And now, I’m dieting for two

My husband was blessed with a fast metabolism. For years, I’ve complained that he could eat and eat and eat, and I was the one who ended up gaining weight.

Deep down, I think I did blame him for my weight gain. After all, in my single gal days, I would come home from work and chow down on a 300-calorie Lean Cuisine and call that dinner. And if I dined out, it was usually drinks and sushi … or just drinks.

I also made time to work out three or four times a week. Back then, I only had to think about myself, so it was easy.

It was also kind of lonely.

So I was happy to trade away a little of my freedom for love and companionship. I was ready.

The...

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Playdate or pitch meeting?

The Los Angeles Times recently published an article titled “Hollywood’s mommy network,” by Monica Corcoran. I read it with interest, because I am a working Hollywood mommy (although not anywhere near as busy, well-paid or powerful as any of the women described), and because I’ve been ruminating over the topic of children as networking tools.

My first instinct is that baby as networking tool is Bad, the way high fructose corn syrup or SpongeBob Squarepants are bad. After all, joining a playgroup so you can get that precious pitch meeting with a network executive is not the reason you should be having babies. If your project ever got picked up, you wouldn’t see that baby until he graduated from elementary school, anyway.

Daddy’s boy

Over the past month it’s become increasingly apparent that I no longer hold reign over my 3-year-old’s heart.

Daddy is now officially the end all, be all for our son and I’m having to learn to content myself with whatever scraps of affection he throws my way. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m feeling a little heart-bruised about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for my husband and he totally deserves the extra loving. Sure, I carried our baby around inside my body for nine months (not to mention threw up four to five times a day during the first trimester), pushed him out (with no drugs), nursed him for 21 months despite six months of chronic plugged ducts and mastitis and stayed home to care for him these past years, but all along my...

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When do moms come first?

By Fran B. LOS ANGELES MOMS BLOG

Have you asked yourself that question? I have, many times since leaving my career in television. I thought it would be a pleasure to leave the rat race and become a SAHM. I fantasized about baking cookies, walking my kids to the park, cooking family meals and reading (something other than scripts). After four years at home, I have done all of these things yet I’m still haunted by a sense of dissatisfaction.

When I worked, I blamed the feeling on my bosses, the demands of my job, the office politics; I thought staying home would eliminate my obstacles to self-satisfaction. But instead of blaming it on my work, I started blaming...

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Can’t we all just have a sandwich?

Marsha Takeda-Morrison LOS ANGELES MOMS BLOG

I’m declaring war on the Passive-Aggressive Foodie.

We’ve all got at least one of them in our lives. The friend or acquaintance, who, while showing off their knowledge of all things culinary, manages to make the rest of us feel totally inferior. The Passive-Aggressive Foodie (or PAF for short) will toss out words like confit and ragot in everyday conversation, pretty much ensuring that the rest of us feel really stupid talking about that taco we had for lunch. Why have just a tuna melt when you can explore the rich textures and subtle layers in a panini? Inevitably the PAF will make you wish you had a nice bottle of fruity, complex shiraz to bash them...

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I like my friend, but not her child. Sigh….

By Eva  LOS ANGELES MOMS BLOG

I am sad. I met a great new friend. She’s funny, smart, and I really like talking to her. It’s so fun when we get together.

However, her child has issues. Well, I can condense all of the issues into two words: He’s mean. Really mean. He punches. He jumps on kids’ backs. He yells. He tells lies. This is coming from a person (me) who’s really accepting of parents’ choices about how to raise their own children, as well as the basic opinion that while we can teach our children, we can’t force them to behave — we can only just keep teaching them to the best of our abilities. SO, his behavior would probably be fine, except for one small problem.

Overthrowing the kindergarchy

By Anna Lefler LOS ANGELES MOMS BLOG

Recently, I was driving down a popular street and, as I sat at a red light, I noticed a little scene playing out on the sidewalk in front of a coffee shop. This tableau included a woman, a man and their son, who looked to be about 4 years old. I could not hear the dialogue, but the body language said it all.

The parents stood on either side of the child, tilting toward him in supplication. Arms were extended as pleas were made, but to no avail. They stroked the child’s silky hair, made exaggerated smiley-faces and hopped around with excitement as if to show the child just how wonderful it would be if only he would consent to doing whatever it was they wanted him...

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Hockey moms have nothing on gym moms

By Donna Schwartz Mills LOS ANGELES MOMS BLOG

Vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s best line in her acceptance speech was her joke about the difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull. (The answer was “lipstick,” for anyone so out of touch that he or she hadn’t yet heard.)

This got me to thinking: If hockey moms are pit bulls, what does that make the group I belong to — gymnastics moms?

I think you could make a case for us being like Pomeranians: small, decorative, harmless-looking creatures who nonetheless manage to get their way through whiny, yappy persistence.

I’m only talking about the mothers of girl gymnasts. The boys’ team...

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Yep, I’m that mom, the late, slightly crazy, difficult mom

By Jennifer LOS ANGELES MOMS BLOG

My son started kindergarten last week. And I’m that mom.

Not in a good way. Not the mom you secretly envy. Not the mom you want to be friends with. I’m not that mom that always looks put together but never overdone; is well organized with forms completed and ready to be turned in, carefully tucked in an outside pocket to be grabbed when requested by the teach; smiling, happy child, with clean clothes eagerly skipping in to kindergarten, etc.

No. I’m that mom. The slightly crazy one. The one whose eye you don’t want to catch. I’m the difficult, always has to do things differently, disorganized, harried-looking, perpetually late mom. The...

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Gone nanny gone

Elizabeth Peterson LOS ANGELES MOMS BLOG

The reality is starting to sink in slowly. I am losing Jennifer, my son’s nanny. From the beginning, the first conversation actually, she told me she would be going to grad school to pursue her Ph.D. in Psychology. Great! That was a ways off, like over a year and a half. Plus, I added, working for us is definitely a study in psychology, so it’ll be relevant to your intended field. Time flies and here we are, exactly one year, seven months since she started and this is her last week, two days left. Oh-my-gawd. Since she started, I conceived, carried and delivered another baby. She has HAD my back. She has made me a better mother. She has picked up the pieces of my ineptitude and...

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