Tag Archives: mother

Back Stabbed In Beverly Hills

8 Nov

There are only a few times in my life that I have been betrayed.

It’s the reason that I am trusting and open. If you have ever met me, or read my blog you will know that I will tell you almost anything about myself.
I assume that every person I cross has the best intentions and a good heart. I have hurt people, I have let people down, pissed them off, disappointed them. I have never gone into a situation purposely to use and hurt a person.

When I began writing this blog I knew that the there would be critics. I expected there to be haters. I heard early on from family members and friends when they didn’t agree with the way I handled a situation or if they thought I did something wrong. I listened to them, thought about it and either applied the advice or disregarded accordingly. I cannot please everyone. No matter what I do, there will always be someone who thinks that I should parent differently,write differently, walk, talk and breath differently. I can’t please everyone, wish I could, but I can’t.
So, I write and I parent and live…

I knew one day might come when someone threw it all in my face.
Well folks, that day has come. An acquaintance in Beverly Hills, about my Mother’s age, has reminded me that there are bad people in the world. She pretended to be my friend and a fan of my blog. She gave me motherly advice and hugged me the last time we saw each other.
She then proceeded to use my blog as a way to frame me and my children in the most negative light that one would ever want to be portrayed in.

My point in writing this is not to get emails of support or outrage against this woman. I believe there is a special place in hell for women who betray other women. There must be an even more exclusive place for mothers who betray other mothers. My point in telling this story is to remind myself and others that not everyone is going to like what you do or what you say. Not everyone is going to be nice to you. You know what? That’s ok. We can’t crumble every time we face one of these people, because for every one naysayer there are twenty people who think you are absolutely fantastic.

For every guy who dumps you there are ten more around the corner.
For every job you lose a better opportunity awaits you.
For every parking space you miss a better one will come up another time.
For every hater there are one hundred supporters.

Everything happens for a reason, even a below the belt hitting Beverly Hills bitch. I just can’t see that reason right now ;)



Child Eating Squirrels – aka Childproofing

29 May

Dear G-D, (or whomever is residing over all things good)

Today I am feeling especially thankful.
No, I am not under the influence of any mind altering substances.

The List:

1. Summer Camp. If it wasn’t for the bright light of camp starting just a week after school gets out, I would have nothing to strive for. Even if I had to pay in teeth, I would get myself some dentures and write the check.

2. The family across the street. They have five children. The screaming that comes from that house makes the screaming that comes from my house seem much less painful.

3. Froyolife. It is my reward, my comfort, and my hangout. It is also my reason for still having those last 10 pounds. It’s fine, I can blame my hips on the twins.

4. Hot Dogs. Without these disgusting excuses for food my son might actually starve. Literally.

5. Black Tights. I can wear a skirt that leaves little to the imagination without being “THAT Mom.”

6. Benadryl. Because I know that if worse comes to worse, and I can’t take another minute of my psychotic children, I can always break out the “allergy medicine.”

7. Kat Dennings, Christina Hendricks, and Catherine Zeta Jones. For reminding me that I am not fair haired, bronze skinned, a size 2, or a flat chested waif and I am finally (FINALLY) finally alright with that.

8. The Crossing Guards of Beverly Hills. Without them I would definitely be serving a life sentence after killing some moron in a Maserati racing through a school crosswalk. I don’t give a flying fu–how much you paid for that car, slow down loser.

9. The Squirrels that live in the trees in our front yard. When JH, my 3 year old son tries to escape the house via the front door when I’m not looking, all I have to yell is, “I hope the squirrels don’t get you!” Works every time.

10. My 3 little monkeys. They show me how absolutely wonderful life is. They make me want to be a better Woman, a better Mother, and an example to them of how to live life as it is meant to be lived. They have shown me that life is meant to be lived not just endured.



Pin Me Up, Beam Me Up or Shut Me Up

15 Apr

Apparently, I am not your typical Beverly Hills Housewife, whatever that means?! So many judgements and stereotypes out there. Life is hard enough people, can’t we just live and let live?
Here’s my take on all of this:

I have spent most of my life pole vaulting back and forth between two extremes that don’t seem as if they could exist within the same person. I am either trying to live perfectly by the rules or breaking every rule possible.
It has taken me all the way up until now, this very moment actually, to realize that I am not truly one way or the other and I don’t have to be.

I am a nice Jewish Beverly Hills Mother of 3 who cares deeply about her children. I obsess over what they eat, how they feel, where they go to school, how they sleep, and most of all do they know how cherished and amazing they are? I buy organic food when I can, I sing lullabies in Hebrew, I make sure that there are clean Princess and Cars underwear to be worn every single morning of every single day by those tiny little tushies.

I also like to drive fast and listen to piercingly loud music. I have a definite weakness for pin up girls and that whole sub culture. I like tattoos. I don’t have any, but never say never. I have no problem swearing if it helps get my point across. I have recently discovered that it is not only okay to take care of my body inside and out, but it is necessary.
This part might be shocking to some of you- it is possible to be fun, sexy, flirty, smart, a mother and a woman all at the same time.
I won’t delve into where I think these limitations and stereotypes have stemmed from, we would be here all day for that, and I have kids to pick up at school in an hour.

I do my best to never break the law. I do my best to live by the ten commandments. I am also doing my best to have a happy, fulfilling and meaningful life. I do not have a Beverly Hills Housewife handbook and even if I did I highly doubt it would be on my nightstand.

If I break a few rules along the way or offend some people, that is something I can live with.


As always, feel free to comment, especially if I have offended you ;)


Mommy Lies To You

4 Mar

HB asked me this morning if our house was going to get robbed. She said that her friend’s neighbors house was robbed and she would like to know if they were going to come to our house.

It’s questions like these that either shock me silent or send me into mumbling explanations of nothingness. What do I tell her? I want my 6 year old to feel safe in her neighborhood, in her home, in her bed. But, I don’t want to lie to her and give her a false sense of safety and set her up for disappointment in the world.

My genius Mother of the Year response: We are not going to get robbed. These bad things happen very rarely. We don’t have anything the robbers want and they don’t want children, so you are safe.

It was a mix of lies and truths. In our neighborhood these things don’t happen too often and for the most part she is safe. We could one day get robbed and in the most horrific situations children do get taken. I tell my kids little lies like this all the time. I don’t condone holding the truth from them when it will harm them, but as the Mom I use my own discretion to decide when a little fib is appropriate.
The time we were in Froyolife and the news came on, the headline flashed about 18 six year olds being murdered in their school in Connecticut. HB read it and looked at me wild eyed and said, “Is that true?!” I didn’t even think twice, “Of course not, it is a pretend movie, let’s finish our yogurt outside.”
If she had been 10 or 12 or 16 a totally different conversation would have taken place. There was no need for my 6 year old to know that in fact people walk into schools and kill kids her age in her grade for no reason and without warning. She thinks the lockdown drills at her school where they hide in the classroom in the dark are to keep them safe from swarms of bees. I intend to keep it that way, at least for a little while.

The world will come sweeping away her innocence soon enough, I’m in no hurry to speed up the process. She knows not to talk to strangers, she knows that her body is her private property. She also believes in the tooth fairy and asks if I can see her muscles growing as she eats her veggies.

Part of my job as Mother of three is to not only keep them safe from harm, but to make them FEEL safe from harm. I strap them into carseats, I put helmets on them, and get them immunized. Just as importantly, I check closets for monsters, kiss ouchies, and lie about the darkest truths of our world.


Do you agree with me? Comments and questions always welcome.


Birth order blues

7 May

I’m afraid of the dark. Alright I am deeply terrified of the dark. My friend JL Says it’s because I’m part Canadian. I can’t really put my finger on the exact origin of the phobia, but its real and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. I never walk into a pitch black room to find something that I left behind, I always turn the lights on before proceeding into the abyss. I never sleep in complete darkness without a substantial light source within reach. I never dangle my legs over the side of the bed, that’s just asking for trouble.

I can trace some of it back to my Dad who is famous for his “sound effects.” Apparently in Romania they were so deprived that they had nothing better to do other than to scare the shit out of each other. I can remember being about 4 years old and sitting on the toilet and hearing spooky wind noises coming from the doorway. As if a newly potty trained child isn’t jumpy enough, my father thought it would be a good practical joke to play on his youngster. There was also the time he snuck me on Space Mountain at Disneyland when I was about 3 years old and I vomited the rest of the day, as told to me by my Mother. Maybe it all started when he took my sisters and I camping and told us the story about the bear that chased him and my Mom at night into the lake and almost ripped them to shreds.

I called my Dad and asked him if he realized that all these exposures might be the reason I am scared of the dark to this day. I reminded him of these stories and countless other times he scared the daylights out of the 5 of us kids. He was laughing so hard on the other side of the phone he couldn’t even speak. It took a good few minutes for him to get a hold of himself. Finally he spoke: “Leslie, I did the best I could, I was trying to desensitize you so you would be strong. Sorry if I messed you up. You were our first after all.”

There you have it folks. I may have some quirks and fears, but I am the first born after all. When HB calls me in 30 years and asks me why she is the way she is I will tell her the exact same thing. Sorry hun, every parent messes up kid number one.


Where are you in your family’s birth order? Does it make a difference?

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