In which I worry that I sound like a know-it-all snooty pants mommy blogger when Im really quite a newbie

It has been a crazy month or four. I think I made that clear by my relative absence in the New Year, followed up by a post that may have made even you reach for the Xanax.  In the midst of it of all, I decided that it was time to recommit to the mommy-blogging, to focus some good energy on what I'm doing right here at Sassafrass, to feel good about taking my blog to the next level (wherever that may be in the big, badass blogosphere, trying to speak some techie language that might as well be...well, anything but English or the rudimentary Spanish or French that comes after eight years of studying in school).

I was delighted to be interviewed for this article on mommy blogging, and talked pretty openly about some of the boundaries and brashness I have for myself when I'm writing here. I said my bit and even approved the quotes and then I saw it in print. And then I started to worry, the way I might after I leave a party -- Should I have said that? Was that funny or just too much? Did she get my complex, intellectual sense of irony? Or did she think I was a big old complainer?

Read it and be honest. And kind. Do I come off too know-it-allish here? Or, as my brother would say, is it just a case of "da troof's da troof, baby"?

And please, whatever you do, don't forward it to the Playgroup Mommies.

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You go, grrrrandma

Did you see the nakey granny on Oprah? I am a late-night Oprah watcher, so Bruce and I watched and got teary (yes, teary) together as ladies over 50 posed for the latest Dove campaign.

Dove, I was loving you for your Campaign for Real Beauty, and now I am dancing in the aisles to see these gorgeous, glorious, glowing women in exactly what God gave them in all her wisdom. As one woman said of the pro-age posing, "It's about time." And I agree. 

Now, on to mamas with stretch marks sizzling all over Times Square billboards!

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Da Bears...Dammit

Ah well, it was good while it lasted. And even though I am not personally a huge lover of watching televised sporting events (with the exception of figure skating, shocker), even I got riled up and teary at that helluva a first play. I personally owe a debt of gratitude to Lovie and the team for giving my boy inspiration to express his gift of song many times this season: Beahhr down, Chica-ohhhhh Beahhrs!

As we say often in this fine city, "Dude, it's gonna be awesome next year! Just wait."

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