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!"