines in the film. At one point he refers to his wife, played by Jennifer Lawrence, as “the Picasso of passive-aggressive karate” (I’m going to try that one on Ad Man). Another time, he tells her, “I thought you were mysterious, like my mother!  Until it turned it out mysterious meant depressed, hard to reach.” The last line actually gave me hope that I might come off as mysterious when I’m depressed, but something tells me Jennifer Lawrence does ‘mysterious’ a hell of a lot better than I do.

Lawrence supplies much of the comic relief in the film. Two of my favorite moments include her character Rosalyn learning how to use a newfangled “science oven” (microwave) and trying to convince Irving that he really should thank her for turning him in to some menacing local mobsters that now want to kill him. The girl’s got some serious chops when it comes to comedy.

american_hustle_setFinally, I would be terribly remiss if I didn’t mention the super fab ‘70s decor featured in the film. Everything is warm and wood paneled with smoked glass and bronze and gold accents supplying the glam. Suddenly, my own mid-century modern house and furniture feels a little too predictable and well-behaved. It could use a little something over-the-top and, dare I say, tacky. But you know, good-tacky…like metallic wallpaper. I would say this movie is going to set off a return to ‘70s rustic-mod style in interior design if design megastar Kelly Wearstler hadn’t already been doing this for years. Take a look at the images here to play a little game of “‘American Hustle’ set or Kelly Wearstler design?” It’s not as easy as you’d think.

kelly_wearstler_bedroom_2Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed the first installment of Superficial Movie Reviews.  I know I’m going to enjoy having a legitimate reason to see more films. Also, if I ever make any money from this blog, I’ll be able to write off movie tickets on my taxes just like the good old days!  If you’ve seen ‘American Hustle,’ I’d love to hear your thoughts on it and, if there’s a movie you think I should see, please let me know.