MamaBlogger365 - Zaftig, the new S-E-X-Y by Shira Adler, Diva Mama

Who doesn’t love the Oscars? If you’re like me, you probably spent some time reading Tweets and Facebook postings before, during and after last Sunday’s Oscar telecast.

My favorite tweet from the post Oscar frenzy: “And the winner is . . . Angelina Jolie’s right leg.” I laughed so hard I seriously almost peed while re-Tweeting.

I know many of us are addicted to the Oscars because it is the highest-rated and best-represented form of true Hollywood glitz. Whether or not you feel the inclusion of the MANY video montages were insipid or inspired, we can all probably agree even the commercials were far better (you go Ellen DeGeneres!) than this year’s much heralded Superbowl ads.

Like most entertainment-oriented Americans, I watch the Oscars to honor creative excellence, but let’s face it, the Oscars are cool, the Oscars are aspirational, the Oscars are seriously sexy.

Even if watched sitting at home curled up in my Victoria’s Secret soft flannel jammies with my favorite dudes, Ben, Jerry and Andy (my honey), I felt sexier just bearing sacred witness to this annual pageantry of accomplishment and glamour.

But one moment that disturbed me and I mean really disturbed me was watching Angelina Jolie stand on stage and stick out her only non-emaciated limb for the sake of showing off her sex appeal.

My first reaction was anger. To me real, healthy women represent Mother Earth, pixie dust and sensuality concurrently and naturally. There was nothing natural about the Angelina that stood awkwardly posed on Oscar night, and I was sadly shocked to see her so, well, unsexy.

My next reaction was of protection – for my daughter. My just 11-year-old adores watching awards shows, namely the Grammy’s and Oscars because she herself is a budding artiste. Kelly Clarkson, Adele and Melissa McCarthy are the kind of artists I want to show off to my daughter. They are real, vulnerable, talented and yes, a tad over weight at times – just like the rest of us.

If I could speak directly to Angelina I’d grab her by her far too bony arms and say...

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BIO: By day Shira Adler is a cantor, spiritual vocalist, certified pastlife regressionist, voice-over artist, producer, performer, writer/blogger and mompreneur and by night... well, she is actually the same person at night though she does admit to wearing fuzzy socks when no one can see her and hiding a secret stash of Mallomars somewhere near her writing desk for those late night pick-me-ups. In, around, and between her various work activities, she is raising two beyond-the-spectrum children as a single mom (though lovingly gives a shout out to her best friend, editor and soulmate whom she considers the bees knees). Is it any wonder her website’s tag line is One Voice Many Paths? Seriously, look up the definition of a multi-tasking Mama and you will find her picture there. But when it comes to living a life of connection, faith and consciousness Shira is the gal to call -- or if you’re fresh out of Mallomars -- she’s always happy to give you one. For more information visit: ShiraAdler.com, read her blog at Diva-Mama.com; Social: Twitter (1DivaMama), Facebook (DivaMama1), Tumblr (not really sure, but the name is cute) and LinkedIn (because doesn’t everyone?).

The Museum Of Motherhood is the first and only facility of its kind, celebrating the “her”story of mothers around the world. We need your help -- please make your tax-deductible contribution today!Visit the Museum of Motherhood, NOW OPEN in NYC - Tues.-Sun., 10:45-6:30.

MamaBlogger365 - Resolving to Remember Potato Chips by Karrie McAllister

My mom has been hobbling around on her bum knee for years. If the weather was colder or if she spent an exceptionally long day chasing after grandkids, it was pretty obvious in the cockeyed shuffle she perfected. But enough had finally been enough, and she recently went in for knee replacement surgery.

The procedure itself went well. Her recovery in the hospital was as it should be, long, painful physical therapy, and mediocre (at best) food. None of this was new to her, because she had her other knee replaced just a few years ago so she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

On her third day in the hospital, I went to visit her for the first time since the operation. I walked in and when our eyes met, I immediately saw that quiver in her chin, that automatic response that somehow keeps our eyes from turning into water faucets. No mother ever wants to break down in front of her children. We instinctively want them to always see us as strong, unbreakable, and the care-givers, not the ones who need the care. Having faced a number of heath hurdles myself in the past year, I know this feeling all too well. But here I was, staring my mom in her watery eyes.

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The Museum Of Motherhood is the first and only facility of its kind, celebrating the “her”story of mothers around the world. We need your help -- please make your tax-deductible contribution today!Visit the Museum of Motherhood, NOW OPEN in NYC - Tues.-Sun., 10:45-6:30.

Photo credit: Crisps In Bowl by Petr Kratochvil

MamaBlogger365 - Sorrow: A Trilogy by Shira Adler, Diva Mama

SORROW has many faces. Sorrow doesnʼt discriminate, nor does it tread lightly. When we speak of sorrow, like a universal code, we know it means trouble; a death, an illness, the loss of a job, betrayal. Sometimes itʼs personal; the loss of self esteem, the onset of depression. Other times itʼs global; think Steve Jobs and the loss of everyoneʼs favorite pioneering tech guru.

In almost every instance we cry when sorrow darkens our doorstep, for the very reason that sorrow makes us sad, and we cry when weʼre sad. I've come to believe the worst sorrow comes when it affects us directly. None of us actually knew Steve Jobs, but Iʼm writing this blog on the computer he invented, today I talked to my daughter on the phone he invented, and before bed tonight my son relaxed using the portable tablet he invented. It doesnʼt get more personal than that.

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