The Dirty Mommy Club

So please, if you will, imagine me in this sexy, tight blue flight suit with a slimming waste, unzipped to the base of my heavily padded Victoria Secret extra special make you look 21 push up and in bra. I just washed the suit so there is no spit up or smeared avocado to be found. And the zipper makes for easy access! But I digress.

Hello, I’m Jen, or better known as Heligirl. I have a little girl, Sweetness, who is 2.5 and a little boy, Mr. Man, who just turned 1. I’m in my late 30s, which means I had my kids “later in life” – whatever that means. I really loved being referred to as “advanced maternal age” when I was pregnant. That was doctor code for “Oh my God everything could very well go completely wrong now because you’re over 35. We’d better do a bezillion extra tests, charge you up the ass and scare you half to death.” Just so you know, I got pregnant the first time three months after I turned 35 and both children are just fine. Freaky doctors.

As you may have guessed from my blog name, I am a helicopter pilot. I did it for several years as a career. Funny thing about being a helicopter pilot is it requires a lot of moving around and those first few years you have to live where the road ends. As I moved into my 30s I realized that homeless life wasn’t so much fun anymore and I was really ready to settle down and have that family I always dreamed of. So I moved home, put my journalism degree back to work to get a PR job, met a great man, married and had the kids. I’m still really active in the helicopter industry. That’s really the very short Cliff Notes version. To learn about the full crazy story, please visit my About section on Heligirl. The full ugly truth is there, along with my true feelings about a little place I like to call HelL.A.

Recently, I shared a story on my blog about my attempts to break the cycle of emotional abuse that has run down my mom’s side of the family. One big way I’m doing that is through raising my kids using Positive Discipline – an alternative to punishing children to get them to behave. This was a parenting technique I learned about in my daughter’s mommy and me early preschool we started doing when she was one. Positive Discipline gives us the skills we need to raise our kids to be capable, empathetic, self assured and emotionally healthy (a far cry from my childhood of criticism, hurt and insecurity). I write an an article a week about a different aspect of Positive Discipline and offer lots of resources to folks wanting to learn more. I’ve written about sleep, hitting, transitions, and conflict resolutions, just to name a few.

But it’s not at all serious stuff over at Heligirl. Want to check the integrity of your panty liners? Click over to my Embarenting category. This is embarrassed parenting at its best. See what happened when Sweetness shared her potty training knowledge with Daddy. I also occasionally offer a Friday Funny, which gets us all giggling into the weekend.

Please pop on by and don’t forget to introduce yourself in the comments. This being my first threesome, I might have had a little too much gin and tonic and may not remember you at first. But I’m looking forward to getting to know you and I always visit the blogs of commenters who have them. That’s my favorite part!

Blue skies and cute pilots.

Wow, this is so much nicer than the time that sort-of-cute-in-a-sleazy-way dude from the bar asked me out and then casually mentioned how awesome it would be if his fiance joined us.  But, I'll save that story for another time - maybe on a post about how NOT to impress a girl.  Not that things like that happen to me anymore.  In fact, thinking back, it was quite flattering in a seedy kind of way.


Which is exactly why I was so giddy with excitement when The Dirty Mommy Club came a callin’. At my age, when someone makes this kind of a proposition, you just gotta go for it! So here I am all gussied up in my best sexy jammies (I don’t wear these babies for just anyone you know – the hubby will back me up on that!). I did my hair, got waxed (sorry - no Brazilian for me – I’m not that brave). Then I prettied up my toenails and shoved my Crocs under the sofa. ‘Cause nothing screams tired-out, 30-something Mom like a pair of garden clogs. Okay, okay, so I’m 40. I’m just a little in denial.