Welcome To The Cradle Chronicles!

These are the crazy confessions of a first time mommy, and her adventures in world "mom-ination." If you are coming to this blogsite by way of People.com, chances are you’re already familiar with my writing style and “Mommy-centric” blog fodder. If not, I'll introduce myself with this brief summary: Suffice it to say, I have kids. Two, in fact. Now, I’m not suggesting this defines me entirely, but it certainly goes a long way toward explaining my daily trials and tribulations with spit-up and dirty diapers. Which brings me to… Welcome to The Cradle Chronicles! I hope you’ll continue coming back again and again for more of my motherhood anecdotes, and I look forward to hearing from you. Please keep an eye out for my book, "Situation Momedy," to be released by Medallion Press in 2015 and feel free to follow me on Twitter too!

--Photos in Welcome section courtesy of Mimosa Arts Photography--

November 6, 2015
SituationMomedy-book cover

My Situation Momedy Book Cover (Photo by Mimosa Arts)


Situation Momedy: A Labor of Love


Back in my single-girl, my-time-was-my-own, it-still-made-sense-to-wear-dry-clean-only-clothing days, before I was officially the mom of tiny humans, I was mommy to my very own canine brood. We aren’t talking one small step into a lifetime commitment with man’s best friend here; we’re talking one giant leap: I managed to amass five dogs. I repeat: five. Let’s just say I’m a big believer in the saying Go big or go home.

The fact is, I’d desperately wanted children for so long that I started baby-stepping my way toward them with kids of the hairy, salivating, kibble-eating kind. In the interest of full disclosure, I first attempted fish and a pet lizard, but those didn’t go so swimmingly. Fortunately, I’ve had better luck with mammals. Sort of. I took a few tumbles along the path to becoming a decent doggy parent too.

Case in point: Not long after I turned 30, I brought my third puppy home—a basset hound named Mia. She was a spur-of-the-moment adoption I’d made with a lot of heart and very little consideration for what our future together might entail. In my optimistic, carefree world, what was one additional dog in the house when I already had two? I’d convinced myself she would add more character to my life.

For the record, wrinkles add character; basset hounds add chaos.

Nonetheless, Mia’s still camping out on my loveseat as I write this (read: drooling all over it and leaving behind her very special brand of basset hound funk), so I guess my decision couldn’t have been too misguided. But it took a while to come to that conclusion.

First, Mia and I had to undergo the Pottery Barn Bench Construction Debacle of 2007. That’s when I learned putting together any sort of factory-made furniture that involves more than ten parts and over one page of instruction is not a puppy-friendly home project, no matter how careful you think you can be.

I congratulated myself on remembering to let three-month-old Mia outside before she christened my new rug. Then, while lost in the oblivion of bench assembly, I missed her stealthy entrance into my work zone (impressive, considering that bassets are anything but stealthy). That little rascal managed to snag a few nuts and bolts without me noticing!

That evening saw Mia trembling and vomiting. Clearly my baby was ill—at least I was astute enough to recognize that fact—so I rushed her to the emergency vet. Turns out she’d ingested two interlocking metal pieces that wound up lodged in her intestine. Their removal required immediate stomach surgery—and most of what I had in my checking account.

Numerous vet bills and countless hours of worrying later, I was in possession of frayed nerves, a doped-up dog, and the most expensive bench in the history of Pottery Barn benches. It was a financially and emotionally costly parenting lesson.

The moral of my story? Sometimes labor and love don’t mix when it comes to parenting. Oh, and installing baby gates is a must, whether your kids have paws or feet.

Photo by Micah Schweinsberg

Photo by Micah Schweinsberg


People sometimes use the term labor of love rather loosely.

“I just finished filming an exciting thirteen-hour documentary on the mating rituals of wombats; it was a labor of love.”

“I climbed K2 wearing only a Superman cape and a pair of Mukluks; it was a labor of love.”

“I simultaneously wrangled two kids, five dogs, and my husband for a photo shoot, just so we could have a kitschy Christmas card; it was a labor of love.” (For the record, I’ve tried this one, and it’s no easy feat.)

But as often as I hear the phrase labor of love, there’s one experience I’ve had in my own life that truly exemplifies it: trying to give birth to a book while being full-time mommy to the two girls to whom I also recently gave birth.

Years ago, in my dreamy little head, being a published author resembled Ernest Hemingway brooding over martinis at Harry’s Bar in Venice, Dorothy Parker wisecracking at the Algonquin Round Table, or William Faulkner puffing on pipes and slugging bourbon at his writing desk in Oxford, Mississippi. What it definitely did not look like was sneaking in twenty minutes on chapter 17 while simultaneously breastfeeding, making a meatloaf, stepping on wayward crayons and squeaky toys, and desperately wishing that third pot of high-octane coffee hadn’t just run out. As it happens, motherhood and manuscripts aren’t always an ideal (or productive) combination.

Nevertheless, just as the legendary phoenix rises from a pile of ashes, inspiration sprang from my new mommy chaos and took flight. It’s how my book— Situation Momedy: A First-Time Mom’s Guide to Laughing Your Way through Pregnancy & Year One—was conceived, and writing it brought my notion of a labor of love to a whole new, sometimes sanity-defying level. But it was more than worth it! I mean, how could I ignore an opportunity to merge my lifelong love for comedy with my passion for raising my daughters? Better yet, how could I pass up the chance to let my mommy peers laugh at my hectic and hilarious motherhood misadventures, snafus, and hard-learned lessons, such as the one I mention above involving my four-legged, fur baby?

I believe we are all better parents when we can take a step back and find the funny, and this is especially true when one is experiencing pregnancy and the new-mommy learning curve. My prevailing motherhood motto? A sense of humor—never leave home without it.

That said, every now and then a new mommy’s sense of humor gets lost in the shuffle. Mine did. I used to catch it skulking behind my morning sickness and the uneasiness of an unfinished nursery, hiding under dirty diapers and never-ending laundry loads, attempting to escape the threat and absurdity of the Mommy Wars, and getting overshadowed by that monster called The Fear of Screwing up My Kids. (Welcome to the wonderful world of anxiety!)

After I’d done enough fretting and over-Googling for all of us, I finally decided to shake it off, trust my own instincts, and laugh a little. While I was at it, I figured why not embrace the honesty and vulnerability and write a book that reminds other moms to locate their own intuition and inner comedienne in the midst of the anarchy? Sometimes it’s nice to know we aren’t alone in the madness.

With Situation Momedy, I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel; I’m just trying to encourage us all to laugh as the notion of motherhood perfection rolls on by. As I mention in its preface, Situation Momedy “isn’t meant to be a how-to book. There are already tons of those out there, and they cover everything I can’t, won’t, couldn’t, and shouldn’t. Instead, this is meant to be a best friend’s guide to laughing about the realities of motherhood. Because sometimes laughter is a contagious cure-all. . . . Think of me as your self-deprecating Jiminy Cricket with a baby on her hip.”

After all, parenting may be a lifelong commitment that involves intense love and dedication, infinite patience, and more energy than you thought yourself capable of without a lifetime supply of caffeine (or maybe wine), but it also offers an abundance of seriously comical moments worth pausing to appreciate.

Because what’s the fun of the labor without the love and laughter to go along with it?


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy


*** For those of you who know WAY more about parenting than I do—and that’s probably most of you—you may not need my book to remind you to laugh in the face of your daily parenting challenges. Not to worry, Situation Momedy has something for everyone, so I hope you’ll read it anyway. It happens to be chock full of ridiculous stories from my past, both personal and career-related, in which I repeatedly throw myself under the bus. And who doesn’t love laughing at my expense? You won’t want to miss it. And it comes out THIS WEEK! You can order it HERE.

Also, a huge congrats to Christy of Marietta, Georgia, who won the SnuggBugg contest last month! Thank you to everyone who entered, and please check back soon for more fun giveaways!

PS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen.

PPS. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!




October 23, 2015
At my first post-op appointment. Because no one needs to see me during the heavily medicated days. Oh yeah, and I blurred the incision site for you too. I'm not trying to make anyone lose their lunch.

At my first post-op appointment. Because no one needs to see me during the heavily medicated days. Oh yeah, and I blurred the incision site for you too. I’m not trying to make anyone lose their lunch.


As I mentioned in my last blog post, I recently had knee surgery. I’ll spare you the medical jargon-laden details (and the rather ghoulish post-operation photos), but suffice it to say I had a complex tear in my knee and the only real fix was to go under the knife. Don’t bother asking me when and how I damaged it in the first place, as I’m clueless. I suspect I busted it at some point during my second pregnancy while that lying, deceitful hormone Relaxin was coursing through my body and making me think I was capable of stretching in ways I really wasn’t. As my post-pregnant body began to transition back, I suddenly started experiencing intense pain that hadn’t been there before. Good times. I would’ve loved to have skipped surgery altogether, but there are two little girls who wouldn’t stop running long enough for me to catch up, which posed some logistics issues. Nonetheless, I made it through the surgery and I’m present. Limping and cursing my crutches, but present.

Let me first say that dealing with crutches (which my three-year-old refers to as “crunches”) whilst parenting two energetic kids has been nothing short of challenging. Or, for that matter, exhausting. And no amount of caffeine can really make a dent in that. It’s always fun when your ten-month-old can walk faster than you, especially when she has already mastered the art of being a living, breathing wrecking ball. Thankfully, my husband took two days off from work, and my mom flew in from the East Coast to help out… and by help out, I mean she wrangled kids 24/7 on my behalf. She conducted make-believe tea parties, bathed squirmy, wiggly arms and legs, packed preschool lunches, cleaned never ending Lego messes and catastrophic food spills, thwarted tantrums (but only sometimes) and wiped cherubic little bottoms. God bless her. During the aforementioned activities, I was laid out on our couch in a deliciously foggy state of delirium I like to call “vacation,” watching back episodes of Boston Legal — the story lines of which I wouldn’t recall even if getting cast in the next David E. Kelley drama depended on it.


When your ten-month-old walks faster than you...

When your ten-month-old walks faster than you…

Given my anticipation of said state of delirium and my propensity for sarcasm, I left an itinerary for my husband– which, as you can probably imagine, was something special. And I do mean special. I decided to take a new approach to list-making… micromanaging by comedy. And since my husband got such a kick out of it (or at least he was polite enough to tell me he did), I thought you might enjoy it too…

My Awesomely OCD Itinerary


Brad- Thank you, in advance, for taking care of me during my doped-up delirium. If you’ve ever wanted to tell me something wacky from your past, but didn’t because you were afraid my memory was so good I’d never forget it and I’d dredge it up again when we’re 80, now’s the time to tell me. I won’t remember jack while I’m on Percocet. I will, however, remember I love you. And that’s the important part. Thank you for taking the day off from work to be with me, and for calming my nerves while I’m an uptight, freaked out worrywart.


Thursday– Surgery

  1. My Advance Directive is in the brown pouch with my phone and Kindle. You’d better not need it, or I vow to come back and haunt my surgeon for all of eternity. I can be SERIOUSLY annoying when I want to be (and sometimes when I don’t), so he doesn’t want that. As a side note– If you do wind up needing my Advance Directive, I also hereby bequeath you my iPhone and brand new Kindle. It’s the least I can do.


  1. Please text my sister, your mom, and my four closest girlfriends to let them know I made it out of surgery without croaking. (Provided I did, of course.) You can find all of their numbers in my phone. Please also call my mom so she doesn’t go any crazier than she already is. If anyone offers to bring a meal over, please take them up on it. You and my mom in the kitchen together is a disaster waiting to happen and I have enough to worry about right now. If they offer to make dessert, and I find out you turned that down, I’ll need some additional time to come up with an appropriate punishment. It may or may not involve my crutches being used as weapons. I want that damn dessert. I’m medicated, not mental.


  1. Please remind me to pump and dump after I wake up from my surgery. We don’t need a comatose baby, and I’m worried I’ll forget to do it. You may have to help me set the contraption up properly if I’m too out of it. Just think: it’s a good excuse to touch my boobs. Not that you need one.


  1. We need to pick up Gray after my surgery– it should be done in plenty of time for that. I’ll have knee scars, but they’ll be nothing relative to the scars our kid will have if we forget her at school. On a good note, they’re expecting her at aftercare until we can get there, so if we’re running late, we have a back up plan in place.


At Home:

  1. Dinner: Please make the pre-prepared stuffed peppers for dinner. I may not eat them. Or it’s possible I may eat them and not remember I ate them. Either is fine. Please make them anyway so they don’t go bad sitting in the fridge for too long.


  1. Baths: Please give the girls a bath tonight, because I won’t be able to do it. (PS- When I try to convince you it’s because I’m not allowed to get my bandages wet, know it’s really an excuse to get out of it just this one time.)


  1. Other: Don’t let me convince you not to drink wine just because I can’t. I’m sure my mom will join you. She should consider it a preemptive gift before she spends the next two weeks watching our kids while I’m an invalid.



  1. School Preparations: I’ve already picked out the girls’ clothes for school (Yes, this is partially because I’m worried about what you’ll choose, but more because I’m afraid Gray will choose an outfit herself, then hypnotize you with whining until you numbly agree to a giant tutu and light up sandals). Please put sunscreen on them. The girls, not the clothes. With any luck, I had enough forethought to pack them lunch too, but if not, tell me to get off my lazy ass and make it for them. It’s not like I just had surgery or anything.


  1. Pick Up and Drop Off: Before you can go to work, you’re stuck chaperoning/chauffeuring my sorry butt to daycare with the girls so we can stick to our normal routine… and so I can leave Marlowe and Gray with people who are clearly in better shape (physically and mentally) to care for them than I am. This way my mom gets a much-needed rest, and I can sleep on (read: drool all over) our couch. You will then have to drag my zoned-out, zombie self home again before you head to the office. But you should definitely plan on some super exciting car conversations if I don’t fall asleep. If you’re lucky, I might remember your name by the time we pull into our driveway.


  1. Managing Me: Don’t let me convince you I can drink. Or drive. Or drink and drive. Who knows what kind of spell those magic meds will put me under!


  1. Managing Our Girls: Please give our girls extra love. (Though not in the form of sugar.) I know this will be a challenging time for them. Seeing Mommy in pain is tough, and needing Mommy when there are physical limitations will be frustrating for them. Please try to be as patient as possible and don’t be afraid to ask my mom for help!! I love you all stars and moon.


Love, your list-happy, micro-managing wife. xoxo


As you’ve likely gathered, I combat stress with humor. I promise I’m not really that glib about dying— I’m just terrible at letting other people take care of me, so comedy becomes my crutch. (Not that I don’t have enough crutches to deal with at this particular juncture!) Nevertheless, I realize there are circumstances in which I have no choice but to hand over the reigns… After I write a ten-minute dissertation on how things should be handled while I’m out of commission, of course. Isn’t that what being a mom is all about?


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release my new book next month, “Situation Momedy!” If you you want to pre-order it now (I wouldn’t dream of stopping you), it’s already available on Amazon, through this link…

PPS. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!

  • Tracy B says:

    Omg, I am laughing hysterically! Not at your pain or surgery, of course, but for your comedy because I am the same way! Thank you for your honesty. :)

  • Larry Rodriquez says:

    Now I’m feeling sympathy in a I can’t stop laughing kinda way.
    You forget anything I doubt that.
    Remember God uses pain and will not waste it.

  • Rainey Daye says:

    I didn’t undergo knee surgery with littles, but I DID break my foot when I had a 3 1/2 year old and an 8 month old. That was fun…NOT!! But someone was nice enough to gift me a knee scooter and I got quite adept at getting around on it for the four months I wasn’t walking…even did baking and washed dishes with that thing…but no laundry!! I was also exclusively pumping for my daughter and was the main milk donor for two other babies during that time…and my daughter got the flu as well at one point…fun, fun. It was interesting to see who would be walking first…me or the girlie…but thankfully it was me. Looking back now I wonder how I ever coped. But you do what ya gotta do!!

October 2, 2015


Snugg Buggin'

Snugg Buggin’


          You may or may not have been privy to the Tweet I sent out a few weeks ago, announcing that my sweet baby Marlowe has officially taken her first steps. (Yay! And God help me!) I’m sure my excitement came through loud and clear, since I think most parents look forward to the walking milestone with bated breath and video cameras at the ready. But the behind-the-scenes view of that moment was somewhat more anxiety-ridden, as the notion of two children running around my house subtly sunk in. And by subtly sunk in, I mean it hit me with all the force of the Titanic plunging into the iceberg that caused its demise.

I’ve discovered reaching milestones with my second daughter is happening more quickly and abruptly than I’m prepared for. Everything with Gray was so new and novel, it felt like I waited an eternity to witness her crawling and walking and saying her first words. I was sure she’d never give up her pacifier, sleep in her own bed, or learn to use the potty. And you know what? It turns out I liked experiencing motherhood in slow motion. In comparison, Marlowe’s infancy is flying past like a freight train with no brakes, and I’m left running down the tracks behind it, breathlessly trying to catch up. (Well, not really running so much as hobbling since I had knee surgery last week. But that’s a story for another post. On the other hand, the “breathless” part is definitely on par.)

Lately, my biggest gripe has been that I’m having trouble slowing Marlowe down long enough for a cuddle or a kiss. Rather than resting peacefully in my lap after a feeding, and letting me affectionately run my fingers through her hair, she immediately wriggles out of my arms, slides to the floor, and heads for the nearest toy bin. Apparently, I’m not nearly as compelling as a dinosaur flashlight or the castles her sister builds out of Duplos. And as much as I’m thrilled to watch her independence growing and soaring to new heights, I’m also a sucker for the baby formerly known as immobile. Because that baby was a mama’s girl and a supersized snuggler… just my kind of gal.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted via email by the designer of a fabric baby-wearing wrap called the SnuggBugg. The woman who created the wrap is a mom of six. I repeat—SIX!!! And that’s not a reference to my old Blossom character. I can barely keep up with two children, so I’d like to go on record as saying I’m highly impressed… that she both managed to start a company while caring for half a dozen children (the only thing I can handle half a dozen of is glazed donuts) and managed to remain sane while doing it. Anyway, she asked if I’d be willing to try out her wrap and give some feedback in exchange for a SnuggBugg to give away here on my Cradle Chronicles site. As you’ve likely gleaned from past blogs, I’m a huge supporter of small businesses– especially when they’ve been developed by moms with a dream. With that in mind, I jumped at the opportunity to give the SnuggBugg a chance. I also figured—why wouldn’t my readers want an opportunity to win some free product? You can thank me later and reference the end of this post for the giveaway details on that.

But first– the SnuggBugg.

If I’m being completely candid, I didn’t have high hopes for the SnuggBugg— this had absolutely zero to do with the product itself, and everything to do with my newly mobile kid. I mean, if I can’t even get Marlowe to sit still long enough to let me put a pair of socks on her feet, how the heck was I going to convince her to let me tuck her into a mini kangaroo pouch? Not to mention, Marlowe despises covers and blankets of any kind. You know how some babies adore being swaddled? How they love being rolled up good and tight like a burrito? My daughter doesn’t even want to be rolled up like a quesadilla much less a burrito, so I knew we were in for a struggle. Gray used to love being carried around in a wrap… Marlowe, not so much. If I even toss a light sheet over her feet, she flops around more than a beached whale. Nevertheless, I’d promised to give an honest critique of the SnuggBugg, so I crossed my fingers and hoped for an outcome that didn’t involve me having to test the thing out on my three-year-old instead. (Though, for the record, that might have been just fine– the SnuggBugg supposedly works on children up to 35 pounds!)

As it turns out, I had a bona fide, walk-on-water sort of miracle on my hands with the SnuggBugg. Lo and behold, Marlowe LOVED it! She didn’t even cry when I put her in it (though a blubberfest definitely ensued when I tried to take her back out). The material was comfortable, appropriately stretchy, and didn’t make me feel like I was stuffing my kid into a medieval torture device. Best of all, Marlowe curled up, breastfed, and then passed out. I think I hear the angels singing. For proof, please see the picture I posted above. I even had a hand free to take that selfie!

Getting the wrap on properly took a little getting used to–  though to be fair, I’ve found most baby wearing wraps tough to put on at first. It’s sort of the nature of the beast. It takes a little practice to figure out how each one drapes, where the sweet spot is that best supports your baby and your back, and exactly how the baby nestles within the fabric pockets. I found the instructional video on their website (www.mysnuggbugg.com) was a better help than the directions included with the wrap but I am, admittedly, a very visual person. I also had the luxury of about three consecutive seconds to read said brochure before one kid asked for bathroom assistance and the other was clamoring for the booby buffet, so it might have been helpful if I’d figured the thing out before crunch time. Nonetheless, I got it on. If I messed it up royally, Marlowe didn’t seem to care. She simply pushed my shirt aside and latched on like we’d been doing it forever, which I got a kick out of. Evidently Gray got a kick out of it too, because she happily declared, “Mommy, it’s like Marlowe’s in your belly again!” She also informed me, “Look! Marlowe is as snug as a bug in a rug!” In part, I’m sure that phrase was courtesy of her newfound rhyming obsession, but it also proves the wrap was appropriately named.

Now that I’m on crutches, it looks like we’ll be waiting a while before employing our SnuggBugg again. I can barely carry around my own body weight, never mind toting around a baby. As luck would have it, the only wrapping happening in my house right now is being done by the massive bandage around my knee. Good times. Now go check out those giveaway details!


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release my new book later this year, “Situation Momedy!” If you you want to pre-order it now (I wouldn’t dream of stopping you), it’s already available on Amazon, through this link…

PPS. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!


Giveaway Details:

Send me an email titled “SnuggBugg” at: Jenna@cradlechronicles.com, and you’ll be entered to win a SnuggBugg wrap. Just let me know your favorite part about baby wearing or why you’d like to give it a try! It can be as brief or as lengthy as you wish. I will draw one lucky winner before the end of October, who will receive their wrap directly from the SnuggBugg company. A huge thank you to Lisa for so generously donating one of her wonderful wraps!



August 7, 2015
Flying By The Seat of Your Panzanella...

Flying By The Seat of Your Panzanella…


                  I know, I know. You’ve probably been asking yourself, “What the heck happened to that girl; is she ever going to write another blog?” If it’s any consolation, I’ve actually asked myself that question a time or two!

I’ve been in the throes of editing my book for the last few months, so I’ve had to put all other writing on the back burner. And since I’m the only one running this ship, you’ve been stuck playing the waiting game. The good news is my edits for Situation Momedy: A First-Time Mom’s Guide To Laughing Your Way Through Pregnancy & Year One are now complete!

Before you go throwing confetti and popping open that champagne bottle, it doesn’t mean I’m back in the saddle again. I’ll still be MIA for a while because… drumroll, please… I’ve moved on to book 2!!

Yes, it’s true– the follow up, titled Situation Momedy: A Very Special Episode in Toddlerdom is scheduled to be released in February 2017. Suffice it to say I’ll be tied up for a while writing the new manuscript and taking care of my sweet babies. At the rate I’m going, you may not have weekly blogs again until I’ve sent my girls off to college!

Nevertheless, I don’t like to leave you hanging for too long, so my chaotic schedule didn’t stop me from sneaking in a little time to create a quick summer-friendly recipe for you this week. It may not be a juicy post for you to laugh your way through, but I promise my book will more than make up for that when it comes out on November 10th! (PS. If you feel like pre-ordering it, you can do so HERE!)

Now, on to our recipe…

I always wind up buying gorgeous baguettes, only to have half the loaf go stale before I can use it. Because after a weekend fiesta full of hilarious conversation, yummy cheese platters, and copious amounts of wine, who remembers to wrap the remaining bread in plastic or foil before bed? Not this girl. I generally wake up the following morning cursing my lack of foresight and bemoaning the fact that the bread formerly known as moist and delicious has now hardened into a crusty little thing only birds might consider edible. Until now.

We recently hosted a summer wine tasting and I got creative with the post-party stale bread supply. I thought perhaps this might inspire you to do the same! The next time you’re contemplating tossing your leftover bread in the trash, try this out:


My “Flying By The Seat of Your Panzanella”

(Recipe by Jenna von Oy)



1/2  Loaf of day-old rustic baguette, cut into 1 inch cubes

1 ½ Cloves of garlic- minced

2-3 Tbs Spanish Olive Oil

2 Diced tomatoes

1 ½ Tbs capers

3-4 Large leaves of basil- julienned

3 Tbs Fresh Italian parsley-chopped

¼ Shallot- minced

7-8 Buffala mozzarella boccinis (the small balls) – sliced

2-3 Tbs Balsamic vinegar (exact amount depends on your taste)

Salt & Pepper


~Heat the olive oil on medium. Once pan is hot, add the bread pieces and drizzle a little more olive oil on top. Sautée the bread pieces for approximately 10 minutes, or until they start to brown, then add the garlic and mix well.

~ In a separate mixing bowl, combine the tomatoes, capers, basil, Italian parsley, and shallots

~ When bread and garlic mixture is ready, add it to your mixing bowl. Be sure to scrape all of that wonderful garlic into your mixture too!

~ Add the sliced mozzarella and balsamic vinegar.

~ Mix well and let stand for five minutes to absorb the flavors.

~ Serve and enjoy!!


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop!

PPS. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!

June 26, 2015
Three's not a crowd, it's a cupcake!

Three’s not a crowd, it’s a cupcake!


I curse the saying Time flies.

No really, I’m a twitching, shouting at the moon, wishing-for-days-gone-by kind of mess over that phrase right now. Because time doesn’t just fly, it launches like Secretariat out of the gate and rushes past with no consideration for all of the moments we don’t have a chance to capture on photo, or video, or in our memory banks. It doesn’t let us press a pause or a rewind button, and the next thing you know, your itty bitty newborn (who was just teething and learning to crawl yesterday, I swear) is three-years-old. Three!

My baby turned three!!! And those three years flew faster than a Peregrine Falcon diving for it’s prey.

It is with great excitement and anticipation for the little girl she is becoming, mixed with great sadness for the baby she left behind, that we celebrated Gray’s third birthday. Mind you, she turned three almost a month ago, on May 21st, but the aforementioned time flies so damn fast that I woke up one day and realized I hadn’t put a blog out in over a month either. (Oops! And sorry!) Which brings another popular saying to mind too: Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. Touché, John Lennon, touché.

But back to the birthday… It happens that Gray was off from preschool that week, so I’d planned a small gathering with some of her friends. I reserved the little pavilion at a local park so the kids could swing and slide to their hearts’ content. We’d had a week of eighty-degree weather, so how crazy would I be to keep a bunch of toddlers locked up indoors? Cabin fever is no joke, people. Any opportunity to let my kid run off her energy (and perhaps that birthday cupcake) so nap time becomes an irrefutable afternoon staple, is an opportunity that I’d be a fool to turn down. Do ya feel me, fellow (exhausted) moms?

Well, go figure, Murphy and his law came in and tried to muck up my plans a bit.

It rained the whole night before the party, bringing the temperature down to a dank fifty-four-degrees and thoroughly drenching the playground. Sadly, it never warmed up before the party started. It also happens that a construction crew had shut down the road near the park we chose, and the pavilion was next to a jackhammer for the entire celebration. Super peaceful. But you know what? The kids didn’t care about any of that. We dried the wet equipment with towels I’d brought, and those kids ran around until they warmed up. It didn’t matter that a bulldozer was tearing up the ground nearby; the kids just shouted right over it. And so what if a few of her friends didn’t show up because of crappy weather? Gray didn’t notice. She was too busy shoving that chocolate cupcake down her throat, singing, playing games, dancing in circles, laughing, and sporting her fancy little party hat. My kid was beyond satisfied. Consequently, I might have been a chilly mama that day but I was also a very content one.


Happy 3rd birthday, Gray!

Happy 3rd birthday, Gray!


So… HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my sweet Gray! Thank you for gracing me with your beautiful spirit, your contagious laughter, your uncanny sarcasm (see my archived blog, Five Things That Make Me Think a 90-year-old is Trapped Inside of My 2-year-old’s Body, for more on that!), your wonderfully strong will and stubborn streak, and your unparalleled affection. Thank you for making the last three years pass by so quickly, despite my lamenting, because do you know what that means? It means we were having so much fun that it never slowed down long enough for us to notice. I’m so proud to be your mommy, and I love you stars and moon!


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release my new book later this year, “Situation Momedy!” If you you want to pre-order it now (I wouldn’t dream of stopping you), it’s already available on Amazon, through this link…

PPS. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!

May 22, 2015


Mother's Day 2015, with Marlowe & Gray

Mother’s Day 2015, with Marlowe & Gray


I’ll begin by saying this Mother’s Day post is a VERY belated one because… well… I am a mother. I’d like to think that’s the only explanation or excuse needed here!

Truth be told, I sat down countless times over the last few weeks to attempt to write something sentimental and profound in honor of all of you awesome moms out there. Instead, I wound up with some disjointed thoughts, a wastebasket full of wadded papers (actually, a bunch of deleted Word docs), and a couple of pathetic haiku (which I might post at some point just for the hell of it). Oh yeah, and I also wound up with an infinite number of instances during which I was distracted by fixing lunch, rushing to daycare drop off, coordinating naptimes, saying yet another prayer that I can finally convince Gray to give up her pacifier, kissing boo-boos, cleaning spit up, or wiping a baby bottom. But that’s the life of a mommy, right? And… drumroll, please… isn’t every day technically “Mother’s Day” when you look at it from that perspective?

I’m not going to pretend Mother’s Day is a totally useless holiday. It’s nice to have one day a year when people (namely your husband and kids) are socially encouraged to extend their heartfelt appreciation for all you do. A little validation never hurt anyone, am I right? And let’s be honest– some spouses and children need a little guidance in that department. Or a lot of it. To be fair, we mommies often go without a ton of recognition for the selfless service we give on a daily basis, so a day of spirited acknowledgment tends to feed the soul. But selfless service is the high standard that we mommies are called to, isn’t it? It comes with the territory and it is, by definition, what it means to be a mom.

With that said, I came to realize something new this year– Mother’s Day isn’t just a not-so-subtle reminder for our loved ones; it’s a not-so-subtle reminder for us moms too. It isn’t simply about being honored by those who call you “Mommy,” it’s about remembering to honor being a mommy. Because sometimes that gets lost in the shuffle of being a full-time chef, nurse, housekeeper, schedule-maker, activity-director, homework-checker, perpetual chauffeur, breastfeeding station, hug-dispenser, and problem-solver extraordinaire.

My Mother’s Day was especially touching this year—not because of any wrapped packages, but because it stirred my sentimentality in a way I’ve not experienced before. (Mind you, I’ve only celebrated two Mother’s Days prior to this, so… bear with me. I’m still a newbie.) That isn’t to imply that I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth; I’m thoroughly grateful for the beautiful morning my husband helped my daughters to orchestrate. (For a three-year-old, Gray has some seriously good taste in present picking!) But beyond the roses, the hand drawn heart card, and the thoughtfully chosen keepsakes, were two little girls that looked up at me with immeasurable love and devotion in their eyes. And that was my favorite gift of all. Talk about the sincerest form of flattery! It made me feel like Superwoman, and I’m blessed that I get to see that look every day in one form or another. I know, I know… wait until they’re teenagers, right? Nonetheless, I spent my Mother’s Day cuddling on the couch with my family, and it was the perfect way to spend the afternoon. None of us got out of our pajamas and none of us wanted to. I whiled away the hours reveling in my mommyhood and thinking about how lucky I am that God chose me to parent these stunning, wonderful, strong-willed, inspiring little girls. Every day with them is a blessing.

Now, I’m not going to pretend there aren’t moments of sheer insanity and chaos that make me momentarily forget to appreciate my motherhood. Sometimes I feel like I might have inadvertently joined Barnum & Bailey Circus somewhere along the way. There are times when I fail to see past my delirium from an untold number of sleepless nights, and sometimes Gray’s look of admiration is hard to recognize through the temper tantrums that erupt over important things like: my failure to remove the crust from a piece of breakfast toast and my inability to immediately beam us to Disneyland (I’m so technologically incompetent!). But all of a sudden I’ll catch a glimpse of it… hiding in a smirk, an unexpected “I love you,” or a kiss goodnight. It subtly creeps in, and it melts my heart each and every time.


My stunning roses... next to some not-so-stunning smelly sneakers

My stunning roses… next to some not-so-stunning smelly sneakers


I hope, in the course of your hectic routine, you are able to enjoy every day for what it is–Mother’s Day. Because sometimes we all need a reminder that being a mom is, in and of itself, the reward.


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release my new book later this year, “Situation Momedy!”

PPS. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!

April 17, 2015
Yes, I'm wearing Mom Jeans

Yes, I’m wearing Mom Jeans


There are a lot of fashion trends that have been resurrected over the years, regardless of whether or not they should have been. Flannel shirts have returned in all of their 90’s Seattle grunge glory, wedge heels are back from the 70’s, and I’ll even admit to owning some pants that come dangerously close to resembling the Hammer pants of the 80’s. Though I probably shouldn’t admit that out loud.

I’m sure you’re wondering how all of this relates to motherhood. In my humble opinion, the award for the biggest fashion failure that should never make its way back to the mainstream goes to…

Mom jeans.

Synonymous with minivan driving, suburban soccer moms of the 80’s and 90’s, Mom Jeans couldn’t be tackier if they tried. Well, I suppose that’s not true. They could be made of polyester and come with their very own disco ball. Nonetheless, when pants are so shapeless and unflattering that they can make a bubble butt look as flat as my Pug’s nose, there’s a seriously epic style faux pas happening. Entire Saturday Night Live skits have been devoted to the subject. Need I say more?

So with all of that in mind, I was super excited to be wearing a pair of Mom Jeans in the movie I’m filming. No really. I’m just weird enough to be perversely thrilled to have an excuse to look ridiculous… And actually get paid for it!

I’ve, of course, included a photo for your viewing pleasure, but keep an eye out for the film at some point too. It’s a sweet little family film called Cecil, and I’m enjoying the heck out of working on it. It’s exciting to be at a point in my career where I get to play the mom!

Even (especially?) when it involves Mom Jeans.

Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

Ps. To keep up with the progress of the movie, you can check out the film’s twitter page: @Cecilthemovie

PPS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release “Situation Momedy!” later this year. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!





March 27, 2015


Will the real George Burns please stand up?

Will the real George Burns please stand up?


            Sometimes when my daughter speaks, I think she’s channeling George Burns. I picture a geriatric, chain-smoking, wise-cracking little man in bifocals, living inside of her brain and playing puppet master to her sarcasm and vocabulary usage. Half of her day is spent acting like a typical two-year-old—you know, finger painting and playing with dolls, requesting carrots one minute and then swearing she hates them the next, and having a minor meltdown over the fact that I won’t let her have cupcakes for breakfast. But every now and then, she looks up at me and says something that makes me forget I’m speaking to a person who has only been on this planet for a sum total of 35 months. Here are five examples of what happens when that George Burns wannabe surfaces…


  1. One afternoon, when we’d just finished lunch, Gray leaned back, stuck her hand in the waistband of her pants à la Al Bundy, and asked, “Mommy, can I have a Probiotic?” Next she’ll be asking me for prune juice and a Shuffleboard set.
  1. Gray’s school has had several scheduled fire drills lately, and the last one was a bit jarring for the kids, as it took place right smack dab in the middle of their naptime. It also happens that it was cold and rainy that day, so the teachers had to wrap blankets around the delirious, cranky, half-asleep toddlers and drag them outside into the chilly, wet weather. This event stuck with Gray, and she has been a little nervous about fire drills ever since. On her way to school last week, she informed my husband, “I just know we are going to have another fire drill today, Daddy, and I’m going to be traumatized.” Hell, now I’m traumatized over her use of the word traumatized.
  1. My mother recently told Gray she was going to save up to take her Disneyland some day. The term “some day” is a timeline that’s lost on a two-year-old, so Gray has brought it up in conversation every day since. Joy. One night, when I couldn’t manage to steer her away from her relentless inquiries regarding the who, what, when, where and how of her future vacation, she got exasperated and said, ”I just can’t wait anymore. I want to go to Disneyland RIGHT NOW, Mommy!” I looked at her and responded, ”We can’t go to Disneyland right now, Gray. It’s in California, and California is far away. In fact, it’s clear on the other side of the country, so that’s not happening. It’s not like I can beam us there.” She looked at me calmly, blinked a few times and said, “You’re being awfully feisty tonight.” Remind me which one of us is the parent again?
  1. One evening, I was getting dressed before dinner guests arrived. Gray had accompanied me to my closet, where she was eyeing my ensemble like it was on backwards and inside out. God bless a two-year-old with strong fashion convictions! Since I’m breastfeeding Marlowe, I’m currently fairly… ahem… well endowed. Evidently this hasn’t gone unnoticed by Gray. As I pulled a tank top down over my head, she dryly said, “Your boobies aren’t really dressed right now.” I guess that’s what I get for showing a little cleavage.
  1. I cracked a joke the other night that, apparently, didn’t go over well. Gray’s response? “Sometimes you’re funny mommy. But not a lot.” And to think I used to get paid to make people laugh.

Enough said.


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS.  My apologies for being a week late with this blog post. The completed manuscript for my book, Situation Momedy, has to be turned into my publisher on April 1st  (and that’s no April Fool’s joke), so these past few weeks have been my crunch time. Thank you for your patience!

PPS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release “Situation Momedy!” later this year. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!


  • I just wanted to tell you that I love your daughter’s name…Gray Audrey. I named my sister back in ’67 when Audrey Hepburn was famous. It’s never been a very popular name, but I have always thought it sounded elegant and sophisticated.

    Good luck with your book. The title sounds great! :)

March 6, 2015

Before I begin, I want to broach what I feel is an important matter, because my goal with this blog has always been to share my motherhood experiences without alienating anyone. Perhaps that’s a pipe dream, but I do my best! It happens that this post is geared toward breastfeeding moms, so I wanted to begin by saying that I know breastfeeding isn’t for everyone, and I completely respect that. I imagine some of you have struggled with breastfeeding, discovered it wasn’t comfortable for you, or decided it just wasn’t something you were interested in doing. I’m on your side no matter what choice you’ve made! Am I pro-breastfeeding? Absolutely. I wholeheartedly believe in the benefits of it. But I’m also a firm believer in respecting everyone else’s choices, whether or not they differ from my own. I’d like to think those two ideas don’t have to be mutually exclusive!

Not too long ago, an article was published in which my interview quotes might easily have been misconstrued, suggesting I have some passive aggressive tendencies regarding those who don’t breastfeed. This couldn’t be farther from the truth. While I can’t imagine my own motherhood experience without it, I recognize that it isn’t the right choice, or feasible, for every mom out there. You have my support and encouragement whether you do or don’t breastfeed; we all have to do what’s comfortable for us individually! I might be overstating all of this, but I’d rather people felt I over-explained myself unnecessarily, instead of feeling I presented a blog that was thoughtless and unfair to the non-breastfeeding moms out there. With that said, the campaign I refer to in this post specifically pertains to breastfeeding moms. If you don’t breastfeed, I hope you won’t feel slighted by the nature of it and, at the end of the day, I hope the sentiment behind the campaign still speaks to you. I hope it reminds you that we are all in this together. When you’re a mom, it’s not about ego, social status, income, career path, weather or not you breastfeed, or whether or not you used to be on a television show as a kid. Motherhood is the great equalizer! That’s why I started writing this blog in the first place. I hope, in some small way, we mommies can reach out to one another and connect on a level we all understand and appreciate. So with that in mind…


Me with Medela Representative, Katie Olson. (Photo Credit:Mimosa Arts)

Me with Medela Representative, Katie Olson. (Photo Credit:Mimosa Arts)


I’ve never been terribly vocal about sharing details of the charity work I do. I was taught early on that philanthropic efforts are a very personal and private pursuit, and that they aren’t done for recognition. I find there’s something beautiful about giving anonymously and quietly holding that knowledge in one’s heart. With that said, I acknowledge that my career has offered me a more public platform from which to voice my convictions, and that sometimes speaking up is how we incite change in the world around us. Which is why I hope you’ll allow me to set aside my humility for a moment, and shout from the rooftops about the campaign I just participated in, called Medela Recycles.

I was honored when Medela approached me to be their campaign ambassador. I’ve been a huge fan of their products since Gray was born, and their breastpumps have given me some crucial assistance with both of my girls. (Especially since my babies tend to be 24/7 frequenters of the boobie bar. There are meetings and auditions I never would have made it to without pumping!) The decision to help Medela launch their new campaign was a no-brainer for me… a way to combine breastfeeding, recycling, AND charity work? What a trifecta!

As a bit of an explanation about the program itself, Medela Recycles allows moms to donate their breastpumps for a worthy cause. Medela takes our old, used pumps that are collecting dust in our attics, recycles them, and then donates new, multi-use, hospital-grade breastpumps for the mothers of NICU babies, via the Ronald McDonald House. This not only keeps our pumps out of the landfills, it is a wonderful way to assist our fellow moms in need, by supporting them on their breastfeeding journey. It has been heartwarming to see so many moms giving back to other moms. In a day and age where the “Mommy Wars” are so prevalent in the media, it’s refreshing to see the spotlight shine on some of the positive work that’s being done!

The Medela Recycles campaign was actually started by a concerned California mom, who began a petition on Change.org. It’s a perfect example of how a small act of kindness can turn into a nationwide effort. We all know being a mom is hard work. It’s the most stunning, rewarding, profoundly inspiring adventure, but can also be crazy, and chaotic, and all consuming… I’m certain that’s not news to you! But I can’t imagine how much more challenging motherhood becomes when someone has a baby in the NICU; my heart breaks for the moms who are struggling with that worry and adversity. I’m grateful Medela recognized the need at Ronald McDonald House, and saw fit to open their hearts and get motivated to make a difference.

Ronald McDonald House, Nashville, TN. (Photo credit: Mimosa Arts)

Ronald McDonald House, Nashville, TN. (Photo credit: Mimosa Arts)


I think this campaign is also relevant because the end of breastfeeding is an incredibly vulnerable time for most women. Disconnecting from such a sacred aspect of the bond you share with your child can be devastating. I nursed Gray for nearly two years, and it was emotionally draining for both of us to give it up! Thinking about it still makes me heartsick, even though I’m in the midst of treasuring the breastfeeding bond with Marlowe as we speak. Many other moms have told me they experienced similar feelings, so I know I’m not alone in this. I think the idea that your trusted pump will help another mom on her journey makes moving on from it a little easier to bear. It’s part of the reason this campaign has had such an impact on me.

Donating the pumps... (Photo credit: Mimosa Arts)

Donating the Pumps… (Photo credit: Mimosa Arts)


As ambassador to the campaign, I recently had the opportunity to visit my local Ronald McDonald house here in Nashville, where we launched the program and donated two pumps. I was also given a chance to tour the facility, which blew me away and deeply moved me. I’ve always been partial to the Ronald McDonald House charity as, believe it or not, I actually did a commercial for them when I was ten-years-old. (As it happens, you can find it on Youtube here.) It meant something to me even then, but experiencing it as a mom was even more poignant. I was touched by the details… how they give a handmade quilt to every family who stays with them. How the nightly rate is optional, so that no family is alienated based on their current financial status. How groups from the local colleges and businesses volunteer to cook dinners on a monthly basis. How much love exists between the volunteer staff and the families who stay there. How the Nashville chapter is ALWAYS booked solid. Every. Single. Night. That alone speaks to the immense need that exists out there, and I’m already looking for creative ways to continue my relationship with them. I want my daughters to know that we can all make a difference! I can only hope my passion for it convinces a few of you to donate your own used pumps to Medela Recycles, and/or look into your local Ronald McDonald House to volunteer. If this encourages even one mom, it was well worth writing… so go forth and inspire!

A Tour of Ronald McDonald House (Photo Credit: Mimosa Arts)

A Tour of Ronald McDonald House (Photo Credit: Mimosa Arts)


Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS. I think it’s important for me to acknowledge that while Medela endorsed me as an ambassador, they did not ask me to pen this blog. I say this because I want to make it clear that these words stem from my excitement for the work I’ve been blessed to be a part of. No one told me what to say or forced my hand in writing about it. I wanted to share my experience because it left an indelible impression on my heart. I know some folks may still choose to chalk this up to a paid sponsorship, and dismiss the significance of it, but I hope my message came through loud and clear regardless.

PPS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release my new book later this year, “Situation Momedy!” Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!




  • Larry Rodriquez says:

    Well said and written

  • Beth says:

    Jenna, I cannot thank you enough for bringing awareness to such a worthy cause. My son was born unexpectedly at 28 weeks due to severe preeclampsia. He weighed 1 pound, 13 ounces. It was a terrifying experience. I had always planned to breastfeed, but due to my son only being 28 weeks, he had to have a feeding tube. So I pumped… And pumped… And pumped. My son was in the NICU at St. Thomas Midtown (Nashville) for 59 days. I was pumping between 8-10 times a day. While I had a nice pump at home, the hospital grade pump that I was able to use while I was visiting my son in the NICU helped me produce significantly more milk and was less painful. You have no idea how much NICU moms will appreciate having a wonderful pump, when there are so many other things to worry about. My son is 16 months old now and weighs 17 pounds. I truly believe that my “rocket fuel” has helped him thrive. Thank you again for all the moms and preemies you are helping!

February 20, 2015
School Project

Faith, Hope, & Love…



Like most moms, I find myself jumping at the chance to be directly involved in as many of my daughters’ life experiences as possible. Since Marlowe happens to be only 4-months-old, that essentially entails being the changer of messy diapers, launderer of dirty onesies, and eternal giver of kisses and cuddles. For Gray, on the other hand, new opportunities present themselves daily, whether at home or at school. And while I’ve never thought of myself as much of a PTA mom, I’m discovering I just can’t stay away.

Gray’s daycare recently started preparing for their yearly fundraising event, and I thought I was just going to participate by attending with my husband. You know– buy tickets, break out those heels that haven’t seen the light of day in way too long, and show up to lend my support. At least that’s what I’d told myself… because with a new baby, blogs to write, a book deadline on the horizon, and a million other work and mommy-related things to take care of, I have enough on my plate already. I’m sure you know what that’s like too. Sometimes we just have to learn to say no, right? But the truth of the matter is that I find it impossible to watch things from afar; I’ve never been good at sitting on the sidelines. Hello, my name is Jenna, and I’m a busybody! It’s official. So despite my vow to stay out of it, I wound up collecting auction items and volunteering to spearhead a class project. I felt it was the least I could do to help out… Which leads me to this week’s “How-To” post. Inspired by my new obsession with Pinterest (because we all know I need one more thing to divert my attentions), I organized an art piece to have auctioned off at the fundraiser. I drew everything freehand, creating one balloon per student, and then had all of the kids in Gray’s class add their prints to it in paint. It was such a simple endeavor, but I think it turned out really cute!



Get a blank canvas, a pencil, an eraser, a “Twin Tip” black sharpie (with both fine & ultra fine points), and non-toxic paint in whatever colors you desire, matte sealant. The photo I’ve posted is probably pretty self-explanatory, but…

~ Sketch your design in pencil (if you’re anything like me, that eraser will come in handy!)

~ Carefully trace your design with the fine point of the Sharpie (the thicker side)

~ Apply a small amount of paint to your child’s fingertip, and put two prints in each heart balloon.

~ If you want to better preserve the fingerprints, you can spray a matte sealant over the canvas once the project is complete and dry. Make sure you follow the instructions so nothing drips, and please be sure to do it in a well-ventilated area away from kids and pets. That stuff packs a serious punch!

~Add each child’s name on the side of the appropriate balloon, using the ultra fine tip of the Sharpie.

Voilà. Insta-art!!

Until next time… Peace, Love, and Dirty Diapers,

Jenna von Oy

PS. To join my blog, please subscribe to the RSS feed at the top of your screen. This will help you stay in the loop when I release my new book later this year, “Situation Momedy!”

PPS. Don’t forget to join my Twitter  and check out my website too!