Show Tunes and Sex...The Connection.

Some of you know by now that I sing showtunes to my children, which elicits a calm silence and bewilderment at first, followed by demands to stop, and me singing louder. The inspiration for these days must be exactly right; I feel inspired, confident, with no cold, no headache, no sore throat, happy- with no distractions, little stress, and time available. Achieving such inspiring equilibrium to break out into song spontaneously, takes some serious stars aligning. With four children, a few businesses, a big house and bigger mortgage, stress is like my constant companion. So for me to be in the exact right mood to joyfully annoy my children, is rare. You see I love show tunes; I love the way they make you feel when you sing them. I love performing, and feel like I'm I am soooo fabulous at my rendition of "One", (which I first performed at 6, I remind my 5 year old), that I honestly have fleeting moments of going back on the New York audition circuit (I even renewed my subscription to BackStage Magazine, clearly this was a stellar week of rooouuunnndding applause from, um myself). Clearly this is some form of desperation, or reaching back into the nether regions of my brain. However I digress.

You see, the exact right mood which is necessary before I am even remotely interested in belting out "Hello Dolly", reminds me of the exact right mood women have to be in before they are well, in the mood. Add to the elusive feeling of balanced happiness to not feeling fat, and I can honestly see how couples go months, even years without having sex. Dr. Oz has declared it a "National Crisis". He believes Americans are "anorexic" in their sex lives. Which brings me back to show tunes. Sometimes you just have to sing, and you realize "Oh yeah, I might feel fat, but this is...gleeful." Men, I believe, are not wired in this specific way as women; they don't need to have the dishwasher started, the counters wiped down, the laundry started, the teeth brushed, face washed, various creams applied, in order to 'get ready' to get in the mood for anything. They are always ready, like a soldier at war, willing with their gun loaded.

So....now for the solution. How do wives get in the mood, and men get them in the mood to sing? I think in order to get your wife to realize the benefit of belting a high E...without the aforementioned To Do list complete, you have to create that moment, the one in the musical where she swoons. Okay here me out...I have had the great pleasure of working on a project with Dr. Marianne Brandon, certified therapist with a specialty in sex therapy. She contends, that men experience pleasure "through his woman". In other words, his ultimate sexual pleasure happens as he gets her to ecstasy. And she, ultimately wants to be "taken" by her man. "Taken" is like enraptured in strength, taken to another place emotionally, spiritually and physically, and hopefully, ultimately, to that place women want to go to....That place where yes, when she and Sasha Fierce have a special connection.

So, my personal moral to the story, to the women: if you break out in song without the laundry turned over, you will reap the benefits and hopefully feel like Penelope Cruz in "Nine" (which you should rent and watch at night...in bed...with wine); and to men: take your wife to a place other than the laundry room- this can be experienced by talking to her about her desires, her dreams, her greatest moments- and then take her to her great solo when she is the star of the show....

So good luck and I wish everyone lots of stellar moments of showtunes in the bedroom and beyond.

Public Nursing as "Public Masterbation"..

Yes, Jon Stewart, the "esteemed" host of The Daily Show, stated that he believes public nursing equates to public masterbation. Clearly he has never had to take care of a new born baby, the one screaming on the airplane because, oh she is hungry...I think Jon Stewart should be forced to A. miss a bunch of meals back to back. B. Be forced to be carried around like a napsack (I think the Governator could do this job) C. and be forced to eat liquids while sitting on top of a toilet seat in a restroom at Grand Central Station....after a concert in Madison Square Garden, and then, just to be extra fun, let's outfit him with a new born baby for 1 day (as I think more than 1 could be equated to child abuse), and see how he does. Let's see if, and when the baby starts to cry, scream if he takes the time to "find a public restroom" to feed the baby (as he suggests), gimme a freakin break. I encourage the biggest nurse-in Hollywood has ever seen at his studios. I also think someone should inform him that although he may be attracted to nipples, they are actually there for a baby to get food, not for his pleasure.

"Oh What a Night"

Amazing what one night can do for the spirit. I begrudgingly went out last night to a party of epic proportions, despite the fact that I was not convinced I could turn my attitude around. Parties are interesting, as many times, you may only know the host and the hostess. I love parties like this, because it presents a challenge for me, and an opportunity to meet as many new people as possible. Of course, like everyone else, the first look over a sea of strangers elicits pangs of fear. But once I consider the possibilities of all the interesting people I will meet, and all the fascinating things I will learn, the fear goes away. And this focus on everyone else, and my personal mission to find out as much as I can about each of them, quickly made me forget my problems of the day, and later into the night, even the most serious of problems did not seem to exist.

Dentists, surgeons, the professor robotics, the wealth management advisor, aerobics instructor, medical sales professional, the wives of the dentists, and husbands of the surgeons, and my dear dear friends, and very patient husband all brought me the joy that I thought would not return for days. If I hadn't made it my mission to meet, learn and connect with everyone there, then I likely would have left feeling like my house was oh so pathetically decorated, and possibly I had a hoarding problem due to the clutter I have in various spots in my house. You see, when you feel sorry for yourself, you start comparing things like your house to others, like my host and hostess....whose house is impossibly beautiful, and did not actually have a single piece of paper, anywhere, even in the office, much less toys, shoes, coats,kids art work, pictures, and the stuff of live. Not only were there no laundry baskets anywhere, but there laundry room had no laundry, even in the dryer! I can't actually think of a single time, ever that that has been the case in my own home...The view of the South River from atop a hill and 25 feet high of windows would have done it for me. That in and of itself is so spectacular I almost cried. But then there's the decorating...and the sleek hyper modern, impeccably organized, with supreme luxury that actually makes you...speechless. So the moral of my meandering story was found by my pure blissful enjoyment of such a beautiful space and even more in the beauty of the people who joined me. Cheers.

Low low low low

It's a low low low day, and I'm not talking about my Love jeans, which are also quite low, but not as low as I am today. I share this, against my usual own advice, as I abhore complainers, and people who cannot find the best in any given circumstance or situation. I share this only because, I want people to know that I have these low low low days, just like everyone else. My low came out of several different circumstances, including feeling unappreciated, unloved, hated by some, loathed by others, and generally uninspired. If I could have AT LEAST gotten some inspiration I would be FINE! But, the night is still young, so I am optimistic...

Today is the day, you do the thankless jobs of life, all the stuff that sometimes goes unnoticed, and sometimes people downright resent, but you do the right thing none-the-less. And isn't that the job of mothers, many times? Like when we tell our children "No, you cannot ride to your friends house two miles away at 6:00 at night," and you get "You are the most ridiculous mom of anyone I know," yeah like those times; you know you are doing the right thing even though you get flack and lots of it.

In times like these, when you feel like you are on stage being flogged, and you just want to crawl in to your bed and have yourself a good pity party, or a half gallon of chocolate chip, I do several things which can, (in theory), help. One is I take a shower. I use every available moisturizer bottled specifically for various body parts like the feet etc. I put on makeup. I dress in an outfit that I feel confidant in. I call my mom. I put on perfume. I light a candle. Then I go out. With husband of course, but I go out. Even though I don't want to, I don't intend to, and the world may very well suffer for it. I go and seek a new perspective, which I may, possibly glean. My problems are merely minutia and a very good glass of La Crema makes it melt away, a little bit. Some times you have to do as you would think....Even if you have to fake it. If you smile enough you feel happy. I am the queen of overanalyzing, however, sometimes just letting it go, not discussing it, and smiling your way through it is better than any Wellbutrin can ever give you. So salute. Have fun and smile.

"Hello God, It's Me, Mom"

As a mother of 4 children, with a crazy busy life, a large over achieving and opinionated family, several businesses, and two additional business ventures, I find myself wondering why in the world I would add this to my overflowing plate...Again. I have decided that the dialogue I mostly have alone, millions of women out there have also got to be having alone, while driving the children to and from school, while doing the laundry, the dishes, vacuuming the house, doing errands in the minivan, waiting in the car line etc. It's that dialogue, the subtext of our lives. "Where am I going with this life? What am I accomplishing? Why can't I go to Haiti tomorrow and help the nurses? Should I make chicken or turkey for dinner? Darn I forgot the dry cleaning...", this is, of course the beginning of the dialogue, "I remember when used to have to blow out my hair in the morning...and now, nobody cares. I was young, and now I'm old. My wants are secondary to my children. blah blah blah". So I was there, very there in that cold dark place. And I feel like I've come out of it. Not that I have all the answers, maybe just a few. Maybe enough that someone like me, some hardworking dedicated mother of many children who has sacrificed her career to tend to everyone sans herself, can relate to. Perhaps my experience will be like that hand reaching down into that dark place which pulls her out of it. Perhaps....And my journey is growing, expanding, learning, curving, meandering. But it's a wonderful, rich life I have, that I hope will inspire others like myself.