Grape Circumcision

My daughter Mason is the pickiest eater of all 3 kids. And she knows it. And couldn’t be prouder. We usually refer to her as "The Worst". I just had an argument with her the other day because she wanted to know why she cannot eat "muffins every day for breakfast". I explained to her that it's basically like "eating cake every morning". She's just not buying my argument. Brutal. But moving on...

One of the 3 fruits she will eat is grapes. Whenever I give her grapes I need to make sure they are absolutely pristine. Seriously. This is how pathetic my life has become. The grapes are vetted. And then circumcised. No joke. This is what my life has come to. Circumcising grapes. You know, the part on the grape that turns brown where it is attached to the stem. It has to be removed or she definitely won't eat them. I guess I should be thankful that at least she likes grapes. They are better than muffins. Sometimes.

Hike up your mom jeans

I never imagined myself as such a mom. Like a real mom. Like a mom mom. Living in a house. In the burbs. Driving a minivan. Seriously, my whole existence at the moment is all for the kids. Or the three little assholes as I affectionately refer to them. It’s a term of endearment really. My life is spent planning. Planning when to do the laundry. What to have for dinner. Making playdates. Making lunches. Sweeping the kitchen. Making doctor appointments. Grocery shopping. Sweeping the kitchen. Changing diapers. Reading books. Playing with toys. Driving the kids to school. Picking the kids up from school. Wiping boogers. Wiping the counter. Washing dishes. And sweeping the kitchen.

It’s a far cry from my East Village days. No doubt.

But it’s all good. I’ve kind of embraced the whole mom thing. I figured, fuck, if I’m gonna be a total mom, I should really BE a total mom. So yeah, I’m like the best mom ever. Ask my kids. My sister always refers to me as a total “Mrs. Stewart” in a playful, almost annoyed but maybe a little jealous kind of way. I made cake pops (like a little ball of cake on a stick) and mummy juice boxes (juice boxes that look like mummies) this year for Halloween. A Dora the Explorer lollipop tree for my two-year-olds birthday. We’ve made home made playdoh. And many other things of that ilk. You get the picture. It’s kind of fun sometimes. Allows me to be creative.  Bond with the little shits. You know. 

The Beginning

Hi. I’m Ann. And I’m a suburban mom. And a writer.

Please don’t hold that against me. The writer part anyway. I wasn’t always this way. I swear. I was once a real person. With a real job. And I had my own real life. I miss my old life sometimes. The craziness of working in advertising in NYC. The craziness of working til 3AM. Trying to solve client problems while still creating something cool that I was proud to tell my friends about. That craziness stopped when I had my twins and became a mom. Suddenly my world opened up to a whole new crazier kind of crazy.

Fast forward and I’m still a creative. A writer. An Associate Creative Director. An idea maker. A shit talker. All in the freelance kind of way. But instead of living in Hoboken, I now live in Winchester. An adorable suburb about 20 minutes north of Boston. I have almost 6-year-old twins (one boy, one girl) and an insane 2 ½ year old girl. And they are my world. There. I said it. I’ve totally embraced the whole suburban mom thing. I figured, why the fuck not. If I’m living the dream, I might as well do it up.

So I created this blog as an outlet to showcase my writing and thinking. And as an incentive for all you powerful hiring types to please put me on a project. C’mon. I’m funny. And fairly intelligent. And a pretty bad-ass writer, if I must say so myself. I love doing freelance work whenever possible as it’s kind of a vacation from my real job. Plus I get paid. Win win all around.