5 Truths for Breastfeeding Moms – NEW for Huffington Post


Fresh content today from me on The Huffington Post ALL about some truths breastfeeding moms may face. Including but not limited to, the painful mid-sleep rollover and milk hubris. Oh and the fact that you can look like you got implants on the way home from Publix!

It’s all in there!

Bellefit Postpartum Girdles and Corsets

Credit Where Credit is Due

My mother likes to take credit…for pretty much everything.

I’m not kidding. Whether you scored a great deal on a pair of shoes, or won the Nobel Peace Prize, it’s somehow linked to her.

And she’s serious.


Not only does she like credit, but she will change the details of stories around to make it so that she is fully responsible for whatever awesomeness you have just achieved. She will also do the reverse and claim she had nothing to do with it if your luck goes south.

Need some examples?

  1. My wedding. The second one to be clear. Because she casually mentioned that we should consider Bourbon Steak in the Turnberry resort in the infancy stages of wedding planning, she loves to point it out every chance she gets that we DID in fact get married there and that the wedding was perfect. Every. Chance. She. Gets. It could be as subtle as someone commenting on a wedding pic and her saying, “Yes the kids got married there. It was my idea.” Or more bravado, like pointing it out while we are on her balcony, you might hear her say something along the lines of, “Ava, see that building over there? That’s where mommy and Jason got married! Isn’t it beautiful? It was all gram’s idea. They wanted to get married in some ugly room at a restaurant in Boca that doesn’t even compare to anything in Aventura. Because Aventura is awesome.”
  2. My house. To be fair, my parents were very involved in the house hunting. It was the first time I was ever purchasing a home and I value their opinion. Plus, Bob is a pro with a contractor background so I needed him to point out any red flags before we pulled the trigger. However, my mom seems to remember it very differently and claims to have actually found the house we currently live in (not the case). And when I point out how that’s not at all what went down, she changes her story a little saying things like…”you were looking at dumps on the other side of town until I convinced you to look in this area.”
  3. My stroller. I have like 32 strollers so I didn’t want another one. My mom was trying to convince me (read: nag me) to get a snap & go while Sienna is still in an infant car seat. I did and it’s definitely a huge help. But, every time I take the thing out of the trunk and my mom is around, she circles it like a shark wearing a shit-eating grin and says, “That’s a nice looking stroller.  I mean really. Who told you to get it?”
  4. Diagnosing any medical condition. Jason calls her Dr. Westfall because she thinks she can diagnose any ailment in anyone. Just tell her your symptoms and she will spit out a disease just like WebMD. If she happens to be right you’ll never hear the end of it and if she’s wrong, she’ll find a way to spin it. Either way, she’s right.
  5. Stellar negotiation skills. She goes on and on about what a good negotiatior she is. Specifically with car leases. Because she has a CRAZY low monthly payment for a luxury car…..because she probably put like $15K down. But that’s neither here nor there. She also uses said negotiation skills at Target where she pretends she’s at a folding table on any corner of NYC haggling over a fake Prada. She gives zero fucks. And 99% of the time they listen to her!

That’s just a small sampling of her credit-mongering, but make so mistake that it’s pretty much part of daily conversation and there is no statute of limitations. She’s still talking about things dating back to when I was 14. And it happens with little things too, like telling me how amazing my hair looks and then swiftly reminding me that she’s the one who always tells me to keep it long. Or complimenting a pair of shoes and reminding me that she was the one who told me to look in Bloomingdale’s to find them. Or commenting on how much better Sienna’s fussiness is ever since I bought new bottles like she told me to. It goes on and on and on.

As much as I tease her and bust her balls, I do have to give credit where credit is due. You see, Arlyne is not just a main character in my blogs. She’s not just accidentally hilarious and totally gangster. She is, undoubtedly, the best fucking mother on the planet. She also happens to be the best mother-in-law and grandmother. And, I fully giver her credit for the following, which is by no means an exhaustive list.

I think one of the most important lessons she’s bestowed on me is to not take shit from anyone and not to let anyone bully you or knock you down. Along this same lines, she is the epitome of a mama bear. She taught me to fiercely protect my young and to destroy anyone who tries to mess with them. This woman will hold a grudge against you for the rest of your life if you even look at either of her children sideways.

She’s also the best cheerleader. She celebrates my successes and kvells, no matter how small. She loves me so hard and I feel it in every fiber of my body. I want my girls to feel that same way about me. She has always gone above and beyond for her kids and spoils the shit out of mine. Ava lives for her and to see the bond they have makes me burst with pride. I know Sienna will feel the same. She’s the fun grandma. The one who teaches you how to make prank phone calls and will use the word “fart” in a game of hangman.

She taught me all the “mensch” things like never showing up to someone’s home for an event/dinner/whatever, without something for them. To always write thank you notes when someone gives a gift. She’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool mom. She’d never be caught dead in a sweater set from Chicco’s or Ann Taylor and rocks a black beater and skinny jeans pretty much every day. She’s probably the reason I don black nail polish and skull & cross bone tanks in the carpool line.

She’s hilarious and doesn’t even understand why we are laughing half the time. The things that come out of her mouth are sometimes hard to mentally prepare for, but also the best. Watching her go through an ugly divorce and surviving breast cancer showed me by example what a fighter looks like. She’ll hug me and let me cry if I’m at a low but in the same breath tell me to get my ass up and remember who I am – the little girl who pushed her way to the front of the group in a dance recital when I was like 4, because I wanted to be front and center.

One of the things I admire most about her is the fact that nobody keeps it realer than her. She tells it like it is and owns who SHE is, no matter what. You can’t rattle her and if she feels under attack she will defend herself, strike back and take you down.

There is nobody on the planet like her and I’m so glad she’s ours. Happy Mother’s Day Mom. We love the shit out of you!



me and mom






NEW Yo! Momma: Navigating the Co-Sleeping Trap

Who’s ready for another collabo with my boys over at Daddy Mind Tricks!?!?

Yo Momma Logo


Welcome to our monthly joint venture we like to call, Yo! Momma. We open up the mailbag to answer the questions from our most faithful readers and bring definitive resolution in the age-old battle of the sexes.

We do so in the only way we know how: with zero filter and 100-percent brutal honesty.

In our last edition, we took on the topic of contributing more around the house and how to avoid looking like a bumbling, stumbling, moronic father figure that a TV sitcom would proudly feature.

In the latest edition collaboration of the best parenting bloggers on the Internet, we’re discussing the idea of co-sleeping and how it can wreak havoc on a couple’s opportunities to enjoy a little sexy time.

You ask. We attempt to answer … and then Rachel from Whine & Cheez(Its) drops some knowledge on your ass to provide the feminine point of view that we all truly need in our lives.

Welcome to another edition of … Yo! Momma.

My wife is all about the co-sleeping with our 13-month old and I’m ready to resume irregularly sexy time stuff. How the hell do I get the kid out of our bed so I can finally have some fun with wifey?


Pete: Welp, this sounds like the perfect chance to get a little creative outside of the bedroom, if you ask me. We don’t have to hit the time machine on sex life and travel back to the days of missionary position only pleasure under the lights before retreating back to our separate beds after an evening of the Donna Reed Show.

Not having enough sex in your own bed at night because your kid is in the way? Turn up the heat on some daytime fun whenever you can get the chance. Hire a babysitter and get it on in a Burger King bathroom like Humpty (Shock-G) from Digital Underground. Ship the kid off to family member for a night. Get a hotel and fuck like rabbits all over some freshened towels.

My point: don’t be afraid to find some creativity in the game of romance.

Now, that being said, why the hell is your toddler still sleeping in your bed and not in his or her own? Handle that. Perhaps a romp or two in your kitchen while the kid is watching Sesame Street in the other room will help unload some stress and provide clarity into how to get this little one doing 10-12 hours nightly in another bed.

Putting first things first, though – have a conference with wifey, get on the same page about the sleep training situation and get out of the hell that is co-sleeping with a toddler … before your little general can no longer stand tall and proud.

Rachel: First of all – back the fuck up. Chances are she’s not co-sleeping because she enjoys that hot furnace of a baby body all up on her, with sporadic kicks to the gut, arms across her face and a general disrespect for personal space. She’s basically at her “personal touch” limit.

Navigating the ever-changing sleeping patterns of an infant/toddler (among all of the other shit) is no joke and can make you feel like you’re taking crazy pills and hallucinating from sleep deprivation. She’s also probably bombarded by those passive-aggressive “sanctimommies” on the regular, about how their little angel was sleeping alone, through the night at 6 days old. That’s always super fun.

Bottom line? She’s fucking exhausted and tending to a child in those first few years leaves little time for rest, and yes even regular sexcapades. She wants to have sex with you, I promise (unless you’re a raging asshole). She’s just trying to figure it all out. Maybe instead of making her feel like all you want is to boot the kid from the bed so you can knock some boots, show some compassion.

Ask her what you can do to help with the transition. Offer to take another feeding. Do things proactively … sink filled with bottles? Clean it. Running low on diapers? Grab them at the store. Show her you are all about the co-parenting thing and that she has a partner, not just a sex-deprived spouse.

Nothing is more of a panty dropper than a partner who’s understanding AND all-in and hands-on with the kid stuff. It will happen. I promise.

Now it’s YOUR turn. Do you have some more questions for our crackpot team of experts? Drop us a line in the comments section, or hit us up on email at DaddyMindTricks [at] gmail.com and maybe we’ll feature your question in the next edition of Yo! Momma.

Girl’s Weekend 2016

Every year around this time, we take a girl’s trip. But this one isn’t filled with shots, debauchery and hangovers. It’s much more wholesome. It involves my main squad, a couple of mice, dogs, and ducks.

It’s the annual Disney trip with my mom and daughter and it’s ALWAYS filled with blog content – mostly because my mother is there. This was a big one because it’s the last one with just the three of us, before I evict another daughter from my uterus and add her to the wolfpack.


The trip always starts the same way – with my mother shoving her selfie-sticked iphone in our faces trying to capture our “road trip” song. We film a few different melodies and then never post any of them because she thinks she’s ugly in all of them and stares at her phone with squinty eyes asking, “Is that what I really effing look like?!?”


Rather than go into a whole narrative of the trip (because that would take DAYS), I’m going to bless you with the highlight reel.

  • Within 5 minutes of entry to the hotel, my mom was already besties with a young, unsuspecting lad at the front desk (Dominic), who had no idea the stuff he’d be comping in 2 days. She already managed to get the $30/day valet fee comped because I’m 7 months pregnant and there was no self-parking (which was true, btdubs).
  • We didn’t wait more than 8 minutes to get keys to our room from Dom, because I’m 7 months pregnant and my mom has “sugar diabetes” (pronounced Wilford Brimley style aka diabeetus).
  • On venturing out to the Boardwalk on night one, a lovely family stopped to offer their photography help when they saw our selfie struggles. When the woman opened her mouth and said “Do y’all need some help?”, my mother, the super sleuth said, “Oh! You’re from Texas?!” (because y’all = Texas). The woman politely responded, complete with the “bless your heart” tone, “Um, no, that would be Mississippi.” Dammit mom, so close!
  • We got ice cream on the way back and after grilling the 16-yr-old serving us about the great no sugar vs. no sugar added debate, my mom got her cone. Only to lose a scoop right there on the counter as she was paying. They felt bad and gave her a redo, however, when my mom was dancing, at the request of my daughter, she did a fancy triple axel move and lost a scoop mid-twirl. I tried not to pee my pants, but it’s hard because I am pregnant. Then her and my daughter did the next logical thing when you drop a scoop – waited patiently for someone to step in it. Oh the life lessons my child gains from these trips.
  • Finally, it was time to retire to our hotel room, but the fun is not over until the fart-noise fiesta. That’s right! It’s become tradition (my daughter’s favorite actually) for her and my mom to make fart noises with their mouths and try to out do each other. I always imagine the people sharing a wall with us, wishing they were overhearing loud hotel sex instead.
  • Because my mom is the poster child for Type A people across the globe, she literally could not take the hotel clock being set to the wrong time and had to right this atrocity before going to sleep. Cut to around 1am when the alarm clock was going off every 20 mins or so (because she’s super tech savvy). And not just going off, but at the loudest volume possible with only static to hear for miles. Every. 20. Minutes. I literally almost ripped it out of the wall, but it was tangled with about 50 other cords behind the nightstand and I had to turn the lights on to figure out how to undo whatever she did.
  • Then it’s on to the character breakfast, where all my kid wants is to see my mom pull Pluto’s tail. This is tricky though because the characters walk around with handlers to thwart these very things, so she has to be sly.
  • We spent the first part of the day at Magic Kingdom where I read on my ipad as they went on rides and were beyond exhausted for part two of the day, at Animal Kingdom. When we got to AK, my mom was not satisfied with our parking spot and made me drive up to the guardhouse to tell the man…yup you guessed it, that I’m 7 months pregnant and she has a broken toe (also true) and can we park any closer? We got waved to the “med lot” which ended up backfiring because it’s too close to the entrance for the tram to pick you up but still a little bit of a walk. Karma, mom. Karma.
  • As soon as we entered the park, my mom marched right over to the first kiosk selling mouse ears and overpriced water to ask if there was any way “someone could drive us to the entrance of the first ride we had a fast pass for because her daughter is 7-months pregnant, she has a broken toe AND sugar diabeetus”. They looked at her with a loss of words expression, “um, no ma’am, we don’t do that”.
  • Back at the hotel, we had already fed my child kid food and went to sit in a steakhouse to have a real meal. My daughter was so fried she fell asleep, in my lap as we were waiting for dessert, so they gave it to us to go and comped it. My mom did the jig – she wasn’t even expecting perks until checkout when she met with Dom again.
  • Repeat paragraph about fart noises.
  • We had our last character breakfast before hitting the road, but not before my mom gave Goofy a piece of her mind for not having a tail she could pull to delight my daughter.


Look how defeated he looks.

It was a trip filled with laughter that could (and will) make you pee your pants and I love the memories my daughter gains from these girl’s trips. Colored memories, but memories nonetheless.

Next year, we’ll roll four deep and begin to corrupt another precious little girl showing her our version of the happiest place on earth.



8 Relatable Things About “Bad Moms”

One of the most talked about/anticipated movies in the carpool line recently is Bad Moms. And for good reason.

We’re used to seeing blockbusters detailing the raucous humor behind a bromance, but let’s be honest, most movies with female leads end up gravitating toward the cheesy side (except Bridesmaids…that was a winner).

Well…all I have to say is that I was lucky enough to see the advanced screening of Bad Moms and it did NOT disappoint. (Also, Dear Mila Kunis, I’m more in love with you now than I was before and that’s A LOT!)


While it’s hilarious and maybe at times a little exaggerated (but seriously, not by much), it’s such a good representation of motherhood on so many levels. The characters range from single mom to working mom to SAHM and there’s literally something everyone can latch on to in all of these women.

After practically peeing my pants  from laughing so hard too many times to count throughout the movie (thanks a lot childbirth), I came up of a list of the most relatable things Bad Moms brings to the table.

1. It’s hard to find real mom friends and you have to weed through some real bullshit personalities (and even get burned) to find them in the end. But it’s worth it when you find your true momsquad.


2. If you’re in a marriage where your husband expects you to do everything for the kids (especially just because you are a SAHM), you better nip that in the bud and level the scales sister.


3. Everyone needs that one inappropriate mom friend with no filter who just does not give a shit.


4. Alpha PTA moms are the worst and can suck the happiness out of any situation.


5. Raising kids is effing hard.


6. All moms need some time away from the kids to let loose once in a while.


7. You never know what is going on behind closed doors – with someone’s kids, in someone’s marriage, with someone’s psyche – so don’t rush to judgement and be kind to one another.


8. As moms, all we can do is the best we can; and your best may not be mine and vice versa.


So do yourself a favor mamas, see this movie as soon as it’s out.

And when you get to the hoodie/sweatshirt scene, if you do not suffocate from laughing uncontrollably, know that something is very wrong with you. Very wrong.





Mother of all Mothers

If you are a regular reader, you know that my mom has a leading role on the blog. She’s like the main character. Whether it’s screenshots of text messages with her, or her ridiculous Facebook posts, or a recap of a typical outing with her, there is NO shortage of material. Most of the time, she doesn’t even think she’s being funny and that’s what makes it hilarious.

You might remember my post about her around Mother’s Day a couple of years ago.

This woman is my rock. We differ in many ways but have striking similarities too. And as I get older, I feel myself turning more into her with each passing day. All of my friends love her and she pretty much puts herself in charge wherever she goes and everybody listens. There might be some eye rolling, but they listen. Mostly because it’s easier. They know she’s not going to give in.

Growing up (and now) she was always super hands-on. She was the quintessential SAHM, but didn’t cook or clean. She ordered in, had a housekeeper, and basically spent all of her energy on us. Schlepping my brother to play basketball in the hood instead of in the confines of a homogeneous all white/jewish boys team. She would saunter in with her long acrylic nails entering 5 minutes before her and give dirty glares to other parents who would yell stuff about my brother. Schlepping me to dance classes and spending ridiculous amounts of money on recital costumes and dance gear. And then years later to cheerleading practice.

She was the mom who would stop at two places for breakfast or lunch because my brother and I wanted different things. If we forgot something at school, she would show up with it…along with a bag from Burger King or McDonalds, which was way better than whatever we brought (we started to “forget” stuff a lot).

She was the mom who would scour stores while we were at school to find the exact shirt or pair of jeans we were pining over.

Our beds were made before the bathroom door closed in the morning.

She served grilled cheese sandwiches (my bad, I guess she did cook) in little baskets with decorative doilies.

If we were sick, there was a tray set up on front of our bed faster than you could blink with tea, toast cut into perfect bite-sized pieces and the remote.

When I lived in Boston, she would bring up a bunch of frozen orders of Chicken and Cheese from Here Comes the Sun, to hold me over until the next time I was down in FL.

And she taught my brother and I the most important life lesson. To ALWAYS have each other’s backs because there is nothing more important than family. And she has always had ours. She still holds grudges to people who wronged either of us, dating back to kindergarten.

As if she wasn’t the most incredible mother, she is also the best and most coolest grandmother on the planet. She does all of the above for my child and more…including teaching her about the lost art of prank phone calls. I’m not joking. She will call (my family only) and pretend to be a Chinese restaurant or pizza delivery. Her and my daughter take turns and she thinks it’s the greatest. She giggles so hard she can barely get the words out and thinks my mother is a creative genius. She also buys her things I would never buy – like fart guns and giant pallets of eye shadow.

This woman would cut her arms off for her children…no really she says that all the time. Like if we ask her to do something she looks at us with that look and then pretends to saw her own arm off with her other hand – insinuating “duh! I would do anything for you”.

If you are on her good side you are golden, and if you’re not, you are effed.

She’s a natural-born fighter who couldn’t even be knocked out with normal doses of anesthesia when she had breast cancer 4 years ago and needed a lumpectomy. The doctor literally came out and said “The amount of drugs I had to give her was ridiculous…she wouldn’t shut up.”

And she taught us to be fighters. Whether it was me pushing my way to the front of the stage at 4 years old because I was behind too many dancers (yup…that happened), or battling bullies and other bullshit in my adult life.

She can’t pronounce any celebrity names correctly, but she can spit lyrics from Tupac and Biggie.

She is simply the best and we are all madly in love with her. Mom, you are the best there is, the OG, my best friend and my ride or die chick. I love you more.


Happy (early) Mother’s Day




I Pity the Fool – NEW From Lifestyle Magazine

Being a mom means being bombarded with TONS of advice. Some good, some bad and some just downright annoying. The worst of it though, is the unsolicited advice.

I have a picky eater, who won’t take medicine, and still wakes up multiple times a night to come and get me to lay with her. And there are always those women who think they are going to save me. They seem to think they have all the answers and will not stop shoving them down my throat.


Please for the love of god, just stop.

My child is never going to let me hide meds in chocolate pudding or applesauce – because she won’t eat those things on a regular day. She’s also not going to stay in her bed because I make a glittery sticker chart. I’m well aware of areas that need to be worked on, but would love a little support instead of passive aggressive “suggestions”. I know i’m not alone!

This is such a hot button topic for me, that it’s what I wrote about in my April Lifestyle Magazine column. BTDubs, That’s me channeling Mr. T…get it?




A Day in the Life of a Momblogger, Told in GIFs

(As seen on Suburban Misfit Mom)

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Some people have a hard time understanding exactly what I do. They can’t wrap their head around the life of a momblogger. Particularly people who spend their time chained to a cubicle, drinking subpar coffee and eating pastries left over from the 9am sales meeting (Been there, done that).

So, I decided to paint a little picture of a day in the life. My life, specifically.

While there was a dramatic shift in my professional life as I abandoned a full-time “real” job (and a steady paycheck) to write/blog full-time, contrary to what some think…I DO actually work. And even amidst the regular interruptions of life, including picking up a sick (or faking sick to be home with mama) child, or dropping off the toy she forgot for fun friday, or picking up drycleaning my husband couldn’t get to, or doing 13 loads of laundry…I manage to churn out A LOT of writing.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and it’s totally true. But you know what gets a point across even more than a picture??? A GIF (Mom, that’s basically a moving picture…because I know she’s going to ask). Those little animated gems pop up everywhere and spread through social media quicker than Paris Hilton’s entire music career.


Truth be told, the life of a momblogger is not very glamorous. At least mine isn’t (am I doing something wrong?!) From getting a child dressed, fed and out to door to getting some form of dinner on the table in the evening, it can be a downright shitshow. But it’s my shitshow.

I can’t be alone, right? Mombloggers, holler if ya hear me!


Who needs an alarm clock when you can have your eyes manually pried open at 6am by your spawn as she simultaneously asks if you’re up?

alarm clock

Then, before I start getting bossed around, I need caffeine or I will lose my shit.


Once I feel human it’s time to get my child, who has a VERY strong mind of her own, dressed for school. P.S. She wears a uniform and still manages to put me through the ringer!


I haven’t even brushed my teeth and I think I might only have one contact lens in, but I need to make lunch, and fast. My daughter is also a picky eater, so if I want her to actually consume her lunch, it needs to be perfect to meet her standards.

idiot sandwich

While she’s contained at the breakfast table, I have 30 seconds to throw something on my body so that the school administrators don’t think I am homeless when I walk her in.

mom dressed

Make it out the door, holding everything, including her backpack. It’s like I somehow sprout extra arms in an instant. And we’re off.


Get back home in time to hop on the treadmill so that the bags of cheezits I had for breakfast, as I’m trying to get everyone else ready, don’t catch up with me.


And now it’s time for me to actually get some writing in.


Oh, but wait…don’t get too comfortable because school just called and my kid is sick and needs to come home.

ugly cry

Get her back. Get refocused. Bang out some blogs. Talk to some advertisers/partners. RSVP to some events. And now we’re finally in a groove.


Until I realize, it’s time to think about dinner. Shit. Can’t we order pizza like we did the last 14 times?


Finally, everyone is fed and I can have a glass of wine


And then folks, we end the day almost exactly as it started, but replace getting out the door with getting a kid into bed and replace the school uniform with PJs.


Then I shove dinner in my mouth. I don’t even fucking care what I’m eating. I just need sustenance.


Finally, it’s bedtime for ME. Which won’t last long because it’s only a matter of time until my child wakes up for the 1st of 5 times throughout the night.


And then, just like clockwork, it’s a new day…but it’s the same shit. It’s like Groundhog Day up in here.

groundhog day

Stay strong fellow mamas…we can do this…I think…

stay strong

You Had Me at Pinot – A Night With OneHope Wine

I love having friends over. My gaggle of girls is like no other and to me there is nothing better than having a girls’ night IN, cracking some wine open, eating and laughing. Actually, I’d rather pop bottles in my home than in some roped off VIP area with chicks wearing tube tops as skirts (that’s so late 80s BTW, I did it and there were called Multiples) at the trendiest club on SoBe.


So when I was contacted by OneHope Wine to have an event at my home, they had me at Pinot (Noir).

Not just because I love wine. Because I totally do. But I LOVE what this company is about. Every bottle you purchase donates proceeds to a different charitable cause (autism, breast cancer, providing clean water, ending hunger, and the list goes on).

So, I know what you’re thinking…the wine probably sucks.

Well, it does NOT. It’s good you guys. As a matter of fact to put it in perspective, I’m committed to red wine like Jax from Vanderpump Rules is committed to being the world’s douchiest douche. (If you’re not watching that show, and like a good train wreck, you are totes missing out by the way). However, their chardonnay was so delicious that for the first time in at least a decade I bought a bottle of white. That’s a BFD for me.

One of my other favorite things about OneHope are the glitter bottles.

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If you like shiny things, and I definitely do, they are GORGEOUS. Like too pretty to open gorgeous. So pretty and with such purpose that they have been featured on Oprah and in Allure.

Alina, from OneHope led us on a little tasting tour, explaining not only the notes of the wines but also about each charity involved.

And, one of the best parts was that 15% of any half cases or cases purchased that evening went to a charity of my choosing. It was a no-brainer for me. I selected Bright Pink for very personal reasons. My mother is a breast cancer survivor and any chance I have to give back to charities that help against the fight of this shitty disease, you better believe I’m going to do it.

My childhood friend, Rotem, also a breast cancer survivor, is an ambassador for Bright Pink and was able to attend, share her story, explain what Bright Pink does…and drink with us 🙂

I couldn’t help but look around the room at many times during the night and be proud. Proud to be having this event with OneHope and proud of all of us for taking time out of our weekends to do something meaningful and amazing.

Thank you to all who came out and supported the important causes OneHope is involved with. Thank you to Alina. Thank you to Rotem. And most of all, thank you to my mama for being the strongest woman I know and coming to support me at an event that started when you are usually in REM sleep (just for the record, it started at 7pm).

I urge you to check out OneHope Wine . What they are doing is pretty damn spectacular.

To order you can visit: www.viaonehope.com/alina-cascante

Peace, Love and OneHope







Hitting the MOTHERlode : New From Lifestyle Magazine

If you are a mom with a child in school, you KNOW the dynamics that school moms bring to the table. Especially when a new school year starts and you pray to god the ones you have grown to love stay in the same class, and the bitchy brown-nosers get another teacher.

Don’t lie – you know you do.

Make no mistake, the first day of school brings mamas anxiety too! I mean, you are stuck with these women for an entire year!

Check out more in my November column for Lifestyle Magazine Boca/Delray! (Page 24)


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If you haven’t tried LEANER CREAMER  yet, you don’t know what you’re missing! Click the link to learn more and purchase!

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