Gab's Blabs

Time Magazine - What Year is it?

It appears as though shock journalism is alive and well and living beyond the confines of our local news channels. Time Magazine's May cover created quite a stir. Is their readership down? Or did they really want to address attachment parenting? 

I'm more likely to believe the former. 

To publish an article about attachment parenting is on par with questioning birth control ... so 1960s. 

I thought we were past this? Don't we have bigger fish to fry? Isn't the economy in despair? Don't we have troops to bring home? 

Instead, Time decides to stir the pot filled with nothing but water and a few Moms who breastfeed their teenagers. Quite frankly, there is nothing to discuss. 

I know. My latest video, Gab's Sooper Booby Jooce, gives the impression that a Mom should breastfeed and provide enormous amounts of milk for their children. Luckily, I was one of those women. Six months after I stopped breastfeeding my youngest, I still had bottles of frozen milk in the freezer. It came in handy for pink eye and dry skin as well as feeding my little heart-throb.

 

Gabrielle Birchak - Gab's Sooper Booby Jooce

However, I didn't make a big deal about it. My very dear friend, who wanted to breastfeed, simply couldn't do it. It was heart breaking for her. She wanted to nurture her child in the same way. But, through her challenges, she found other ways to nurture and love her child. And she was devoted to nurturing her daughter for years, as she stayed home and lived on a tight budget so she could spend every waking and sleeping moment with her daughter. 

I on the other hand, went back to work. The bottles of milk in the freezer sure didn't make up for the tears I cried knowing that I'd miss the first time my son would crawl or walk. Ultimately, I quit working and opted to spend my afternoons holding and loving my children in lieu of buying a larger house. I am grateful for a husband who understood my intentions.  

Breastfeeding, the last I checked, is a non-issue. Doctors agree that it's beneficial. The most work places now provide private rooms for Moms to pump. Public places don't have a problem with Moms draping a baby blanket over their shoulder to feed their fussy ones. 

Additionally, us Moms understand that each of us are different. It's 2012! Unlike Time Magazine, we've moved past our petty differences. Some can breastfeed, and others can't. It is what it is. We find other ways to love and nurture our children. And most importantly, we don't judge each other based on our lactating skills. We don't judge each other because one Mom opts to feed non-organic over organic. We don't judge each other based on the amount of baby weight we've lost. 

We understand what each of us are going through: colic babies, messy homes, not enough help, too much help, nosy parents or in-laws, hormones. Parenting is the hardest job a person could ever have, and if anybody understands that it is an exhausted parent, covered in throw-up, low on diapers and on their second day without sleep.

The last thing we need is a magazine to antagonize the relationships between parents. Shame on you, Time Magazine. 

If Time Magazine wants to increase their readership, maybe it should move past the 1970s, and address current and topical issues. Like the elections, poverty stricken areas of the country, our economy and (a little self- promotion here) the importance of voting ...

 

With the direction that the magazine is going, it makes me wonder what Time Magazine has in store for June for Father's Day. Will the editors choose articles like "Bringing Home the Bacon," or "Protecting Your Kids from Beatniks?" Or will they resort to a cover like Dad breastfeeding his child with a fake boob?

Dear Tina Fey, what's the rudest question to ask a mom?

Oh, Tina Fey, I love you! I admire you! Next to my children, you are one of my greatest inspirations!

However, regarding your most recent article in The New Yorker, I must disagree. 

In your latest piece cleverly titled, “Confessions of a Juggler,” you write that the rudest question anyone can ask is not, “When do you plan to lose the baby weight?” but rather “How do you juggle it all?”

Um. Seriously?

I don’t know, Tina. For me, I would much rather prefer a question that garners my insight than to have someone insinuate that I have an ass the size of Texas.

Really? That’s an offensive question?

Maybe you need a girls’ night out with my besties. On those rare occasions, when me and my parent friends can align all the planets, part the waters, WALK on water for that matter, and arrange for all of us to meet at one place, at one time without a child or spouse in tow, we get together. And drink. Maybe light up the dubage. But, most importantly, we get together and exchange notes.

On those nights, we ask, “How do you juggle it all?” which is quickly followed up with “… because I suck at it, and I think you’re doing a better job than me. Please give me some insight.”

I think the more painful question that needs to be addressed here isn’t, “How do you juggle it all?” but rather, “Why do you work?”

That one goes right to the heart. That question rips open the jugular. Blood and tears spew. It hurts! It’s more painful than tiny Legos on bare feet or a poorly aimed Nerf dart.

That’s the worst question, ever.

I’m lucky that I gave birth to my two boys when I lived in L.A. When I had my first child, my besties were awesome. They visited. They cooked. They helped and loved me when the hormones did a mind-f*** on me. Some of these women were wives of entertainment execs, some were entertainment execs, some were co-op hippy moms, some were non-moms, and some were even stay-at-home dads (i.e. comedians or musicians). I could always count on them to say “good job” if I managed to shower and put on clean underwear that week.

Then I moved to Northern Virginia (NoVA to the elitists) just outside of D.C. for a brief stint to mock the politicians. In my first week there, I developed a severe case of culture shock. Two women on their morning walk passed by my house and mentioned that another neighbor is a working mom. The response was, “She’s a working mom? She should burn in hell for that.”

Holy Mother of Working Mother Magazine! I couldn’t believe I heard that!

Two weeks later, I had a painful experience (worse than scrapbooking) of listening to another elite NoVA mom go on an insane rant about another working mom, saying that Working Mom’s children will grow up to be drug addicts and rapists.

Clearly, I wasn’t in L.A. anymore. I was living in a culture where women stayed at home, living at their children’s beck and call. On those rare occasions when I’d meet up with another working mom/comedian, we’d get that look in our eyes and blurt out, “How do you juggle it all?” It was so refreshing to exchange tips and pointers. It became our stand-up fodder. It became our bible, our mantra, and our meditations, until we’d meet again on the circuit.

Those moments gave me the strength to stand up to the biting question of “Why do you work?”

At first I would respond with,
-    Because I love to work. Happy mommy, happy baby!
-    Because the extra income affords us the kick-ass bouncers for the birthday parties.
-    How else can I afford a house cleaner?

However, that didn’t quell the stay-at-home moms’ thirst for an argument. So then I would respond,
-    Because I hate scrap-booking.
-    So I can afford organic. 
-    All the moms are doing it now! You should try it; you might learn some social skills.

Finally, during my last year in NoVA, I grew bitter. I would just blurt out,
-    I work because I know it annoys the hell out of you.

The irony, now, is that many of those moms are now working because of our current recession.

 

“Why do you work?” is a question that implies that moms are neglecting their children. It takes the mindset back five decades to an age where men went to work and women stayed home. If a married woman worked it wasn’t out of necessity, it was out of choice. The race for the glass ceiling was on while moms’ humming, “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar,” placed their babies in daycare facilities to stew in their diapers. The horror!

What many stay-at-home moms don’t understand is that it’s a frickin’ community. Whatever way we can raise our kids in a happy, healthy, nurturing environment, we should do it. If Mary works 10 hours a day, while her child is in daycare learning sign language and Mozart, and Kathy pops in and out all day between acting gigs, and Stephanie stays home breast feeding four children simultaneously, if all the babies are happy, what does it matter?! We’re moms. We need to work together and stop scrutinizing each other for working. Good God. It’s not like we’re snorting cocaine and pole dancing in the clubs!

 

Gratefully, I am now back in L.A. and surrounded by my besties who don’t care if I work or not, who give me kudos for being a good mom, and who occasionally congratulate me on bathing. 

Succinctly, Tina, when someone asks you how you juggle it all, he is impressed with you and your ability to be a prominent, successful, and hard working mom. She is probably an insanely busy and tired parent looking for insight, someone like me - who adores you, considers you to be her hero, would give her left titty to hang with you for 15 minutes, and who genuinely believes that you deserve every single accolade you’ve ever won simply because you f***ing rock.

We just want to know how you do all the awesome work you do and still manage to be a great mom (i.e. you remembered to put your daughter’s library book back in her backpack!) Ms. Fey, it is nothing but sincere, it is nothing else but a compliment when we ask you, “How do you juggle it all?”

Just say, “Thank you.”

I NEED YOUR VOTES!!!

HELP ME WIN! Like every frickin’ politician, I NEED YOUR VOTES! We only have between Monday, February 11 and Sunday, February 17, 2008!

Visit the following link, register (login) to vote and then VOTE FOR ME! You can vote up to 14 times in one day!!!

Political Pundit Challenge at http://broadcasting.projectbreakout.com/media_page/entry_id/7 

Then, spread the word!!

The winner of this competition will win enough money to buy teeth whitener, a plunger and a pair of matching shoes. But that's not all! If I win, I will become a field reporter for Project Breakout at the Democratic or Republican National Convention!

So, to go Political Pundit Challenge, register, and then vote for me between Feb. 11 through Feb. 17, and I'll be your best friend .... maybe I'll even buy you a beer ... or a plunger!

Forbes and the Real Fake Steve

Well, it's day three of the Daniel Lyons fallout and I'm still intrigued by it all. I'm fascinated by Daniel Lyons - he's frickin' hilarious. One of my favorites was when FSJ meets Fergie about iTunes and "some promotional stuff."

She kept licking her lollipop and saying, "Wapasennahmanagit? Hmmmm? Wapasennahmanagit?" And I was like, Excuse me, I'm sorry, but could you speak English? Finally her lawyer just told me, "Fergie would like to know what percent of sales she will receive as a royalty." So I said it was all spelled out in the term sheet, she'll get the same as everyone else, it's kind of a standard deal. So she comes over and leans over the table in front of me like some kind of lap dancer, showing me her panties -- and her cottage cheesy cellulite, which I really didn't need to see first thing in the morning -- and looks over her shoulder, holding the lollipop on her tongue, and she goes, in that same baby voice, "Wazzagirlie gonnageeet? Wapasennahmanageeeeet?" I think she actually believed she could get a better deal by showing me her ass or something. I was like, Lady, I gotta go, just deal with my lawyers and good luck with your "career," such as it is. I actually did the finger quote thing.

Anyhoo (as FSJ would say), the element of this whole fall-out that I love the most is Forbes' publisher, Rich Karlgaard's response to the revelation. Karlgaard knew for months about the real identity of FSJ. However, just a year ago he was speculating that FSJ was John Hodgman. When asked if he was mad when Lyons revealed his secret identity, his response was, "Angry? Dan had pulled off one of the great spoofs in journalism. I had a ringside seat to the show. Dan and I laughed for days."   

As FB (Fake Bono) would say, "I fookin' love this."

Why? Because Karlgaard can laugh at the situation. Er, wait, was that the Real Rich Karlgaard or the Fake Rich Karlgaard?

Anyhoo, it takes a bigger person to laugh at themselves and a potentially sticky situation. Karlgaard could have fired Lyons, but he didn't. He rolled with it. Karlgaard knows good PR when he sees it. Clearly he sees, that at this juncture, everyone is laughing - even Bill Gates and ... Steve Jobs' daughter. By laughing at the situation, and capitalizing on it (Lyons is now writing a book about FSJ), Karlgaard is going to see a completely new audience filter in to Forbes.com.

Fookin' ingenious!

Clearly, in this blogging age, we are seeing a shift in public relations. The message? LIGHTEN UP! Don't take yourselves so serious. Whether you are Bill Gates or Bill Smith, Hillary Clinton or Dicky Cheney, if you come across as uptight you WILL become fodder for public mocking.

So, to my fellow PR peers, what have we learned from this lesson? Be honest with yourselves, be honest with your clients and make your clients be honest with the rest of the world.