Multitasking Moms

Joan Raymond in MSNBC’s Vitals’ Section looks at new research that shows moms are multitasking about ten hours more a week than dads and not so happy doing it.

“Moms are more likely to get stuck with labor-intensive housework or childcare activities, while dads generally multitask by talking to several people at once or performing self-care. Dads are also more involved in kids' recreational activities.”

This is something most moms I know are experiencing firsthand. I wouldn’t say it’s even anything the dads are meaning to do, in fact, most dads I know are extremely hands-on and involved in the household responsibilities But perhaps it’s true that the dads tend to focus on the more “fun” household tasks where the moms feel responsible for the nitty-gritty details like switching out too-small clothes for bigger ones, washing dishes, and making sure he diaper bag has everything needed in it before the family walks out the door.

“To help ease the strain, the authors suggest sharing the load by getting dad more involved in the mundane aspects of home and child care.”

How does your family handle the challenges of balancing out daily mundane household chores?

Celebrity Momster

I started a new blog to gripe about celebrity moms at Celebrity Momster.

I am very liberal and all about letting everyone be themselves and do their thing, but there’s still this urge I have to point at others and say, oh my god!

And those people are often celebrity moms.

Sometimes it’s just fun to say, Suck It!

Ex-Porn Star Can Read!

I’m not surprised that an ex-porn star, Sasha Grey, reading to children in a public school is being reacted to negatively.

What I am surprised about is that no one has shown any surprise that an ex-porn star can actually read! I mean, come on, anyone involved in the adult business must be illiterate, too, right?

The hypocrisy that this news bite shines light on seems to go completely unnoticed.

Why does it matter what this woman used to do for a living? She was invited because she’s a mainstream actress now. Why can’t we let go of people’s pasts?

And why is it such a big deal that she used to have sex on film? If you hadn’t noticed, people are having sex all over the world! Guess what? It’s what creates babies and you know, perpetuates the species and all.

How can we be so judgmental about how a person chooses to have sex when it isn’t harming anyone else?

The woman came and read to students in a classroom. She did not promote her former sex tapes. She did not have sex with the children.

She read books.

Get over it already.

We Learn From Others’ Strengths

The truth that when we are feeling down we should look to others, give to others, has always resonated with me. Of course, it can be hard to look outside ourselves when we are in certain depressed states.


As a mother who can never take a day off, it can feel even harder and more unfair, even when we know we have it pretty good.

Karon Brown’s story was the inspiration I needed today. She is a former crack dealer, stripper, drug user and—a mother.

She has been through recovery more than once, but now finds herself in a good place. She is an addiction counselor and she is writing.

Every time a stripper or former stripper proves to do something positive with their lives, I glow a bit.

Every time the old stereotypes about strippers fall down for a moment, I sigh a happy moment of relief.

Stripper. Drug dealer. Druggie. You name it. Everyone’s got something in their past that others may look down on. But isn’t what matters what one thinks of oneself? And isn’t what will be remembered the good that we make of our entire lives, not just one moment?

Have a Stripperific Halloween!

Is-halloween-too-scary-or-too-sexy

Since when is Halloween the opportunity for kids to let out their inner stripper?


Perhaps we lived in a different era back when I was a kid in the 70’s. There were no “Halloween” stores for buying premade costumes. Either your mom sewed together a sad-looking bunny costume for you or you took a sheet and cut out a few eye holes.

A quick walk through the Halloween store at the Westfield Shopping Center in Milford with my three children was more like a let’s-get-the-hell-out-of-this-sex-shop rampage.

There were aisles and aisles of slutty this and slutty that. Fishnet stockings, stripper stilettos, and every Slutty McSlutty outfit you could imagine. And the short skirts and suggestive attire was not kept to just the adult costumes—no, even the Strawberry Shortcake outfit for a girl had a certain cheesecake appeal to it.

Thank god my kids were more freaked out by the over-the-top grotesque and scary outfits to notice all the slut fierceness surrounding them.

Cole softly murmured, “Let’s get out of here; let’s get out of here…” and I was more than happy to oblige.

Since when does everybody want to pretend to be a stripper on Halloween? And why?

Minka Kelly's Stripper Mom and Archie Comics

There are lots of recaps floating around the Internet this week about the actress Minka Kelly’s Las Vegas Stripper Mom.

The gist of her thoughts toward her “gorgeous” mother was that she wished she’d been more of a mom rather than a friend, but Kelly doesn’t seem to harbor any bad feelings about her mother having been an exotic dancer.

I’m hoping my daughter will be as easily forgiving. Of course, I’m not working as a stripper now, but as Genny is becoming more aware of the world around her, I know I will need to address the issue eventually.

She actually just discovered Archie comics a few weeks ago when I bought some at a tag sale. She’s already loving Betty and Veronica. I’m trying to remember what I made of all their boy-craziness when I began reading them as a girl. I think I was about her same age when I started.

Well, perhaps the Archies will be a good preview for her about how girls and boys can be silly sometimes. As far as I know, there aren’t any stripper moms in Archies though. Not so far at least.


Photo courtesy of Susie B of Freedigitalphotos.net.

Baby’s Growing Up

I’ve been so busy that I’ve barely had time for blogging. Genny and Cole’s school has phase-in this week, but next week they’ll be back on their regular schedule.

Tomorrow is baby’s first birthday.

I’ve really been struck lately, meaning the last few months, how many amazing things are going on with my children. I keep wanting to record all the little changes, but the days keep getting away from me before I can save these mementos.

Like Cole is now speaking not only in sentences, but paragraphs. His favorite words are: actually, nope, and zoombah, as in: “I love you Mommy, zoombah.”

Genny is convinced I don’t love her, but I do like her. If I gave her chocolate every Wednesday though, then that would mean I love her.

And Thomas climbed up the entire flight of stairs before we realized it. He can walk holding on to the living room table.

And me? I’m trying to do too much as usual. Teach for two colleges, get my manuscript ready for publication, work on my other three or seven major writing projects, plan out the possibility of starting a small press.

And, oh yeah—get used to the fact that no matter what I seem to do, my stomach just wants to poof out like a mushroom. And remind myself that I shoudn’t care about something like that anymore.

Gape Seed: A Poetry Anthology

I received my contributor copies of Gape Seed: A Poetry Anthology by Uphook Press.

My first book!

I have a poem titled "Leaving Me" included.

I'll let you know about upcoming readings.

If you'd like to purchase a signed copy, just let me know!

Excuse Me While I Have Sex, I Mean—Nurse My Baby…

It’s the old double-standard, or is it?



After I read about James Hazell, a BBC radio host, comparing breastfeeding in public to him having sex with his wife in a restaurant, I had to look into what his comments were. I felt outraged if what I heard was true, that women shouldn’t be allowed to breastfeed in public because, just like sex, it’s something that should be done in private.



After reading this article, I feel his comments may have been taken slightly out of context. While it is true that he doesn’t feel comfortable with public nursing, his comment about sex was in response to a woman saying breastfeeding was: “the most natural thing in the world.”



While I agree, Hazell’s comment makes sense in context: “Next time you are out having a meal at a restaurant, on the basis that it [breastfeeding] is the most natural thing in the world, I will come in there with my wife and then make love right in front of you. Breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the world, and that is fine, but there are a lot of natural things we don’t do in public.”



Yes, Mr. Hazell, I see your point. The “it’s natural” argument could open the door for people doing many socially-unaccepted things in public (masturbation, picking one’s nose, farting loudly, etc.), but when it comes to breastfeeding, it’s about nourishing a child; it’s not about satisfying some personal compulsion or something that could be put on hold until later.



When a child is hungry, he or she needs to eat. When one feels like having sex, one can (hopefully) wait until a room becomes available.

Stripping Down

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged here in awhile; I’ve been busy with my new blog Every Day Create.


I have great news though—my memoir Stripping Down is going to be published by Pink Fish Press.


I’ll give you more details soon!

A Stripper Mom at 48

Danielle Staub: Good-Bye ‘Real Housewives of New Jersey’, Hello Strip Club

Danielle, 48, has just signed a three-year contract with Scores Gentleman’s Club in NYC, TMZ reports, along with NSFW photos of Danielle on a stripper pole.

I’ve never seen the show The Real Housewives of New Jersey, but I’ve heard little flashes of it in the news.

I’m kind of impressed that Scores hired a 48-year-old mom as a stripper. Sure, they only did it for publicity sake, but still.

And I’m pretty amazed that Danielle Staub is confident enough to strip in Scores at 48-years-old.

I worked at Scores when it first opened. I was actually there on its opening day.

Scores is like the Cirque du Soleil of strip clubs—flashy, gimmicky, and full of people you kind of want to look at because they’re so beautiful and exotic, but kind of don’t want to look at because they’re so unreal-looking as to be a bit bizarre.

Perhaps Staub will fit right in.

Porn found in bin Laden hideout, officials say

I have to admit I find it humorous to imagine US officials studying the porn found in Bin Laden’s hideout for secret messages.

The U.S. has found so much pornography in the possession of al-Qaida operatives during previous raids that it spurred investigations into whether porn photos were being used to send coded messages, a former U.S. counterterrorism official told NBC News.

It is moments such as these when I stop and wonder who is in possession of naked photos of me.

Could naked photos of me be carrying secret messages across enemy lines?

Nah, probably just being used for “artistic” purposes!

Every Day Create!

I'm happy to launch my new website today: Every Day Create!

My life is so chaotic right now: 3 kids, teaching, writing.

I decided I need to create a goal to keep me centered every day.

I've had such good success this year with my commitment to work on my writing every day, so I figured, what if I applied that commitment to other areas?  Like my well-being! It’s just as important.

I believe we have the power to create our lives, but I have a hard time living into that.

One of my life challenges has always been not feeling like I’m allowed to fully live, really be myself—because I’m a bit worried people will see the real me, and well, not like me.

What if no one likes me? So what?!

I give myself permission to create my self out loud!

I devote myself to creating that self I’ve always wanted to be—bold, outrageous, joyful, and fun!

I’ll give myself (and you, if you so choose to accept the challenge) goals each week to create something totally new and unique. We won’t be staying in out comfort zone.

Join me.

Create your own daily goal every day, or use mine, or just watch what unfolds in the background until you’re ready to join in.

Every morning I’ll shoot my vlog, make my daily intention known to you—get it out of my head and into the world.

I’ll report back to you in the evening by blog to let you know how I did on following through.

Share your creation goals, too. Either vlog it or blog it in the comments section of my vlog.

Or you can just ditto if you’re going to try my goal of the day. The important thing is that you put it out there so you have someone else besides yourself counying on you.

Be sure to check back in later to let us all know your progress.

So that’s the general idea for now. I’ll tweak things as we go.

But I don’t want to wait to get started anymore.  I hold back on so many things because I always want things to be perfect.

No more!  Time to grab life and begin.

Let’s do it! Every day create!

Madonna is to Strippers like Sprinkles Are to Ice Cream

There's a short piece on Salon by Christine Macdonald today that really brought me back to the old days.

She's a former stripper turned writer and she talks about dancing to Madonna.

A part of me wants to shout out--What?!  YOU strippeed to Madonna, too?!  What a coincidence!  I did, too!

And her descriptions are so dead-on.  I danced to "Like a Prayer" also! 

I vogued on stage, too! 

And, I felt so cool and sexy doing it.  Madonna really brings out your inner-stripper.

But most importantly, Macdonald's writing reminds me that I was not and am not the exception.  There were and are a lot of other intelligent strippers (and ex-strippers, thank you very much) out there.

And you know what else?  There are good people still in the world...

I saw a lady driving by our house this week, pull over, get out of her car, pick up a leaf basket that was blown into the road, and carry it up into a lawn.  She paused, looked back at the road as if she were considering how windy it was, and then brought the basket further up into the lawn.

Then she got in her car and drove away. 

I actually said out loud as she drove away, "You've restored my faith in humanity."

Smart strippers and considerate drivers.  What a world!

Stripper Wisdom Graphic Memoir Excerpt

I have an excerpt from a graphic memoir I'm working on in Xenith Magazine.

Check out "My Other Nudie Jobs: Nude Housekeeper!"

Jet Fuel Review Spring Issue

I have a poem in Jet Fuel Review's premier issue.

Check it out here!

Prime Mincer

I have a graphic memoir piece published in Prime Mincer's debut issue.

I received my contributor copies--it's a very well-done literary journal.

If you'd like to purchase, please click through my Amazon button!

Mom, 3 children die when van goes into Hudson River

I know when I get overwhelmed with being a mother I sometimes feel like ending it all.  My depression can bubble up and rage through me.  I can feel like driving away and never coming back.

It can be a very scary feeling of being out of control.  Fortunately for me, I have a supportive husband and other support systems in place.  I know if I ever feel really crazed that there are people to turn to for help.

Unfortunately, for this mother, she was not able to find a way through her torment.

I don't know anything else besides what is in this article on MSNBC.  There was a domestic dispute.  Then she drove her car with her four children away, letting out the ten-year-old on the way to the river.  He then ran to the fire station and alerted them to what their mother was doing.

What makes this story hit me even harder is that her three children that died were all right about the same ages as my children.

To think of their final moments is to imagine my own three children in a situation like that.  I cry just imagining this.

I don't say this often, but my thoughts and prayers go out to this family, their friends, the whole town.  Our whole world.

No one should ever have to feel so hopeless. 

And before all the voices of, "Oh, what a horrible mother!  How could she?!" start exploding--I'd just like to ask that we stop and imagine how deeply disturbed this poor woman must have been to have been able to commit this act.

My heart goes out to them all.  May they rest in peace.

The Fertile Source

Check out my poems at The Fertile Source, a literary ezine devoted to fertility-related topics.

At the end of the poems there's a link to an interview with me by Tania Pryputniewicz.

Enjoy!

New Stripper Mom

Baby born outside Arlington strip club was first delivery for rescue crew

This is a delivery to remember.

Mom-to-be and Dad-to-be were zipping to a Texas hospital when they got pulled over for speeding. After the delay (and might I add, no police escort to the hospital) they got back on the road to head for the hospital.

Labor was progressing quickly and when they called 911, they were instructed to pull over into the nearest parking lot. That just so happened to be a Flashdancers strip club parking lot.
Hmm…there were NO other parking lots to choose from?

The father’s best coaching included this bit of wisdom:

“She kept saying, ‘The baby’s coming, the baby’s coming!’ And I was like, ‘No, it’s not, not unless you open your legs,’” Martinez said. “That was the line I kept getting teased about.”

Luckily, the paramedics arrived and delivered baby in the ambulance.

“Then we kind of breathed a big sigh of relief,” Wynn said, “and then I realized I had a lot of paperwork to do.”

My Other Nudie Jobs

Check out my graphic memoir piece called "My Other Nudie Jobs: Cocktail Waitress," at Foliate Oak Literary Journal.

I was having a lot of fun working on these graphic memoir pieces, but the dining room table where I was working has now become a changing table for the baby.

Just another way my children prevent me from being creative!

I'm getting the itch to start writing some more though; baby may just have to get chnaged on the floor.

Breast Milk Ice Cream

Nothing says yummy like breast milk ice cream.

According to The Examiner website there’s an ice cream shop serving up homemade ice cream infused with local women’s breast milk.

And what’s this flavor called? Why, Baby Gaga, of course.

I wonder if American ice cream parlors could get away with this. And would there be a market for it?

I suspect there are plenty who would line up for this icy treat.

Just as the customers slapped their five-dollar-bills down for a splash of breast milk in their drinks at The Hideaway strip club in Stamford twenty years ago. Yup, it was the old lactating-stripper-mother-squirts-milk-shots-into-your-glass trick.

That’s one thing I haven’t tried yet. Making money off my breast milk. I don’t think Thomas would approve.

Skating Lessons

Genny and I had a girls’ day on Sunday. I hoped a little alone time might help us bond a little.

It’s unbelievable how many issues came up for me as I skated in slow ellipses.

First of all, Wonderland of Ice is where I used to go when I was a girl, so I was hyperaware of everything that’s changed and even more of what hasn’t changed over the decades.

I could see myself in the preteen girls huddled and giggling, more concerned about how they looked on the ice than whether they were having fun or not.

The music made me want to boogie, which of course got my hips shaking and made me self-conscious of my movements. Do I ice dance like a stripper?

I tried to keep my body from moving so as not to embarrass my daughter, but I think I did myself a disservice—as I often do in the name of public decency.

Why am I always so concerned about what others think of me? It’s not like I wanted to gyrate my hips, I just wanted to glide and shake. I’m afraid I’m bottling my sense of self because of worries of what others will think of me.

Genny was having a marvelous time as all these thoughts raced through my mind. Of course, she was doing ice-shuffling and I was unable to ever leave her side, so I really didn’t have the opportunity to let my body open up on the ice.

But I also thought of how much I do love to perform. Although I’ve never taken ice skating lessons, I have a sense of wanting to imitate the moves. I feel that I would be good with a few lessons.

I don’t want to do triple axles or anything, but I’d love to be able to turn a little, spin, glide, embellish with my arms.

And then here comes my inner critic again.

You’re too old. You’d embarrass yourself. Why start something new now? Who has the time? Why bother doing something if your aim is not to be the best?

I would love to have a hobby. My life just doesn’t afford me the time.

If I could, I’d love to take ice skating lessons. And I’d love to wear a cute little skating outfit with a skirt. I’d twirl and beam. Not for anyone else (honestly, I wouldn’t want anyone else to watch), but for the joy of dressing up, playing, and gliding to the rhythm my body so desperately wants to join.

Religion focus of custody fight involving former exotic dancer turned devout Jew

Now there’s a headline I never thought I’d see: Religion focus of custody fight involving former exotic dancer turned devout Jew.
But as I read the article what I find most interesting is that there’s a question about this woman’s ability to raise her son since she was an exotic dancer, but there’s no issue about the father having been a strip club manager.

“The question here is who is the better decision-maker,” the father’s attorney, Joel Brodsky, said in his brief opening statements before Cook County Circuit Court Judge John Thomas Carr Wednesday. Brodsky said before the hearing that he intends to bring up Margolina’s days as an exotic dancer — and her subsequent conversion to devout Judaism — to show the court that she “tends toward extremes.”

Now if that isn’t a double standard, I don’t know what is.

Taking My Bra Off

I just finished teaching my online writing class and realized how much I like teaching. I mean, it’s not like I just realized it, but I had one of those classes where I just have so much fun.

Even though I have a cold and a scratchy throat, or actually maybe because I feel sick, I was more “myself” somehow than I always am. It’s like, when I’m not feeling well, I give myself permission to be a bit goofy and let my real personality out instead of trying to be a “teacher.”

And I think my students had a fun time, too, which is pretty important when you’re dealing with a lesson on formal outlines and plagiarism.

This wasn’t even what I was going to talk about tonight, but somehow this is what came out.

I was going to talk about how I really felt like Stripper Mom tonight. When we sit down to dinner lately, I usually take off my bra so it’s easier to nurse Tommy at the table. No pulling down my bra cup or having to keep adjusting.


Tonight I had a bit of difficulty shimmying my arms down the tight sleeves to free my arms from my bra straps. I saw myself in the kitchen mirror as I wrestled my arms out, bare breasts looking strange with my family reflected in the background.


And I thought how kind of silly it was—me taking off my bra for dinner and no one in the family even batting an eye at this strange little pre-dinner ritual.


It’s kind of like: What does your mom do right before dinner?


Take off her bra and pop out her boob and nurse the baby…and yours?

Ph.D. in Pole Dancing

This question to the Ask Amy column in The Chicago Tribune got me thinking.

Now that I’m a mother of two boys, what would I think if my son told me he was dating a stripper?

Like the mother here, I at first thought, of course, I would prefer my son date a Ph.D. candidate than a stripper. But thankfully, I caught myself.

Not only is it sad that I would diss my own past dating self, but it really is absurd that anyone would judge a person by their job. I realized very quickly, hey, wait a minute, I was a stripper!

True, the person I was back then was not a person I would really want my son to be dating, but is it fair to say it had anything to do with me being a stripper?

In my case, I would have to say, yes. My being a stripper definitely stemmed from my acting out in many ways. Although underneath it all I was still the woman I am today, I was in the midst of making some questionable choices.

I will admit, I was not the woman you wanted to bring home to meet mom. Although the mother of my fiancé at the time did handle it well. She joked about my occupation, while at the same time trying to help steer me in a different direction.

Of course, now here I am today—valedictorian of my college class, MFA in Creative Writing. Not too shabby.

Better I get the stripping thing out of my system and end up in a socially “good” place than just be a smarty-pants my whole life.

So my advice to Fretting Mom? Grin and bear (bare) it. Your son’s girlfriend will either turn out to meet all your worst expectations or maybe, just maybe, end up with a Ph.D. of her own and school you in the proper way not to judge a book by its cover.

Dating a stripper is probably something like being a stripper; it seems one way in the abstract and another in reality.

The Tired Mommy Blog

Wow. I’ve been tired. I know, I know—not a good excuse for not blogging.

I’ll try to be better, really, I will.

Being a mother of three is nothing to sneeze at though, especially when everyone is sneezing. We’ve all had a run-in with whatever virus seems to be roaming from Jersey to Connecticut.

I’m teaching two sections of Composition at Kaplan University right now and will be going back to teaching at Housatonic Community College in the spring. Although I’m busy, it feels good to be teaching writing again.


I feel like it’s time for a big life reevaluation about now. I need to refocus on what’s important in my life, perhaps explore if I need to move in new directions with things.

Stuff I Say To My Kids

OK, along the lines of, Shit My Dad Says, I give you, Stuff I Say To My Kids.

Lately, the sentences that come out of my mouth are too ridiculous.

The little people in my house don't seem to see the humor, but at least I amuse myself.

Yesterday, for instance, I had to say to Cole: Don't drive the truck on your brother's head!

And I had so much fun saying it, that I decided to say it again with more enthusiam: Cole, DON'T drive a truck on your brother!

If you are a mother of three I'm sure you have said these crazy things, too.

Three small children live in my house

I'm surviving motherhood times three so far, but for all those mothers who told me that adding one more kid when you already have two is no big deal, I'd like to speak to you in private.

Seriously, adding one more little human to the family mix is a big deal.

Thomas is two-weeks old and over ten pounds now.  He nurses around the clock.

Cole has been having the most problems.  He's taken to making a fist, pouting, and hitting whatever is nearby.  Thankfully, so far Thomas has only received one sharp rap to the head.

My Sweet Thomas

Thomas Jeffrey Terzi is here!

He is one-week old today.  For his first doctor's visit, he has already regained his lost weight; he's back up to 8 ponds 13 ounces.  And it's no surprise; I'm nursing on-demand and his demand is high!  He nurses practically around the clock.

He's already doing well at night; he sleeps in two-three hour spurts, which I am extremely happy with.

I even drove to my kids' school to pick them up.  Not bad for six-days post-partum.

Of course, I've been having my ups and downs, but I'm being kind to myself.  I'm giving myself a break.

But for everyone who said adding one more child to two is no big deal, I do have to say an adamant, what are you KIDDING me?!

It is total pandemonium.  It is heartbreaking to see 21-month old Cole "jealous," although most of the time he is so good with Thomas--petting him and offering him food and toys.  It may just be an act to distract us so he can stick pushpins in him when we turn away.

I'm also happy to say that I've been feeling very creative.  I wrote my first poem in years.  Crazy!

Now I just have to keep up the momentum!

39 Weeks

Here's my belly at 38-weeks.  Hard to believe I'm even bigger this week.

The doctor has decided my baby is about 8.5 pounds and quite big enough for my body.  So, if I'm not in labor by my due date, September 7th, I'm scheduled to be induced on September 8th.

By next Wednesday the baby will be about 9 pounds!  Yikes.  Cole took four hours of pushing to get out and he was only 8.5 pounds.

Come on, baby!

Come out, come out!

Hollywood's best-kept secret: Nannies

Hollywood's best-kept secret: Nannies

How do celebrities like Angelina and Julia do it all? With lots (and lots) of help. And they're doing women a huge disservice by hiding these helping hands.

Of course, we moms know this is true, but it is so frustrating knowing that most of the world sees these Super Moms doing it all and so assume we mere mortals should be able to be just as well put-together.

I do admit though, when I see those photos of Angelina floating through an airport clasping some of her brood's hands, that I forget that the nannies are somewhere right behind her...living in the shadows while the paps take their shots.

I applaud Julia Roberts for admitting that it takes a "village" of help when she is filming. 

Now, if only some other celebs could be so honest.

Instead of Angelina just smiling as she donates a check to some foundation and people praise her miraculous ability to balance it all, wouldn't it be great if she had the guts to say, "Sure, I make it look easy, but look behind me.  There are the people who allow me to be able to do it all, or should I say, make it look like I am able to do it all!"

Churchgoers reach out to strippers after service, but all is not yet resolved

It seems some church-goers from New Beginnings Ministries in the village of Warsaw, Ohio, aren't too happy about some strippers shaking their stuff at the nearby Foxhole strip club.

The congregants have been protesting outside the strip club, so the strippers tried the same tactic by dancing in bikinis outside the church during services. 

It seems only fair.

But after Sunday's guest speakers, former-strippers-turned-Christians who preach to strippers, it seems like the two groups are trying to find a common ground.  Forgiveness is in the air, but not forgetting.  Both groups still plan the protests.

But the guest preachers did have success at the club, it seems.  They were able to convince two strippers to let Jesus into their hearts, if not leave the strip-world all together.

"Our hearts are with Jesus, but our bodies are at the Foxhole," Gina Hughes said.

Moms mad at model's breastfeeding remarks

It's the same old story.  Moms mad at other moms for telling them how to raise their children.

Model Gisele Bundchen is having to backtrack to explain her words:

"Are you going to give chemical food to your child when they are so little?"

She also said that she believed there should be a law that all mothers should have to breastfeed for six months.

I don't see what the big problem is.  Bundchen is just expressing her feelings.  It's a shame that some mothers take this as an insult if they choose not to breastfeed.

Yes, she's extremely wealthy and can afford to take time off of work and breastfeed her baby.  True, she probably wasn't thinking about moms who can't afford that luxury.  But it's just her opinion. 

Why do we have such a hard time letting women speak their minds?

Who cares what Bundchen says?

We as mothers should not care so much what a supermodel expresses.  We should focus on doing what is right for our own families.

Almost 35 weeks pregnant

I normally love the summer; I run outside to soak in the warmth every chance I get.



Not this year.



My enormous belly got a rash on it that has spread and become a red, itchy, blotchy, massive wound.



Just going up a flight of stairs winds me completely.



I was in the hospital the other day because of belly pains and dizziness.



Cole screams for at least an hour whenever he wakes up from his nap.



My daughter hates me—makes nasty faces and comments all the time.



I have zero strength to get any productive writing done on my projects.



I guess you could say I’m a little stressed out.

How Do I Know Whom To Listen To?

I was researching other Mommy blogs when I stumbled upon this short interview with the author Betsy Brown Braun on Guru Mommy.

The interviewer happened to ask the question I struggle with...

So how do we get our child to listen? Listening is not the problem. The problem is that your child is not being compliant, not doing what you are asking him to do or not to do. There is no one-size-fits-all answer. You, however, need to grow some credibility, otherwise known as backbone.

What do we do if they ignore this? Position yourself deliberately, right in front of your child and not across the room from your child. State your request clearly, being very specific in your expectations.

And if this isn’t working? Explain the consequence for non-compliance, giving just one warning. Give him a moment to comply, and when he doesn’t, lower the boom (impose the related consequence.) Repeated and hollow threats create children who don’t listen.

It's good advice, I guess.  But I think we've tried this method and it hasn't worked.  And it really brings up the issue of "compliance" in children.  Yes, there are times that our children need to listen to us, but at what costs to our children's future self-esteem?

I want my children to learn independence, too, and not just how to comply with what an "authority" says to do.

Sometimes I think I read too much.  I end up with so many differing opinions on what's right and wrong that it gets confusing to know just what to do at all anymore.

Find Your Peace

I have to go into the OB’s office every week now for a non-stress test. This morning the doctor saw a “decel” of the baby’s heart, so just to be safe, I had to go to St. Vincent’s to be hooked up for an extended non-stress test.

The baby turned out to be fine. The machine was even picking up my early contractions. They better just be Braxton-Hicks; I’ve got seven weeks to go.

That was my entire morning. I managed to stay sane for the whole afternoon with the kids. Cole is so frightened of thunderstorms; he just lay against my body for a half-an-hour during the loud booms.

Speaking of loud booms, Genny did not like it when I said it was time for bed. She freaked out in all her glory.

Screaming. Crying. Throwing books. And her piece de resistance—kicking her mother a few times.

I tried ignoring it. Reasoning with her. Sending her to her room. But nothing worked and she refused to listen to anything I said.

Finally, after holding her door closed while she screamed hysterically, she stopped. I could hear her taking out her dress-up drawer. I managed to get the now freaked-out Cole to bed.

As I came out of his room, she came into the hallway and apologized. She got no books. But I lay down with her.

I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve read books; I’ve followed my instincts; I’ve been understanding; I’ve been stern.

I always end up back here. Trying to figure this whole parenting thing out.

Mom on Strike

We went away for the weekend to the Rocking Horse Ranch in the Catskills. And while none of us actually went on a trail ride, Genny did get to go on Pony rides. There were indoor and outdoor water slides, pools, a lake with boating of all kinds, and lots of food.

In between a few intestinal issues for a few members of the family, everybody had a good time.

So, imagine my annoyance when after a fun-filled weekend, Genny started in on her “I hate Mommy” antics at dinner last night.

For some reason, a new part of me snapped and I announced, “I’m on strike! I’m not having this new baby until I feel like I live in a loving family.”

Take that, cranky girl!

“I don’t care.”

Fine. I sat there and seethed in my anger.

“OK, then…well, I’m going to take the new baby and go away somewhere where people love me.”

I got a big pouty look.

After Genny excused herself, Nick looked at me and said, “What was that all about?”

That’s when it hit me. My mood swings have been quite erratic lately. I’m not giving myself enough acknowledgement that being 33-weeks pregnant in the heat of the summer with wild hormones rushing through me is taking its toll.

I can’t control my feelings. When I’m angry—watch out—it’s coming out. When I’m sad—I’m just bawling my eyes out wherever I am. I can’t control it and I just have to accept it right now.

I hope my family can, too.

Genny runs back into the kitchen, beaming.

“Come into the living room everybody!”

Nick carries Cole and I lug my aching body towards the living room. A sign hangs on the doorway: To Mom. Genny.

As I walk in, Genny tosses homemade rainbow confetti on my head. She’s beaming. I sit on the living room table as she sprinkles colors across my face. I push away the thoughts about how when Genny does something nice for me it usually means a big mess for me to clean up.

She did it for me. And I really do feel loved.

Ugly Mother

I have something not pretty to say about myself.

I stick my tongue out at my daughter when she’s being a brat and turns away from me.

I call her nasty names in my head when she is being rude and disrespectful.

Tonight I almost slipped and said something very not-nice. I caught myself and my head spun as I stood my 32-week pregnant belly up off her bed, searching for something to say out loud that would shock her into six-year-old recognition of how mean she is to me.

“I…I…I don’t want to be your friend anymore!” I said.
With that, I left her room and shut the door and sat on my bed and buried my face in my extra-large body pillow.

And she does not react. She does not cry or feel bad or care.
And all I can think of is how I would have reacted if my mother had said that to me. I would have sobbed and run to her and begged for forgiveness and told her how much I love her.

But my daughter only says “I love you” to me when she wants something. She does not hug or kiss me. She decided awhile ago that she does not need me.

And we have tried everything under the sun (besides any physical punishment)—ignore the bad behavior, use natural consequences, instill time-outs, take away videos, reward for good behavior, etc.
But again and again she disrespects me. And people tell me it’s a phase and I tried to convince myself of that. But I don’t think it is. I think her personality is showing.

If you are not a mother you are probably thinking, “She’s six! Give her a break!”
I have. And I have.

But how much disrespect and apparent hate can a mother take from her child, day-in and day-out?

Where did I sign up for this? Where were the warnings of what being a mother would be? And how did I miss them?

A Sick Toddler and a Cranky Six-Year-Old

It is these moments.  Today is the second day in a row.  At about this same time. 

When my daughter will not listen and I am tired and feeling very pregnant.

When Cole has a 103-degree fever and is lying on the floor crying.

Dishes undone.

Toys all around me.

When I sit on this red dining room rug and cry.  And wish I were anywhere but here.  And wish I were anything but a mom.

And I can understand why women would take their own lives when overwhelmed by it all.

When sitting and crying and asking where is the joy that I feel like some 1950's homemaker, trapped.  Wondering how I will go on.

And, of course, I can reassure myself that it is my depression.  Overwhelmed.  Feeling helpless without my own mother to speak with.  To say, to cry, "Mommy, how did you survive?"

I don't wanna!

Today is just one of those days when I ask myself--why?

Why does my six-year-old daughter not listen to me anymore?

It's been going on for some time now, but when I'm frazzled by my 32-week itchy pregnant belly in 90 degree heat, carrying around my twenty-four pound eighteen-month-old, and being completely ignored by someone much smaller than me, I just about want to scream at her in the face and then run away.

I certainly question my sanity as I sit here pregnant again, wondering where I went wrong with my daughter.  Wondering how to handle this whole whining, crying, moaning, laughing phase.

I am teetering.

Europeans on nudity: Just grin and bare it

Genny just looked at this image and said, "Oooh, that's gross!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you can see his pee-pee."

"So?"  I laughed.

I didn't expect that reaction from her.  That's why I wasn't even hiding my computer screen from her. 

How funny that I was just going to say how glad I am that Genny, at six-years-old, has more of a European attitdue toward nudity.

I'm curious where she learned her reaction from.  We've always been open and comfortable about nudity around our house.  She sees me, her father, and Cole naked all the time, but never reacts or seems bothered by it.

I've always felt it's best to let kids draw their own lines when it comes to their comfort with nudity in the family.

So why the reaction to a statue?

She barely watches television, so she hasn't learned that "Oooh, that's gross!" from there.  Perhaps from her schoolmates?

Come to think of it, I have noticed that she doesn't like it when I wear anything even slightly revealing in public.  So, she seems to be okay with nakedness in our private world, but not the public.

Maybe Americans really are just more prudish and uncomfortable with themselves.

Perhaps if we saw the nude male figure around and about town and women portrayed in more "natural" states of nudity, we might not be so caught up with what lies beneath our neighbors' clothes.

Kendra Wilkinson: How I became Hef’s girlfriend

It is interesting to hear another ex-stripper's take on how she fell into the business.

It is obviously easy to judge others from a distance, but what can we learn from the stories we hear about how young women are lured into the adult business by older men?


What makes this woman a television star while other women who do the same thing (but on a smaller and less "famous" scale) are considered "whores"?

I think perhaps the lesson for all of us ex-stripper-writers is that if you want to get your book published, you'd better get a reality show first.

Wonder Woman...the Stripper?

I have to say something about this image. All I really want to say is--are you kidding me?

DC Comics revealed their revamped version of Wonder Woman by graphic artist Don Kramer and it is...something.

I was never big into Wonder Woman, but my sister was, so every once in a while I would browse through the comics in the 1970s. She seemed like a pretty cool woman, good-looking and ready to kick some bad guys' butts.

But this new image is so disturbing. Is this what we want young girls to think a Super Woman looks like? Are we seriously going to move this much backward in progress? Was there a single woman involved in the production of this image change? And if so, did she agree with the boys, Oh, yes, definately needs bigger boobs, lips, and more sex appeal!

Who is DC marketing this comic to today? Is this comic still for girls? Or is it for pre-teen boys?

Help me out here everyone...why does Wonder Woman look like a porn star?

Mom Who Wants to be a Stripper

This is another story making the rounds about a stripper mom. Well, in this case, she wasn't a stripper yet, but had aspirations.

Her eleven-year-old son called the police because she was packing and had told him she was leaving him and his six-year-old brother to become a stripper in California.

The police arrived and she told the police to get take the boys, to do whatever they needed to do with them. When her 11-year-old went to hug her goodbye, she punched him in the stomach.

Of course, the biggest reactions to the story have been of outrage and disgust. Yes, it is horrible how the children were emotionally and physically abused. Yes, it is enraging and frustrating.

But I wonder if we can also look at how sad this story is, too. To hear of a mother so beaten down by life that her greatest dream is to become a stripper and leave her children behind.

What mother has not had the dream of running away to somewhere beautiful like California to start a new life with none of the responsibilities of raising children. If we are honest with ourselves, can we not find some compassion?

This wanna-be Stripper Mom is only 29-years-old with two children. She became a mom at eighteen-years-old--a child herself.

Who knows where I would be today if I had done things the other way around. If I had had a child at eighteen and not pursued a fantasy life, but been faced with the magnitude of raising kids.

And what is this dream that women see in becoming a stripper? Perhaps she wanted to be seen as beautiful and desirable as a woman again. Perhaps she could not find a way to be both mother and woman. For her, the burden became too much.

Opposing Views: Video: Mom Pretends She's a Stripper, Kids Throw Money

Opposing Views: Video: Mom Pretends She's a Stripper, Kids Throw Money

I'm not sure what to say about this video.

It would be very easy to judge in so many ways, but it just makes me feel sad.

Then again, it's not like the mother takes any of her clothes off in front of the children. She could just be playing and having fun. Yes, it would still be strange that the little boys know about stuffing money into dancing women's clothing.

I guess when I think of currently working stripper moms, I tend to hope they don't actually perform in front of their children, but again...I have seen moms bring their kids to strip clubs when they couldn't find a babysitter.

Mistresses, Mistresses—Everywhere!

David Boreanaz -- The Marriage is Stable


I feel so bored by all the latest gossip about this and that mistress who slept with this married guy and that married guy and now wants money or fame or whatever.

But, of course, what makes me even crazier is that, again, most of the “blame” seems to be landing on the women instead of the men. Like, what? These women are such evil temptresses that no man can resist? Please. It takes two to tango.

And what makes me even crazier is that these women who have done nothing more than sleep with some well-known personalities will now be able to score themselves some nice book contracts. All it takes is a super-shot of “fame” for some silly reason and you are guaranteed a book publisher will come knocking on your door.

Just being a good writer does not qualify one for a book contract. Perhaps I should do something stupid and flashy to get the publishing industry to take an interest in me.

Alas, I believe those days are behind me.

I am now a mother of two children. Or should I say two-and-a-half?

Stripper Mom will be Mom times three come September.

Now if I could only have sextuplets or something, then I’d surely make a name for myself.

Bad Talkin’ Stripper Moms

It’s been a bit since I posted. As usual, life (two young kids, a husband, a house, a job) gets in the way of my writing.

All this Jesse James and Michelle McGee gossip has irritated me to no end. I guess my biggest gripe is that all the reports talk about McGee as a slut and point out how she is a Stripper Mom. Like that’s the problem.

OK, hello, folks! She’s not the one who was cheating on her spouse. Why does the woman always get blamed as being the whore in situations like this? It’s the same with the whole Tiger Woods scandal. The mistresses are made out to be evil and slutty, much more so than the man who did the cheating.

It’s the old double-standard that just doesn’t want to die.

People act all shocked and disgusted that McGee is trying to make a buck off of her affair with Jesse James. But why? She sees an opportunity to make some money without having to take her clothes off! Why wouldn’t she jump on that chance?

Of course, I will admit the whole Nazi photo shoot is ridiculous, but no one would have even cared about it if it hadn't been for this cheating scandal.

I mean, are famous people that stupid? If you’re going to cheat on your spouse and you are a gossip-worthy persona, guess what? When the “relationship” goes sour, which it more than likely will, someone is going to blab to the press for cash. Please don’t be surprised by that fact.

A recommendation to all famous people who want to cheat on their spouses: Get a nondisclosure agreement before you proceed!

Stripper Mom Thinks

I’ve been away for awhile. Regrouping. Rethinking about what I want this blog to be.

I got off-track for awhile with what I was doing with Stripper Mom. I started writing about what I thought people wanted from me rather than what made sense for me. So, I will begin again. I will use this space for what I had intended.

I want to figure out who I am.

I know I’m a writer. I know I’m a mom. I know I happened to be a stripper once upon a time. And I know that stripping down is a good analogy for what I’m about in life.

Right now what I need to strip down to is what I’m doing with my writing.

I’m getting so tired of working and reworking the same project. I’m getting bored of waiting on agents to get back to me.

I have a possible agent holding on to my manuscript right now. Very lovely. Likes my manuscript. Provided great editing so far. But now I have to wait for her to find another agent to back her up on my project before she can take it to the head honcho.

What I’m worried about is that this will just keep going on like this for years. An agent will like the manuscript, take it on, have me revise it, sit on it for months, and then pass. And then I’m back to square one.

I want to move to square two already.

Peepshow

Here’s an interesting looking stripper tale. I’ll have to check it out.

From Publishers Weekly:

Peepshow by Leigh Redhead. Outfit (www.outfitcrime.com), $16.95 paper (216p) ISBN 978-1-60701-150-7

Australian author Redhead puts her past as a stripper and table dancer to effective use in her debut, the first in a crime series to feature aspiring PI Simone Kirsch. Simone, who performs in peep shows and as a striptease dancer to support herself, gets her first break after Frank Parisi—a thug who ran a strip club called the Red Room in St. Kilda, a Melbourne suburb—is “brutally hacked to death before being dumped in the bay.” Frank's brother suspects Simone's best friend, Chloe, who worked for the dead man, ordered the murder. Simone, who manages to buy some time by offering to identify the real killer, gets a job at the Red Room and starts to pump the other dancers for information. Soon, she's involved with several men, one a police officer whose boss is notorious for being both dirty and violent. Readers should be prepared for some graphic sex scenes, which fit naturally into the action, given the heroine's line of work. Redhead has made an unlikely premise convincing. (Nov.)

Stripper Mom Receives Apology

In the spirit of peace, church apologizes to those it has hurt

Finally, a story about a Stripper Mom with a happy ending.

You remember the story back in 2001about Christina Silvas? Silvas was asked to withdraw her daughter from the church-run school because Silvas was working as a stripper. On Sunday, Silvas sat with her daughters during the worship service as the pastor apologized.

Cole said he decided to apologize while preparing for this week's sermon.

"This has been weighing on my heart," the pastor said in an interview before the sermon. "This should have been done long ago, I don't want to let any more time go by."

After the sermon, Silvas, teary-eyed, called Cole's heartfelt apology amazing. "For so long all I felt was shame - people whispered about me, calling me the stripper mom," said Silvas, 31.

She said she had been urged by friends and attorneys to sue Capital Christian but had declined.

Now working for the state, Silvas quietly returned to the church about a year ago. Last year, she said, Cole and other church leaders offered a full scholarship to Silvas' two daughters.

"Coming back to church and my girls going to school here is more valuable than what any settlement would have bought," she said.

Perhaps this is a sign of something greater for the Stripper Moms of the world.

We have nothing to be ashamed of. None of us do.

Sleep, Please

Cole is nine-months-old. He ate Stage 3 chunky baby food today.

We went out to dinner to celebrate Nick’s birthday and Cole just kept wolfing food down.

We’re hoping that his belly is finally full and he is going to sleep longer than usual, which shouldn’t be hard to do.

I’m so exhausted. I was going non-stop today. I really, really want some sleep.