Your New Puppy: An Owner’s Guide


  • Did you know that the average puppy pees 1,257 times per day?
  • Did you know that it takes the average puppy approximately 25 minutes to walk ten feet on a leash?
  • You must never take your eyes off of a puppy for even a moment or else they will pee, poop, or chew up something that is important to you.
  • You will want to invest in Visine or some other eye lubricant before bringing home your new puppy because you must watch him or her all the time (see above) and that means ALL THE TIME. You must never blink. If you blink, the puppy will pee, poop, and/or chew up something that is important to you.
  • Did you know that if you take your eyes off the prize (the “prize” in this scenario, ironically, is your new puppy) and your puppy pees, poops, or chews up something important to you  – you will have taught the puppy that it’s okay to do so?
  • Did you know that the average puppy drinks water like a Snuffleupagus in both style and quantity?
  • Did you know that it will take your new puppy approximately 1.7 seconds to completely destroy your average throw pillow?
  • Did you know s/he can destroy a pair of Lululemon pants in half that time?
  • You will want to rid your house and your person of anything that can be seen as a chew toy by your new puppy, for instance draperies, shag rugs, shoelaces, belts, necklaces, chair legs, fingers, toes, noses, etc.
  • New puppies need a lot of love and attention. Please do not plan to go more than 30 consecutive seconds without thinking about or interacting with your new puppy. This will be seen as a sign of neglect and will be met with extreme displeasure.
  • Did you know puppies show their extreme displeasure by peeing, pooping, or chewing up something that is important to you?
  • Did you know that while it will take your new puppy three days to walk to the end of your driveway on a leash, if you take the leash off, your new puppy will speed to the top of your street in 4.6 seconds?
  • Please plan to spend an average of 45 minutes outside during each potty break with your new puppy. Note: When you combine this with the 4x/day feeding schedule, this process of feeding/pottying becomes essentially confluent, so plan to abandon everyday tasks like doing the dishes, vacuuming, folding laundry, cooking, eating a meal with your family, showering, etc.
  • Did you know your new puppy is 1000 times more likely to growl at your mother-in-law than the shady doormail coupon delivery guy?
  • You will want to avoid having one of your children bring home a contagious stomach virus from school while you’re training your new puppy. This is likely to really test your limits on dealing with bodily fluids.
  • You will also want to avoid trying to write your second novel while you have a new puppy at home. Your new puppy will not respect the process. (You should, however, have the requisite time it takes to complete a blog post during your new puppy’s 7.5 minute nap. Whoops – my time is up!)


Wile E. Coyote for President?

**Every four years, I try to get this guy in the running. Could this be his year?**

Most people would agree that the current candidate landscape for the 2016 presidential election leaves something to be desired. No matter your political leanings, most of us find the major party candidates lacking in some way. We want Hillary to be more transparent. We want Trump to be less of a bully. We want Hillary to be more open with the press. We want Trump to recognize the inherent value of women, minorities, and people who are not exclusively straight, wealthy, Christian, gun-owning, white dudes. But as Trump himself said by way of his convention song: You can’t always get what you want.

It can be a little demoralizing. So sometimes when I need a break from the election coverage, I’ll cruise the channels until I find something less move-to-Canaday. Recently, I settled on Looney Tunes, and as I watched Wile E. Coyote (Carnivorous Vulgaris) launch yet another attack on the Roadrunner, it occurred to me that Mr. Coyote might be exactly what this country needs. After all, he is clever, determined, creative, and has an unparalleled ability to focus on the task at hand. It was like a cartoon light bulb flashed above my head as I thought, “What if Wile E. Coyote threw his hat into the ring?” Everyone talks about how we need a political outsider who hasn’t been corrupted by Washington. And I ask you, who is more of a political outsider than Mr. Wile E. Coyote?

Like Trump (Narcissist Inegns), Wile E. eschews social and political norms and lives life on his terms. Like Hillary (Femina Manipularius), he works his tail off – sometimes literally – in pursuit of his goals. But this scrappy, lovable, underdog (Canis Lupis Inferius) has a few tricks up his sleeve that neither of the current candidates can match. If Wile E. were to become the next President of the United States, we could look forward to a few key changes:

  • Revitalized Defense Contracting. Mr. Coyote definitely has some sort of in with the Acme Corporation. Their catalog is filled with exciting and outside the box weaponry that could really add some pizzazz to our military arsenal. They have Dehydrated Boulders, Giant Magnets, Earthquake Pills, Oversized Rubberbands, Spring Rocket Shoes, Building Disintegrators, and Giant Sling Shots (take that, North Korea!). Plus, their turn around time is second to none.
  • Superior Problem Solving. Wile E. Coyote has a long tradition of coming up with creative strategies to solve problems. To be fair, so far he’s only had the one problem with the bird, but still. His resourcefulness, if applied to domestic and international issues, could completely revolutionize the way the United States approaches a number of vexing problems. Think, for example, the effect that Wile E.’s long established tactic of painting tunnels on the side of mountains could have on our border problem?
  • Taxpayer Savings. No fancy suits or lavish dinner parties required for this guy. His strict clothing optional policy and limited diet would translate into saving untold dollars over the course of his term in office.
  • Self-Proclaimed Super Genius. Okay, on this point he is even with Trump.
  • Transparency. Private servers and email scandals would be a thing of the past if Wile E. Coyote took office. Under his administration, Mr. Coyote’s ears would tell the American public everything we need to know. Straight up: Things are good. Straight down: Things are bad. Burned to a crisp: Things are really, really bad.
  • No Useless Rhetoric. Wile E. Coyote communicates largely through short messages scrawled on craggy wooden signs. Americans could depend on Mr. Coyote to be direct, succinct, and to the point. And wouldn’t that be a refreshing change? If nothing else, it would certainly make for fewer awkward debate moments.
  • Likability. This is the most superficial, yet oddly essential, qualification that the electorate demands when selecting the future Leader of the Free World. And here Wile E. Coyote has it on lock. Who doesn’t love him? That impish grin, those bushy brows, the way he snickers manically to himself when he thinks he’s come up with a good plan? Charming! His appeal transcends party lines. From the staunchest right wing zealot to the farthest left leaning liberal – everybody roots for Wile E. Coyote to silence that smug “meep-meep,” once and for all. Never mind that his success rate is zero percent, his approval rating would be through the roof.
  • Never Say Die Attitude.  It’s going to take more than a sluggish economy, astronomical debt, racial unrest, and impending environmental doom to rattle this coyote’s cage. He has proven, time and time again, that he will not back down in the face of insurmountable odds, no matter what the personal risk. Here’s a guy who has been blown up, smashed to smithereens, gored, flattened, shattered, burned, cut in two, and fallen off countless cliffs ending in a puff of smoke, only to rise from the ashes to try, try again. (Actually, on like this point he’s not unlike Hillary.)
  • Grit. Wile E. Coyote has it in spades. He has literally never succeeded at any of his plans, but has he given up? Has he closed-up shop and developed a taste for chicken? Nope. He keeps on trying. He continually comes up with new ways to attack the problem, despite the ever-shrinking odds that he will actually be able to realize his dream. And given the current political climate, this may be his single best qualification for the next President of the United States.

So what do you think? Should we start a write-in campaign?




One Fine Day

For years, I’ve asked my kids the same uninspired question when I pick them up from school: How was your day? And for years, they’ve answered with the same uninspired answer: Fine. In fact, we’ve been round and round on this so many times that last year my daughter begged me to please stop asking how her day was because, “It makes me want to scream. No offense or anything, Mom.” Okay, fair enough. No offense taken. That question wasn’t pulling its weight anyway.

I needed a better way to get at what exactly was going on with my kids at school and more importantly how it made them feel. (I am big into how things make my kids feel, much to their continued aggravation.) So I, like any good parent in the digital age, turned to the Internet for advice. And the Internet heeded my call! When I typed in “how to ask kids about their school day,” Google showed me list after list of questions I could ask my kids that, Google promised, would really get them talking. These questions would be the key that would unlock the secret world of my children’s innermost hopes and dreams. They would make our bond stronger, our love deeper, and bring us closer together than ever before. I wanted the key to that world! I wanted to be closer than ever before!

So I read article after article and synthesized the information to create one super list. And I got in my car and drove to school ready to be transported inside their teenage brains. I have transcribed the conversation that followed:

  1. What did you eat for lunch?

Why? What’d you hear?

  1. Did anyone do anything super nice for you?

Um, no. This is middle school. Nobody does anything super nice for anyone.

  1. What was the nicest thing you did for someone else?

Didn’t I just answer that?

  1. Who made you smile today?

Mom, are you okay?

  1. Which one of your teachers would survive a zombie apocalypse?

Is this for a new book your writing?

  1. Did anyone push your buttons today?

Other than you?

  1. Who do you want to make friends with but haven’t yet?

Why? What’d you hear?

  1. Tell me something you learned about a friend today.

I thought we weren’t supposed to gossip?

  1. What challenged you today?

This conversation.

  1. When did you feel most proud of yourself today?

That joke about this conversation was pretty good.

  1. Tell me about a new word you heard at school today.

Why? What’d you hear?

  1. What new fact did you learn today?

Time is relative. For example, this car ride home- while technically only five minutes long- feels like an eternity.

  1. If aliens came to school and beamed up three kids, who do you wish they would take?

Seriously Mom, are you having some sort of crisis? Should we call Dad?

  1. Tell me about three different times you used your pencil today.

Why? What’d you hear?

  1. What is one thing you hope to learn before the school year is over?

The bus schedule.

As you can see, the conversation didn’t give me any special insight into their world. Or take our bond to new heights. Or bring us closer together. At one point, my daughter faked being asleep to avoid answering any more questions. But it did get us talking— granted, mostly about how weird I was— but still. We talked, we laughed, we made fun of me, and then we all went inside and had a snack. And I figure that’s better than nothing. . . and certainly better than “fine.”


How ’bout them apples?

This post is from a while back, but I was reminded of the subject today when I saw a man in the grocery store walking around eating a banana. A banana, my friends! I don’t know how he planned to pay for it, or what he planned to do with the peel – but it reminded me of this essay and so I thought I’d repost. And no, before you ask, the man I saw wasn’t Jimmy.


This morning while we sat at our island eating breakfast, my husband revealed something about himself that nothing in our 17-year history could have prepared me for. And he said it like it was no big deal, like I should have expected – even approved of – his commentary.

It turns out that I most certainly did not approve, and to put an exclamation point on it, I’m going to reveal his dirty little secret here. On the Internet. Where it will never go away. And because I think it will be most dramatic this way, I’m going to do it via a live-action dialogue sequence.

Me: I took a chance and bought these new cherries at the store yesterday.

Husband: Oh yeah?

Me: Yeah. It was a bit of a risk because I’ve never had this kind before– but they were like $3 less per pound so I decided to go for it.

Husband: That’s good. (Pause) Why didn’t you try one first?

Me: Couldn’t. They were in a sealed bag.

Husband: Oh, I would have just opened the bag and taken one.

Me: What?

Husband: Yeah, totally. I do it all the time.

Me: You do?

Husband: Yeah. I’ve been burned too many times with bad fruit. I always test it first now. Trust me.

Me: Wait – what? You test fruit? In the grocery store?

Husband: Yeah. All the time. Like if I’m thinking about buying one of those big bags of apples, I’ll just open the bag and eat one. You know, to make sure they’re good.

Me: Wait… you’re telling me you open sealed bags of fruit and eat, like, an entire apple, orange, or nectarine – right there on the spot?

Husband: Yeah, all the time.

Me: That’s horrifying.

Husband: No it isn’t. It’s practical.  Fruit is expensive and I want to make sure it’s going to taste good before I buy it.

Me: That’s unsanitary. Plus, it’s kind of stealing.

Husband: No it isn’t.

Me: Yeah it is.

Husband: No it isn’t. They know people do it. They expect it. Trust me. I do it all the time.

Me: But you’re eating something without paying for it.

Husband: Not really.

Me: Yes really.

Husband: No, it’s fine. They expect people to do it. Trust me.

Tense silence while I try to integrate this new information.

Me: Okay. So forgetting about the stealing for a minute, your method doesn’t even make sense. Just because one apple in the bag doesn’t taste good, it doesn’t mean they all will be bad.

Husband: Yeah it does.

Me: No it doesn’t.

Husband: Yeah it does. Trust me.

Me: No – it so doesn’t. There’s a whole cliché based on how wrong that assumption is. You know, ‘One bad apple…?’

Husband: Yeah, that expression proves my point. One bad apple spoils the bunch or bushel or whatever.

Me: Hm. Well… maybe that’s how the expression started, but I think the real point of it is what a shame it is for one bad apple to spoil the whole bunch. You shouldn’t throw away the whole bunch because of one bad apple.

Husband: Yeah you should. Trust me. I do it all the time.

So here’s the takeaway: My husband, who has bungee jumped off a cliff in Australia, raced cars on the Nurburgring in Germany, skied double black diamonds, and married a temperamental Jewish girl from Chicago and brought her to live in a small town in Missouri, is apparently so risk-averse when it comes to fruit that he will break social conventions and basically steal from our local grocery store to avoid… what? A sour taste in his mouth? (This is the same man buys the $18 box of sour patch watermelons every time we go to the movies.)

I think what surprised me most about Jimmy’s feelings on fruit buying, was his attitude of entitlement. Like he is owed a decent piece of fruit or something. Good or bad, it took the farmer every bit as long to grow the fruit, and the grocer just as much overhead to sell the fruit. Aside from bruises or obvious mold or something, you can’t tell how a piece of fruit is going to taste before you eat it. Therefore the only method of determining if the fruit is worthy of purchase, takes the option to buy it off the table. Because by then it is already in your stomach.

Call me I’m old-fashioned, but I think certain things in life come with inherent risk. Buying fruit is one of them. Marriage is another for that matter, along with putting your face under at a water park and eating sushi at a gas station. You pays your money, you takes your chances. There are no guarantees in this life and if you want to be 100% sure your fruit is going to taste perfectly sweet, you’d better buy it out of a can and be prepared to eat all the sugar and preservatives they add to make it that way. Unlike my husband, I am not a risk taker by nature, but I believe there are certain things in life worth the gamble. Appalling fruit-buying behavior aside, my husband was one of them. A good nectarine is another.

And you can trust me on that.

Rejection Reflection

I’ve been working on a piece for the Arts issue of the magazine I write for, and it got me thinking about an issue that all artists-  and parents –  have to deal with at some point: rejection. As a writer, I am rejected on a daily basis. Please do not mistake that for hyperbole. I literally receive rejection letters almost every single day for work that I have spent hours and days and months creating. I’m not going to lie, it kind of sucks. But art is a subjective business, and if you’re going to work in a creative field you have to realize that rejection is just part of the gig.

I did not, however, anticipate how much rejection was going to be involved in the parenting gig. Maybe because when you have a baby, rejection seems impossible. After all, your helpless little creature couldn’t possibly reject you because, for starters they can’t even talk, but more importantly they need you for fundamental things like food and shelter. As newborns grow into babies and then into toddlers, need is still a prime component of your relationship. They need you to change their diapers. They need you to get them dressed. They need you to give them your iPad. They need need need to the point that a little rejection would be a welcome change.

And then somewhere toward the end of elementary school, subtle changes set in. “No, mommy, you don’t have to volunteer for my field trip.” “You don’t need to walk me into school.” “You don’t have to hug and kiss me goodbye when you drop me off at Timmy’s house.” Okay, you think, my child is becoming independent. That’s a good thing, right? And during this phase they still need you, of course, because they can’t reach the top shelf in the pantry and that’s where you keep all the candy.

But then somewhere during the middle school years, their needs change again and begin to center around two things: transportation and money. These are not their only needs, but they are certainly the only needs they want to talk to you about. So that means that the other things you offer your children—your values, hopes, dreams, wisdom— are often rejected. And let me tell you, rejection from an 11 to 14 year-old who has not yet perfected the art of constructive criticism can be… severe.

No joke, my daughter asked me last week why my face was “like that.” She literally rejected my face. I wasn’t sure how to respond to this, as this is the only face I have, so I just gave her my most sympathetic look and said in a loving tone, “I don’t know, honey. We’re just going to have to get through this together.”

And I think that is the key to rejection— treating it with one measure of acceptance and two or three measures of perseverance. Because rejections will happen in every aspect of our social and professional lives whether we choose to become artists, or parents, or lawyers, or athletes, or anything other than a giant pile of cold hard cash. It kind of sucks, but there it is.

So I try not to let my kids subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) rejection bother me too much. I don’t let it stop me from parenting. I don’t let it dictate how and why I make decisions about their well-being, nor do I take it too personally. I also use my own stories of rejection to help them become comfortable with the idea that they, too, will one day face rejection, despite what all their “participation” ribbons have taught them. I tell them about all my writing rejections. I tell them how sometimes it makes me feel bad. I make jokes about this or that editor’s lack of vision. And in the end, I show them how I go back to work and try to improve. Because to quote every successful artist—and parent— ever, “Rejection doesn’t equal failure. The only way you fail for sure is if you stop trying.”

As You Wish… Parenting Advice from The Princess Bride.

Because I am both lazy and an opportunistic multitasker, I like to work on my parenting skills while doing something decidedly more fun, like watching a movie. Movies are way better than hours of self-reflection. And who needs to spend time agonizing over how to impart good values to our children when Hollywood has already done it for us?

In perhaps the most perfect movie of the 1980s (which is saying something since it’s the decade that brought us Weird Science, Die Hard, and The Goonies), The Princess Bride offers parents all the information we need to raise competent, well-adjusted, thieves, pirates, and princesses. Here are ten of the best pearls of wisdom and how to adapt them into your parenting routine.

  1. “Who said life was fair? Where is that written? Life isn’t always fair.”

Granted, this bit of advice has been a parenting mainstay since the beginning of time (or at least since the beginning of whining), but it remains relevant today. Because it’s true. Life isn’t fair. And fairness is overrated anyway. Next time your kid bites you, take the opportunity to point that out.

  1. “You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.”

Never has a generation been more invested in the concept of immediacy than the kids we are raising now. Instant gratification has become the norm. But patience is a virtue (another pearl of wisdom gleaned from pop culture – thank you Trix Rabbit!), and kids need to know that there are things worth waiting for. Like love and success and a really good marinara sauce.

  1. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

When the day comes that you have to look into your child’s eyes and explain to them a painful loss, these words will come in handy. Whatever your religious or spiritual beliefs, the idea that love transcends all is universally comforting.

  1. “When I was your age, television was called books.”

To update this for today’s world, you can say, “When I was your age, texting was called actually talking to people.” Or something like that. This quote illustrates how every generation feels like the next is being ruined by technology, and how they are both wrong— and right— about that.

  1. “Rodents of unusual size? I don’t think they exist.”

Westley says this a moment before he is mauled by, you guessed it, a rodent of unusual size. This illustrates why you should teach your children to expect the unexpected. It is also a handy thing to remember when you are in Mexico. Ever seen a capybara? I have, and it haunts my nightmares. . .

  1. “Cynics are simply thwarted romantics.”

I think this is true. Behind every cynical snipe or jab, is a person who has been hurt and is afraid of being hurt again. Knowing this may help heal your romantic’s soft heart, or help your cynic become more self-aware. Either way, it bears repeating because everyone lands on one side of this equation or the other. Often times, both, depending on how well-fed, well-rested, and well-chocolated one is at the moment.

  1. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Inigo Montoya says this to Vizzini when he keeps using the word “inconceivable” to describe things that are completely conceivable. Today, we can use this comment when our kids say “literally.” When a person under the age of 21 uses the word literally, it literally never means literally.

  1. “Get used to disappointment.”

This is another parenting mainstay, but one that bears repeating. If there is one problem I see over and over again in children today, it’s that they have no capacity for disappointment. This is because we, as parents, shield our kids from disappointment like it is an incoming Tomahawk missile. Medals for everyone? No keeping score? Let’s not pick a winner? Please. When we take away disappointment we also take away the hunger for achievement. It’s ridiculous. It isn’t fun to watch our kids be disappointed, but it is absolutely essential to raising a human being who doesn’t feel entitled. And I promise you, there is no greater disappointment than getting out into the world and realizing you are not the brightest star in the sky, as you were led to believe your whole life.

  1. “There’s not a lot of money in the revenge business.”

This is my personal favorite. (Mostly because Inigo Montoya says it in his fetching Spanish-tinged-with-Jewish-New-York accent.) But if there is one thing I hope I’ve taught my kids, it’s that old adage about how holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other guy to die. Which leads me to my last piece of advice. . .

  1. “Never go in against a Sicilian where death is on the line.”

I’m not exactly sure what parenting application this has, it just seems like good, solid advice.


Parenting By Numbers

Parenting is little bit like learning to cook. When you first begin, you’re nervous, afraid that one wrong move will ruin your precious creation. After a while, however, you begin to trust your instincts and improvise as you go, throwing in a little of this and a little of that. You know that if things don’t turn out perfectly, chances are it’ll still be good enough. And after you’ve been at it for years, day in and day out, you realize that even if everything goes up in smoke, you can always order pizza. (In parenting, as in cooking, pizza is the answer 97% of the time.)

Here’s a look here at the evolution of 10 common parenting practices from those first precious days as a parent when you wanted everything to be perfect, to the days, three or four kids down the road, when “perfection” is everyone making it out of the house with their clothes on.

First Baby Second Baby Third+ Baby
You stare at her for hours while she sleeps, drinking in the peaceful sight of her little chest rising and falling and the sweet, gentle sounds that only a newborn baby can make. The minute she goes down for a nap, you convince your firstborn its time to “snuggle.” You fall asleep instantly in your bed while firstborn watches two hours of Doc McStuffins. You assume the baby is sleeping, but it’s hard to tell because she is in her pumpkin seat in the back of your minivan while you run your other kids all over town.
You lovingly pick out each day’s outfit complete with matching socks and hats. Then you take 25 pictures and post on Facebook and Instagram. She mostly wears whatever she slept in the night before unless company is coming over. A diaper is an outfit, right?
Baby drops her pacifier and you swoop in like a Peregrine falcon to catch it before it falls to ground. You sterilize it for five minutes in boiling water just in case. Baby drops her pacifier and you wipe it on your pants and hand it back. Five second rule! Baby drops her pacifier and you hand it back without wiping it on your pants because you’re pretty sure whatever is on your pants would only make it worse.
You spend hours making homemade, organic baby food from fresh fruits and vegetables. Your definition of fruits and vegetables has been expanded to include fruit snacks and French fries. Baby’s first solid food is a Cheeto.
You have everything personalized with your baby’s initials – burp cloths, blankets, sippy cups, growth charts, backpacks, etc. Personalizing now means using a sharpie to scribble your baby’s initials on the tag so you can distinguish it from the other kids’ stuff at daycare. You smartly decided to name all subsequent children so that their initials will be the same as your firstborn’s. #winning
You document every milestone in his baby book –first smile, first roll over, first haircut, first steps, first words. He doesn’t have a baby book, per se. It’s more of a baby-plastic-container filled with notes scribbled on the back of doormail coupons and a few stale Cheerios. There is little to no physical evidence this child actually exists.
You leave pages of detailed notes for the babysitter, including feeding, changing and napping schedule. You may have even created a spreadsheet for her to track size, color, and shape of poops. You leave your cell number and $20 for pizza. You leave strict instructions not to call unless she sees blood.
The minute baby gets fussy, you take her temperature three different ways and even though it’s in normal range, you take her into the pediatrician because you just feel “something is off.” You hesitate to take baby to the doctor’s office because your firstborn always catches something while there. Probably because he likes to lick the fish tank while you’re waiting. You feel like you’re basically a pediatrician by this point. You treat everything at home with baby Motrin, an ice pack, and/or a magic kiss.
Packing for any outing requires an hour’s preparation and three steamer trunks full of supplies. You’ve streamlined your supplies into what can fit into your existing purse. Diaper bags are for rookies. Supplies now consist of a pile of Starbucks napkins and a lollipop.
You think you can never love another baby as much as you love this one. You can’t believe you love another baby as much as you love your firstborn. You know that just like your growing sleep deficit, yearly expenses, and yoga pants, your heart will continue to expand and find enough love for every new member of your family. (And isn’t this is all the evidence of their existence you really need?)