When Did I Become Old?

I can't put my finger on what day last week this actually happened. After 37 years feeling young, ambitious, energetic and pretty happy with the way things are going, I came face to face with the fact that I am outdated. The first tell-tale sign came from the steady stream of gray hairs I seem to find myself plucking out of my head every morning. I used to be the person who proudly proclaimed "I never dye my hair." Well, looks like I've got to have a consultation with Clairol. Next was a conversation that I had with a 20 something up and comer in one of the departments I work with who actually told me that I'm her role model and she'd like to one day aspire to be like me. That was incredibly flattering, but it also made me feel like I was a grandmother or something. Oh, but it got better. Last night I was confronted face to face with the fact that I am officially past my prime. My in-laws took our kids for the night so we decided to share a fun night out in Manhattan - even visiting one of my favorite old haunts - no not a dance club, but the dessert place, Serendipity. When we walked inside there was a small group of young girls wearing designer jeans, leg warmers and heels (hello "Flashdance"), hanging out waiting for their turn to be called and when my husband asked for a table for two, the obnoxious host told him it would be a two hour wait - even though there were hardly any people waiting for tables! We totally thought he was snubbing us because we weren't teenagers or twentysomethings - either way - we were pissed and decided to seek our revenge by going to Dylan's Candy Bar. But Dylan's is unfortunately, smoke and mirrors. At first glance, the place looks amazing with every candy known to mankind - including those bubble gum cigarettes I used to love when I was a kid. When we went on line to order Frozen Hot Chocolates - which happens to be one of Serendipity's signature items - I was giddy with excitement...until I took my first sip. Turns out that Dylan's hasn't been able to steal the recipe from Serendipity's even though the two stores are about 500 yards away from each other. And then, to top off the evening we went to go see "Music and Lyrics" with two of my favorite actors of the 80's, 90's and today...Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant. I was so excited to see both of them on screen until I noticed that the film pretty much made fun of the fact that women in their late thirties (that would be me) fawned over Hugh Grant's washed up 80's pop star character. Yet he was still attractive, falling for the younger Drew Barrymore while the 37 year olds were like shriveled old ladies trying to recapture their long forgotten youth. I know getting old pretty much sucks but why do men age gracefully and women have to be on the lookout for the latest botox treatment that won't make them look like Jocelyn Wildenstein? Well, all I can say is despite the fact that my younger co-workers and Hollywood think I'm officially over the hill, I'm going to fight the system with every feeble bone in my body. I'm in my thirties and I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up so back off kiddies and stay out of my way!

*Great Confession from our Role Mommy Giveaway Winner!

*Meet Amy...

Winner of a Design-her Gals Personalized Mug!

Amy's Confession...

When is the last time you felt a real sense of accomplishment? Usually it has to do with completing a project or a job well done. Before my daughter, that is when I would have applied the term. Now, I parade around the house, feeling a real sense of accomplishment...when I remove a huge booger from her nose. Not only do I parade around the house, I do so with the giant snot stuck to my finger, waving it above my head. It sounds insane, but let me explain:First, you have to get close to the little munchkin's nose. No easy feat when you consider her super human strength when faced with a tissue. She also has this tactic I call "the mini-golf windmill". She also uses this when eating on occasion. Just when you think you are close to your target, her hand moves to block the incoming hand.Second, you have to be prepared. Keep in mind, these are not ordinary boogers. They are made of some organic compound that can be stretched beyond imaginable limits. You need to have a tissue available for the snot to stick to, otherwise all it does it taunt you and then bounce back into the nostril never to be seen again. Third, you have to have at least six hands; two to hold her head still, two to immobilize her arms, one to hold the tissue and the other with a longer nail on the pinky to fit in the nostril and coax the little yellow bugger out.Somehow removing one big-butt booger has become more important to me than closing a multi-million dollar deal or giving a presentation to a group of key clients.

For more of Amy's hilarious stories about her life as a working mom, visit her blog CT Working Mom.

The Guilt Trip

I recently went out of town on a business trip that took me away from my family for a total of 36 hours (more or less). I made sure to book the flight out to Los Angeles so that I'd be able to fly home in time to take the kids to school the moment I set foot in the door.

You see, business trips for mothers are really guilt trips. You get the guilt from your kids for leaving them at home or forgetting to bring them back something cool from your trip - note to self - pricey items from the LAX airport are not the way to go next go round. You get the guilt from your spouse who doesn't want you to be away from the family and proceeds to tell you what an incredibly exhausting day he had without you as he tended to your kids every need.

Some women even get guilt from their animals - dogs or cats who leave them something special to remember them by right before their ready to bolt out the door and head for the airport.

But despite the guilt that I feel whenever I go away, I am guilty of something far worse. I enjoy being away from home every once in a while. Yes - I am guilty - I enjoy king sized beds whose only inhabitant is me for the night. I especially love pillow top mattresses and those cozy robes that they offer at upscale hotels.

I feel guilty that I enjoy reading USA Today cover to cover - I'd prefer it were the New York Times, but unfortunately in L.A., USA Today has monopolized the hotel circuit. I enjoy watching the news from my luxury bathroom or from the tub on the wall of a hotel I stayed at in Chicago that was sheer bliss after I endured a long plane ride while battling an awful cold.

I feel guilty that I adore room service. Sure they charge me 40 bucks for an omelette, but I love that I can eat by myself, with no one calling my name and no one demanding I come to the bathroom to wipe their tush. I feel guilty that I love watching the morning news without anyone asking me to change the channel so that they can watch "Sponge Bob." I feel guilty that I love turning on my laptop and writing for hours without any interruptions.

Yes, I am guilty of enjoying a business trip. It's not that I travel all the time - I'm sure I'd probably hate going away if I had to do it on a regular basis. But every once in a while, I enjoy getting the chance to have a good night's sleep and then I can come home and appreciate everything that I have in my life - two adorable kids, a terrific husband and a cat who enjoys curling up next to me on the couch.

So the next time your family makes you feel guilty for going away on business...just remember - give up the guilt and enjoy the time away - a good night sleep in a king sized bed may be the guilty pleasure you need to make you feel like yourself again!

Say Goodnight Gracie

Well, as quickly as we welcomed a new cat into our happy home, the quicker we ushered her out when the going got tough. You see, as I had mentioned in my previous post, it had appeared that our cat Rudy, was lonely after losing his lifelong companion and brother, Oliver. But, I think we were mistaken.

Sure he stared longingly outside to our backyard which we interpreted as him looking for Oliver, but what we realized after taking in Gracie, was that Rudy is truly a loner at heart.

The trouble started almost immediately. Gracie arrived and hid under anything she could find. Personally, I saw that as a positive since I knew she wouldn't wreck our furniture if she was only hiding under it. But when we attempted to bring her out to civilization and introduce her to Rudy, that's when all hell broke loose. Our fearless cat began to tremble, whining, meowing, scratching everything in his sight to get away from Gracie. And Gracie...well she took off to hide under the sofa until the coast was clear.

Once the initial introductions were made, we figured we'd let the cats become friendly in their own time. Except Gracie was nowhere to be found. We searched under all the furniture but no matter where we looked, she wouldn't materialize. That is, until we started to do a little aggressive investigating. After opening one of our closet doors in our basement, we discovered that not only had Gracie found refuge in the cavernous section of our closet, she also decided to create a new way to mark her territory - no need for a litterbox when you can pretty much crap all over the basement.

Oh, but it gets worse. After cleaning up the mess Gracie made in our basement, we soon discovered that Rudy was petrified of setting foot in the basement. Probably because Gracie was lurking in the shadows - ready to pounce when no one was looking. And so, on day five of our foster cat situation, my cat, the one who never really caused any problems for us suddenly decided that the bathtub would be a great place to relieve himself.

When I came home to find that Rudy had used our tub as a toilet, I threw my hands up and decided that taking in a companion for a cat wasn't necessarily the best idea in the world. And so, on Saturday morning, one week after greeting our guest, we all said our goodbyes to Gracie. We sent the feline packing from whence she came, and Rudy, well - he couldn't have been happier.