6 Coloring Books That Are REALLY NOT For Our Kids

For quite some time now, I've had an axe to grind with the kiddie product companies. Coloring books. They're all for kids. WTF? I love me the Crayola box of 64 as much as the next kindergartner. It's all about relaxation. Just me, a crayon and a piece of paper, adrift on a sea of tranquility . . . where the most difficult question I have to answer is "should I use forest green or should that tree be more of Mountain Meadow?"

But like the creators of Go the F--k to Sleep came to the rescue of children's book-crazed adults everywhere, finally the coloring book industry has stepped up. Allow me to present to you 6 coloring books that are REALLY NOT FOR KIDS:

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Farmers' Markets Aren't For Old Fogies

In this edition of "you learn something new every day," a piece of advice: next time you visit the farmers' market, take a little kid with you. You'll feel a lot better about yourself.

See, I was starting to get the feeling that I was over the hill. There had to be some mathematical rule whereby they measure your age by the exact proportion of excitement that builds as you contemplate buying "real" tomatoes and broccoli that has no knowledge of the term "freezer-burn."

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Stop Kissing Justin Bieber!

It seems all I do these days is talk about my trip to LA, but when a mom spends her first four-day stint away from her kid, clear across the country, it sticks with you.

And one of the best parts of the trip, frankly, was getting to hang out with some super kick ass women, most of them moms, all of them a lot of fun. But it was Christie, blogger at Average Moms Wear Capes, who "got" me in a way none of the other ladies did. Like me, she's a journalist turned blogger by motherhood. We bonded over asking the question that hits our interview subject right in the gut (in a good way) and over a common sense of humor. It didn't hurt that I'd read her blog before -- with a name like that, how could I NOT?

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Working Mom Guilt: I Get It Now

Call me a hard-nosed bitch, but in the 6 years since my daughter was born, I've been a working mom every step of the way and I had never fallen prey to working mom guilt. Never, that is, until today.

While the mommy wars raged, I've more or less taken comfort in the knowledge that if I weren't a working mom, my kid wouldn't eat. Really. I read pretty much every day on a blog post somewhere that "oh, you could do it if you wanted to" or "you just need to cut out the wants and go with the needs." Folks, I live in the boonies where wages are horribly low. If I didn't work, my kid wouldn't eat. Period. End of story.

That's been enough to get me here. To the summer after her 6th birthday, the summer between kindergarten and first grade.

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My Food Can Shut Up Your Mom

Did you ever have one of those moments when you're feeding your kids, and the Rockwell song starts blaring in your head? You know the one . . . "I always feel like somebody's watching me . . ." Because you never know when the sanctimommies are going to strike.

This is where our parents had it better. They were blissfully unaware of the evils of white bread and high fructose corn syrup, able to dole it out with reckless abandon. In their day, they were giving us better than they got, real treats that their parents couldn't afford. I hold no ill will toward my parents for this. They tried their best to limit us to 100 percent fruit only juice and something green on the plate every day.

But it's left me with an uncanny need to find suitable versions of my favorite foods to share with my daughter.

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Gay Bashing: It Gets Worse Edition

What's worse than general homophobia? No, this isn't a trick question. Think about it.

What could be worse than getting it from inside your own family? It's a common enough occurrence. We wouldn't live in a nation full of self-loathing, suicidal gay teenagers if kids could guarantee that at the very least they'd get support from within the walls of their homes. If families would accept that Lady Gaga is right, kids are "born this way."

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Winner! Rosie Pope's Must Have Beach Bag For Kids

The one thing I love about doing giveaways on Inside Out is that I get to send something to someone who actually WANTS it. That's not always the case when you're picking gifts. Usually you just go in on a wing and a prayer and hope for the best.

But everyone who enters a giveaway actually digs the product -- at least I'm hoping they do? -- and when it comes to the cool towel buddy bags from The Children's Place, they're in good company. Rosie Pope of the show Pregnant in Heels is a fan. And I'm a fan (obviously -- I don't give away stuff here that I don't like).

So, you're wondering who won the bag?

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Mother Nature Hates My Electronic Life

I send the same email weekly these days. "We've got another thunderstorm. I'm unplugging my computer and working on battery, but just in case I disappear, you know what happened."

I sit there in fear that suddenly I will be cut off from the world - and from my work as a remote employee - by another storm meandering through the county, ready to lash out at my house and the electronics therein.

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Is Hiding Suicide the Right Answer?

For a voracious reader I have what some would consider an almost subversive habit. I won't read the "it" book of the moment. The higher it is on the New York Times' bestseller list, the more recommendations I get, the harder I resist.

So forgive me for being behind the times. I just finished Jay Asher's 13 Reasons Why. And I'm well aware that he's already on book number two -- the cover arrived in my email inbox from Barnes & Noble this week, making me salivate. But I'm getting off track.

If you're like me, or one of those people yet to fall prey to the lure of young adult fiction (to which I have to ask . . . what the heck are you waiting for?), a quick summation: a teenage boy opens his mail, and inside is a pile of audiotapes from a classmate who committed suicide two weeks prior. He spends one entire evening listening, following the path that led her to suicide.

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Why the New York Marriage Equality Law is 'Silly'

As if you needed another reminder that creating marriage equality in New York was the right thing to do for our future, here's another one.

On such a momentous day, when her mom was wandering the house on a natural high, it was hard not to include my 6-year-old in the celebrations. "Guess what," I said. OK, maybe I shrieked it? With glee? "Today is a very, very important day. Today we are proud to be New Yorkers because today people can finally marry the people they love."

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New 'Winnie the Pooh' Movie: A Backward Adventure

Confession time. When my bosses sent me out to Los Angeles to see the world premiere of Cars 2 for work, all I could think was Winnie the Pooh.

Confused? I did mention this was a confessional, didn't I? The press junket invite (yes, Disney paid my way y'all -- let's get that disclosure out of the way up front) had a little more on tap than the usual big shebang for the big movie. Yes, we'd get to see Cars 2, walk the red carpet, meet some fabulous stars, but I ignored all that. We would get to see Winnie the Pooh, the new film, a month before it would hit theaters. It was an offer to dive head first back into my childhood. How often do those come along?

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