Park Slope Moms

I'm about to move to >cringe< Park Slope. It's a neighborhood known for its precious moms -- women who used fertility treatments to home birth the twins, Ava and Dash, who are treated like royalty. The joke (or not) is that these babies are spoonfed organic smashed potatoes with rosemary and pomegranate, unless they're not in the mood, and then they watch Baby Einstein videos while being massaged with lavendar oil.

I used to think that was a terribly unfair, terribly misogynistic take on Brookln motherhood. After all, I'm moving in. And I have my own princess I want to take to the park. But it's all fun and games until you're neighbors.

We're doing renovations in our apartment, and our co-op neighbor has a young child. Apparently, he's quite sickly: any sound wakes him up, any dust gives him nosebleeds. As you can imagine, it's difficult to renovate an apartment without making sound or dust. We're doing our best, but it's not good enough -- to satisfy her, we've had to hire a lead expert and a dust and air expert, and respond to numerous passive-aggressive emails about his "naptime".

So when do we call it? When do gear up for a fight? We want to have a good experience in our new apartment, but right now we're terrified of making a peep, and we haven't even moved in yet. Ah, moving in. Sounds like heaven. (Gulp.)

What? I'm Just Relaxing

It's not that I drink a lot of wine. I just drink a little wine. All the time.

Being a mom is stressful. With a full-time job as well, it can be torturous. So the first thing I do when I get home at night is relax with a glass of red wine. Sometimes -- say, six of seven nights -- I'll have another with dinner. And then I'll cozy up with one more as I watch Jon Stewart.

You'd never know I'm a domestic lush unless you noticed that nasty, purple ring that red-wine tannins leave on the inside of your mouth. It's particularly embarrassing when you notice after the teleconference with India in the morning. So imagine how pleased I am to find this bu-RILL-yant invention that ends the vampire mouth:

Wine Wipes. All my friends are getting them in their stockings this year.

Photo credit: flickr.com, miqul

Chores At Work

Five dudes standing around the empty coffeepot, chatting...

We have an unofficial policy that if you take the last cup of coffee, you refill the pot. Think's it just an odd coincidence, these dudes with their cups? Let me think about that as I grab a filter to make some coffee for my afternoon break.

Photo from flickr.com: rosaalta

Kids and Eating Organic

It's a pet peeve of mine when journalists discover parenting "trends" that involve overanxious mothers hyper-controlling their childrens' lives. It's usually pretty bogus, and has more than a whiff of burnt scolding to it.

The latest "trend" under fire is that of mothers feeding their kids exotic and/or organic foods. According to the winking anecdotes in the New York Times, teaching your children about good and bad foods might make them anorexic or give them OCD.

According to Slate.com, kids can't really taste the difference between foods, and besides, kids are too precocious these days anyway. And what idiot let them in the kitchen with all those knives and wires?

The real truth lives somewhere like my house, where we try to buy organic produce when we can -- if we don't forget or it's not too expensive. (Which it usually is.) So you know what's helpful? A guide of which foods to buy organic, which to ignore. And do you know who published this simple list? A parenting site. They know that we're too busy cooking, cleaning, working and reading to our kids to be all that concerned.

Defuse yourself

As my prep time for the holiday season shortens, so does my snap time -- the time it takes to blow my top while standing in line, waiting on hold or sitting in a meeting.

I was on the verge of snapping all last week, what with the shopping, cleaning, decorating, cooking and corresponding before the holidays. Add a busy work day and a packed evening schedule and my teeth were clenched. That's why I was so glad to remember a stress-reducer I discovered when I was pregnant.

Background: I had preeclampsia at the end of my pregnancy -- a condition that makes your blood pressure shoot up very quickly. Unless I wanted to be put on bed rest, my doctor told me, I had to be creative and fast in defusing myself. Not easy in New York.

My solution? Every time something happened that pushed me to the edge, I would do something generous for someone. As soon after the event as possible. Just last year, scientists confirmed that increased oxytocin (the body's love hormone) leads to increased empathy and generosity. Can it work the other way? If oxytocin is normally released by hugging and touching, can it also be released by giving?

In any case, it worked for me. I'd do something nice for someone and they'd smile at me and suddenly, I wouldn't care a whit about the jerk who just stole my seat. I felt in control and happier with humanity. Here are some of my recommendations:

* When a coworker makes a backstab-y comment in a group meeting, take a walk to get cookies for the receptionist.

* When a nasty retail worker at the front of a long line treats you poorly, turn around and thank the person behind you for her patience.

* When some guy, say, pushes past your pregnant belly to get the last subway seat so he can do his stupid crossword puzzle, give the homeless woman at the top of the stairs $5 and a hug.

Anything work for you?