The voices of the Wonder Pets

Ever wonder who does the voices of the Wonder Pets? Well, I did. Every time I watch it with Sarina, I mean to Google to find out the ages of the people who do the voices. And now I know:



This is sewious.

Starred review in Publishers Weekly!

This just in:

My Stolen Son
Susan Markowitz with Jenna Glatzer, Berkley, $7.99 (304p) ISBN 978-0-425-23634-5

This poignant memoir tells the painful story of a brutal slaying that captured national attention when it became the basis of the 2007 drama Alpha Dog. In the summer of 2000, Susan Markowitz's 15-year-old son, Nicholas, was kidnapped and murdered by a local drug dealer in revenge for his brother's debts. Nicholas's death, the ensuing trials of his killers, and the international manhunt for a fourth suspect nearly tore his family apart and sent his mother on a decade-long quest for justice and sanity. Markowitz writes with candor about her grief-induced alcoholism and suicide attempts as well as the troubles that shook her family's foundation long before Nicholas's death. Her unflinching honesty makes this a deeply powerful story that will move fans of the film and anyone grieving a loved one's death by homicide or suicide. (Sept.)

Thank you, Publishers Weekly! Thank you, reviewer! This is our first published review of My Stolen Son, and it's thrilling to see that it's a starred review.

Toy Story 3

Fan-flippin'-tastic.

Who else saw it today? I'm dying to have someone to chat with about its fabulousness without spoiling it for everyone who hasn't seen it. I was even accosting people in the parking lot afterwards to ask if they'd just come out of Toy Story 3, too (they hadn't... they saw Marmaduke... WTH?) so I could have someone to gush with.

Suffice it to say that I laughed and cried (QUIT JUDGING ME) and all five of us who went together (ages 3 to 63) loved it.

Safe Sunscreens, According to the Environmental Working Group

I can't believe how much effort I'm putting into finding the perfect sunscreen this year. I want it to be chemical-free, easy to put on (I have a very squirmy little girl who hates standing still for sunscreen application, especially when there's a beach in sight!), and fragrance-free or with just a light scent (because I get migraines).

I consulted the Environmental Working Group's 2010 Cosmetics Safety Database for their sunscreen testing results (they tested more than 400 beach and sport sunscreens and recommend only 39 of them). It was hard tracking down each of the sunscreens online to find reviews and purchasing info, though. Then, once I found each of them, I found mixed reviews on all of them. There were very few with overwhelmingly positive reviews, and every one of them had some down-sides (generally that the non-chemical sunscreens are harder to apply, tacky, and leave your skin white).

Now that I've done my homework, I'll pass the links and summaries onto you in an easy-to-click list so you can save some time.

Here are some of the top beach and sport sunscreens rated by EWG:

All Terrain: Bad reviews-- see for yourself. People say it just doesn't work.

Badger: 4 stars on Amazon. Main complaints are that it's greasy and hard to apply. The link takes you to the unscented version, but there are also scented versions if you do an Amazon search for "Badger suncreen."

California Baby: 4 1/2 stars on Amazon. This is the green tea "aromatherapy" one; you can search Amazon for other types.

Caribbean Solutions: 4 1/2 stars on Amazon. Most of the people who mentioned the scent said it was a nice scent, but one said, "It soaks in fast, but has a bit of an artificial flowery smell to it."

Desert Essence Age Reversal: No reviews yet on Amazon, but I found 8 reviews on Viewpoints, where it rates 4.12 out of 5. One reviewer complains that it burned her eyes.

Episencial: 4 1/2 stars on Amazon, but only 3 reviews, so I checked Drugstore.com and got confused-- the reviews contradict each other, with some saying it's smooth and easy to rub in, and others saying the opposite; and with some saying it's water-resistant and others saying it's not.

Estion: I had a hard time tracking this one down. It seems to be out of stock most places. The link takes you to the SkinCareRx shop, where it's backordered, but has positive reviews.

Jason Sunbrellas: The two reviews on Amazon are positive, except that one reviewer says it stings if it gets in your eyes. The 10 reviews on Drugstore.com are more mixed, repeating the eye-stinging problem, but also saying it's gritty.

La Roche-Posay Anthelios: 3 1/2 stars. Reviewers say it's thick, white, and oily.

Loving Naturals: Very mixed reviews, with many saying it's greasy or oily, and some saying it doesn't work.

Soleo Organics: 3 1/2 stars on Amazon, with the most common complaint being that it's greasy.

ThinkBaby and ThinkSport: They're sold out all over at the moment. Our friends at Zrecs.com give this product a hearty thumbs-up, but as you can see in the comments, not everyone agrees.

TruKid Sunny Days: This is the only one on the list with a 5-star rating on Amazon (8 reviews). Reviewers say that, comparatively speaking,it goes on easily and has a light citrus scent.

UV Natural: Mixed reviews, with the most common complaints about poor performance and stickiness.

Vanicream Sunscreen Sport 4 1/2 stars, with the only real complaint about the fact that it goes on thickly.


For the curious, I ordered TruKid.

Edited to add: And I love it. Goes on easily, the whiteness fades quickly, and it works well. The only downside is cost-- the tube is very small and lasted us less than two weeks for just one little girl. I ordered two more tubes.

Why I'm a Ghostwriter

It's funny-- if you had ever told me that I was going to become a nonfiction ghostwriter and actually LIKE it, well, I would have cocked my eyebrow at you something fierce. I probably would have even said, "Pshaw!" at you. In my school days, I thought the only kind of "fun" writing was fiction writing. And when I began nonfiction writing, it was only because I saw that it had better financial prospects; it's tough to make a living as a writer, period, but really tough to make a living as a fiction writer.

But I did wind up liking nonfiction writing. Getting paid to learn stuff that interested me? What a deal! As I gained more experience, I began getting offers to ghostwrite books. Little did I know at the time that I'd find my calling there.

My line of work has put me in touch with some amazing people, both of the celebrity variety and of the regular ol' phenomenal-person-next-door variety. It seems like no accident that I've written the books I have; each person whose book I've ghostwritten or collaborated on has taught me something at just the right moment.

Jamie Blyth inspired me to expand my boundaries after I overcame panic disorder. At the time, I was pretty content just being able to go out to restaurants and stores again, but he had done some really wild things to conquer his own anxiety disorder-- like flying to Sweden to join a basketball team, even though he didn't know anyone there. Thinking about his story every day made me want to try bigger and bigger things in my own life, such as...

Working with Celine Dion. I smile every time I think of her. The editor who offered me this book assignment was really taking a leap of faith-- I didn't have any big book credits on my resume when I submitted it to her, but she liked my writing style and thought I had heart. She thought Celine and I might like each other, and she was so right. Hanging out with Celine night after night until 3 in the morning, I learned some of my most important adult life lessons. I learned, most of all, that I was happy I never achieved the fame I once sought when I wanted to be a Broadway star. She taught me that I really was meant for just the kind of work I was doing. And I will forever admire her for the way she cares so deeply about people.

Tracy Elliott taught me more about the kind of mother I wanted to be someday, and about the idea that you don't have to be a victim of your circumstances. She was orphaned as a little girl when both of her parents died, and was abused by her uncles, and riddled with addictions as a teen and young adult... but you'd never guess that to meet her now. You can write your own happy endings, I thought.

Along those same lines, you don't have to look very deeply to figure out what I learned from Scott Rigsby. The dude has no legs, and yet he did the Hawaiian Ironman triathlon. The HAWAIIAN flippin' IRONMAN. Do you know how insane that is even with two perfectly good legs?

And then Susan Markowitz, who showed up in my life just as my custody battle began. Her 15-year-old son, Nick, was murdered because of bad blood between his half-brother and a drug dealer named Jesse James Hollywood. Nick was just a pawn. Anytime I start feeling sorry for myself, Susan snaps me right out of that. Nick was her only child.

I feel lucky that my job puts me in contact with people like these, and that I get to know them so well. It enables me to ask the personal questions that you just wouldn't ask someone at a party, but you'd always be curious about. I know how Susan felt when detectives knocked on her door at dawn to say they'd found her son's body. I know how Scott cursed God for taking away his legs. I know things I'll write about, and some things I'll never write about, because they were shared just between us.

In some professions, you're taught not to get too "personally involved" with your clients. I'm lucky that ghostwriting is not one of those professions. As a ghostwriter, part of the joy for me is in crossing that line. It's the middle-of-the-night phone calls and the e-mails about nothing in particular. The Christmas presents, the family visits. If you don't want to be your subject's friend, I'm not sure how you can make readers love him or her either. (Of course, there is the case for the antihero... but still.)

I love the fact that I never know who I'm going to meet next, or whose life story will grip me for the next year. I love the appreciation I get when the subject feels I've gotten it just right. This is what I was meant to do, and I hope to keep doing it for a long time to come.

Badger Basket Doll Crib

At a birthday party she recently attended at a play center, Sarina announced to the group of 2- and 3-year-olds, "Everyone be quiet. I just put my baby to bed."

And so she had... a baby doll in a plastic crib. She'd never shown an interest in "mothering" a doll before, but I was happy to encourage it, and the nice folks at Badger Basket sent me an amazing doll crib for her to try out for this review.

The thing that appealed to me most about this crib is that it's not the typical child's toy-- that is, it's not a brightly-colored plastic monstrosity. Instead, it actually looks sweet and delicate, like a real piece of furniture. It's made of wood and MDF (wood composite) board.

It took me about 20 minutes to assemble, which was not a difficult job, just a bit time-consuming. Getting the mobile strings to hang at the right height was the hardest part (the strings should probably be pre-cut shorter). The crib felt very sturdy when I was through, and I know this is the type of toy that can last through multiple children.

The details on this product are just charming-- the tie-on "bumpers" that look just like real bumpers, the lovely gingham baskets that are actually functional, and the working mobile. Even better, the mobile is wind-up, so it never needs batteries, and the song is a totally non-annoying version of Brahms' Lullaby. The loving attention to detail is apparent even down to the fact that the screws are painted white to blend in with the wood.

It's a strikingly beautiful piece that I'm proud to have in Sarina's room, and it draws compliments whenever someone sees it. The single improvement I'd like to see made is in the mobile attachment. The "vice" that's used to screw the mobile to the crib is detachable and can be placed wherever you want-- which is cool, except that (a) it sticks out about 2 inches beyond the crib, so you can't place the crib flush against a wall on that side, and (b) if you reposition the mobile, it can create little scratches in the paint where it connects to the crib. I'm tempted to just remove the mobile, but it's such a sweet feature.

Sarina was thrilled to find the crib in her room when I presented it to her, and has happily tended to her two baby dolls in it for the past week, positioning them on the pillow and pulling up the little sheet and playing their lullaby.

There's another variation of this doll crib that comes with a canopy, too, and another that comes with bottom cabinets instead of the baskets, and the grandest of all: the round doll crib with a canopy. How beautiful is this?

Part 2: More about the little girl in Marshalls

After sharing the story of what happened when I witnessed child abuse in Marshalls (see my previous post), both here and on other forums, I received some good suggestions. The main suggestions were for me to call CPS and the police anyway, even though it was the following day and I had very little to go on. I decided it was worth the effort.

First, I tried CPS. I told the story, but the worker informed me that they couldn't do anything without some kind of identification. I said that the store should have surveillance video, and she said, "That's the store's private property. We don't have any right to that video unless we get, like, a warrant. You'd have to go to the police. Maybe they could get it."

I asked her what I could do in the future if something like this happened, and she said, "Get the license plate number." (Just like my mom said.)

Next, I called the police's non-emergency number. The officer I spoke with was nice and listened well, and was realistic with me about the chances of this actually getting solved: slim. He told me it would probably go out as an infomation bulletin. But he encouraged me to let an officer come to my house to take a report anyway, because you never know.

So Sarina and I put off our plans that day for a little while and waited. The officer did come over and listened to what happened. He shook his head in sympathy when I described how this girl was left alone and looked appropriately dismayed when I got to the part about the hair-pulling and slapping. But when I asked what would happen next, he said he wasn't sure because it wasn't his precinct. He didn't know if the officers in the next precinct would follow up with the store and try to get the video.

The reactions I've gotten about this story have left me with the strong idea that not many other people would know what to do in a similar situation, though, so I'm going to do my best to compile all the info I've now learned right here.

1. "Don't confront." The police officers I spoke with both advised me not to confront an abusive person. I can't say that I fully agree with that advice, but I understand where it comes from. You don't want to put yourself in harm's way-- but of course, sometimes that means you're leaving a child in harm's way instead. I can't tell you which is worse. What I can say is that the following suggestion seems like a good compromise to me:

2. Engage in sympathetic conversation. This advice comes from the National Committee to Prevent Child Abuse:
Start a conversation with the adult to direct attention away from the child.
For Example:

"She seems to be trying your patience."
"My child sometimes gets upset like that, too."
"Children can really wear you out sometimes. Is there anything I can do to help?"

(See more of their advice here.)

3. Call the police. Not CPS, not anyone else-- if you witness child abuse and it's happening right now, call the police right away. You can call other agencies later, but the police should be the first responders. You can make a report anonymously.

4. Get any kind of ID you can. If you can talk to the parent or child, get whatever you can out of them: their names, the name of their school, where they live, etc. The best thing you can get is a license plate number, so discreetly try to follow them to the parking lot and take a picture with your cell phone and/or write down the license plate number and description of the car.

5. Report the abuse to a manager. If you're in a store, restaurant, or other business, tell a manager what's happening and let him know you've called police. Ask the manager if he can detain or stall the abuser (by pretending there's a problem with a cash register or something, if he doesn't want to tip off what's really happening), lock the doors, record the abuser's credit card or other information, or otherwise assist.

6. Ask others for backup. If you're going to confront the parent, or shield the child, or do anything dangerous, look around you for other people who are also watching the situation. As them if they'll back you up if you try to help the child.

7. After you've called the police, call your state's child abuse hotline or Childhelp USA National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453). Unfortunately, you can't simply trust that the police will "handle it." Some police officers are good; some are bad; some care and some don't. Some have no idea how to handle abuse situations. Make noise with as many agencies as you can once you've made the first police report.

And if you want to see some real-life scenarios played out, check out this amazing show:

http://www.hulu.com/what-would-you-do

That's a link to watch episodes of ABC's "What Would You Do?", a show I'd never seen until this week. It shows actors depicting difficult scenes of abuse, neglect, racism, and other hot-button issues in places like restaurants and streets, then shows how the unsuspecting public reacts. In some cases, bystanders step in to help. In others, they ignore or even make the situation worse. But I can tell you that it brought me to tears every single time a bystander worked up the amazing courage to step in and help a stranger, despite that it meant putting themselves at risk.

If you have other suggestions, please share them in the comments. I'll update this if I get any other solid information. Thank you for reading!

Little girl, I am sorry

When Sarina and I arrived at Marshalls department store tonight and stood on line to return something, there was a bit of a commotion going on at the front registers. A little Spanish girl, 2 1/2, maybe 3 years old, was standing among the customers on line and she was shaking a little bottle of soda. She had a big grin on her face. The cashiers were trying to get her to stop, warning her that if she opened that cap, it was going to explode everywhere. They asked her where her mommy was.

I'm not sure if the girl spoke English, or if she spoke at all yet. But she didn't move, and just kept on grinning and giggling as she shook up that soda. There was some buzz-- where was this girl's mother? A worker from the layaway desk called out, "She's in the Misses department. Since she walked in, she's just let her daughter walk around the store alone."

After another minute or two, one of the workers tracked down the girl's mother. "You have to watch her," the woman said. "She's just running around the whole store. You can't let her do that."

When it came my turn at the returns desk, I appropriately harrumphed and told the cashier how much it bothered me to see neglectful parenting like that. "You'd be amazed," the cashier told me. "We see it here all the time."

Armed with $7.10 in store credit, Sarina and I headed straight for the book aisle, of course. We took our time trying to select just the right thing-- a Disney compilation? A lift-the-flap book? I was halfway through reading her Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late (very cute, by the way) when the little girl appeared next to us. She wanted to hear the story, too. There were just two problems: (a) she was unsupervised again, and (b) she had a big foam rocket in her mouth. I have no idea where this rocket came from, but I assume she didn't bring it in herself.

"Uh-oh," I told her in my cartoony mom-voice. "That doesn't belong in your mouth."

Sarina backed me up. "You're not allowed to chew on that."

But the girl just giggled and smiled at us. I made some silly faces at her, and she laughed hard enough that the rocket fell out of her mouth. She picked it up off the floor and started to put it right back in her mouth, but when I made a move to take it, she instead tossed it into my cart and laughed some more.

"Where is your mommy?" I asked her.

She didn't answer me. She wanted to play. I looked around and didn't see anyone nearby who looked like a potential mother for this girl.

I should have surrendered to her adorableness, but at that moment, I just felt annoyance. Why was I babysitting? I summoned a nearby worker and explained the situation-- that this was the same girl whose mother had already been warned 20 minutes earlier. The worker assured me she'd take care of it, and as we took off for the children's clothing department, I heard the little girl worriedly cry out, "Mommy?"

I told Sarina that it was too bad that the little girl had a mommy who didn't take good care of her.

"But she has nice hair," Sarina said. I got a kick out of that. The girl's hair was dark brown and curly, pulled into a ponytail with tendrils falling out. Her clothes didn't match.

Sarina and I spent about 10 minutes debating which dress looked most like Sleeping Beauty's, and which color tutu was the prettiest, before making our final selections and heading to the register. Just as we got on line, I saw the worker and the little girl making their way up the middle aisle to meet up with the girl's mother, who had been checking out.

Yes, the girl's mother did all of her shopping, stood on a long line, and paid for her items without ever checking on her little girl's whereabouts.

"Mommy!" the girl called. The mother signaled for the girl to follow her out. I couldn't make out what she said, but whatever it was, the girl turned and started to walk in the other direction. And that's when it happened.

The mother grabbed the girl's ponytail, and yanked hard. The girl cried out. The mother dragged her several feet by her ponytail, then slapped her, then picked her up and headed for the door. I stood there dumbfounded.

Call the police, I thought... but a moment later, realized the futility of that idea-- the woman was leaving. She would be in the parking lot in 10 seconds. No way would she still be around by the time police arrived.

What do I do? What in the world do I do?

I looked at the people in line around me. They were all staring. The woman in front of me in line seemed frozen as I was, and the couple behind me were making nasty little comments, but clearly not about to do anything. I wanted to do something. My thoughts raced. Sarina was in the shopping cart with me. I couldn't run off and challenge this woman; I couldn't risk the confrontation. I'm not even sure if I would have risked it if she weren't there, though I'd like to think I would have.

So I did nothing.

"The only thing necessary for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing."

I did nothing.

I stood there for those five or ten seconds or so that it took for the woman to get out the door, mind sifting through a hundred bad ideas and coming up with nothing, knowing that I was failing right then. Knowing that I might be blowing the chance to save this girl's life.

I worked on the book Bullyproof Your Child for Life with Dr. Joel Haber, and one of his key concepts is "good bystanders." Bullies thrive when bystanders stand around failing to act. It makes the victim think that everyone agrees with the bully's actions, and it gives the bully more power-- the bully now knows no one will intervene.

But, dammit, I'm not the type who stands around not intervening. Especially for a little girl, no older than my own, who just almost had the hair yanked off her head by the woman who's supposed to protect her in this world.

Yet I came up with no solution as I watched the mother carry her daughter out the door, crying all the way. That made two of us. The tears welled up in my eyes as I got up to the register and explained to the cashier what we had just seen, hugging my daughter tightly.

I don't know why I felt the need to reassure Sarina, but I did, over and over. "I would never do that to you," I told her.

"I know," she said. "I would never do that to you, either, because I love you."

We were supposed to go straight home from there, but I couldn't. We went to the grocery store next door instead, where I needed to decompress and talk things through with Sarina.

"I feel terrible for that little girl."

"Me too. She has a wicked mother, like Maleficent."

"You're right. What should we have done?" I asked her.

"That mother should be in time out forever."

More hugs. More talking about how I definitely should have done something. Something, but what? We talked about how important it is to stand up for people who need our help. She suggested that next time, we call on the Rescue Rangers, Chip and Dale, who will parachute in and carry the girl to safety. She said that she feels bad that she didn't catch the mother and put her in a big bag so the girl could get away.

I told her that I'm proud that she cares about other people, and that what happened to this girl should never happen to anyone.

"I'm lucky I have you for my mommy," she said. I wanted to soak in this compliment, but right then, I felt like I had let her down even if she didn't realize it. I want to deserve my daughter's pride in me.

We got blueberry pie and assorted comfort foods and headed to my parents' house, where I needed to check in to ask for... reassurance? I think I was looking to be let off the hook, for someone to tell me there's nothing I could have done, even though I knew that was a big cop-out. I thought about how the girl wasn't broken yet... she still laughs, she still smiles. There was hope. I thought about how sad she looked when we walked away. I held Sarina and retrieved our grocery bag... somehow I had forgotten that blueberry pie at the store.

"Don't forget to tell Grandma and Grandpa about that little girl," she told me. As if I could forget. We got inside and I explained.

"Did you get the woman's license plate number?" my mother asked.

I wanted to scream. The thought hadn't even occured to me. Of course that's what I should have done... followed her out to the parking lot and copied down the license plate number.

The main reason I'm sharing this story here is because I'm hoping you'll stop for a moment and think about how you would handle a similar situation. It does nobody any good if we all just freeze in horror. The more I look back now, the more I can see the steps I should have taken.

• I should not have left that little girl, and I should have asked her name.
• When I saw trouble, I should have taken a picture with my camera phone.
• I could have tried asking a manager to lock the door before the woman left so I could call police (that might or might not have worked).
• I should have asked the people around me to act with me.
• And I should have written down that license plate number.

I should have shown that little girl that she was not alone, and that the world isn't so cruel as to ignore the abuse of a child when it's right in our faces.

I have been in this situation once before, when I was just a young teen. I handled it the right way then. I was on a public bus when I saw a parent hit and scream at a child, and I got off at the next stop and called police, telling them the bus number and route. I called anonymously because the woman threatened me on the bus when I glared at her, so I never got to know if my tip actually "worked," but at least then I knew I had done what I could.

This time I don't get that reassurance. I am sorry I failed you, little girl. I hope someone else won't, and soon.





Photo shared on Flickr courtesy of Southworth Sailor.