​My Ella. She is an engaging kid but she doesn’t make friends super easy when we travel for vacation. I guess that is “weird” to me, because Adam, Vanessa and I are like “heyyyy yaaaa!” and we make friends anywhere we go. Ella just isn’t that comfortable creating new connections on her own and so she moves at her own laid-back pace. This is totally fine, but it is often that Vanessa finds a friend to play with and Adam and I either pal around together or we make friends with other couples as well.  This usually leaves Ella as odd-man out. While we were recently on vacay in Florida, we are all hanging by the pool as a family. Adam and I left the girls to head over to the bar of course – but we very consciously took seats so that I could see the kids and enjoy my spiked seltzer ((see how we did that parenting, self-serving thing!?!)).  I told Adam that I could see Vanessa diving for toys with a little girl and that Ella went into the hot tub. Even though she isn’t facing me, I notice that she must be talking to the woman in front of her because only the two of them are submerged in the bubbles and the woman is clearly partaking in a conversation, making big hand gestures. Adam and I get our drinks and head to the far side of the pool. We are halfway into the water when he leans over to me and asks with surprise  “Did she make a friend in the hot tub?” I turn and follow his gaze - “Well, I think she is definitely talking to that young woman.”  For a moment I am struck by how attractive she is and how amazingly buoyant her large breasts are as they bob on top of the jacuzzi water.  Ella is clearly younger than her, but they are both laughing and things seem innocent enough.  Adam and I clink our glasses hoping this new connection will serve as an opportunity for us to find some alone time for ourselves while the kids are occupied with their new respective friends. Sadly, our hope is short-lived as both of our kids emerge from swimming and soaking to complain about being cold and needing towels.  As I get out of the pool to help them get settled on the lounge chairs, I ask her if she made a friend in the hot tub. “Kind of” she said. “I mean, she said she was only here for the day.” 
“How come?” I asked, kind of surprised considering this hotel resort was a little off the popular path. 
“She said she doesn’t live far and works at “Gentleman’s” a few miles away and sometimes she comes to the hotel to relax in the hot tub before work.”
“Oh, um, well – I guess that is a nice option for her to have”, I stammer.
Ella just shrugs.  I have no idea if she knows that “Gentleman’s” is a strip joint, but I am guessing she does not. Or, she just doesn’t care and keeps her cool demeanor in check.
After drying off our girls leave to get ice cream. Ella asks if I had any singles for the machine and I wanted to tell her to ask her new friend, but I didn’t.  When they were both out of earshot I turned to Adam. “are you kidding me? That kid doesn’t ever make friends on trips and when she finally does – it is with an exotic dancer?!?!”
The girls are walking back over with their cones and upon approaching Adam, Ella says, “Oh yea Dad, the girl told me you should look into going to that place to be like one of the local guys.  She didn’t really seem to mention Mom going with you. Said we should have a mom/daughter night.”  
What a bitch! I thought! I was in the right mind to give her a piece of my mind but as I scanned the pool area, the dancer was no longer in sight.  There was just one abandoned lounge chair beside a small table with an empty daiquiri glass, a billfold and a stack of singles.  Of course.

​We are a baseball family. We love the Mets and often head over to Queens to see them play.  For years, Adam and I went without the kids but as the girls are getting older they also want to come to games. When we had an opportunity for just the two of us to go to the game – we took full advantage. And by that I mean, we took the train so that we could get fall-down drunk while we ate hot dogs and soft pretzels and watched the boys play.   The game was a little slow and so we created and played a drinking game that had us chugging or swigging based on what the player was doing or what play was made.  A strike out - take three swigs, a walk – take one giant swig,  a pop-up – chug for 10 seconds, a home run – finish your beer.  Get it?  These were just a few of the rules and by the time the game ended, I had no idea who won or what stretching I may have done for the 7th inning.  Adam told me I was trying to show him how I could do a backbend using the handrails of my seat.  I asked him how it looked – he told me not very good. Whoops!  But as you may gather, when a curvy, 40-something-year-old believes that it is acceptable to do gymnastics in public – that 40-something-year-old is drunk.  And so was Adam which made it a very good idea that we had taken the rail.  Flashforward to the point where we are running through Penn Station to get our train to Jersey.  Of course, thanks to “breaking my seal” around the 4th inning, I had to go to the bathroom before we headed home. I ran to the toilet and got ready to do my thing when I heard a person crying in the stall next to me.  I peeked under the divider and saw two, old, bare feet and a number of tattered nylon and plastic shopping bags. It was clearly a homeless woman. Once I finished, I walked over to her door and lightly knocked on it – she stopped crying to say “yes?”.  
“Hi.  Um, are you okay”, I asked her.
“I’m fine.”
I have no idea why I asked this next question, but I’m blaming Miller Lite. 
“Does your family know where you are?” 
“My children live on the other side of the country” she responded sadly. 
“Oh. I’m sorry.  Do they know you are here like this?” 
“No they don’t. Hey honey, do you have any money to spare?” 
And the truth is, I didn’t in this day and age of debit cards and in being married to Adam who does not like me to have extra cash that I will use on something he thinks is stupid (like wine or clothes or shoes or makeup…). 
“I’m sorry, I really don’t have any”, I told her.  
Then I had a brilliant idea as I reached into my sweatshirt pouch and pulled out a bag of peanuts that I had left over from the game.  I took them out and got on my hands and knees on the floor in front of her stall.  
“You can have these, if you’d like”, I offered and I slid the bag under her door. 
Just as her hand was reaching down to take the peanuts – I quickly yanked the bag of nuts back in my direction like it was “Hungry, Hungry Hippo” game play. 
“Wait!” I said with a hint of panic “You don’t have a nut allergy, do you?” 
Long pause.
“Honey….that is the least of my problems.”
Fair enough.  And I slid the bag back under the door.

​Ella insisted on staying up me with one night while I was on the couch watching TV. I switched from my show to put on a PG-13 movie that would run until she fell asleep, which I knew would be about a half-hour into it.  It’s just my luck that within the first 30-minutes, there was still opportunity for one of the characters to use the word “boner”.   Ella turned to me and asked "what's a boner?". Shit. My mind isn't working. I wasn’t prepared for this. I thought she was nearly asleep and I assumed this movie was like “High School Musical” but it turns out it was more like “Grease” (how did my parents get away with letting me watch that when I was like, seven-years-old?! Some of the dialogue and lyrics are so bad! All current parents hail to those of the 70’s and more carefree child-raising times.)

Unprepared, for Ella’s questions, I hem and haw and stall.  I finally say "it's like being happy. Ya know, just...um….feeling happy". Ok. Let's ponder this. If she goes to school and replaces happy with "boner" like say, in gym class when she's having fun and says "hey guys! I am having a boner" - I will kill myself. Seriously die. 

“Really Mom? I don’t think that is what it is. I know it’s when a penis gets hard.”  Well, gee thanks for making this hard for me, Ella.  Where is Zac Effron when I need him? 

OK – that sounds bad. I meant for some vanilla musical number!  You must be the type that learned about boners earlier than most if you thought I meant anything else.  And you must have known all of the words to “Grease Lightening.” Own it people, just own it. And go high-five your super groovy parents.

​I went to see a therapist. I sat across from her and began to answer her questions.  She was about 65-years-old wearing a short black dress embellished with large red roses.  While I was crying when telling her about my woes, I asked her for a tissue.  When she leaned over to hand me the box - she uncrossed her legs.  And that’s when I noticed, without a doubt that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I have no idea what I said in the session after the moment.  It’s all a blur.  Although – her reveal was quite clear. I made the decision to never go back after that first visit.  After all, I was supposed to be the one with questionable behavior and problems.  Feeling more like a fellow pea in her pod, I just didn’t think we’d have great doctor and patient success. It was just my basic instinct. 

​Remember the days of VCRs and those big bulky tapes that you’d have to physically rent and return to the video store?   Can anyone else remember a time when they rented porn with their college boyfriend, watched it at your parent’s house and then totally forgot to eject the tape and return it before any evidence of the title or fines hit their account?  No. Oh, I guess that way just us. Who would have thought my mom would approach me and her future son-in-law would to tell us that Blockbuster wanted payment for the no-show return of “Cockbuster.”  Congrats! This is the guy I’m going to marry!

​volunteered to chaperone Vanessa’s class trip the zoo when she was in kindergarten.  On the school bus I sat with Vanessa next to me and in the row behind her teacher. We were still about a half hour from our destination when I started to play around on my phone. And as always, once I got stuck in trying to solve a puzzle in my word game – I started shopping. I was first looking at some shoes and then my fingers wandered over into the digital aisle for lingerie.  I was adding things to my cart when a small person popped up from the seat behind us.  She was leaning on the top of the back of our seat when I felt the presence of her little face next to mine.  “Ohhh pretty underwear!” she said in a squeaky voice that put the most emphasis on the word underwear. Around me I heard the sound of 5-year-old giggles and snickers – even Vanessa was laughing and all too loudly asked “Mommy – what are you looking at?”. As these questions were flying around and kids were laughing, Vanessa’s teacher turned around and just looked at me.  I apologized explaining matter-of-factly that yes, I must have accidentally clicked on one of those pop-up ads featuring an angel woman wearing wings and lace lingerie. “Ads are so annoying" I said while rolling my eyes to really prove I felt that way. 
Moment of silence. 
“Aren’t you in advertising?”  she asked dryly. 
Huh. Well, yes. So I am. I thought.

Speaking of…a few days later I was at my desk when the receptionist delivered a box. I knew right away it was the underwear I ordered after getting home from the field trip. I had it sent to work so Adam didn’t have a cow that I was shopping again.  Like a kid on Christmas any time I get a box with the things I’ve ordered, I started to rip up the tape like a wild woman. So no one would see me today, I had the box on the floor and was checking out the goods.  As I was crouched down behind my desk, someone walked into the room.  I was still leaning over towards the box when I lifted up my head to see Karen from HR standing in front of me with something in her hand.  "This was on the copier” she said. I reached my hand across the desk to take the papers from her and across that same desk swung a pair of lace hot pink thongs with a pretty bow in the back.  I quickly went to pull them from my sleeve and realized the lace had gotten caught on the clasp of my bracelet. Something I couldn’t do if I was intentionally inventing a new fashion accessory that included bangle charms and panties. She and I held onto the papers and onto each other’s awkward stares for a beat too long.  Somewhat uncomfortably, she just turned and walked out. I sat there for a moment wondering if I was going to end up a pedophile list thanks to X-rated shopping on the bus or a “do not hire” list. What other trouble could I get into with these underwear?! And how would I explain to friends, family and any upstanding citizen that the cause of my demise was a pair of hot pink lace thongs with a pretty bow in the back?  Or maybe it was just my Mid-life crisis to blame again. Eeeek!

​At one of my jobs, I was a part of a pretty important pitch team.  And while I knew my section of the presentation inside and out, I was still nervous about presenting.  I sat with other colleagues as we waited to be called into the meeting room for our turn. As the moments ticked on, I was getting more and more jittery.  And I wasn't the only one – everyone had their own way to pass the time: someone was pacing, another reading over his notes, someone else chugging water (I swear she had three bottles in two minutes.), and someone else kept showing us memes from Facebook. Seeing - and likely feeling - the stress, our boss encouraged us to stand up and stretch.  In the large lobby we were tucked over in a corner and fairly hidden away. Our small group of four, wearing our suits and smart dresses, gathered around our boss. She took a deep breath in and channeling her own mellow – yet empowerment method - she popped into her "power pose".   Her arms were stiff in the air in a “V” shape, opposite to her legs in the same shape but upside down.  Her head was back towards the sky, her eyes were closed, and in a soothing, breathy voice she was telling us to feel confident and strong.  Like I also do when I am in exercise groups with my eyes closed, I opened just one eye and looked around to see if everyone else was in the power pose. Everyone was – but I just wasn’t feeling it. I quietly sat down and reached into my purse and fished around for a medicine bottle.  When I pulled it out, everyone heard the rattle and looked over.  All I said while twisting the lid was that “yoga moves and breathing was one way to deal with stress, but this was mine.” And I popped a Xanax without regret or hesitation. 

​Adam and I took advantage of his work travels when I met him at a hotel in DC hotel on a rainy Friday afternoon.  With both of us already having seen the city, the crappy weather, and not having the kids with us, we decided to stay in for the night to raid the minibar, get room service and watch a little porn. We were married just long enough that that order of events was acceptable – get drunk and full first. After eating steaks and sweets and drinking a full bottle of red wine while wearing the hotel provided robes, we flipped through the X-rated movie menu.  Remember this is a time that was years before iPhone and iPads, where dirty movies – and a ton of other stuff - are now more privately available any time of day.  On our mission circa 2001, we made our selection and we both got ready to get it goin’ on.  Before the non-plot could thicken and before anyone even got naked on screen, the movie cut off.  We found the remote to put it back on again. Same thing happened.  Being a $20 movie, we debated only for a moment about calling the front desk to get someone from IT to help us.  Believing that they never put the movie titles on the bill – isn’t that what they tell you! -  we figured we wouldn’t have to say what movie we were watching when the screen went black.  But they did know.  There was an evident awkward pause from my end of the phone, when I heard the woman at the front desk say that she wanted to confirm it was “Robin Head” that was giving us trouble. OMG. This whole situation was trouble! She said she’d send someone up to check my box.  God – this was just getting more worse and awkward with the unintended sexual puns and  random people coming into our room to make sure we had access to dirty movies.  When the IT guy finally got to our room, I was surprised when Adam ran into the bathroom like a girl with the fluffy cotton robe flying behind him.  What the hell?!  He is just leaving me standing here to look like a lady of the night? The IT guy knowingly smiled at me when I opened the door. I tied my robe a little tighter just for effect; it kind of felt like this could be the start to our very own porno with a threesome storyline.  But nothing sexual here.  The IT guy and I talked about the city while he fixed the problem and Adam remained in the bathroom (eyeroll!).   When the guy finally left, Adam emerged and undeterred we ordered the movie again.  Yes!! It was playing through the cut-off point from before.  It was only after mutual goals were achieved that Adam unabashedly brought up that we waited almost 40-minutes to fix the problem for just 5-minutes of video that brought about the reward.  Good thing it’s a 24-hour movie rental…maybe we’ll see 7-minutes next time. 

​I love to eat. If I need to be on a diet, I can totally cut back - even starve if I have to. But when I am allowing myself to eat – I do.  I love the three C’s: carbs, chocolate and cheese. Which all impact the three H’s: hips, heart and happiness. I am a tall, full-figured woman with a little more in a lot of places (except my boobs – they are like speedbumps on my curvy highway. Sigh).    But sometimes I am embarrassed of how much I can actually consume. And in this one instance, it’s not embarrassing but brilliant. I think, anyway.  

Around the holiday season many baskets of cookies, food, fruit and the like get delivered to offices.  In my field, they are usually sent from vendors, freelancers, media partners, even clients. For the most part, they are addressed to one person on the team or in the agency. That person normally takes a little bit for themselves and brings the rest to the breakroom, which by mid-December looks like an exploding cornucopia of excusable calories. 

One year I got a tower of goodies from a local bakery.  The gift was about six boxes tall and each one got smaller in size as they stacked up to an enormous red bow. Our receptionist Janell, brought me my delivery and handed me the card that went along with it. I deliberately read it out loud “To Nicole & Team – Thanks for all of your hard work and efforts! You are amazing and Nicole is a great lead on the account”.  I smiled and looked up at Janell; she told me that it was a nice card – I agreed. 

I tore into the bottom box and took out an apple and a pear, from other boxes I took a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies and one with vanilla cookies filled with jam, a package of chocolate covered raisins and a little bag of almonds.  I then brought the rest of the boxes into the kitchen to be devoured shortly after placing them on the table. 

I spent the next few days eating my treats. Yes. I ate it all. Don’t judge.  I had the card hanging up on my corkboard behind my desk.  One of my better friends at the company walked in and remarked on the nice note and asked who it was from, because she noticed, it wasn’t actually signed.  I started to laugh. 

“It’s from me.”, I answered.
“You wrote that card?” she asked 
“Yup.”  I waited for her to figure things out a little further.
It clicked. “Did you send yourself that delivery”? 
“Yup!” I said laughing. “I sure did.  I do think I am doing a great job and I am a great leader and I wanted a giant tower of food that I could dive into first.”  
“Oh my God! You’re insane!” 
“Yea well I left you a sleeve of cookies, a bag of nuts and a mini-muffin on your chair.”
“Oh my God! You’re the best!” 
“I know! Wait until you see the wine I sent myself!”

​You know when you are a parent and you are wondering what your kid will be when they grow-up? When they do something smart in school, you think there is hope! They might be something great!  Then they will do something stupid like put a bucket on their head and bang into walls and you think, crap – there is no chance for this kid.  They might be clever and answer a worksheet question literally.  Like, saying “1895” when asked what ended in 1896. Technically, this is not wrong! Or they ask you a question so simply frightening like “why do I have eyes?” and you are again wondering if you should just spend their college fund on a family vacation.  Vanessa’s latest question, or rhetorical question, or observation – whatever you want to call it  - had me wondering what the future holds for my little hot mess.  Here’s the scenario:

I am watching a movie.  Vanessa is in the room with me but she is playing waitress. Two things are wrong here from my end –  while the movie is in her background, it’s still probably not something she should be watching.  And well, I keep asking her to fill my wine.  Don’t judge. I’ll tip her. 

Anyway….

As she is walking back into the kitchen with her tray in one hand, apron around her waist and my wine bottle in the other, she stops to look at the TV which is now featuring a scene in a strip club. The music is loud, the girls are gorgeous and truly impressive as they defy gravity swinging around their dance poles in moves that would hurt my back, make me dizzy or look like a total ass even trying to pull it off (imagine a curvy women with a soft core twirling around a pole while on tip-toes trying to swirl down into a sexy ground pose but rather gaining too much speed on the swirl so that she is curling around the pole and sliding to the ground like a snake shot with a tranquilizer. Very hot). But Vanessa sees something else in her mind – she has high hopes when she asks “Mommy! Isn’t she pretty? Can I do that when I grow-up?”

Well…stripper or waitress seems possible today but maybe she’ll do something great that will make it seem like a doctor or teacher could be possible too!  I guess I can start filling an empty wine jug with singles and also keep buying savings bonds until her path is clear. I’ll be ready for anything – and so will she.