Living With Alcoholism

I am no stranger to alcoholism. Most of my maternal Aunts and Uncles were alcoholics. My only American cousin is recovering. So is my ex-brother-in-law. I probably know a bunch of secret alcoholics too. There is one alcoholic with whom I have to spend a lot of time.

My new boyfriend.

Just to be clear, he does not drink anymore. He went to rehab about seven years ago and hasn’t fallen off the wagon. He’s not a “book carrying” alcoholic. He doesn’t preach. He doesn’t go to meetings. He simply doesn’t drink. He smokes and gets “impaired”, just not with alcohol. I’m proud of him. He saw that alcohol was ruining his life and relationships and did something about it.

Selfishly, I must admit, sometimes it sucks. He doesn’t care if I drink. In fact, he has an excellent knowledge about wines and cocktails and doesn’t give a shit if I drink a bottle or two on a Saturday night. It’s awfully kind of him. What does suck is that it almost puts a very thin invisible wall between us. It separates some of our interests.

Bars are out. I love bars. Dark, empty bars with good jukeboxes. I love a beautiful wood bar with a footrest and a hook to hang your bag. I love to knock back a couple of beers in an environment other than my kitchen. But alas, no bars for him. I mean, why would he even want to go to a bar? Sometimes I almost catch myself saying “Wanna meet at ______?” only to realize what I am about to ask. So no bars for us.

Parties are a huge deal. I get invited to a party, tell him and then the questions roll out. “Is it a big drinking crowd?” “Is it going to be rowdy?” “How long do these parties last?” After the inquisition usually come the assumptions. “I’m really not into large crowds with blaring music and drunk people blabbing all night.” Sigh. Dude, I’m almost 40. My friends aren’t a bunch of heathens, in fact, I’m probably the wildest of any of them. And weddings. I love weddings. So much fun! He recently received a “Save the Date” for a wedding of a guy he bar tends for (I know, funny, an alcoholic bartender) and he agonized over it. I mean, he just wouldn’t stop. “I don’t think I want to go.” So don’t go. It’s really not my scene to be around 400 drunk people swinging towels around on the dance floor. I’ve never been to a wedding like that.  “Maybe I should just send money.” IT’S A SAVE THE DATE!!!!!! STOP IT!!!

Finally, there is the fear. The fear that he may start drinking again. He’s had sips of my wine and I don’t see a problem with that, but the last thing I want is for him to fall off the wagon and his family blame me. I think I’m also scared of what he acts like when he’s drunk. I’ve know him for a long time, but I didn’t know him during his dark days of drinking. I don’t want to know that man.

I love him. I accept him for who he is and what he’s been through and who he has become. I know I can go to a bar with my friends and most of the people in my circle are already married or divorced. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s like wanting to visit a beautiful vineyard with the love of your life and knowing that can’t happen.

I’ll give up the vineyards.





Parenting Trends That Must Die

Due to social media being the new “keeping up with the Jonses”, I’ve noticed a few new parenting tends that annoy the shit out of me. I will NOT keep up with you Jonses no matter how many happy photographs you post on Facebook and Instagram. I’ll raise my child as I want to and will partake in events that I want to–not because everybody else is doing them.

Annoying Parenting Trend #1: posting Photos with Signs for Everything!
It’s my first day of school! (Forced 6 year old smoke holding a sign stating “it’s my first day of school.” Hey! It’s everybody’s first day of school. I think the parents should be holding up signs which scream “Thank You, Holy Jesus! It’s their first day of school!!”

Annoying Parent Trend #2: Pumpkin/Apple Picking

When in the hell did everybody become so obsessed with apples and pumpkins? “We’re going Pumpkin picking, Kids! Here, no, wait, here, no, here, yes here is a great little patch of pumpkins for you to sit in. Now smile. I know it’s hot and crowded. Smile! I have to get a good one!” Ten million pumpkin picking photos on my newsfeed and Instagram. You know where I went pumpkin picking as a kid? The supermarket. And the apples… Oh the apples. What on Earth are you going to do with all those damn apples? But who cares? Right? It’s a great photo op. You know what my fall tradition has been with my daughter since she could walk? A trip to Greenwood Cemetery on Columbus Day. That’s what I think is fun. Walking among the 200 year old graves, sitting quietly by the fountain. Yes, I’ve taken photos, but I never posted them. It might offend people. “She should be bringing her daughter to a pumpkin patch or a nice orchard, not some creepy ol’ cemetery.” Do you know I once saw a photo of a friend’s child crying in a pumpkin farm because the only pumpkins left were rotted? It was a pumpkin cemetery. But, she got the pic!

Annoying Parenting Trend # 3: Lessons, lessons, lessons…

I am not against extra curricular activities. I’m not against sports or chess or ballet or any of that. What I can’t deal with is the excessive lessons. “On Monday Mindy has gymnastics, Tuesdays are fantasy dance, Wednesdays are soccer and on Saturday morning we bring her to the new indoor ice skating rink.” I’m exhausted just thinking about all if that physical activity. How about one lesson at a time? See what your kid likes? My daughter wants to ice skate. I’ll bring her for two trial lessons before I commit to the cost of skates, pads, and the tuition. Whatever happened to just bringing your kid to the zoo? Letting the kid run around on a playground or in a nice grassy field?

Annoying Parenting Trend #4: The Photo Christmas Card

This tradition has been around for so long, I don’t think it’s a trend anymore. It’s the norm. It’s not that I don’t like seeing photos of your kids during the holidays, but with the explosion of social media since the photo holiday card began, I see your kid every. single. day. Now I have to make them an addition to my holiday decor? Do you know how guilty it makes me feel to toss photos of your precious children into the garbage can every January? I save the cards from my nieces and nephews, but if I haven’t spoken to you face to face in more than a year, your kids are getting tossed. How about a nice Hallmark greeting instead? I still send Hallmark greetings because you’re just as sick of seeing photos of my kid as I am of yours.

I’m a good mom with a smart, well-adjusted kid despite the fact that she’s lived with my cancer and her parent’s acrimonious divorce for the past three years. She gets birthday parties, she has play dates, she loves My Little Pony and gets good grades. I will raise her the way I want to raise her and will not put her every movement on virtual display, nor will I judge you for participating in these annoying trends, as long it’s because you feel they are best for your child and not because everybody else is doing it– I should too!!

Annoying parent trends must die. They’re turning our kids into little cookie cutters for the sake of a Facebook or Instagram post. And it pisses me off.

Do any other parents/non-parents feel this way? Do you disagree with me? Are there any other parent trends I might have forgotten? Speak to me!!

Most Enviable Closets In Pinterestt

Gorgeous photos of gorgeous closets by Fernanda B.

Fernanda's Choice

They are incredibly decorated, organized and designed… The dream of all Girls… At least the Fashionable ones 🙂

They display all kind of designer shoes and clothes… While some of us still don’t have something like this, There is no harm to look at it ❤

I preset you with the most wonderful walk-in closets.

The Museum like closet :O

See through drawers ❤

White decor

…More shoes…

All Black 😀

Some Hats!!

Chanel Bags ❤


Racks Paradise ❤ ❤ ❤

Soon!! I’ll have my walk-in Paradise ❤


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HUGE Giveaway this Friday!

Love this!!

Fernanda's Choice

two words. white hot  || The 9 Best Outfits We've Seen In A LONG Time via @WhoWhatWear

Hi my beautiful bloggers out there!

To be honest when I started blogging I did it because I have been wanting to write, encourage women all over the world and make them feel you are special and beautiful in your own way.. I have been having so much love that I need to thank all of you for that. So Today I am celebrating my 100th post, reaching the most amount of views since I started blogging and also the fact that I have received the best response from you.

I am doing a Fashion Giveaway for this Friday 29th.

I will be  selecting one of my followers and the only thing you have to do is reblog this post and follow me.

To the winner:

I will be sending the winner an outfit, makeup goodies, accessories and a special mention on my blog so all my followers can…

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This is so wrong! Did somebody hack my WordPress?

I’ve been fairly active on WordPress for the past few days. I’m getting my groove back, feeling good, exploring new blogs and commenting like crazy.

Like most of you, I get notified via e-mail when I get a “like” or comment on one of my posts. I was a bit embarrassed when I got a notification that I had “liked” one of my own posts, but I ignored the e-mail and went about my business. (That business would be a nap.)

A couple of hours later I woke up to a friendly phone call from my ex (we’ve called a cease fire) and I decided to “unlike” my own post, which surely I thought was a mistake.


I liked and quickly unliked my post “This Is Why I’m Crying”.

Wait… No I didn’t, you see, under my gravatar photo was the caption “You’re so vain….you probably think “This Is Why I’m Crying” is about you…”

If you’re confused, so am I, but I think I kind of figured it out. Somebody got access to my WordPress account, changed the caption beneath my gravatar, liked my post and then quickly unliked it.


Why on Earth would somebody do this?

I had to change my password and now I can’t even get onto my blog through my MAC–I’m writing this from my phone.

A call for help! Can somebody please check out mot gravatar photo and see if that dumb caption is still there? I can’t do that from my phone. I only hope I didn’t lose a year’s worth of unfinished drafts.


Thanks to anyone who can help me figure out how to sign back on through the web and not the app and a pox on you hacker!!

Boo! Hiss!

Until next time,


Update: as I went to publish this, it seems that all of my categories have disappeared! I hope it’s just a glitch!

Dear Daddy

Dear Daddy,

It’s been 28 years since I’ve seen or spoken to you, but I wanted to wish you a very happy birthday. I wish you were here so that I can say it to you in person. But you’re not. You died when I was ten. Ten days after your birthday and five days after mine.

It’s Mother’s Day this weekend Daddy. Mommy misses you so much. She’s sick now and Laura takes care of her. You’d be so proud of Laura, Daddy. She works so hard to make sure Mommy is comfortable and safe.

I’m a Mommy too now, Daddy! Oh you would love your granddaughter. She’s smart and pretty and in love with life. Sometimes she asks me where my Daddy is and I tell her “he died when I was a little girl.” Her best friend is a little girl whose own father died this past summer. I like to feel it’s her compassion that brought them together.

I often wonder how my life would be different had you not died so young. You were tough on us girls. I know it’s the Turk in you. I know I wouldn’t have failed math because you were an economic genius. I know I wouldn’t have gotten involved with boys so soon; you would have never allowed that! My life, and the lives if so many others would have taken a different path because one person’s death causes a ripple effect.

It changes everything.

I think about what you would look like now and what kind of grandpa you would be. I wonder if I would have rebelled against your strict attitude towards girls. I was very rebellious, Daddy, but so were you. You were brave and I’m brave too. I’m trying to teach that to my little girl.

I want to go to Turkey to see where you were raised and why you left and never went back. I want, as a Catholic girl (Mommy raised us Catholic after you died) to sit in a beautiful Mosque and try to figure out what made you stop believing in God.

I only have a few memories of you, Daddy, but they’re all wonderful. You loved the beach, photography and bike riding. You’re the one who let go of the back of my bike when the training wheels came off. You were kind and generous with your heart and your home, providing a place for Aunt Margaret and Keith to live when they had nothing.

I miss you, Daddy, and I’m sorry this letter is written three days after your birthday, but with my little girl around, it’s impossible to write!

I want to wish you a very happy 75th birthday and let you know that you’re still alive in all of our hearts and minds and genes and dreams.

I love you.

Your Little Girl,

The Third Born


Bikini Season


Despite the cruel winter that imposed itself on NYC, I found myself daydreaming every single time I pulled on my foul snow boots about Seagate, the tiny enclave that houses a private beach I have frequented for over twenty five years.

I love the beach. I love the hot sun on my body, digging my feet into the sand, taking a dip in the only clean waters you’ll find in Brooklyn. I love the smell of Coppertone and I even love the post beach shower, sand collecting around the drain and all.

I’ve never been shy about my bikinis. The less material, the better. Then again, I had a hot body. I was tanned, toned and tattooed. I got my fair share of stares, and of course, I loved every minute of it!

This upcoming summer, however, scares me. It’s not the predicted brutal heat–I mean, every summer in New York is brutally hot. It’s not that I’m worried about wrinkling up like a raisin from all of my over sun exposure or the threat of skin cancer that every single beauty magazine devotes it’s May and June issues to. It’s something else.

I. Am. So. Skinny.

I’m not using the word “thin” here. I am using skinny because that’s what I’ve become. My cancer caused me to lose five pounds from my 98 pound frame thus making my body the equivalent of a seventh grader. I’m trying really hard to gain back those five pounds, and hopefully an extra five for my ass, but it’s hopeless. I ate four slices of pizza the other night followed by a slice of Brown Betty Apple Cake with homemade whipped cream and the next morning, the scale read the dreaded number: 93.5.

I purchased two new bikinis at J.Crew (in my bikini experience, they have the best bathing suits) in size XS. The tops fit great! They even gave me lift and cleavage, but despite the XS stamped on the tag of the bottoms, I pulled them on and was dejected to realize, they were a tiny bit loose in the ass. No problem, unless I jump into the water and emerge with saggy bikini bottoms. Not sexy. No.

So, I’m working. I can’t work out due to doctor’s orders, but I’m eating and eating and trying to fill out this non existent, bony ass to fill in an extra small bikini bottom.

It’s funny, people are super sensitive about being overweight. I can’t stand being underweight.

Does anyone know where I can find some ironized yeast?

On Being a MILF

I am a MILF. This is not something I discovered or some cult I chose to join, but for the past five years, since I gave birth to my daughter, I’ve been called a MILF by more people I can remember.

I think it’s flattering, being a MILF. I suppose the inference is that most women “let themselves go” after having a child, or even if they were childless, wouldn’t fit the “ILF” factor. I’m happy men still “ILF” me.

After I had my child, my Mom made a huge deal about keeping my figure, putting on my face and staying attractive for my (STILL) husband. Archaic and old school. I love her, but she’s given me some serious vanity issues. I did get my figure back rather quickly and I would never leave the house without my face on–unless I am running to the store and in that case, it is huge sunglasses and lipgloss but I did keep up my appearance after the baby. For me. Not for my Mom and not for my (STILL) husband. I had no idea exercising, lipstick and tight jeans along with my slew of tattoos would catapult me into this new category–MILF.

Being a MILF is fun. I love the smiles and looks I get as I walk with my daughter through the grocery store or on our “Girls Night Out” every Friday when we go out for dinner and a little shopping. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a Plain Jane Mom, but I can’t really imagine, because since adolescence, I haven’t been a Plain Jane. I started wearing winged eyeliner when I was fourteen years old, for Christ-sakes! Coloring my hair when I was fifteen. I didn’t have much money for fashion, but my friends and I swapped and we all made it work.

But I digress. I love men who love that I’m a single Mom and embrace the fact that I can still be hot, still be wild and still be a Mom. I haven’t met one man yet, since I’ve been dating again (it hasn’t been so long, I’ve only been separated for a year and two months, plus the cancer and shit) who has had a problem with my single Mommyhood and if he did, well, it’s curtains for him.

Though being a MILF is fun and flattering; it can be lonely. I have good old friends who went on to become MILFs themselves and I love them, but our kids are one or two years apart and that brings in a whole new type of Mom…The School Mom.

Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe I’m aloof, but I can’t help but feel that the school Moms judge me. They don’t say hi or keep me in the “know” about Mom things like swimming lessons and play dates. They look slightly afraid on a hot day when I drop off my daughter wearing red lipstick and a t-shirt, tattoos blazing. Are they intimidated? Do they think I’m a bad Mom? A “Slut Mom?” (Thanks to A Buick in the land of Lexus for that terminology–maybe I’ll get more views now.) Are they afraid their husbands will be attracted to me? Kind of like I wrote in “Stay Away From My Boyfriend!!”

I’m nice. I’m friendly. I’m creative and helpful and most importantly, I’m a great Mom–MILF or not. I could never change who I am–a girly girl with great genes/jeans to simply blend in with the yoga pants, no makeup, please comb your hair mothers I see everyday. I swear, sometimes I want to arrive at pickup time with my makeup kit and do ambush makeovers like they do on the “Today” show. But, to each her own. I’ll still smile, give a friendly wave and I’ll do it all with my cat eye and tall black boots.

I consider myself lucky to be considered a MILF at all. There are two sides, however, and I wish one of those sides wouldn’t judge a MILF by her cover. Their husbands don’t. (Wink, wink…)