What's with that blog name?

Don’t put lizards in your ears.

Who would, right? I mean, that’s a pretty weird thing to say. Good advice, but a bit incongruous. And really, how often do those words actually come together in conversation? In my experience ... uh, never. But I’m finding that as a new mom -- and a late-in-life mom at that -- I say a whole lot of things to my 2-year-old son, Fletcher, that I never -- not in all my wildest college-era hallucinogenic-fueled dreams -- thought would tumble out of my mouth.

There are things I remembered my own mom saying that I pinky swore to myself that I’d never, ever say to my child. And then you find yourself in a Mexican standoff in the Publix checkout line with a defiant yowling toddler who’s rolling on the floor screaming, NOOOOOO! because you won’t let him have a goddam bag of Skittles. Once you've exhausted all your diplomatic negotiating skills, your only choice is to launch your final grenade: BECAUSE I’M THE MOM, THAT’S WHY!

Of course, you can add to that gem, such chestnuts as: Stop whining. Use your words. Don’t make me come in there. I won’t tell you again. Don’t ask me again. And my personal favorite: Because … I … said …so!

My point is that now that my child is no longer an abstract concept, but an actual living sentient being with opinions, not to mention, demands, of his own, I’m sounding a whole lot more like my mom than I ever thought I would. Still, some things will surprise you. So, there I was, on a Saturday afternoon, folding laundry, when I looked up to see Fletcher rather determinedly jabbing something into his ear. Terrified that he could at that very moment be puncturing his ear drum, I flew across the living room, pried open his pudgy little fist and found -- yes, you guessed it! A lizard! We live in Central Florida and our cat, Squeak, frequently catches too-slow chameleons on our patio, then brings them in to play with in the dining room. All I could think was that in a goodwill-gesture, she’d offered to share her toy with the baby.

“Don’t put lizards in your ears!!” I scolded Fletcher as I rescued the reptile.

Out of the mouths of moms.

So, welcome to my now understandably named blog. Here I’ll be reporting from the front lines of what I call the Mommy ‘Hood. Because you know what … it doesn’t matter how many girlfriend guides you read, kids don’t come with operating instructions and the world of moms can be like being thrown back into the high school cafeteria. And you remember how much fun that was, right? Parenthood is purely on the job training, requiring the diversity of da Vinci, the patience of the Dali Lama, the reflexes of a fighter pilot, and the thick skin of a rhino.

Coming to this “second career” after years of editing magazines and writing freelance, I can tell you that there is no job, no project that’s tougher, weirder, messier, with longer hours, lower pay and that comes with a more demanding “boss” and more cliquish comrades. It’s Devil Wears Prada -- with strollers.

It’s a good thing kids are so damn adorable. Otherwise, everyone would give their two weeks and make for the Bahamas.