Why I Want A Wife

My son’s friend has two moms. They share the house chores and also share a business, so over the years have taken turns being the working mom or the one who stays at home. To me, their setup sounded better than being married to a doctor who does Botox. And it made me insanely jealous.

The only thing better than having one mom, I realized, was having two. Here I’d been raised up singing, “Someday my prince will come,” when really I should have been wishing for a wife. If only that was the way my heart swung, so many hiccups could have been avoided. My marriage is a case of opposites attract, but what I need now is someone else with a skillset of…well….me.

Imagine having someone who knows where you left your sunglasses, what you really want for your birthday (and it’s not another gift card), how to keep their mouth shut when you’re watching Younger. A wife would keep the pinot coming and only ask questions during commercials.


Summer Reads to Keep Your Kids Unstupid

With school out for the summer, it's a time for lazy days and even lazier brains. The minute my kids dumped the contents of their backpacks into the trash bin, I could feel the intelligence dripping out of them like juice down a popsicle stick. 

The bad news? They crave screen time in copious quantities, the dumber the app or video, the better. The good news—they'll do whatever it takes to earn this screen time, even if it means cracking open a book. And I am all about the art of the deal.  Especially if it means we can fill in a few lines on their summer reading packets. After all, reading is the perfect cure for the summer slide. 

Below, I am thrilled to feature a guest post from one of my readers on books to keep your kids' brains from melting into mush by Labor Day. Thanks, Cassie, for giving my brain a break!


The Fun Mom


Around here, Mom gets a bum rap. Dad is the fun one, doing all the tickling and wrestling and ball-throwing in the house. I’m that shadow in the background sweeping up the shards of the vase they just knocked over.

I even call my husband ‘Daddy Funtime,’ sneering as I say this to fully articulate that this is meant to be a negative connotation. 


Your Kid Sucks. So Shut Up.

There is some kind of Newtonian law that the more a kid sucks at a sport, the more vocal his parents are on the sidelines. Often, this coincides with Galileo’s hypothesis that these are precisely the same parents who are “experts” at the game being conducted, though they have never coached and never played a sport in their life. A handful never even played on the chess team. 

My high school physics is fuzzy, but I am pretty sure they call this the law of inertia.


REALLY Creative Ways to Show Mom Love

Because I am such a big deal (insert laughing noises here) the folks at FTD sent me a list of creative ways to show mom gratitude on Mother's Day, thinking I may want to share it with you, my lovely readers. 

And, really, it was so sweet of them, because now I get to have the day off swigging mimosas, instead of racking my brain wondering what to write about. 

You can see FTD's full list of mom thank you ideas here, but I'm highlighting a few of my faves below with my own creative improvements, on the outside chance my husband may read this or that you want to print it out and post it on your fridge. 

Or better yet, stick it on your children's iPads. No chance they will miss it there.


The Art of I Don't Care

Yesterday I was sitting in the dentist chair, mouth splayed open like a crime scene, with that spit-slurping wand sucking up all my dignity as the overzealous hygienist told me I needed to floss better. And as she showed me exactly how to jam that unholy wax string up and around my hemorrhaging gums, I nodded at her as if to say, “Why yes, absolutely, I’ll do that, of course!”

But between you and me, that is never going to happen, and you wanna know why?


Find It In You

I have this quote hanging in my bedroom, beneath a ledge I call my dream shelf:

“Don’t wait around for other people to be happy for you. Any happiness you get, you’ve got to make yourself.”

I can’t remember where I first saw it. Could have been a fortune cookie. Or a Facebook post. More likely, it was in a dentist office copy of O, the Oprah Magazine, tucked between pages touting Nate Berkus pillows and kale salad recipes.


Forget the Resolutions and Have an Attitude Adjustment Instead

Let’s all resolve to stop whining and start thinking positive before I smack you.

It’s resolution time again, and everyone I know is concocting their admirable, if not impossible, goals for the New Year:

“I’m going to lose 50 pounds. By February.”

“I’m going to climb Mt. Kiliminjaro. Twice.”

”I’m going to stop drunk online shopping.”

Whew. All these lofty goals make me wanna veg on my couch with a bag of chips and a martini, surfing the net for sales. This year, I’m proposing a simpler change: how about we all make a vow to stop whining and start thinking positive?


Passing the Baton

I’ve been running for a longer time than I have the brain cells to remember, but I must have started around my oldest son’s age. Which would have made me a middle schooler. What I do remember in mental high-def was getting up super early before school—while it was still dark out—and cracking an egg into a glass, which I would drink before my run, its sliminess tempered by the dash of vermouth my dad suggested I add. 

Yes, this was the early eighties, and Rocky Balboa was my idol in all his raw egg chugging glory. And over the years, I can’t tell you how many times I have run up stairs or a hill imagining I was the Italian Stallion on his famous sprint up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the chords to “Gonna Fly Now” blasting through my head. Once, I even ran up those iconic steps myself, throwing my arms up in triumph when I got to the top.

But lately my runs have been harder and shorter, with me feeling more like the aging Rocky from his latest movie, Creed, and the only sound between my ears is the recurring ring of a four-letter word. STOP. 

I can’t help but wonder if I’m approaching the end of the line of finish lines.


Teach Kids Gratitude (And Maybe Someday They'll Thank You)

Much like turkey leftovers and food comas, my rerunning of this previous post has become a Thanksgiving tradition. Not because I'm too tired or lazy to write something new (okay, that might have been the case last year) but because we ALL need reminding to be happy with what we have, myself and my family included! Just the other day, we got my daughter a tank full of fish, and only  a few hours later she started begging us for a mouse. Clearly I have more work to do! But I'm 'tank full' for her, and I'm 'tank full' for all of you, my loyal and supportive readers! Hope you eat, drink and love until your hearts and bellies burst.        

 XO Michelle              

help children be happy with what they have, michelle sassa, feminine mystake
We’ve nicknamed my daughter “Ms. More” because, since the day she was born, she's always angled to get more than she has. If I agree to let her have one cookie, she immediately wants two. Before I’m even done reading her a bedtime story, she’s already asking for another.


How To Brainstorm A Book

Guest Post by my writing partner, Anna Mitchael

So this is the thing. We didn’t actually start out writing a hilarious book about a twenty-something young woman searching for herself in the halls of an advertising agency. At first it was going to be a mystery with a male hero who goes looking for a troupe of dentists that kidnapped his pet walrus.

Michelle and I outlined the idea, then took it into an ad agency and we were like ‘HEY GUYS!’ (We screamed because it’s always really loud in ad agencies. You think it’s going to be quiet because, after all, aren’t these people being paid to think? But thinking only takes up 2% of every hour. The other 98% of the minutes are the preparation for thinking—the stretching of the legs, the shooting of the shit, the playing of the ping pong. Loud stuff.)