Lola’s Birthday Bear Hunt

When I go on an adventure, I call it a Bear Hunt. My favorite part of being a mom is by far taking them on Bear Hunts, sometimes spontaneous, or not, planned to the detail, but always a surprise to them. I like to have them open the door, find a clue leading them to a surprise bag of candy, a trip to the water park, an Easter basket. The girls and I have had many bear hunts, but this was our first birthday bear hunt, a tribute to Lola turning five.
Lola had already had her birthday party, a perfect ambush moment, and the day was so fun, with hilarious moments, shocked faces, and the promise to Kat that she will have a hunt when she turns 9, and so a tradition has started. I got to feel for one whole day what it must be like to be Oprah, but white.
I am already planning a hunt for Clyde’s 40th, trying to figure out what will completely stump him. When Oprah does Bear Hunts, I have always wanted to be that person in the audience, the one shocked because they got Nate to come babysit their kids while they went to the Spa.
Oprah is the “Bear Hunt Queen.”
I would call myself something more like the “Bear Hunt Pimp.”
I can’t give away homes or new cars, but sunglasses and fake microphones, a trip to Party City, and I am off on a bad mother hunt. Finding Rob Dyrdek is going to be the most fabulous Bear Hunt of all, and I have been working on my Master Plan, writing out my ideas, plotting my next few moves. I think I may pull a fake UFO stunt, see if people will congregate to a field with open chairs, something I will have to pull off with a little thought. Then, I think a balloon with Rob’s face should be flown over them, and after I film the response, will need to jet with my 8 year old body guard Kat, my make up artist Lola, and of course, the Vietnamese Director, all in our van covered in sacred geometry wall paper.
If I make a film like this, get it in Rob’s hands, how could he not meet me?
Operation Bear Hunt Rob is going to rock my face off.
So, I took Lola on her birthday Bear Hunt, her fifth birthday, and I put together a little movie of the highlights, to give you a taste of the fun.
To give you a little back story, we started at the American Girl Store, an absolute dream for little girls, but I must say, is quite disturbing. The dolls are seated with the girls in the cafe and are treated like regular guests. First of all, as a server, I can barely keep a smile for hungry adults, but can you imagine having to get honey mustard for some little girl’s fake doll?
They even have a hair salon for the dolls, which I thought was adorable, but absolutely ridiculous. I got out the cash laughing as the lady behind me groaned, both our little girls eyes begging, neither of us being able to justify ourselves, except it was so darn cute, and her birthday. That is, until the Unicorn came up. This precious young brunette, practically a child herself, said that the magic Unicorn pierced the dolls ears. First of all, in my defense, before you judge me, I do not know why I thought there was a magic Unicorn, but maybe I was tired, with low blood sugar, and shit, I just saw Monkey Joe dressed up at a friend’s party, so why wouldn’t there be some poor fool in a Unicorn outfit behind the door? I believed her and Kat and Lola almost fainted at the thought of meeting a real unicorn, especially one who lived behind closed doors.
Kat said we must be just so special.
I sighed and handed fifteen bucks to the lady for Emily, the stupid doll, to have her ears pierced.
I kind of thought the pictures would be cute, so let the ear piercing begin.
When Emily ten minutes later was handed back with her ears pierced, Kat looked as if someone had shot her dog.
The brunette, looked at me, aware I didn’t “get it” about the Unicorn not being real, said he was so shy, and was so very afraid of people. Kat said she was shy, that she could help him, or even better, we could wait till midnight when it was dark for him to come out. I am a mom genius, or idiot, but I said why not ask him to please write us a letter instead, and so my fifteen bucks got me Emily’s ear pierced and two ecstatic girls who got to read a letter from a Unicorn, who Kat shouted, “I can’t believe he speaks human!”
This day had many more hilarious moments, a Sweet N Sassy salon, a runway, a trip to see Nana, Target, a game of how many 5’s we could photograph, and last, a very tired mom, a perfect cd to put two girls stuffed from Chocolate Molten Cake to sleep in the back seat. If you would like to see the Bear Hunt in full form, check the video below. The American Doll Store is truly amazing, ridiculous, on the border of either imagination or narcissism, and I had the time of my life, or I was so tired I imagined Unicorns lived in the back of stores, piercing baby doll ears, at fifteen dollars a pop.
If only I had thought of it first.

Lola’s Magic Lip Gloss

A small part of me just died.
I have been through death, betrayal, divorce, drug addiction, and break ups that have left me in the fetal position.
I have seen the events of 911 and Haiti and Katrina happen in my life, the destruction, pain, and struggle of others much worse off than me. I have cried tears of anger and compassion over these people I have never met, but are a part of me, because at the end of the day, we are all alike than different.
I even cry for people on Oprah, sobbing into toilet paper, yelling at the t.v., “You must forgive yourself!” or “How could you do that to your own child?” or “You can do it, one day at a time!”
Sometimes it takes a whole hour to forgive the woman who knew her husband was wearing her underwear but didn’t understand how he could be gay 15 years later.
REALLY? If I saw my thong on a man’s ass it would be a total ten minutes before all his shit was out of the house.
Perhaps I am just being judgmental.
The man who killed his nephew accidentally in the driveway, the woman rehabilitated after a horrible crash resulting in half her face missing, third degree burns on her body, getting up and taking care of her four children, thankful to be alive.
That one made me feel a little guilty actually, seeing as I had fed the girls Pop Tarts, and had shushed them cause Oprah was on.
Hasn’t every one seen the man with cancer giving his children his last lecture on how to live life?
I cried like someone had just killed my dog, my girls looking at me strangely, Lola slowly backing away when I asked her to come hug me, knowing I was probably going to do my weird mom thing, cry and hold her, asking her if she knew I loved her.
It is part of the human experience. Pain teaches us compassion.
And yet, no one has prepared me for Kindergarten Camp.
It is the step before Kindergarten, a week before, but still, she said her tummy was nervous, that she didn’t know if anyone would play with her, if she could wear her pink lip gloss, to make her extra sparkly.
Lip gloss is her good luck charm. She collects them and because we live in such a crazy world, she can actually put on Lucky Charms lip gloss to go with the cereal. Seriously.
She has all the cereal glosses, the shiny and sparkly, the ones that taste like flavors of the rainbow, and she spreads them across the floor, picking through them, and today, she studied each one of them, like one had a magic Kindergarten camp ingredient.
Kat and I walked her up the school pavement, her holding both of our hands, me praying for her in the car, and I smiled as she interrupted the prayer, being sneaky, whispering, “HEY KAT!”
Kat shushed her.
She for Lola will be that annoying sibling who believes in prayer, loves Martin Luther King so much he has a dinner mat at our table, and a birthday, and is line leader, and proudly announces that her teacher named her the “Role Model” of first grade.
As we walked her in, all of the sudden her little body stopped, her face crumpled and she let out a “OH NO!!!! OH NO!!!” She was on the verge of bursting in tears. I panicked.
“What?” What” Baby, look at me.” I was calm, like every mother actress.
“I FORGOT MY BOOK BAG!” she whimpered, tears filling, about to fall.
It took 30 seconds for me to convince her she didn’t need it till kindergarten, that this was CAMP, and pointed out all the children walking in without book bags, holding their mommy’s hands.
“Kat said for me to bring it.” Whatever Kat says, is fine print on Lola’s heart.
I looked at Kat, wanting to choke her.
When we got to the entrance to sign her in, Lola put her hands on Kat’s shoulders, telling her that when we picked her up, she was going to hug and kiss Kat all over, and Kat told her she was the prettiest girl in the whole camp, and that her teacher was going to just die over her red hair.
That made me want to lay in the grass and sob, a moment I wish to freeze like a snapshot in time, worth every sleepless night, high fever, black circle underneath my eyes.
Of course, I know I am biased, but am aware that with all her faults, stealing to be one of the few, Lola is the brightest light, her spirit arriving before she does, bigger than the sky, and it reminds me of this particular line in the song, “I don’t shine if you don’t shine….”
“Hi, my name is LOlA!” she yells to the lady from the back of the line, all the moms turning to laugh.
She skips, not walks from this point, and Kat says to me in the car, aware I am quiet,
“Mom, she is not going to miss you.”
I am sure she meant it with the purest of intention. I said “Thanks, Kat” with sarcasm, angry Oprah has not prepared me, nor has life, or all my experiences, for the day my baby has left the nest, to give her light and joy, to walk a path that has nothing to do with me. It feels like I got left and freed at once, leaving me unsettled in the fact I will just have to wait and see if I have prepared her, if she will follow directions, not steal little girl’s bracelets, be quiet when the teacher is talking. More than that, I miss her already, and I want all the years back.
I want to relive her all over again, but instead, I will have a good cry, sit in the silence of my little voices missing, and go through my lip gloss, wondering which one will help me see her right of passage, that this is the way of life, and that I can’t hold her light to myself, even if I could.
I don’t shine, if you don’t shine, Lola.
So go shine for me, and shine bright, because the world will love you and need you, and today I pick a gloss the color red, but of course, not even close to the color of your beautiful hair, a shade of red not even the perfect manufacturer could invent.
I will put all my dreams for you in it, like you did in your ring, holding it close to your heart, telling your Daddy as if everyone knew to put dreams into objects.
I think Lola is right, because applying lip gloss with her dreams inside of it feels very different, quite sparkly, and absolutely extraordinary, and now I see why she spends so much time picking the right one out for each occasion.
I think it feels fabulous.
Oprah herself needs to try it some time.

Things That Make Your Brain Go Numb

Things I think are freaking hilarious:

Clyde is a diabetic, not a fatty fatty two by four…He was born that way and wears one of those insulin pumps (I’ve always wanted to do a man with an insulin pump, its on my bucket list..:)

Anyways, he was telling me that his pee smells like jet fuel and when I didn’t believe him, I went on the internet and googled “Diabetic Urine Smell.”

Its saved on my searches and makes me laugh every time. I love the internet.

Kat does this thing now where she lies and says her Dad farted. I think its totally karmic, and hilarious, how pissed off he gets. I heard him say, “Kat, why did you just lie and say I farted!” He said it in total seriousness and exasperation and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

I usually don’t like to talk about my job or write about it either because it brings out the worst in me. But how can you NOT laugh at people who ask for one cube of ice, order a Bacon Burger without bacon, ask if the fried shrimp will upset their diarrhea, ask to be moved to the section that does not smell like food, and here I go, this could easily go off in to a tangent, which is why I must “focus.”

Our hostess accidentally kicked off a guy’s prosthetic leg once when not paying attention. Now that is funny.

Clyde and I regularly answer the phone in all sorts of ridiculous ways. He pretends he is a black dude named The Clydester, and is constantly either pretending to be a woman or thanking me for my applications put in to the Pink Pony when he leaves messages. Today, I answered his work line, “Baby making factory, are you here to donate some sperm or should I put you on hold?” I almost peed on myself when it was my photography school calling me to speak about the interview I had been sweating all week. GEEZ……

Baby bro is a personal trainer and he trains me in our garage (club Tokyo we nicknamed it) and in return, I bring him chicken crispers and french fries home from work. We are such a bizarre team.

The way Oprah tries to swing and dance when she has guest singers on…Its absolutely frightening.

Listening to baby bro imitate Jake from the Bachelor. It is comedy at its best. “Listen, Tenley. You just don’t give me a boner the way Vienna does. Sorry.” He does amazing rose ceremony impersonations with his own twist.

The fact my grandfather (a total douchebag by the way) had half a prostate, one lung, a couple of tumors, brain surgery, and a few falls and insisted on going up to Gold’s gym in his wheelchair to renew his membership. I think he would have been a great spokesman.

What do you think is hilarious?