It’s Not About the Blueberries

“And how are you guys doing?”

Our school maintenance guy Keith inquired about my family’s well-being as we played a quick game of catch-up. I was dropping off my son’s textbooks and gathering the artwork and supplies he had left in his locker before departing for Spring Break…and never returning. His 5th grade year came to a close yesterday with a social distancing car parade around the campus as the teachers waved and held up signs of affection and well wishes. Today, parents were invited to come up at assigned times to finish up the business of school before beginning summer a little earlier than we had all planned. Continue reading “It’s Not About the Blueberries”

Everything GenX Knows, We Learned From Weird Sesame Street Videos

The best thing happened yesterday morning. I opened up my Facebook feed to find my friend Emily had randomly posted this old Sesame Street video of how crayons are made. If you grew up in the 1970’s and 1980’s, you know EXACTLY which video I’m talking about. It was amazing to lay eyes on it again after all these years. And of course, it took me down a rabbit hole of watching other old Sesame Street videos that, despite being dormant for decades, were able to come to the forefront of my memory with a readiness that was both comforting and eerie. As the words to the songs fell easily from my lips, and the images put me right back to being in front of a rabbit-eared television set, I marveled at how so much of my childhood could be encompassed in a few video segments. And how my entire generation was molded by these sights, sounds, and concepts. Continue reading “Everything GenX Knows, We Learned From Weird Sesame Street Videos”

Going On a Run, 1970’s Style

I went on a run today. Voluntarily. That’s what this has all come to. The first day of sunshine since the world has been on quarantine and I go all Brittany Runs a Marathon. I mean, yes, I do work out five days a week. But I am not a runner. Yet being quarantined in my home with three other people – even three other people I love dearly – has taught me much about myself. Namely, I need alone time. And apparently I need it enough that going on a run sounded like something I should do. Continue reading “Going On a Run, 1970’s Style”

Reporting for Jury Duty

“Are you reporting for jury duty? Here’s some information. Please line up over there.”

I open the pamphlet I have just been handed. The first thing I read in bold letters is “to serve as a juror is an honor.”

Why don’t I feel very honored?

I’m 41 years old, and this is the first time I’ve ever been called for jury duty. I’m feeling lots of things about this experience…annoyed, nervous, mildly misanthropic. But I’m not feeling honored.

When I check in, I want to say, “You know, this really isn’t a convenient time for me. Continue reading “Reporting for Jury Duty”

The Female Normal: A Million “Harmless” Messages

“Remember in grade school when the boys would snap your bra strap against your back?” Several of the other ladies looked at me with a knowing glance. Yes, they remembered.

Recently, a friend was talking about how excited her niece was to get her first training bra. My mind immediately transported me back to that awkward time of adolescence when I was half fired up to begin wearing the badge of womanhood and half totally embarrassed. The latter feeling mostly stemmed from the fact that the boys in my class were also noticing this milestone. And their way of letting us girls know they were clued in was to come up from behind, grab and pull back our bra straps, then swiftly let them go so they smacked against our backs as they ran away laughing.

Another friend smirked, “If they had done that to me, I would have turned around and punched them.” Continue reading “The Female Normal: A Million “Harmless” Messages”

Good Times and Good Guys: I’m So Glad That I Got Them To Think Of

“I’m so glad that I got her to think of.”

Ten deceptively simple, monosyllabic words open the song, “She Makes Me Laugh,” the first new single by The Monkees in twenty years. It literally just walked into the internet release party by way of a Rolling Stone article. But I’ve already cornered it, told it I’ve been waiting forever for it to get here, showed it pictures of my kids, and monopolized its mingling time by asking it to start from the beginning over and over again. Someone better just go grab it a drink from the bar and tell it to get comfortable, because I have zero plans of hanging with anyone else for a while. Continue reading “Good Times and Good Guys: I’m So Glad That I Got Them To Think Of”

The Dirty Breakup: The Rams and St. Louis Don’t Belong Together Anyway

“Sick to my stomach.” Four little words, written by my cousin, came across my Facebook feed. At first I thought to myself, it’s not like him to broadcast his ailments on social media. Then I realized. Ohhhhhhh. I had a feeling I knew why he felt sick. Sure enough, Google confirmed my suspicions: “The Rams are Headed Back to L.A.”

Aw, snap. I have a feeling this breakup is about to get dirty.

I want to be completely honest in letting you know that, personally, I did not have a dog in this fight. I’m not a huge fan of football, unless it involves Coach Taylor and a Netflix binge of Friday Night Lights. So, personally, I couldn’t care any more about St. Louis not having a football team than I do about the Kardashians doing, well, anything. Still, I’m sad for my city. I’m bummed for my husband, who looks forward to chilling out and watching the game on the weekends. And truth be told, I’m pretty pissed at Stan Kroenke for the slimy way he went about the whole thing. Like the rest of Rams fans, I’m taking it a little personally. I may not have strong feelings for football, but I do have strong feelings for my hometown. And he crapped all over us. Not in the “my-adorable-little-baby-just-had-a-blowout-and-I’m-covered-in-poop-but-it’s-okay-because-it-comes-with-the-parenthood-territory” kind of way. He crapped on us in the “some-totally-obnoxious-jackleg-got-all-wasted-and-thought-I-was-a-toilet-then-cussed-me-out-when-I-got-angry-about-it” kind of way. You know, the most disrespectful, nonsensical, a-hole way to get crapped on.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize the Rams just don’t belong in St. Louis anymore. Maybe this breakup is a good thing. The organization has come to stand for tenets and practices which, frankly, we would be crazy to want any part of. Because it’s not who we are or who we should want to be.

[clickToTweet tweet=”The Rams just don’t belong in St. Louis anymore. We’d be crazy to want them to stay. #RamsToLA” quote=”The Rams just don’t belong in St. Louis anymore. We’d be crazy to want them to stay.”]

I was reminded of this shortly after learning of the decision to move the Rams back to L.A., as I listened to my daughter recount her day at school:

“Mom, Mrs. R did this thing in class today where she gave everyone a dollar and said we could either use our money to buy an extra recess or the answers to tonight’s math homework. Only five people used their dollar for the homework answers. But then, Mrs. R started writing the answers on the board. Everyone could see them! Even the kids who used their money for recess! So all of us who didn’t pay for the answers started covering our eyes and looking away. You know, because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Then Mrs. R said, ‘You guys are too good.’ As a reward, there would be no math homework for ANYONE, because we showed integrity. The whole thing had been a test!”

Even CHILDREN know when to value integrity over the almighty dollar. Even they understand the consequences of going back on your word. I’m glad I still get to live in St. Louis with these kids instead of with Stan Kroenke.

Here’s the thing:  we deserve better than the Rams organization. The Rams and St. Louis have been like that couple where one person is so obviously undeserving of the other. Just the other day I was watching an episode of The Great Food Truck Race, and the competitors found themselves in St. Louis. When one of the food truck teams pulled up to their spot and began preparations to serve customers, a bunch of folks on the street lent a hand, helping them load supplies into their kitchen. Granted, I’m pretty sure the name of the truck was “Let There Be Bacon,” and St. Louisans are generally hard-core fans of cured meats, but a little bubble of pride burst in me as I watched it happen. Guys, we really are a great city. That’s the St. Louis I know, the one I grew up in. So there’s no way bacon-loading Good Samaritans and money-grubbing Stan Kroenke could ever make the perfect couple. Besides, it’s clear that he’s just not that into us – which is fine, as far as I’m concerned. Because Jon Hamm is totally our boyfriend.

Furthermore, all these NFL shenanigans that have been going on surrounding the Rams moving or not moving…it’s not how we do sports here.

Others can poke fun and belittle the whole “Best Fans in Baseball” thing, but we (well, most of us) are the kind of sports fans who rallied behind our biggest rival, the Cubs, after they beat us and went on to the NLCS this past season. (Heads up Bears fans. There may be some St. Louisans joining your ranks now. As a friend of mine pointed out, thanks to the Rams, we do know a thing or two about loyalty in the face of a losing record.)

We are a town who admires and celebrates sports greats like Stan “The Man” Musial, Kurt Warner, Isaac Bruce, Dan Dierdorf, and Jackie Joyner-Kersee. We value how their talent and integrity go hand-in-hand, and we appreciate their continued commitment and investment in our city even after they have left.

[clickToTweet tweet=”St. Louis knows a good Stan when we see one. Happy to be the home of Musial, not #Kroenke. #Rams” quote=”St. Louis knows a good ‘Stan’ when we see one. Happy to be known as the home of Musial, not Kroenke.”]

We know what we aren’t. We aren’t Los Angeles, New York, Dallas, Chicago or any of the other cities Kroenke feels has a better economic future than St. Louis. (Which, apparently, is ALL of them. Like, even Sneedville, Tennessee. The Sneedville Rams has a nice ring to it.) But most of us love what we are. It’s too bad Kroenke, a Missourian himself, didn’t share that affection, despite the fact that, all things considered, the fans kept on loving a sub-par organization with a loyalty that ended up being unrequited.

Breakups are a bitch.

But after the sting will come the healing. And one day we will come to believe what our mom was probably telling us all along: we were too good for the Rams, and we didn’t belong together anyway.

Besides, did you see how fake L.A.’s boobs are? They are the perfect arm candy to Kroenke’s rug.
st. louis rams


St. Louis, how do you plan to recycle your Rams gear? #RecycleRamsGear


Oh, and high fives to my favorite Housewives whisperer, Andy Cohen, for letting his St. Louis lunatic loose. You can check out his choice words (and fingers) for Kroenke.


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Drive-Thru Kindness: Now Serving Extra Value Compassion

“That will be $5.66. Please pull around to the first window.”

I slowly coax my van forward in the pouring rain, fumbling in my purse to find cash. As the car moves, I instinctively turn the radio back up to catch the end of “Sister Golden Hair” by America, then almost immediately lower the volume, lest the teenage girl at the drive-thru window gets wind of my song choice and thinks to herself that it’s “typical” driving music for a lame mom in a minivan. It’s a weird phobia I have…of not wanting strangers to know too much about how I exist inside my car. Because the dirty exterior, scraped-up side mirrors, and “This Van Is Stacked” window sticker aren’t somehow as damaging to my cred as blaring “Sister Golden Hair.”

Handing over my cash, I feel raindrops from the top of my car drip onto my arm, soaking through my sleeve and immediately chilling my skin. The cashier gives me my change, and I clumsily drop the two of the coins onto the pavement below, one of them being a quarter. Fantastic. It has been one of those days – the kind of day I know better than to grumble about aloud, because it could be worse. But it certainly hasn’t been great either, and it doesn’t seem to want to let up. Like this rain. I mean, I am semi-voluntarily eating at McDonald’s without kids, if that is any indication of my mood. What mother, when flying solo, elects the home of the Happy Meal as the nourishment that will make her feel good about herself and her choices that day? This usually happens only when few other options exist, as is my case at the moment.

But it turns out, McDonald’s was exactly what I needed that day. Rather, the angel wearing a headset at the second drive-thru window was exactly what I needed. Continue reading “Drive-Thru Kindness: Now Serving Extra Value Compassion”

Goosed By a Minion

Helen of Troy was irresistible to kings, princes, and, rumor has it, a thousand ships. Delilah was so alluring that Samson couldn’t help but divulge the secret of his hair. And me? Well, apparently I am officially a pin-up girl for cartoon characters.

By now, many of you know about my sordid past with Chuck E. Cheese. For those of you who don’t, the story, in a nutshell, is that he once hit on me. If you would like to read exactly how that transpired, because you know you do, check out the post “Chuck E. Cheese Could Have Been Your Father.” Then you can chase that with the sequel, “A Suburban Horror Story: The Return of Chuck E.,” about my run-in with the mouse years later at my son’s birthday party. This is a really proud chapter in my life.

Anyway, capturing the affections of the mascot for a chain restaurant does a lot for the ego. Obviously. So imagine how flattered I was at the closing dance party for the BlogHer ’15: Experts Among Us conference in New York City when I found myself with a new admirer: a minion.

Seriously, folks. WHAT THE HELL?

Continue reading “Goosed By a Minion”

What’s With All the Blogging Rage Over a Diner Owner Yelling at a Toddler?

The internet is exploding about someone yelling at a toddler in a diner. It is the kind of thing that makes me question what it is I do. The blogging, I mean. It makes me feel like I am part of the problem…guilty by association…or maybe just guilty.

Let me explain. I’m not talking about which side I take in the situation. It’s not about whether the diner owner was correct in screaming at someone else’s crying toddler, or if the parents were wrong in letting their child disturb other customers, or if any of the story actually played out in any of the various versions we’ve been told. It’s not even about the larger discussions of whether parents should take small children to restaurants, or if people without kids need to suck it up because everyone has a right to eat in public.

What this IS about is how we pollute the internet arguing about all of the above. Because these things are not worth arguing over. Continue reading “What’s With All the Blogging Rage Over a Diner Owner Yelling at a Toddler?”