Check out more of artist Sandra Lippmann’s work, which she graciously let me use here, on Instagram #100circles.

It was quite the week, as many of you already know, over here in the Land of Amy.

If you have been able to dodge my relentless social media crowing, you might have missed that my blog had a brief little, tiny kind of mention on The New York Times’s parenting blog “Motherlode.”

I know, right?

I like wake up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and remember it and am just so happy.

So, anyway, as of this writing, I am frantically trying to cross things off my to-do list so I can get on a ferry this afternoon and join my college friends for a long weekend of fun.

I will try to take copious notes and photos and share details upon my return and warn that some editing might be required to protect the innocent.

I lived through college in the 80s with these people. I know what they are capable of.

While your waiting for me to dish on that, perhaps I can interest you in perusing some of the other things that have been on my mind over the last week.


Early in the week, I bemoaned how little time my kids would spend in school this month.

DSC04220November is the Cruelest Month for Moms

Anyone who agrees with T.S. Eliot’s assessment that “April is the cruelest month” has obviously never spent time trying to be a mom in New Jersey during November.

This week alone, my fifth grader has three days off. Three days. I didn’t even know about one of them until this weekend. (READ MORE … )


Later in the week, I had the whole NYTimes thing and hallucinated. One having nothing to do with the other.

Screen Shot 2013-11-06 at 8.43.00 AMThat Time I Got Mentioned by the New York Times

Yesterday was one of those days that showed just how far your emotions could swing over the course of a 24-hour period, aided and abetted by hallucinatory gases.

I shall explain. (READ MORE … )



At the end of the week, I got a bee in my bonnet and cut off my hair. Again. Kind of like another girl I know.

IMG_1960Jen and I Get a Haircut

By now we all know that I am no Jennifer Aniston. This important piece of information came courtesy of my 10-year-old-son recently who, upon learning that Jen was just a couple of years younger than his withering mother, suggested I consider following her “tips.”

Thanks for pointing that out, guy. It’s not like I don’t own a mirror or anything. (READ MORE … )


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