A common conundrum plagues the male species. We don’t listen. Our women know we don’t listen. They use this knowledge against us so artfully that it has become mere reflex; so much so that they don’t even realize they do it. How many times do you hear this exchange?

“Honey. Did you drop off the dry cleaning?”
“No.”
“I asked you this morning to take the cleaning in.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I absolutely did. See you never listen to me. You are so disrespectful. Bla. Bla. Bla….” Read on …

The Subjects: My ungrateful twin boys; ages 8.

The Hypothesis: Putting the twins’ belongings in garbage bags will inspire them to take better care of their things.

The Experiment: The Garbage Bag Treatment was a tactic that was successfully utilized by my own parents. If I came home from school to find my room empty and six black bags out in the driveway, I knew I had pushed them too far. The other night I carried on the grand family tradition. Read on …

Thank Goodness It’s Friday! What will you be doing this weekend?

I know what I will be doing. Or rather, how I will be acting. The following conversation took place in the car after an accusation was made by Hunky Hubby.

Amber: Do you really think I’m bossy?

Jamie [diplomatically]: Only on Saturdays.

Amber: Hadley, do you think Mommy is bossy? SAY “NO!”

Hadley [emphatically]: NO!

Jamie: Does anyone else see the irony here?

To My Favorite Coaches:

Let me preface by saying thank you. Truly. Because if all the world were to line up from Most Sporty to Least Sporty, I’d be the woman standing behind the houseplants. So I sincerely appreciate the fact that you magnanimously dedicate your time to activities that stretch my child’s social and physical muscles long enough for me to open the fridge, take out some chicken, defrost said chicken and drive right back to the soccer field twice a week. I could never do your job. Not adequately. Not without medication and about a year to insert phrases like “penalty kick” into my vocabulary.

But, because I’m not carrying the gene that makes a person attracted to sweating and aching and running out of breath, I don’t understand what makes people want to do activities that engender those afflictions for longer than, say, one minute. Much less one HOUR. Read on …

Attention Mile High Mamas!

Just a note to remind you that our first contest will be ending on Sunday. Need a refresher? Read up on it here. Simply submit your entry on why it is great to be a mom in Colorado. The winner will receive four passes to Barnum and Bailey’s Bellobration next month and their entry will be published on Mile High Mamas.

Submissions should be emailed to .

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but in junior high I yearned to have a boyfriend.

(What? You too? Well, I’ll be darned.)

But the objects of my affection never returned that affection, and so I continued to pine after unrequited love - building up the idea of a boyfriend as the months and years passed - until one evening at a hockey game in January 1988, those affections were returned. By a really hot older guy who was an avid skateboarder. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Read on …

I am going to get in soooooooo much trouble here.

But I am going to have to disagree (somewhat) with the buzz right now among the Mommy Blogs.

Yes, I have seen the clip of the Bill Maher breastfeeding thing. And I have to say, I agree with the gist of most of what he says (even when he makes fun of my beloved iPhone!). Except for the DOG comment, which was obviously made for shock value… so whatever, dude. What can I say? He’s a massive jerk! But a funny jerk! Read on …