Mommy with a Penis

Scenario: You've traveled all day with your three and a half year old boy. When you get to your destination you see that your son's energy is at a all time high and the kid is bouncing off the linoleum. Do you... A. Help him get rid of that excess energy by running him around or taking him swimming which he really, really, really wants to do. Or... B. Turn on the cameras, tell him to settle down and desperately hope that he will. Bristol Palin, reality show personality and failed abstinence poster child, chose B. Instead of tuckering out the little bugger, she chose to lounge on the sectional with younger sister Willow and unsuccessfully attempted to talk Tripp into a state of calm Take a peek from Palin's what's-the-point reality show, Bristol Palin: Life's a Tripp . I have a fondness for the name Tripp. I myself am a Junior, and assumed at some point I'd have a boy who would be the third.  I looked at all the nicknames: Trey, Tirch, Trace, Rerun, D...

I'll be  honest, I was okay with his chess-playing ways. I trusted that his bald eagle emblazoned plate was pretty dog gone full. I mean, his to do list from the outset was enough to make most people curl up into a ball and take a nap for four years. I didn't need nor expect him to take the pro stance until well into his second term. But President Obama's announcement last week that he is now in support of gay marriage caught in my throat and brought tears to my eyes in a way I could not have anticipated. A sitting president of the United States has finally supported not only homomony , but also my own personal lifestyle, my marriage, my children and...in a word...me. Boy howdy, I cried like Sherri Shepherd after she was kicked off of  Dancing with the Stars. When I examine it, however, my emotionality may not solely belong to this momentous event. Let's face it, this last week was one for the books when it comes to gay marriage and gay marriage adj...

Jessica Simpson's cover of Elle this month seems familiar, doesn't it? And I don't think any of us has to dig too deeply into our sleep-deprived, vodka-soaked brains to suss out the reference. Who could forget the Vanity Fair cover that Annie Liebovitz shot so startlingly of Demi Moore's pregnant voluptuousness back in 1991? From the exact same pose, to the ginormous bling on their left middle fingers, to the fact these two celebutants are both carrying girl children, the Simpson pic is a duplicate of what some found scandalous twenty-one years ago. (Although I prefer Demi's arrogant in-the-distance gaze to Jessica's in-your-face,  Zoolander  directness.) But this piece isn't about who did what first, nor artistic integrity, nor is it about nudity on magazine covers, which for the record I am wholeheartedly for. No, this is about trends. Recently, Ms. Simpson announced that her baby girl will be named...take a breath here...Maxwell.  What!  For thos...

Yesterday's front page of the Los Angeles Times blared, "Ban on gay marriage overturned." Now, don't get me wrong, I'm elated that Prop 8 was kicked in the nads. Well, maybe not elated, more like cautious. I couldn't quite revel like the thousands of other gays and lesbians who partied hard two night ago in West Hollywood, the Castro and the Little Caesar's in Pacoima. You see, I'm having a difficult time trusting Judge Walker's landmark ruling will hold, as I've had a difficult time trusting my legal marriage will remain, well, legal...I don't care what anyone says, it will always be a marriage. All it takes these days is some Bible thumping organization, or Target trust fund baby, or a state like Utah to throw a gazillion dollars towards the appeal and we'll be right back at square one, or maybe, square negative seventy-eight, and my kids will be bastards once again. I know, I know, it's an ugly word, bastards . But my children...

We may have been spared the entire Bristol/Levi scandal if they lived in Northampton, England... And from what we've seen of Mr. Johnston johnson... A little rear entrance might have suited him just fine.

It occurred to me earlier this week that I haven't written a Bad Mommy installment in quite a while. For those of you not in the know, Bad Mommy is where I commemorate various bad mommy moments. They could be my own personal missteps or newsworthy mommies who do jaw-dropping, unthinkable things. So, I'm shopping at Vons, racking my brain for bad mommies. You know, the usual crowd... Britney? Dina Lohan? Octomom? Mom of Octomom? When at the check out lane, this knocks me for a loop... Could there be a more flabbergasting display of mixed messages? Bristol Palin, advocate for abstinence , looking pleased as punch with her cherubic baby boy wearing a (popped her) cherry graduation gown and mortarboard. I was baffled...hit me upside the head...the entire last year was a dream...baffled. Teen pregnancy has never looked so glamorous! Now, I am aware there are a lot of mothers out there who successfully raised their kids in similar circumstances. And I'm not one to slap moralit...