I have a remarkably happy marriage, and people ask me all the time how I got so lucky. (Not as often as they ask me about autism, vaccines and Jim Carrey, so let’s get something straight before we go any further: Not. Her.) I used to wonder if it had something to do with pheromones or having relatively low expectations, but after eleven years of wedded bliss I am pretty sure the key is some combination of kindness, respect and my ability to read a road map upside down divided by my husband’s skill at tuning out my nagging.

Okay, fine. We got lucky.

Busloads of studies have attempted to figure out why roughly every other marriage fails miserably. Turns out, the success stories share a few similarities beyond the obvious stuff like “they don’t have sex with other people”.  Here, then, are seven scientifically proven* steps to marital ecstasy.

Be thinner and better looking than your husband. I have no idea why this works to create nuptial delight but I’m guessing it’s because if you’re fat and ugly you probably never want to have sex, which makes him grumpy and mean because sex was the one and only reason he got married in the first place. (Well, that and pie. Think about it: Most guys will never bake a pie in their lifetimes and from what I’ve seen, they really like pie.)

Of course, I don’t know many women who are dying to have sex with fat, ugly men, so this one remains a bit of a mystery.

Make sure he does more chores than you do (well, duh) and try to talk less than he does. I have to admit, if you asked my husband the top three things I could do to make him happier, “shut the hell up for five lousy minutes” would probably be on the list. (But not at the tippy-top. Ahem.)

Don’t watch a lot of chick flicks. Seems that after sitting through Gnomio and Juliet (or any other rom-com) relationship dissatisfaction tends to skyrocket. Apparently this is because maybe it could happen to you but you realize that it hasn’t and it probably won’t and that fat bastard never sprinkled rose petals on your bed, dammit. At least you’re thinner and better looking than he is.

Don’t win a best-actress Oscar. I included this one because unlike getting hotter or having your jaw wired shut, it’s actually pretty painless and doable. Personally, I am going to make this a priority in my marriage.

Limit your booze consumption (both of you). No comment.

Become or urge your partner to become a farmer, nuclear engineer or optometrist. Evidently every career choice has its own unique divorce-risk profile, with these three being on the lowest end. Dancers and choreographers are pretty much screwed. You can’t make this stuff up.

Prefer having the car windows down. I haven’t technically seen a study on this, but do you not fight about this every single time you ride in a vehicle together? And doesn’t he get all pissed when you want them up and accuse you of being more concerned about your hair than his precious need for non-recirculated air? If anyone bothered to study this, I’m confident the results would back me up.

So there you have it. I do not suggest trying to master all seven steps at once. For instance, if you stop doing housework altogether (to try to tilt his portion of the ratio toward more), you’ll have a lot of extra time on your hands which you may want to spend drinking alcohol. Remember, there’s no rush here. Till death do us part is a really long time**.

*I may have bastardized the language a bit in some cases but the facts are mostly accurate.

**I stole that line from If It Was Easy They’d Call the Whole Damn Thing a Honeymoon: Living with and Loving the TV-Addicted, Sex-Obsessed, Not-So-Handy Man You Married, which I wrote (and please note that it says the blah-blah-blah man you married, not the one I married. My husband likes it when I point that out). You can find out more about me, my books and how I survived tanorexia on my website.

Please check out the trailer for Jenna’s new book, If It Was Easy They’d Call the Whole Damn Thing a Honeymoon: Living with and Loving the TV-Addicted, Sex-Obsessed, Not-So-Handy Man You Married:

- Don’t forget to google Zestra after you watch it… or better yet, check out the link on Jenna’s homepage.

Disclosure: This is a sponsored post by Role Mommy.

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack in everything,

That’s how the light gets in.

~Leonard Cohen

“The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.” ~ Anna Quindlen

Where did we come up with the idea that we needed to be perfect?  At what point in our lives did this idea take hold so fiercely that even the most brilliant among us still can find something about him- or her self to criticize?  Why is it that we constantly compare ourselves to others, not to marvel in each other’s uniqueness, but to either pump ourselves up for being “better than” or to tear ourselves down for “not being enough”?

Catherine McCord of Weelicious.com

When I used to see clients in my healing practice, one of the exercises I frequently used to help determine where people were losing power in their lives was kinesiology, or muscle testing.  A sure fire way to deplete yourself was to simply think the words “I am not enough”.  I am not pretty enough. I am not smart enough.  I am not a good enough mother.

I notice that my own perfectionist tendencies come out in full force now and then (my husband will tell you they are out more often than not).  I have had full-fledged meltdowns over not being able to find the right bedding for my children’s new bedroom or not having the appropriate wrapping paper for a 3-year old’s birthday gift.  I have looked at the beautifully prepared, incredibly healthy and diverse lunches Catherine McCord of Weelicious.com makes and wept over the sad salami, cheese and crackers lunch that my daughter insists on eating at school every day.  And while we’re at it, I look at the impossibly beautiful Catherine McCord and wonder why my hair doesn’t blow in the wind like hers and why I can’t look quite so fabulous in a simple pink sweater 4 years after birthing twins.  I used to not let people into my house except on days the housekeeper had been here; I still feel the need to apologize for its messiness even though I do know I have two 4-year olds, a huge dog and a cat….life is messy, yet there is a part of me that thinks I should be able to rise above it.  And don’t get me started on my parenting.  Hardly a day goes by that I don’t beat myself up over a harsh tone or a frustrated sarcastic remark or the wish that school would be 7 days a week instead of 5.  Bad, bad mom.

So let me take a breath and think about what I am really saying to myself: if I were really a good mother, my children’s bedroom would look as though it was straight out of Ohdeedoh, my food preparation and personal grooming would be a constant glamour shot and my house would be straight out of Martha Stewart Living.  Oh, and my parenting?  I can come up with any number of parenting experts that have all the great tips and tricks that I should know and should be able to use effectively with every given scenario.  Realistic?  Or crazy making?  Talk about losing my power.

How I usually feel

Nathan M. McTague, the author of the blog “A Beautiful Place Of The World”, wrote recently about this idea of perfection:

“Of course, our children are of absolutely paramount importance, and the drive to be the best that we can be for them is not the worst thing we can have as a parent.  But we would do well to remember — we are just as much “works in progress” as are our developing children.  And if the drive to be at our best gets to the point of interfering with being our best, then (even by perfectionist standards) it has to go.”

It’s fairly easy to look at my 4-year old twins and remember that they aren’t perfect, that they are still learning, that they have the right to screw up.  Why is it so hard to give myself the same gift of understanding?  I would never teach our children that they need to be perfect in order to be wonderful people, why do I think that way about myself?

The idea of being a perfect mother has been around for a long time.  I am sure that even before the 1950′s TV moms there were women who felt that they didn’t quite live up to some set standard.  We compare ourselves in every possible way. I read a terrific post the other day on the blog Feast After Famine in which the author, suffering severe mood swings due to early menopause, wrote a tirade against judgmental comments made regarding women who used hormone replacement therapy:

“I remember a moment in my early 20′s when I realized people didn’t grow out of their catty, judgmental teen selves.  They just became catty, judgmental adults. T hat was a brutal gut punch. I suffered a similar letdown recently when I realized the Perfect Police will dog me into old age.  The hypercritical folks who find fault with my decisions to work or stay home with my children, nurse or formula feed, use cloth diapers or clog the landfill with disposables aren’t going to stop once I become an older Mum.  They’re just going to change their focus.  Apparently, the people who do things the “right way” want to tell me how to experience menopause. “

For me, this is the crux of the matter. Our own insecurities about being less than perfect drive us to find fault with others.  For many, the need to be right is more powerful than the need to be real.  Does it really make us feel better to try and take away someone else’s power?  Is perfection really an attainable or desirable goal?  What are we trying to achieve by being perfect parents? Perfect children? Nathan M. McTague again:

An early incarnation of the perfect mom

“…when our perspective on parenting, and our own parenting specifically, is too narrowly focused on perfection. Any deviation from the ideal is seen, not as part of the process, but as an affront to it.”

I think back to a recent post of my own about being mindful about my parenting, and realize that in my push to be this perfect mom, I am creating so much stress in my life (and therefore in my children’s lives).  Is the push toward being perfect really what I want my kids to learn? Or do I want to remind them, as those Leonard Cohen lyrics say, that it is through our imperfections that our true beauty and our true selves shine through.

Gina Osher is a former holistic healer turned parenting coach and SAHM to boy/girl twins. She is also the author of the popular blog, The Twin Coach (http://www.thetwincoach.blogspot.com) where she chronicles her journey to be a more joyful parent and offers insightful advice on handling the daily struggles of parenting two young children. Gina can also be found spending too much time on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/thetwincoach) and Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/thetwincoach)!

“Mommy, does Santa Claus die?”
“Mommy, if you get stabbed by a light saber will you die?”
“Mommy, what happens to your eyes when you die?”

My 4-year old son has been lobbing these and other complex questions at me for about 6 months now.  It all began innocently enough, with the introduction of one of my favorite books from childhood: Babar.  Yes, Babar. Perhaps you will remember that Babar’s mother gets shot by a “wicked hunter” on page 3.  Did you remember that? I didn’t.  Well, that one incident opened up a line of questioning I wasn’t quite prepared to answer.

When our children are curious about things, and ask thoughtful questions, my husband and I always do our best to give them the respect of a real answer.  But how much is too much, I often wonder.  In our home we also feel, although we are not religious, that it is important to give our kids a sense of something larger than mommy and daddy, something that they can hold on to if they are confused or scared.  So, talking about death and dying with our children is complicated by my wanting to also share my beliefs concerning our souls and God. Just to make it more confusing, I am often concerned as to whether giving them too much information might, instead, make them worry about whether people they love might die.

In December, my 39-year-old husband had a heart attack.  I almost wrote “unexpected heart attack”, but when do you ever expect them?  He spent a week in the hospital, had a blood clot removed and then two stents inserted into his arteries.  Suddenly I realized how terribly unprepared I was for the unthinkable if it had actually happened.  Discussing death with my children in concept wasn’t so tough after all; talking about it when it really means something to you is a different story entirely.

“Mommy, is Daddy coming home?”
“Mommy, what is a blood clot?”
“Mommy, when you die, does your spirit go to heaven?”

Given the age of our children, I knew I had to give them information in terms they could understand and allow them to ask as many questions as they needed to.  I simply said Daddy was sick; he went to the hospital because he had a boo-boo on his heart.  When they called their father in the hospital to ask what kind of boo-boo his heart had, he gave them the simplest explanation of what a blood clot is.  His answer that it made the blood stop getting to daddy’s heart, like a plug in a drain, was immediately understood.

Even though I didn’t express the idea that Daddy could have died, and although I tried to keep things as normal as possible, our children knew something was different.  Our son, as is his general way, asked lots and lots of questions.  He seemed quieter, more thoughtful and spent lots of time telling me he loved me “really much”.  Our daughter became much more clingy.  Suddenly, she found everything in her room frightening.  The bedtime routine dragged on interminably as she tried to get someone to stay and watch her all night.  Even her bed was now “scary” and she decided she had to sleep, curled up like a cat, on the foot of her brother’s bed.

This unexpected reminder that nothing in life is guaranteed, changed a number of things in our house after Daddy came home.  My husband and I are making a greater effort to model a healthy lifestyle by eating more vegetarian meals and doing more activities with the kids that involve actually moving our bodies.  My initial response to this crisis was extreme anxiety and an uncharacteristic wish to draw my family in close in order to protect them.  But hovering, nervously, over everyone wasn’t a healthy way to live.  As time passed, I remembered the importance of allowing our children to experience their lives in a full and rich way, without interference from a mom worrying about death and dying.  We have no way of knowing how many todays we actually have; I don’t want us to waste any of them being fearful.

Gina Osher is the author of the popular blog, The Twin Coach, where she writes on varied parenting topics such as finding the meaning of life in Halloween Candy to advice for sibling rivalry to finding more joy in parenting.  Whether you have twins or singletons, if you’re trying to be the best parent you can be, you can relate!  You can also find Gina spending too much time on Facebook and Twitter.

Christina with Kia and Lee, her parents, Los Angeles 1964

My mom died when I was 19. She fought a 10-year battle with breast cancer, refusing treatment, dying at home. The details are too awful to describe.

These are the things she never knew about me:

• I graduated from UC Berkeley
• I have a Master’s Degree from UCLA
• I have two amazing kids
• I married a wonderful guy
• I miss her every day. Every single day.

There was a lot she did know about me:

• I loved her and still do. Always will.
• I didn’t want her to die. I begged her not to die
• I’d make it without her. Somehow.
• I’d never forget her

I’m crying as I write this. My mom was my most important influence, my mentor and my biggest supporter.

After she died, my soul was broken. With determination and an aching heart, I kept going, one foot in front of the other, with the support of my dad and sister.

Today, I’m a mom whose greatest fear is that something will happen to me and I won’t be there for my kids. This is the legacy of losing my mom as a teenager. It’s not an abstract notion. It’s the reality I live with daily.

I honor my mom’s memory is ways that surprise me. I grew up in Topanga, CA, a stunning, rustic canyon outside of Los Angeles. A few days ago, my family moved to Coldwater Canyon, the hills above Los Angeles. I want to give my kids everything my mom gave me.

The most profound and moving example of a mother’s love I’ve ever heard is represented by a 2010 interview on National Public Radio, where Lonnie G. Bunch, director of the Smithsonian’s project to collect artifacts for the National Museum of African American Art And Culture, discusses unique items the public donates to the museum.

“Somebody brought a pillowcase that was embroidered. And it turned out to be a pillowcase that was embroidered by a woman who was enslaved, who was about to be sold the next day. So, she embroidered to her daughter saying, in this pillowcase you will find a dress, you will find some biscuits but what you’ll find is that it’s filled with my love. And though I may never see you again, always know how close you are to my heart.”

My mom, a strong African American woman, didn’t leave me with a real pillowcase filled with treasures. Instead, she left me with a metaphorical one filled with the life skills, the determination and the fortitude to make it in this world without her.

Christina Simon is the co-author of “Beyond The Brochure: An Insider’s Guide To Private Elementary Schools In Los Angeles.” She also writes the blog, www.beyondthebrochure.blogspot.com about applying to private elementary schools in Los Angeles and the ups and downs as life as a private school mom. Christina’s blog was just voted “Top 25 Parent Resources” by Circle Of Moms. She has written recent guest blog pieces for The Culture Mom, BlogHer Syndication, Mamapedia, The Mother Company, The Well Mom, Sane Moms, Eco Mom, Macaroni Kids, A Child Grows In Brooklyn, Power Of Moms, The Twin Coach and Diaries Of A Mixed (Up) Kid. Christina is a former vice president at Fleishman-Hillard, a global public relations firm. She has a 7-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter. Christina lives in Los Angeles with her husband and kids.

By Becky Beaupre Gillespie and Hollee Schwartz Temple

Authors, Good Enough Is the New Perfect: Finding Happiness and Success in Modern Motherhood

Creating and running a business has a way of inciting perfectionist tendencies. But it also offers a unique path to what we call the New Perfect.

We know this from our own ventures — and we saw it in the dozens of mompreneurs we interviewed for Good Enough Is the New Perfect: Finding Happiness and Success in Modern Motherhood (Harlequin Nonfiction, April 2011).

There are nearly 8 million women-owned enterprises in this country, accounting for 23 million jobs and packing a $3 trillion annual impact, according to 2009 data from the Center for Women’s Business Research. And it’s no wonder: entrepreneurship offers flexibility, control and, sometimes, the chance to escape jobs that never quite fit in the first place.

But it isn’t always easy, especially when the “Never Enoughs” in us send us shooting for the stars, only to discover that we haven’t equipped ourselves with enough support or let go of our perfectionist tendencies.

One of the women we feature launched her own business during the two years we spent interviewing her. Jen already had four kids and a full-time career as a doctor, but she also dreamed of inventing toys and running her own business. She’s a typical go-getter, so she went for it. But a year in, she found herself exhausted and overwhelmed. She’d taken on too much, and she wasn’t sure whether she’d sink or swim.

You’ll have to read the book to find out exactly how she managed to swim — she built her business into an inspiring success — but suffice it to say that attitude played a big role. She gave herself permission to do less by strategically cutting back on things that weren’t as important to her. She spent less time worrying and more time delegating. She adjusted her expectations, and focused her energy on the things that truly inspired her passion.

That’s the great lesson of the New Perfect, for entrepreneurs and all working moms. We must define success on our own terms. We need seek out and accept help; it’s a difficult road when we go it alone. We need to keep our true passions and priorities front and center. And we need to accept that we’ll make mistakes and experience setbacks along the way.

Many of the successful mompreneurs we interviewed shared this important quality: They were willing to risk failure. And they knew that “failure” didn’t have to equal catastrophe. They knew that each obstacle would simply require some kind of adjustment — and that the right tweaks would allow them to forge ahead, perhaps stronger than before. This characteristic gave them a head start on the path to the New Perfect.

After all, nothing kills a dream faster than being so afraid of messing up that we don’t even try.

Becky and Hollee’s new book, Good Enough Is the New Perfect: Finding Happiness and Success in Modern Motherhood, is available at http://amzn.to/newperfect . They blog about parenting and work/life balance at http://TheNewPerfect.com.

This past Monday, armed with a bundle of colorful pipe cleaners (or “fuzzy sticks,” as they are referred to in most classrooms), I set out for PS 111 in midtown to lead a pre-show, in-classroom workshop for the upcoming perMformance of Mischief at The New Victory Theater. As a New Vic Education staff member and teaching artist, I travel to schools across New York City and lead pre- and post-show workshops in Pre-K to 12 classrooms. The workshops allow the students to actively explore the art form (in this case, dance) of the show they are about to see on the New Vic stage.

My co-teaching artist, Javier, and I arrive at the school. The tables are pushed aside and the students stand in a circle, waiting to see what these eccentric strangers will do. Without saying a word, I pull out a colorful fuzzy stick and bend it into a “C” shape. Javier immediately shapes his body to physically match the shape of the fuzzy stick. A few students giggle, wondering what will happen next. Without saying a word, Javier gestures to suggest that the students create the shape as well. All of a sudden, I change the shape of the fuzzy stick to a “V.” The students now know the rules of the game and they immediately pose in a way that matches the shape. However, each shape is slightly different in translation; they have just made their first choreographic decisions.

Throughout the workshop, we encourage the students to make specific physical choices and explore the relationship between the object and their bodies. The result is remarkable – the act of translating the object’s shape to their own bodies unlocks a new freedom and creativity in movement. Soon, the students each get their own fuzzy stick and are asked to make literal shapes (“Turn your fuzzy stick into a square”) and abstract shapes (“Create a shape that represents the emotion of Excitement with your fuzzy stick”). They explore the movement of these shapes, and attempt to mimic this movement in their bodies. In pairs, they create a small human puppet using two fuzzy sticks and a movement phrase for their puppet to perform. Finally, they recreate this movement phrase in their own bodies. In the course of a forty five minute workshop, the students have taken on the role of choreographer, puppeteer and performer.

As a teaching artist, it is amazing for me to watch as the students, who are just becoming aware of their own bodies and the way they move, rehearse and perform dance pieces that they have created. They navigate working as an ensemble, physically executing their own idea, and feeling artistic ownership over their work. Student-centered exploration, or empowering students to work within a structure to artistically create on their own, is one of the guiding principles upon which every New Vic workshop is created.

The experience takes on new meaning when my students come to The New Victory to see a performance (in this case, Mischief) and excitedly exclaim, “We did that!” when they watch the performers on stage. Mischief utilizes colorful foam noodles (a larger version of our fuzzy sticks) that the dancers manipulate, mimic and play with to create a remarkable and fun approach to contemporary dance. A collaboration between a theater company (UK’s Theatre-Rites) and a choreographer (Arthur Pita), it is the first dance piece for family audiences commissioned by the world-renowned dance institution Sadler’s Wells. The combination of puppetry and dance provides the perfect introduction to dance for the youngest audience member. My students bounce out of the theater, ready to create their own dance pieces. Thanks to the performance, and of course the fuzzy sticks, a new generation of artists dance back on to the subway to school.

Jonathan Shmidt is the Assistant Director of Education at the New Victory Theater. He manages the New Victory Education Partnership Program, which provides 30,000 students with access to school-time performances and in-classroom workshops. Jonathan is on the adjunct faculty for the Program in Educational Theatre at New York University. He has collaborated on Theater for Young Audiences initiatives with the Boston Lyric Opera, Theater Offensive and Immediate Medium. Jonathan is the co-founder of YEA: Young Educators in the Arts, a networking group for emerging professionals in Arts Education. He holds a Masters Degree in Educational Theatre from New York University.

When I can’t watch the news anymore because it’s just too disturbing, I take a very deep breath and focus on what I have to be thankful for and what I can do to help those in need.

Once I became a mom, I struggled to watch the news. It upset me in a way it never had before. I’ve talked with other moms who have the same reaction. I used to be a news junkie, with CNN on in my office. Now, I can barely watch the lead story before I switch channels.

I do better with the newspaper. I love the New York Times for it’s brilliant writing, clever headlines and of course, the Style Section. When I’m feeling stressed about global events and human suffering, I start reading the Style Section and gradually make my way through the paper. After the Wedding Section—after all, who doesn’t want to see which well-to-do, Ivy League couples are tying the knot this week?—I turn to the Week In Review. It’s a bit more palatable than the Front Page, which is all hard news, bleak and complete with above-the-fold photos starkly illustrating a gruesome story.

By the time I’ve gathered up the nerve to read the Front Page, I’m generally ready to handle the harsh reality of overnight events. I read it because that’s what a well-informed mom does. If my kids have questions, I want to be up-to-date with the latest information I can distill for them in age appropriate language. Yesterday, I was relieved that my kids’ school discussed the Japanese earthquake and tsunami with their classes. After school, I answered their questions.

With all the chaos in the world, I remind myself that life is still sweet. I’m working on abandoning my cynical (slightly distrustful) nature in favor of a more “glass half full” approach to life. Don’t get me wrong, I love cynicism in others i.e. Woody Allen. It’s one of my favorite qualities, along with a wry sense of humor. It’s just that right now, I need to be less cynical, more trusting, more generous and less anxious. Life IS sweet…especially when I set aside my cynicism, if only temporarily. I just started by making a donation to The Red Cross for the victims of the Japanese disaster. Every donation counts! There’s nothing cynical about that.

Christina Simon, 46, is the co-author of “Beyond The Brochure: An Insider’s Guide To Private Elementary Schools In Los Angeles”. She also writes the blog, www.beyondthebrochure.blogspot.com about applying to private elementary schools in Los Angeles and life as a private school mom in a school-obsessed city. Christina is a former vice president at Fleishman-Hillard, a global public relations firm. She has a 7-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter. Christina lives in Hancock Park, Los Angeles with her husband and children. She has a B.A. from UC Berkeley and an M.A. from UCLA.

I’m an admitted shopaholic. I’ll spend my last dollar on a great designer handbag or a good-fitting pair of jeans. I devour virtually every fashion magazine and clip pictures of my favorite looks. I even buy pricey European fashion magazines. And, I’ve recently started buying my ten-year-old daughter pieces from J. Crew’s fabulous Crew Cuts For Kids.

So, the other day, on National Public Radio (NPR), a story about NY Fashion Week 2011 caught my attention. Pulitzer Prize winning fashion writer Robin Givhan, one of a small group of black fashion editors, was interviewed about the continuing lack of black models in top designer fashion shows. This unfortunate trend also carries over to lucrative cosmetic contracts and other fashion advertising. It’s not hard to see that while some progress has been made, the industry is still primarily interested in white models. In a piece for New York Magazine called, “Why Fashion Keeps Tripping Over Race,” (February 16, 2011), Givhan astutely writes that when it comes to race, “the fashion community tends to play dumb or be disingenuous.”

Essence Magazine reports that in March 2010, Jezebel.com released it’s annual tally of models of color walking runways and found that about 16% of the nearly 4,000 models hired at New York Fashion Week were women of color. Of that figure, only 8% were Black.

My favorite designer is Prada. I love Prada’s minimal, well-crafted, timeless pieces. Their clothes fit me perfectly and I always feel great wearing them. Well, my Prada obsession has effectively ended now that Givhan has enlightened me by writing, “In fact, when the black model Jourdan Dunn appeared in 2008 in what had been up until then a relentlessly all-white Prada show, I marveled in my blog: “Black girl walking!” It was the first time in more than a decade that I recalled seeing a black model in one of Miuccia Prada’s shows.”

For me, as an African American Prada customer, this is too much to handle. I just bought my last Prada dress in December. Farewell, my beautiful Prada. It’s a good thing the Prada pieces I own will last a long, long time!

In 2003, history was made when the stunning Ethopian model, Liya Kebede, landed a lucrative and prominent Estee Lauder Cosmetics contract, making her the FIRST black model to represent the company. I immediately went out to buy a collection of Estee Lauder makeup. Not because I love Estee Lauder (although their products turned out to be great), but because I wanted to applaud their bold decision to hire Liya. I sent the message with my wallet.

The NPR story and Givhan’s piece in New York Magazine started me thinking about the lack of models of color…again. It’s an issue I haven’t really focused on for some time. But, it’s 2011 and the fashion industry is STILL underrepresenting models of color. Why? I can name my favorite models and Liya is at the top of the list. So are Chanel Iman and Joan Smalls (she’s Puerto Rican). Why should I, an African American woman—and admitted shopaholic—spend money on designers who refuse to hire models of color? The answer is, I shouldn’t and I won’t.

There is good news, however. According to Givhan, “Now black models are on the upswing, with Liya Kebede, Chanel Iman, Sessilee Lopez, and Jourdan Dunn among them.”

Starting with my next purchase, I will look carefully at the designers who do work with diverse models. The same way some consumers scrutinize labels for organic content or grams of fat, I’ll be looking at magazine ads, runway shows and cosmetic contracts for models of color. Oh, and those fashion magazines who refuse to feature black models of color on the covers. Bye-Bye!

I’ve always been an equal opportunity shopper. I love Prada handbags and dresses, J. Crew jackets, Diane Von Furstenberg anything. But, if upon further investigation, my favorite designers aren’t equal opportunity employers and won’t use models that reflect diversity, this shopaholic will hastily abandon them, as they have abandoned me.

Christina Simon is the co-author of “Beyond The Brochure: An Insider’s Guide To Private Elementary Schools In Los Angeles.” She also writes the blog, www.beyondthebrochure.blogspot.com about applying to private elementary schools in Los Angeles and life as a private school mom. Christina is a former vice president at Fleishman-Hillard, a global public relations firm. She has a 7-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter. Christina lives in Hancock Park, Los Angeles with her husband and children. She has a B.A. from UC Berkeley and an M.A. from UCLA.

Source: FoodNetwork.com

For the past few years, I’ve had a minor ongoing argument with my now nine-year-old daughter over what constitutes appropriate television fare. For a short time, she watched Hannah Montana and The Suite Life, until I realized she’d finish watching an episode and stroll back into the living room speaking like those pre-pubescent brats. Forget that: I have years of teenage rebellion looming ahead, and I don’t need to put up with verbal obnoxiousness early.

One of the things she had noticed about us, her parents, was that we love food. We cook at least four nights a week, usually from scratch. We take her out to eat at interesting restaurants all over L.A. And, like many foodies, we watch shows on The Food Network (mostly Good Eats). It’s not that we think we’re really getting any great cooking skills out of the shows, but we do like looking at the food.

Lo and behold, our daughter is now obsessed with The Food Network. She regularly DVRs shows like Chopped, in which four chefs compete in a three course meal using mystery ingredients. The food is then judged by rather famous chefs, most of whom are based in New York. Anna is mesmerized by the fast paced competition. There’s food flying, stuff catching on fire, fingers cut, and she sits in judgment herself.

“Mom, I’m pretty sure that chef is going to get chopped,” she informed me solemnly. “His meat was definitely overdone, and his sauce seemed thin. Still, I just don’t understand why Geoffrey Zakarian always has to be so mean.”

The drama continues for Anna with Iron Chef America. She is well acquainted, at this juncture, with all of the Iron Chefs, and her favorites are Michael Symon (because he’s a nice guy), and Cat Cora (because she’s cool). In fact, Anna has discovered a whole new world of female role models through the shows. Reverently, she recites the names of Cat Cora, Alex Guernaschelli, and Donatella Arpaia. These are some strong women, tough women who hold their own with the guys in the kitchen and on a judging panel. At one point, Anna said she would like to be the youngest judge on Iron Chef America, but she’d only do it under two conditions: no alcohol would be served (she’s underage, after all), and that one of her fellow judges would be Ms/  Arpaia. She would also prefer that the episode be called Battle Cupcake.

One of the other advantages to this foodie TV habit is that Anna can no longer really put up a fuss regarding trying new foods. After watching two chefs beat a bunch of animal insides into submission on Iron Chef America’s Battle Offal, very few food mysteries remain. She certainly has her preferences, but there’s no longer that massive suspicion of any food that doesn’t look like a chicken finger (a short but totally frustrating phase).

I realize that a lot of what Anna likes about these shows is the competitive nature; at heart, these are really game shows. I don’t think she’d be interested in watching Julia Child bumble around a kitchen by herself for a half an hour (like I did when I was a kid). But, I think she’s learning something beyond the idea that there’s a winner and loser, a concept that these people are actually creating something wonderful. She’s helping a lot in the kitchen now, and is mastering basic knife skills (she fries a mean egg, too). And I’d way rather have her want to be Cat Cora than try and emulate Miley Cyrus.

Anna was very excited to learn that there’s going to be a Chopped All Stars series, in which the judging chefs will compete against each other. Just think: all her favorites coming together. She can hardly wait to see what they’ll make, and to watch Geoffrey Zakarian get his comeuppance.

“We’ll see how he does on his plating,” she said.

Jenny Heitz has worked as a staff writer for Coast Weekly in Carmel, freelanced in Los Angeles, and then switched to advertising copywriting. She now writes about gift ideas and products on her blog, Find A Toad (www.findatoad.com). Jenny’s op-eds on education have been published recently in the Los Angeles Daily News (www.dailynews.com). Jenny also writes for the Los Angeles private elementary schools blog, Beyond The Brochure (www.beyondthebrochure.blogspot.com). She has also been a guest blogger on Mamapedia,The Well Mom, Sane Moms and other sites. She has a BA in Journalism from UC Santa Cruz and an MS in Mass Communications from San Jose State University. Jenny has a nine-year old daughter and teaches Pilates. She lives in Hancock Park, Los Angeles.

Chrissie DiAngelus

A few weeks ago I was in New York City for the annual Arts Presenters Conference. As a performing arts professional, this conference is the big national conference drawing presenters, programming directors, artistic ensembles, producers, managers and agents from all over the nation and globe. Besides the business side of things, there is ample opportunity for all delegates to take in full performances and showcases.

This year I made it a point to check out as much family/children’s programming as possible. I represent two theater and dance companies in this genre and it’s helpful for me to see as much as possible – to compare and contrast the styles, the technique, the artistic quality, and of course, gauge audience interaction.

One such performance was at Symphony Space on a Sunday morning. It was quirky acrobatic circus company with an 11am curtain advertised on their family series. I sat toward the back of the space (it was their downstairs black box theater) and took in the audience – a good number of colleagues from the conference as well as a slew of families and kids ranging from babies up to about age twelve. In front of me, I soon discovered, were two rows of children about 6-7 years old who were all there for a birthday party. As the show started and the zaniness and hilarity on stage ensued, the audience ate it up and there was a lot of laughter and interaction – perfect. This is what any artist, programming staff and audience members what to see and experience.

What they didn’t witness though was the slow chaos unfolding in front me: The birthday party children were jumping up out of their seats, indignantly shouting over and over again each other about what was happening on stage, complaining about how hungry they were, and generally acting like kids, but in particular form because of the time of day, their hunger, and because they were surrounded by and egged on by their friends.

I have a toddler so I know how things can get. That said, I was still frustrated that I couldn’t enjoy the performance because the behavior of these kids made it hard for anyone around them to see, hear, or concentrate. I wondered why there were two full rows of kids for a birthday party and only three parental chaperones spaced between them all. I wondered why on earth one would take kids this age to a show that started at 11am – lunch time – knowing so many were probably up at 7am eating breakfast. I wondered how many of these kids had a clue as to where they were, what they were seeing, and just an overall guide from either mom or dad or the chaperone as to general theater behavior.

We all want to expose our children to culture but there are some general etiquette rules that we should all consider before taking our infants, babies, toddlers, preschoolers, and youth to cultural events, particularly to the theater.

•Find out the age range for the artistic presentation. Even if it says “Families and Youth,” read the synopsis and call the box office to find out if really does make sense for you to bring your child.

•Consider the logistics: Food, changing, toddlers that like to run, kids that like to talk. Is the venue conducive to this? Is it kid friendly? In the case above, I don’t think it was smart to haul 15+ kids under the age of ten to the theater right before lunch.

•Start the theater etiquette conversation early. You’ll adapt it over time to suite their age and needs but get into the habit of having the conversation a few days prior to and leading up to the event about what they should expect, what they are allowed to do, etc. Every theater and every program will differ.

•Go knowing there may be a meltdown and you may need to leave. Set the expectation a little lower so you aren’t beyond disappointed that you spent $25 per ticket and the child was having a bad day and you needed to leave.

In the aforementioned case, I’d have suggested taking a few less kids to my child’s party (maybe 5 kids total), either eating beforehand or else having snacks on hand, and bringing along enough chaperones so the kids were spaced out appropriately. Moreover, as a parent and theatergoer myself, I’d have taken responsibility to make sure my own child as a guest had a clue about what to expect when he was there and how to act. If I was the one hosting the party, I’d have spoken the few kids about theater etiquette prior to seeing the show.

Needless to say, raising cultured kids is an ongoing process but one I love and am committed to daily. I follow these general rules myself whether it involves us attending a Justin Roberts concert at West Chester University near me in PA or involves a train to NYC to see something clever at the New Vic. I encourage all parents to embrace the theater going experience with their kids but to do so thoughtfully.

Chrissie DiAngelus is a mom and entrepreneur. She is the founder of Piccadilly Arts, LLC, a boutique agency that manages and represents a select roster of family and youth focused theater artists. For the 2011/2012 season, Piccadilly Arts is pleased to offer exciting and imaginative programs by the New York City based Treehouse Shakers and the Pittsburgh based Zany Umbrella Circus. Both artists perform in venues and schools nationwide. Piccadilly Arts also specializes in branding, marketing and social media consulting for small-midsized companies, and the arts, culture and nonprofit sector. Chrissie has one little boy, Mitchell, who is almost 3 years old. He loves trains, his stuffed Frog, the Australian Grug story books, and lots of cultural excursions. Twitter: @londonmodgirl.