Category Archives: Me

Is anyone home?

So I haven’t blogged in 2 years. 

It was a combination of many reasons.

I felt like it became a job. I stopped enjoying it.

I started blogging 7 years ago because I felt like it was a release- and then it didn’t.

But it’s been two years, and I missed it.

I probably have NO READERS left, and that’s ok too.

So what’s happened in the past two years…

For those who don’t follow me on instagram, or know me personally… we welcomed another daughter in April of 2013.

Her name is Eden and she is our little miracle.

Continue reading

Dysfunction Junction

The phone rings and I wait for it to go to voicemail.

I know it’s her because no one else calls my landline.

I know she’ll try calling again in a few minutes, first my landline, then my cell phone, then my landline again, then my husband’s cell phone.

She doesn’t “get” why her only daughter doesn’t want to speak to her.

It’s been almost 2 years since I moved away from the US. 2 years since I felt free. Free of her, free of my father, free of my brother, free of my dysfuntion.

I grew up in a house of cards.

Always waiting for some shit to fall, and then being blamed for it.

For 20 something years I grew up in a house, a miserable house, a house where the only escape is medication. Xanax, Prozac…

Often times, I say to myself that I’m just being a whiny little bitch. I was never abused, always fed and sheltered, had vacations to Disney world and abroad..  Holidays were celebrated, gifts were in abundance and yet… yet I can only remember the feeling of being an outsider in my own home. Always feeling like something was wrong with me,, because I was different, because I chose to speak up- because I refused to accept the dysfunction. I was always taught that it was my fault. It can’t be that 3 people are wrong, while 1 is right.

I guess I was the dysfunctional one then.

So I kept that locked away for years.

In my psyche it went.. hidden under old books and dreams.

But then my husband joined the picture- and finally I had a witness. A witness to it all. He often stares at me in wonder and says that he doesn’t know how I came out so functional in such a household.

My therapist once told me that she felt bad for the little girl that I was.. always crying out for normalcy. Much smarter than those around her. Not knowing that it’s not her fault.

I can’t be myself with my mother. She doesn’t like the person that I am. A strong willed woman, something she is not. “I don’t like how vocal you are” she said to me this past December while visiting. But mom, this is who I am.. and if after 30 years you can’t accept who I am then it’s now your problem.

The thing is for so many years, I was taught that I shouldn’t be who I was. A girl should be more gentle, less outspoken, less opinionated. Stop acting like a man, you’ll never get married that way…

My mother used to tell me that I should act more like so and so… never just “be yourself, Maya”

My father was hardly ever around. Always working. But it wasnt about the quantity, it was about the quality.

Once I reached a certain age, it’s like he just didn’t give a shit anymore. Threw me into the ocean without a lifeboat. He did his part, I was 18. But no, no he didn’t.

We never shared anything, it was always surface. Not a hug or a kiss. Not a “I’m proud of you”

But I tell myself he just wasnt raised that way.

I was always seeking approval.

approval that I never received.

I still do- To the point where it takes me over. It envelopes me.

And when I do receive some, I don’t believe it.

Here I am, a 30 year old woman and a mother of two, and I am scared to death that my kids will hate me one day.

I look at my beautiful little family, with the most amazing father I could have chosen for my girls and  I fear that they wont answer my calls because just the sound of the ringer will send them into panic attacks.

I can’t be the only one who still harbors so much hate for their childhood so many years later.

I just can’t be the only one.







So, What’s YOUR Number?

 Curvy Girl Guide is launching a new initiative for the New Year: Take Back Your Number! We all make New Years Resolutions that we don’t usually keep, so why not make one you actually can?

I am lucky to be a part of this campaign, and when I was asked for my number.. it took me a while to come up with one. Yes of course, I want to lose 15 lbs or  go to the gym 3x a week. I want to travel to a new country this year or climb the Alps (well, actually, I don’t want to climb the Alps it’s hard yo).

As I began to think about it, the first person that popped into my mind was my husband.

This man is a Full time student who gets our girls ready in the morning and makes their breakfasts (because mommy has already left for work). This is a man who is there to pick up his girls from school. A man who showers them, feeds them and then packs them all into a car an hour later to pick me up from the train station.

We need to spend more time together.

As a couple.

When you’ve been with someone for 10 years, you fall into a routine.

It’s  normal and natural.

So this year, my number is 12.


I resolve to have a date night with my husband once a month.

Our date nights don’t actually have to consist of the going out to dinner kind. After all, he is a student and money is tight. So a date night can consist of opening up a bottle of wine and watching a movie on our TV while the girls snore away.

It’s important to us as a couple, it’s important to my husband and it’s important to me.

To read more about the CGG “Take Back Your Number” Initiative, click on this link.

So……What’s Your number???

Girls I have a Crush On

Every so often, I have a lady crush.

That doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to move in with them and have their babies, but  I present to you my very eccentric list:

Minka Kelly


 1. Minka Kelly: My crush started when she was on Parenthood- not Friday Night Lights. Really, I tried to watch FNL but couldn’t make it through the second episode. It’s very football-y and I am not athletically inclined at all. Minka is super adorbs. So I either want to be her, or take her on a date and get her pregnant.

Sara Gilbert

2. Sara Gilbert: I find her comedic timing impeccable. There is something so cool about her.


Nicole Richie

3. Nicole Richie: She is my style god. I wish I owned the contents of her closet, but of course, in my size.

4. Lilly Allen: There is something so bad ass about her. She just does not give a f*ck what people have to say about her. Love it.
5. Marisa Tomei: Maybe it’s the Brooklyn thing that we have in common, but she is so feisty! She is an understated beauty and talent.
Who are your girl crushes??

Ooh La La

Dear French Butter,

It’s been  a week since we last touched.

I never knew I could fall in love in an instant.

But from the moment my lips touched your smoothy goodness, I knew you were the one for me.

I promise, I will be back.

I mean, how can I live without you?

You have changed my life.

You complete me.


Your Sweetheart


So that letter pretty much sums up my trip to Paris last week.

I had the most amazing time in the world.

And really- best birthday ever.

I stayed with a good friend who moved to the heart of Paris a few months ago, and my best gay boyfriend made the trip from New York to celebrate with us. The three of us were really great friends since high school and it meant so much that they helped me celebrate the change in zip codes (aka my 30’s).

I could write for hours on end, but I leave you with bullet points and pictures of my trip:

  • The food is amazing. The bread and butter are to die for. Portions are not big so I assume that’s why french women stay so thin.
  • Hold on to your pocketbook because there are A LOT of thieves.
  • Get on a night club table and dance once in a while. The younger girls will look at you like “What the hell old lady?” – but do it anyway. You will feel like Madonna (esp if you are drunk)
  • Never EVER mix wine and hard liquor. I mean, yes I should know this by now- but since I don’t actually drink I was caught off guard by the puke o-rama birthday night which had me clutching a bucket while I prayed to G-D to let me live.
  • Always appreciate friends who hold your hair as you puke and then clean up the floor
  • Never give a new mother parenting advice. They secretly  hate it- and I stopped after my first day there.
  • Walk around Paris by yourself- you get to go where you actually want to go.
  • Have some bubble tea. It’s strange but interesting.
  • Eat everything you see.
  • Wear some good walking shoes.
  • Get lost- you will find the most amazing places.
  • Hangovers are NOT cool when you are 30.
  • Dont rely on the metro to take you to the airport on a monday morning. Rush hour is crazy and the trains are stalled. Guess who missed her flight?
  • Also- there are NO CABS when it rains. Which also happened to be the case on the morning of my flight (which led to the metro)
  • Shopping is super expensive . My kids got m&m’s from Duty Free and were so happy.
  • Some of the best friends that you will ever have you may have already made in high school.
  • Dont be afraid to look like a tourist.







Colors Blur

I wrote this post 2 months ago and I have yet to post…


Last week I took a trip to New York.

It was a business trip, and the first time since the girls were born that I have left them alone with their father for over a week.

Of course, they are super lucky to have an amazing daddy who is just the best father in the world.

Instead of staying at a hotel, I decided to save my company the moolah, and stayed by my parents house.

I thought it was going to be disastrous as my mother and I are like oil and water, but turns out when I’m on my happy pills, she doesn’t really piss me off as often- go figure!

I worked during the days, and spent my evenings and nights with friends who I hadn’t seen since I left in May. It was so so nice.

In addition, I was super lucky as New York was experiencing nice weather! I only took a few shots of my trip…

As an added bonus, one of my BFF’s who you may know as Heather from The Spohrs Are Multiplying decided to come and see me while I was in New York. She did this right before I moved to Israel as well, but I never got a chance to post about it because I had a really bad week after we parted (miscarriage and all)…

May 2010:

I know that I’ve written about it before, but I adore Heather. We have been friends now for 3 years- yet I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. Blogging is what brought us together. We shared common experiences. We laugh, and cried. We’ve been through so much these past few years.

I find it difficult to make friends as I get  older. Most of my close friends I have known since I was either in elementary school or high school. Is it just me or is it just harder for adults to make friends?

I always love hanging out with the Spohr’s because they don’t make me feel like a freak for being a vault of useless facts (when it comes to TV/ Movie/ Celebrity entertainment that is).

On Valentines Day Heather took me to a Champagne Bar- which was such a nice place. I think we had a bit too much champagne. I may or may not have fallen asleep on the bar countertop.

February 2011:


It’s strange when colors blur…

I still find it surreal that I have been blogging for 4 years now this month!! I think it began when I was googling IVF information and stumbled across blogs dealing with the issue. I decided to start my own then. It was a diary. Nothing more. Just a way to sort out my feelings through the rough road I was facing ahead .

Once people started coming to my blog and commenting… it made me feel like I was part of a very loving community. Women who had been through it, wrapped their arms around me with love, kindness and guidance. Some of those very first commenters happen to be some of my very best friends today  “In Real Life”… although I strongly believe that the line between blogger friends/ real life friends has vanished. I spill my guts on this blog. I don’t often do that in person- so an intimacy forms very quickly.

No facade.

I truly believe that if I didn’t have a “mask” on my blog, and people in my day-to-day life knew about my blog (which they don’t, or they don’t know my blog name)- I would have to censor myself and my feelings. Blogging is my therapy. I need it. I write-through good times and bad. There have been some brave bloggers who have ripped their masks off.. and told the world that they blog- I just can’t do that.

It’s crazy to me that I have to hide.

I am so profoundly proud of this space.. of my personal growth these past 4 years.. and yet I can’t share it with those closest to me.

If I did, I would have to hide parts of who I am.. the good, the bad and the terribly ugly.

I can’t be a blogger that paints in pastels.

There’s black in my painting as well.

I pray that I will continue to write and grow in this space…

Poop, Facials and Cops (In that order)

Who would like to hear about my Friday?

Raise your hands.

Friday morning Israeli’s dont work. It’s like a Saturday, but kids actually go to school! (actually, kids are in school 6 days a week here!)

So before sending the girls off to school, I realized something about my daughter N.

She hadn’t pooped in 7 days.

(yeah, it was that kind of day)


This girl with her lack of pooping.. I just don’t know what to do anymore.

She has had poop issues for the past year or so…

But Friday, I knew that Mommy had to take care of it.

I tried suppositories, but they kept coming out.

I knew I had to take her to the Doctor.

So I did.

The doctor and I decided that she needed an enema.

How horrible is that?

Imagine having to hold your baby down while she gets that done?

So needless to say, she pooped.

Boy did she poop.

But they gave me a prescription for something to put in her drink that will help her poop.

I really don’t know what to do anymore.

Anyone have advice in the constipation department?


I need advice!


Later that morning, I remembered that I had an appointment for a facial.

I’m embarrassed to say that I havent had one in 5 years.

Since I haven’t had one done in so long, I didn’t realize that I would be asked to take my shirt off.


Maybe I should have shaved my underarms.

Oh well.. at least they didn’t smell..

(I hoped they didn’t anyway)

The facial was sooo relaxing. She also massaged my shoulders and there was  enya music playing in the background.

She left me alone with a face mask on and told me to close my eyes for 20 minutes, and just relax.

Of course, this is what I did…

Totally Sex-ay

I  felt refreshed and rejuvenated after that.

Ok, my day wasnt going to turn out so bad, I thought to myself.


I did some grocery shopping afterwards and was just about to leave the supermarket’s parking lot, when of course- I GOT PULLED OVER BY A COP.


I knew what I had done.

You see, I currently drive a super old car. Not like nostalgic old. I’m talking 1994. Yeah, cars are insanely expensive here in Israel, so people usually keep cars around for years. They run them into the ground. And since that was the only car we could afford, we bought it.

The driver’s seat belt is a little bit problematic. You try to buckle it, but you need to keep trying over and over again until it clicks.

I had the seatbelt around my arm, and I was going to keep clicking once I got out of the parking lot.

I didn’t make it in time.

The cops saw me.


It was the first time in my life that I have ever been pulled over by the cops.

I tried explaining my predicament to the cop lady.

She wasnt having it.

All she knew was that I was not wearing my seat belt (even though she saw it was around my shoulder).

She asked for my license.

I told her that I didn’t have an israeli one, but I did have an American one and handed it to her.

She took it to her cop car.

Great, what a day.

I sat in my car and called my husband.

He said to calm down- I was literally crying.

I don’t exactly know why I was.

I know it’s not the end of the world, but my perfect driving track record was now soiled forever.

After a few minutes, I got out of the car and started speaking to the cop.

Now mind you, in the US I don’t think you can get out of your car when a cop stops you.

But you can in Israel, and I didn’t know this.

When I started telling the cop my story, and sobbing she felt so badly. You could see it in her eyes.

But she was halfway done with the ticket and she couldn’t cancel it at that point.

She told me that I should have come to her sooner, before she wrote the ticket.

I was standing in the rain, crying.

The real reason that I was crying was because I ALWAYS wear a seatbelt.


When I was 19, a friend of mine drove on the highway (I was in the front passenger seat) and she ended up swerving into an 18 wheeler. We were crushed underneath.

By the grace of G-D, we were saved.

The car was smashed.


We were lucky to be alive.

I was lucky to be alive..

especially considering where I was sitting (these are ACTUAL pictures of my accident):




It took me 5 years to muster up the courage to get a driver’s license.

I was too afraid to drive.

Even today, when a truck is driving in the lane next to me, I hold my breath.

It’s a legitimate fear.

For years, I didn’t even drive on the highway because of trucks. I only now in the past few months have started driving on the highway, because in Israel- you can’t get ANYWHERE without getting on a highway.

And truth be told, my anti anxiety meds have taken the anxiety out of driving for me, which is such a huge relief for me.

So, back to the point: being pulled over because of a seatbelt… was tough.

It’s tough because I know just how important seatbelts are.

I know how easily my story could have ended 10 years ago if I hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt.

 I ended up with a ticket, and 6 points.

Oh poop.

Small Sheep, Big City.

Yesterday was a good day. After a meeting in a small town, we passed by a farm village where there is an AMAZING little cheese shop.


You wouldn’t expect this kind of store on a farm.


They had a coy pond!

The saleswoman kept giving us cheese samples and wine.

It was heaven.

The owner, a quiet man walked in carrying a tray of dates filled with cheese.


It was amazing.

We told him how much we loved his shop, and he told us to come outside with him.

He took us out to the field and  suddenly, he went and opened a gate…

and then this happened:

Are they heading for me?

And they were…

Oh My God.

Send Jesus

 Of course they were headed for me, and of course the brown sheep decided to shove the tie around my shirt INTO its MOUTH!

I was definitely NOT in my comfort zone, because you can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl….


So, guess where I am going next month?


New York!

Not for pleasure per se, but for work- my  boss told me yesterday.

But who the hell cares?

I get to see my friends, my family.

Eat good sushi, and New York pizza!

Shop at Sephora!

Mommy deserves a little trip away.

So all in all- it was an eventful day.

New York, here I come- you wont know what hit you.

One Fine Day

“Mommy, why did you take off that pretty  outfit you had on.. you looked so pretty?”

“Because it made me look fat. I need to lose weight. As of monday, I start my diet”- my mother responded.


Nothing my mother ever put on made her happy with her body’s reflection in the mirror.

She would almost always wear black because she said it made her look “thinnier”

She would (and still does) have a strategically placed pillow on her lap when she sits on the couch.

To hide her thighs.

I realized from a very young age that I should be very body conscience.

I will NEVER forget getting on the scale at the age of 9 and seeing triple digits.

I weighed 100 lbs.

I started to cry hysterically.

I ran to my mother to tell her about my bod’ys growing numbers.

She told me not to worry, and that one day100 lbs will seem like a small number.

I don’t recall her often telling me I needed to lose weight.

I was pleasantly plump.

I went on my first diet when I was 10.

I remember telling my best friend about it, and she was in shock.

I was one of the first girls in my class to even utter that word.

Those were not kid words, those were adult words.

I didn’t exactly know what a diet was. I thought it only meant no junk food.

But that didn’t last long.

What kind of 5th grader can resist snacks?

I couldnt.

And so the weight started to pile on.

I gained an additional 50 lbs by the time I hit 12.

I had developed.

I had growing mountains on my chest.

I hated my body.

I remember having to wear my mother’s clothes sometimes.

 I also remember being called out about that by the most popular girl in class.

I was mortified.

As the years progressed, I gained an additional 40 lbs.

I was overweight.

My BMI was too high.

I had a 14 cm growth in my uterus and I didn’t even know it because I had a fat belly.

I was out of touch with myself.

I hated myself.

I blamed my weight for being the reason why boys would date me but not publicize it.

My weight consumed me.

After the cyst was removed I started losing weight.

I realized what healthy eating was really all about, and the weight melted off.

I was thin.

For the first time in my life, I was a thin adult.

I was 23.

Even though you lose weight, it takes A LOT of time for your mind to catch up to your reflection.

I knew I was thin, but I also told myself that I could have been thinner.

I berated myself.

I never allowed myself to wear a  sleeveless top.

I never allowed myself to wear a bathing suit to the beach, because I had cellulite, or because I still had some extra lbs to drop.

I loved the water and I didn’t let myself go swimming.

I would tell people that it was because I didn’t like the beach, or the water.

But it was a lie.

I didn’t like my body.

Not being able to get pregnant didn’t help my body image issues.

When I finally did become pregnant with my beautiful daughters, it was as if a light switch had turned on inside of me.

I was loving my growing body.

I was creating life… with every pound I had put on.

I gained 60 lbs.

Normal for twin pregnancies, but my girls weren’t full term.

And after they were born it took me a long time to lose most of that weight.

I am still NOWHERE near what I was prior to becoming pregnant.

I still have about 15lbs to lose.

But you know what?


I am, for the first time in my life…fine with my weight.

Fine with my body.

I no longer obsess.

This past summer, I got up one morning… shaved my legs (which is a feat in itself).. put on a SLEEVELESS TOP, a swimsuit underneath and took my daughters to the beach.

And after the beach, we went to the pool….

I wore a bathing suit (albeit one that looked like it came from the 1920’s)- and got in the water with my daughters.

I had NEVER felt so liberated in my life.

Because at the end of the day- at the end of the day I am my daughters role model.

It is I who will help mold their body image.. their body confidence.

And you know what?

I don’t want them to remember a mommy who refused to put on a swimsuit and get in the water…

I want them to remember a mommy who proudly wore her 1920’s swimsuit and had fun with them… body image issues by damned!


Damn You

Dear white hair atop my head,

How dare you?

How dare you keep growing back after I pluck you away?

You come back every.single.time.

I don’t want you here.

I am still young-ish.

I am not  yet 30.

So just because I am a mother now, I get to have you visit?

Mothers=Old= White Hair?

Is that the equation you son of a bitch?

I made a cute side braid this morning.

Well, at least I thought I looked cute.

I sat on the train, got on the bus… walked to work.

Happy with my cuteness.

That is, until I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window.

There you were, sticking straight up on top of my head like Alfalfa, hanging out next to the braid.

Are you kidding me?

Do you know how stupid a  side braid looks with a WHITE HAIR?

Don’t think that I don’t know that you have more buddies hanging out, hiding inside of my hair?

 At least they have the decency to hide.

You were all proud- like, sitting like a king on his throne.

 But I will get you.


or I can come to terms with you and adopt this look:

 Whatever does happen between us hair… good or bad… we’re in this together.

Oh, and I would suggest you sleep with one eye open.

Your Friend,


q: How do you deal with your white hairs?