|Tales from the Mommy Track is a weekly column about the daily life of a part-time working mom. Risa Green is a critically acclaimed author who lives in Los Angeles. Her previous adult novels, Notes from the Underbelly and Tales from the Crib were made into a television series. Her latest novel, The Secret Society of the Pink Crystal Ball, is a Young Adult book that will be released in September, 2010.|
I live 3,000 miles away from my mother. It’s not by design; I just happened to marry a guy from L.A., and I happen to like L.A. better than New York, or D.C., or any of the other cities where people from the east coast go to live after they get out of school, and so, twelve years ago, I decided to move. At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal. I could call my mom just as easily from L.A. as I could from New York, and if I wanted to go home for a weekend, or a holiday, I could get on a plane, pop a sleeping pill and be back in Philly before I knew it. more
My husband subscribes to this fabulous magazine called Inc., which is intended for entrepreneurs and small business owners. Because he hardly ever has time to read it, it usually ends up sitting on the kitchen counter for weeks at a time, and I like to peruse it while I eat my cereal in the morning (or late at night, when I’m starving from the stupid diet I am on). Though I don’t own a business, and I am not at all entrepreneurial – I do have lots of great ideas, but I suck in the execution – I enjoy Inc. because I find that many of the topics actually relate quite well to being a working mom. more
It’s spring break in our house this week, and in honor of the fact that I’m feeling lazy and out of my regular routine, I’ve decided to take a cue from television sitcom writers, and do a blog version of a
flashback episode. more
My dog, Chloe, is sick. If you have a dog, then Chloe’s story will probably sound familiar to you. more
Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time sitting at my desk, scrolling through thesuperficial.com when I’m supposed to be working. It’s a disgusting, mean-spirited, celebrity gossip website, but it’s pretty damn funny, and also highly addictive. Normally, I would not have precious working minutes to spare on a time suck like this, but I’ve had an atrocious case of writer’s block for the last several months, and looking at pictures of Heidi Montag’s cellulite and Kim Kardashian’s butt sure beats staring at a blank screen all day.
When I was fourteen, my father invested in a video store, and my first job was born. Every Saturday and Sunday afternoon, I worked at Video Village, selling memberships, filing VHS and Betamax tapes in their proper places, and working the cash register. One afternoon, a middle-aged male customer returned Beverly Hills Cops. more
We have a serious problem in our house lately. I call it The Penis Problem. The Penis Problem began a few months ago, when my three year-old son, Davis,started wearing underwear. Freed from the restrictive, super absorbent polymers of his diaper, Davis’s penis had some lost time to make up for, and it didn’t waste a second. Within two days of being potty trained,Davis’ hand took up permanent residence down the front of his pants, as if it were an old
There are a lot of things that stress me out every day: getting my kids to school on time, managing the onslaught of daily errands and phone calls, finishing the next chapter of the book I’m writing, thinking about how we are ever going to be able to afford to put two kids through college, let alone ever retire. But the stress that I feel about these things does not even begin to compare to the stress that I feel about what to serve my children for dinner each and every night.
If you’ve gotten to know me at all from reading this column, then you may have figured out that I’m a pretty practical girl. I’m not big on superstition, not a fan of forced sentimentality, and I have a low tolerance for vagueness. I’m also not very sensitive when it comes to social slights. If some friends have lunch and don’t invite me, I don’t take it personally. If someone forgets to call me on my birthday, I get over it. In other words, it takes a lot to make me upset.
The fun of every holiday will be completely sucked out of it and replaced instead with annoying and time-consuming errands, often requiring multiple trips to Target. Is this not the truest statement ever? Think about it. Easter requires baskets and candies and that grass stuff that always gets everywhere and is impossible to clean up, not to mention hard boiled eggs and food coloring. more