Risa Green
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.

Presidential Primaries: the Ultimate Reality Show.

Boy, did the television networks luck out. Yes, the writer’s strike may have caused the demise of a few series, but really, who needs scripted tv when there’s a presidential primary going on? One week you’ve got Hillary and Barack stabbing each other in the back, and the next he’s pulling out her chair and she’s laughing at his silly jokes. more

What's Your Fantasy?

My husband left town last night to go to Dodger (that’s baseball for those who are sports-challenged) Fantasy Camp. For a week. Now, you might think that I’m going to start ranting and raving about how typical this is, and about how unfair it is that he gets to go off and indulge in some stupid fantasy while I am stuck home with the reality of two kids and a nasty chest cold, but I’m not. more

Are Designer Babies Next?

There’s a great Michael Keaton movie from the mid-‘90s called Multiplicity, in which Doug, a busy contractor/husband/father, has himself duplicated so that so that he can have more free time. He ends up with a bunch of different clones of himself, each of which manifests a different part of his personality. One of them is a hyper-macho sports freak, one is gay, one is mentally challenged. more

I Want To Love Hillary.

I remember when the rumor started a few years ago that Hillary Clinton might run for President.  I was skeptical; too many people don’t like her, I said.  She won’t be able to win the nomination.  And besides, even if everyone loved her, she’s a woman, and  Americans are not going to elect a woman.   more

What I've Learned.

Well, it’s a new year. I’m sure by now you’re sick of hearing about resolutions, new beginnings, fresh starts, looking forward, blah, blah, blah. I know I am. So instead of blathering on about that kind of stuff, I’m going to take the opposite tack. I’m going to take a look back. I’m going to reflect. I’m going to tell you what I’ve learned. more

Memory Lane.

I don’t know if there have been any scientific studies on this subject or not, but I’m convinced that some people are just better remember-ers than others. And I’m not talking about things like names or dates, or where I put my car keys. more

Wake Me Up When December Ends.

You know that song by Green Day, Wake Me Up When September Ends? Well, somebody needs to tell them that they’ve got their month wrong. It’s December that needs to end, and soon. I wish I could say that I enjoy this time of year, but I don’t. And I don’t mind if you call me a Scrooge, or a Grinch, or even a mean-spirited buzzkill – believe me, you wouldn’t be the first, and you won’t be the last. more

Guns But No Roses.

If you happen to read this column with any regularity, you might recall that just a few short months ago, I was lamenting the fact that my three year-old son’s favorite activity was to dress up like a princess, or, in the alternative, to dress up in his sister’s nightgowns – but only if they were twirly. more

Barbie Flashback and the American Girl Addiction.

FLASHBACK to August, 1978. It is my sixth birthday party. Someone has given me a Barbie doll. I hate dolls, I say. They’re stupid, and they don’t do anything. I toss it in the back of my closet and forget about it. more

This Is Not About Thanksgiving.

I know its Thanksgiving, but I’m not going to write a piece about the holiday this year. If you’re interested in my thoughts on it, feel free to pull up my post from last year at this time; the list of things for which I’m thankful hasn’t changed all that much since then. Instead, I’d prefer to talk about my daughter, who has suddenly decided to start thinking about things. And by things, I mean THINGS.

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