Tuesday, August 20, 2013


I know….it's been forever since I've stopped by. "Life" is my only excuse…oh…and I released "Designer Genes – TheBoyfriend Cut!" Yep, being an author, promoting myself as an author, and keeping up with the day job VISA dictates I still maintain, let alone pay attention to Forever guy and the family, has pretty much sucked my blogging time. But I thought I'd take a moment and share my latest morning giggle.

School has started. The minivan assault begins about 8:20 a.m.—an endless parade through my neighborhood to the elementary school at the top of the hill. I have a thirty second window between the brigade and the succession of yellow school buses to get through the intersection.

I've also noted the latest in "mommy attire" required for drop off. Coordinated workout gear. The fashion runways in New York don't compare to what I see in the mornings. White minivan "A" pulls into the drop off circle. Perky Mom A bounces (yes bounces) out of the driver's side and makes a full sweep of the car, complete with manicured fingertips drawing a sexy trail around the back fenders until she reaches the side door. Today, she's dressed in a purple ensemble with lime green stripes accentuating her curves. A rim of lime green peeks out of her purple sneakers and trims her ankles. Her hair is pulled into a thick ponytail just below the coifed "bump" and she makes a point of "swishing" said ponytail as if she's a racehorse leaving the track with the winners wreath circling her neck.

Minivan "B" pulls in behind "A," leaving enough room for Perky Mom B to take her fashion walk, sporting a little hot pink and black number. Same ponytail, full make-up as well, and a 12-rep toe warm-up to show off her muscular calves while she unbuckles Junior from his safety harness.

Minivan "C" is next, Perky Mom C offering stiff competition in her royal blue and neon yellow ensemble. Unlike Perky Moms A and Bin their thigh-hugging long shorts, however, Perky Mom C has chosen shorts barely qualifying to earn the title, and a sports bra. Her long legs deftly carry her in smooth sashay, drawing the attention of any male within a half-mile radius. She has also wrapped her hair in a messy bun (which I have discovered takes more time to look messy than curling every strand of hair) to allow as much skin exposure as possible. She does a deep bend to unlatch the side door, releasing her primped and coifed offspring. A lipstick stain adorns the cheeks of her children, followed by finger waves all the way to front doors.

Moms A and B, embraced in a tight purple-hot pink huddle and engaged in judgmental conversation, suddenly realize they have not shown sufficient affection to the fruit of their loins, and summon them from the playground to suffer an embarrassing display of lipsmack while their friends giggle behind the chainlink fence.

The choreographed movements of the three fashion divas moving around the hoods of their "tribe transporters" is worthy applause as three doors shut in synchronized succession. I can't help but wonder of the three, which ones will actually head for the gym.

In order for me to take my little darlings to school, the weather had to be worthy a news report or they were seriously late due to my failure to have them ready and out the door on time. Many a morning I wrapped in a robe, slipped my feet into fuzzy slippers, and shepherded my herd into the family van. If my hair was swept into a clip or brushed at all, it was purely accidental.

When I got to the school, I slowed to a speed I felt my children could handle, already instructing the child nearest the door to have the "hatch open," and when the open side door aligned with the front door of the school, I yelled "jump!" The last one out of the van ran alongside until the door was closed again. This way, I figured I trained them to break track records in high school and earn a scholarship, or if they dropped out and became homeless, they'd have the skills necessary to hop a freight train.

I did manage to screech out "have a nice day" before leaving skid marks on the roadway in my retreat. I had exactly 7.5 hours to myself before they'd return and I wasn't going to waste a single minute.

So are you a Perky Mom or sought by Child Protective Services when it comes to school drop off? Do you dress for the other perky moms or, like me, figure if you're coordinated from the waist up that's all that matters?

Thanks for stopping by and if you pick up a copy of "Riley's Pond" or "Designer Genes," a review on Amazon or Barnes & Noble would be greatly appreciated! Happy Tuesday!