Milk Is The New Prada

I just wanna post a video- READ: L'occitane

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 02 Dec 2016 02:57:00 +0000

Hi!! And Bye!!! I'm just here to post a video, cause- no words. I love, LOVE teeny tiny things, like samples and j'adore luxury. Enter the L'occitane Christmas Advent Calender- or 'Calendrier de L'Avent', as they call it- and I was so done. With words. So you get 2 videos. And a short clip for the next 24 days of my unboxings. I hope this makes up for my eight month absence, non?
Fashionably yours, ppWatch Me!!!Watch ME!!!

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 07 Mar 2016 17:00:00 +0000

Why are you here?

My late Father could ask that question in a way that would make you debate your very existence on earth. Like for real, Lord, why am I here? You would forget your rehearsed manifesto and acknowledge defeatedly that you most probably had no good reason for being wherever you were, in that moment.

Today, I'm addressing the critics of social media junkies (I happen to be a card carrying member- hello!):

It's been discussed countless times, outright or with disdainful insinuations. What makes social media junkies tick?

We must (be):

Narcissistic
Vain
Self absorbed
Have low self esteem
Need validation from strangers
Have no friends in real life - this made me chuckle
Be ugly- ha!
Have nothing better to do

I won't even debate the above, but let me throw the question back to you, non-social media junkie, that might agree with the above - OR- the proud non social media junkie that eschews posting or commenting or liking any post- but still yet knows a SM junkie's every single move?

Are you a:

Stalker
Hater - ha!
Lonely
Jobless
Pathetic
Cowardly
Not confident
Uncreative
Low self esteem having
Obsessed
Unmotivated
Non innovative
Judgmental
Secret Fan?

I didn't think so. So, again I ask- why are you here?

Don't forget to secretly subscribe before you leave!

*Seriously, when I found this mirror at T.J Maxx, I started looking around for my 'peoples'. We're out there, it's a movement, get into it!

Love your selfie, pp

Why I don't make monkey pancakes.

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 29 Feb 2016 12:00:00 +0000

Or any other fancy shaped pancakes. Or fancy cinderella carriage shaped sandwiches. Or fancy fish and automobile shaped hard boiled eggs.

I mean, I have all the necessary equipment (thanks Williams Sonoma) but in reality, they are such a waste of time, and not to mention, pancake batter. Plus, they never ever turn out how you imagined. 'What IS it???' Three words I never want to hear my kids say, in reference to my food, at least. Ugh.

So, no deep life lessons here. Just thought I'd share why I don't make monkey pancakes anymore.

You're welcome, pp

Video, Vino, Vamps & the Village

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 22 Feb 2016 17:13:00 +0000

The caption above sums up my weekend highlight reel.

Mood.

You see the laughter, the bespoke cocktails, the spread/ hors d'oeuvres. And it was a great time, I'm not denying that- the company was fantastic and we laughed - HARD- way into the night.

Brooklyn misses brooklyn Cocktail

We got together to see a great indie film 'In The Morning' and we had food, wine, cocktails and open and honest dialog. It was super FUN!

What you don't see though, is the 'village' it took to pull this together.
You see, when my first guests arrived, I was still sweaty, in my running clothes. They immediately took over, one rinsed wine glasses, another sliced cheese logs and laid out the crackers and fruit.

Amber had generously volunteered to make the two cocktails for all of us and had brought ALL the supplies needed - she even ran out to get ice, so I wouldn't have to! Jam took over oven duties and made sure everything was heated and cooked through. Montrell served wine. Abra bought a cake. Candice loaded my dishwasher afterwards. Everyone showed up, inspite of their other commitments- work, family emergencies, travel. It was even Lisa's birthday, for crying out loud!

I was able to go upstairs and get ready because these ladies pulled it all together, and looked good doing it too!

So in this post you'll see pictures of my 'highlight reel'. I hope a few of the pictures capture the love and energy that was so strongly present in the room on Saturday, in the form of these ladies. In this 'village'. Good people, good times!

'Surrender' Cocktail

The Vilage

Let's hear it for the village, pp

Love is a numbers game.

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 16 Feb 2016 18:13:00 +0000

I feel like I must preface this post (and perhaps, all future posts,) with this: Most of what I write is 'tongue-in-cheek'. People are serious as a heart attack and as literary as a school teacher these days. I can't write like that. I WON'T write like that. So now, take your critic hat off and enjoy the blog. *grin*

008 days to 007 Bond themed Valentine's day party.

Ugh, 10 times the pressure. Not only do I have to look good for my husband on this 'special day', I also have to look good for random, possibly, 'judgy' strangers at this whole Gala thingy. Great. Meaning terrible, actually, as I have gained a considerable amount of poundage since October last year - since we're doing numbers, 6.7 lbs to be exact - and definitely changed dress sizes- I've gone from a 004 to a 006. Whew, even I'm impressed by my openness in this blog post!

It was between these dresses: Yes, I had narrowed it down to 007 dresses (ironic, no?). I also quizzed at least 004 friends, roughly about 002 times apiece, if they were absolutely, positively, sure, they liked 'x' dress best. And not one friend picked the same dress -ha!- so I was left with 005 choices - including my favorite.

I gamely got it down to 002 choices - one long and semi elegant, the other, short, sequinned and sassy. 'Which says Bond girl more to you?" I asked colleagues, friends and family - anyone who would care to listen, really. Sigh. By the time I had placed the order for the dresses, they only had the long dress in a 4 Petite!! Scroll above for my updated dress size commentary. Of course, now, I had my heart set on wearing the long dress, since it was sort of 'unavailable' to me. It was the worst possible choice; with the low back, I couldn't wear a bra, how much more my much needed spanx!

Friday - 002 days to 007 Bond Party

I decided to give the short, metallic sequinned dress a try. I texted my friend. "I look like an overweight hooker." Her response "Bwhahahahaha!" I know, very helpful friend.

The black dress warranted another text. "I look like a fat sow." More laughter. Smh.
I wouldn't even show my dear husband my stomach. Plus the 4 Petite was way too short. Above my ankles, coupled with a slit, way, way up there. Tacky, tacky, tacky. It was ALL bad, y'all.

This is where having way too many clothes that you probably wear once and never again comes in handy. (Remember the tongue -in-cheek disclaimer up top, now). I had this long, dramatic fishtail skirt that I had only ever worn once - I had bought it in 2008, but it was a size 6 and had been slightly too big, so I'd never worn it again. Well, those extra pounds were good for something, apparently. HIPS!!

I decided to wear the *Yigal Azrouel 4P dress under the Chetta B skirt, and wouldn't you know it? Perfection! People couldn't even tell that it wasn't a dress. And since it was FREEZING that night, I also had a mini shrug, that created a 'cut-out' effect in the back. It came together really well, shockingly. Whew.

The day wouldn't be complete without a smart comment from one of the kids would it, now? So real quick - I went to get my eyes done at MAC- I have never, and probably will never master the smokey eye technique - or eye make-up in general. She gave me a smokey eye with natural looking false lashes. I felt really glam, that is, until Principessa cut me down to size. She literally jumped out of her skin when she saw me. I was like, 'Do you like my make-up?" to which she replied "~~You look creepy~~!". Monkey boy was like, "That's not nice!" and Principessa tried to ease my hurt feelings with a hug and "No, I like it, you just look scary, that's all." Welp. Principessa - 002, Mom- 000.

*Principessa and scary Mom.

*Forgot the most important part - I have stopped buying dresses that I only wear once and forget about. If you attend a lot of events and rarely wear your black tie outfits again (I know I don't), I highly recommend Rent The Runway. It just makes sense. And here is my referral link - you get $20 off.
http://refer.renttherunway.com/x/ASDHKY

Hope you all had a great Valentine's Day! (Shaken not stirred) pp

Losing our Nanny, Finding my Pancake Mojo

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 12 Feb 2016 16:05:00 +0000

Now what do pancakes have to do with losing our nanny? Everything. And, nothing. See, we have always been blessed to have help. Live-in help, for all but one nanny. For ten plus years. Completely spoiled, I know.

But you see, there is a back story to this. In Nigeria, where I was raised, this is normal. Regular people have nannies, house keepers, house maids, cleaners, chauffeurs, cooks and gardeners. It is so common place, that most of 'the help' has their own 'help'. Besides, I work crazy hours and I have quite the commute. This fabulousness was not happening without a nanny. Grin.

One of our previous nannies before this one started making pancakes for dinner and then 'Pancake Thursday' became a thing in our house. Fortunately, our most recent nanny made a mean pancake - well, more like crepes- she is of Francophone origin and that's what she knew how to make, so we rolled with it. So for six years, pancake Thursday was a thing. It worked for me, one less meal to plan; and for her, one less thing to learn to make. Also, for the kids, because, who doesn't love breakfast for dinner? Much less pancakes, right?

But along the way, we lost something. The thrill dissipated, more pancakes were left uneaten. Principessa even declared one day that she hated pancakes. She didn't, but we were all just a little sick of them, with good reason

Nanny leaves after six, yes, SIX years with us. There were tears and feelings of misgiving and real fear. Could I do this? My home had run like a well oiled machine for six years and now I was going to have to take control again. Then again, where was the time???

The first thing I got rid of was 'Pancake Thursdays'. No one missed it, to be honest. I make up the menu as I go, my husband packs them fun, nutritious lunches, the night before. Numero Uno had taken PBJ to school for lunch for years, because, he told the Nanny that was ALL he liked. Of course, she obliged - it was one less thing to think about right? Well, homeboy is eating chicken, cheese and arugula melts on naan bread and LOVING it. I firmly believe that most kids don't really know what they don't like - they just want the familiar.

My point is, I've had to take charge and I'm loving it! Some days it's still cereal and toast, but some days, like today - it was pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes*! I've never seen the kids get dressed so fast to make it to the breakfast table!

Change is good. If I can do it, YOU can do this. I see your nanny and I raise you some pancakes.

*Recipe for Chocolate Chip Pancakes

1. Drive to Giant/grocery store of choice
2. Pick up Krusteaz Pancake mix
3. Drive home
4.Add water to mix
5.Make on griddle

TGIF, pp

When Life Gives You Quinoa, Eat Chicken Wings

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 08 Feb 2016 17:56:00 +0000

Disclaimer:
This is Superbowl related, only because the chicken wings were left over from Superbowl Sunday.

I made this yummy oatmeal-quinoa-strawberry bake for breakfast this morning: Shout out to @YummySpoonfuls on Instagram, she has the best recipes for a family with young kids that is trying to eat organic and as healthy as possible, without compromising the 'yum-factor'.

Numero Uno and Monkey boy have no problem with this dish; the while house smells like an oatmeal cookie - whats not to like? But Numero Uno keeps insisting that somewhere in there, he smells rice. {I was short on time and I did not grind my quinoa. Don't be like PP, grind your quinoa). Principessa however, was not having it. Not for breakfast. Not ever.

We had ten minutes on the clock and so I made my power play as QB of the household. One minute zap in the microwave, chicken wings done. Orange juice while putting on jacket. Banana in the car. Breakfast was served.

I'm guessing I have the Superbowl to thank for this blog post. First since January 2015. Thank you Peyton Manning. 😁

Ain't no thang, pp

The Recipe

1 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup coconut sugar
1/2 cup ground quinoa (I didn't grind mine- refer to post)
1 cup coconut milk
3 eggs
salt, nutmeg, cinnamon
blueberries - I substituted strawberries cos I was out of blueberries

Mix together and bake for 40 mins at 300 degrees. I baked for 30 minutes at 400 degrees. I know - It was almost like I was determined NOT to follow @yummyspoonfuls great recipe. She didn't say grease the pan, but I took the initiative.

Of Bird nests and kids: Life Lessons

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 05 Jan 2015 16:14:00 +0000

Hello, Fashionable ones! :)

Happy New Year! To think that I started this blog almost 7 years to the day - right before my precious second son- fondly referred to as 'Monkey boy' was born.

How apt that this 'lesson' is brought to you courtesy of my smart, inquisitive, old soul little man.

I stumbled upon an empty, teeny tiny birds nest yesterday - it was upside down, on the lawn, in the frigid cold. I decided to bring it in, certain Monkey Bou, my budding scientist and nature boy would be excited. His response was a shrug, and when I asked why he wasn't more excited, he said, "I was- but the moment has passed." LOL! I was taken aback but inspired a little. Milk the moment, for sure, but it is also totally okay to let it go when 'the moment has passed' for you. No need to drum up emotion for anything. He TOLD me!

Reactions from my other kids, equally as cute and totally reflective of their individual personalities:

Numero Uno son (9): "what if the mother comes back to look for the nest? I think you should have left it there.'

Principessa (4): "Aw. I feel sorry for the egg!"

Here is the nest- shot twice - once on island and the other on a white sheet of paoer for contrast. And a third time with a filter. Because, clearly, I have nothing better to do than take pictures of random nests.

Let it go, pp

A year ago (lazy blogger chronicles)

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 22 Dec 2014 16:14:00 +0000

Wrote this post almost a year ago, but it is still so apt, and I think it is SO good, chicken soup for this mom's soul, if you will. Here goes:

It has been awhile, and I am sorry. Have been so busy living life that I forgot to blog about it. Okay, that's only partially true- there's been instagram and gratuitous likes from instant snaps that tell a story sans the words.

But I always return to my first love, writing. This will be short and sweet though, there is life to be lived. :)

So yesterday, while making a gingerbread house with the kids, there was a conversation about abilities or doing some kind of menial work- honestly, I forget right now but I pretty sure it had to do with fixing something.

Monkey boy, my middle son and maybe the most fascinating of my three kids says ' Mom is too beautiful to do that." I burst out laughing but my heart sang a little, I'll admit. Kids are brutally honest and they say what they feel- it doesn't make it factual, but it is how they feel, for whatever that's worth to you. And the Principessa chimed in, "Yes, mommy is sooooo beautiful!". And kissed me on my arm spontaneously. I think I physically started glowing at that point. My eldest, and arguable my most critical child, in his eight year old wisdom said "Well..." and internally I groaned at the impending vibe kill, that I just knew was coming - "Mom is more beautiful than the average woman." Trifecta. My soul was beaming- not out of vanity, but just knowing the the three people I love probably the most in this world thought that of me. I hope hubby was taking notes. :)

I woke up this morning, unruly hair and undereye circles down to my chin, but gosh darn, if I don't feel like Heidi Klum. Beautiful.

Merry Christmas, pp

Kiwi Crate

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 18 Nov 2014 15:28:00 +0000

This is not a sponsored post - but I will sing their praises for free. With three kids, aged 4 through 9, it is a great thing when I can get a quality product that is delivered to my doorstep and actually delivers on what it promises!

First off, getting mail is a big thing for my kids- getting a package mailed to them made me mother of the year! They come in sturdy, nice kiwi green boxes, addressed to the child ( or children) you specify- and get this, you can add on a sinling or sinlings for just $10 exyra. Win-win!

Filled with lots of great activities and quality materials- Fiskar scissors! Elmer glue! The photos below were from our June or July crate - the theme was campfires. They got stuff to make a faux mini campfire, 'marshmellows' and drawstring bags. They also had notepads and stickers for their scavenger hunt. Fun, fun, fun!

Save 25% on your first crate with code CHOOSE. www.kiwicrate.com

With love,

Face Lift

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 17 Nov 2014 18:18:00 +0000

I am back! Missed the whole of 2013 - well almost- and most of 2014. But I am back, with a new look- not for me, silly; for this blog. More about kids, books for kids, clothes for kids, kids shows- yes, full on 'mom blog'. So here we go: a One Direction/Sesame Street video preview in honor of our 'relaunch' :

One Direction teaching viewers the meaning of the letter “U!” Check it out:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Dwm7-aSpxs&list=UUoookXUzPciGrEZEXmh4Jjg

Missed you too, pp :)

The Challenge

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 20:59:00 +0000

52 week money challenge. Are you in? It is essentially a dollar to correspond to each week of the year. As in $1 for week of January 1st and $52 for week of December 31st- and by that last week, you have over $1300 of your own money, saved, stress free.

It is not too late either- we are only in the $14 week, so to catch up, all you need to put in is $76 or so. I know people who are doing this in reverse too, which is BRILLIANT- so they started with putting in $52 at week one, so that come Christmas time, when we are all chasing that paper- lol- all they have to put on is like $2. Oh- and you can't borrow from the money EVER. It doesn't exist until December 31st. Go on, I challenge you!

To all my ballin' pradists out there, you can double or even triple your weekly amount. Big things poppin'.

Wealth not riches,
Pp

A day late, but...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 20:49:00 +0000

Nine years ago, yesterday, this happened. The renewal of our vows, in a beautiful, old quaint castle. It doesn't feel quite like nine years and three kids ago, and some days we both don't know if 'congratulations' or sympathies are in order, but it happened. And we are happy it did.

Happy Anniversary to us,

Pp

Focus

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 19:59:00 +0000

We choose what to focus on. In life, in blogging -wait- blogging IS life. :)
But seriously, I could choose to focus on the things that aren't going so well in my life, but like a skilled photographer ( not yet one), I crop a little, shoot at angles, blur, brighten and remove red eye, and violá! Focus chosen. Is it a form of denial? No, but it is a surefire way to remain sane. Have you ever hung around an incessant whiner or pessimist? I have. And I hated every minute. So focus I must. Click, whir, crop- instagrammed happiness. I find it in everything, and anything, if I look hard enough.

So when I somehow ended up with a spontaneous burst blood vessel in my eye on Friday, I refocused and did my hair. The eye was something that would pass in two weeks and over which I had no control. Funny thing is, people noticed my hair and my smile before they noticed my blood shot eye.

Except of course, Principessa.

Principessa: You scary, mama. Your eye red.

Prada Principal: I know, baby.

Principessa: You chubby.

Um... Principessa - one, Prada - zero

I won't let her break me. Focused.

Pp

Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 13:38:00 +0000

Waking up in Heaven by Crystal McVea ~ a preview.

I met God when I read this book. You know the way most people who have had this experience cannot really put it into words? The joy, the light? Her description was the same, yet different and somehow, I understood exactly what she was trying to say. God jumped right from those pages into my heart, and I felt chills. No fancy writing, no extra righteous testimony- far from it, just raw honesty and truth. I see alot of me in her, minus a few wrong turns and bad choices along the way, but more than that, I recognize the grace of God in both our lives, the guiding hand and presence of God through it all, the wooing, the chasing, the promptings of the Holy spirit, the love and mercy of this great God that neither of us deserves. And if God loved the author that much, then maybe, just maybe he loves us all that much too. If I didn't know this before, I do believe it for a certainty now. He is jealous for me. For us.

I loved this book. Before this book my ultimate goal was to make it to heaven, but sometimes I had secretly wondered if I'd be a tad bit bored there. I can barely take three hour church services anymore- could I really hang with a lifetime of 'church'? But now I get it. God is not just church- God encompasses church, worship, love, fulfillment, joy and all that good stuff. God is not a chore. We have not known pleasure like we will know it when we get there.
I am going to have the best time in heaven and I can hardly wait.

Post Script: this book is unlike any other 'died and went to heaven' tales you have ever read, I promise you. And I have read them ALL. It is so much more than the usual and I can honestly say that it is the most real account I have ever read. It comes out April this year. Get yourself a copy- I urge you.

Check out this video on YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KM_0y_86Ek&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Heaven bound, pp

Full Circle

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 12:57:00 +0000

I was gonna save this post for next month, when the anniversary of the 1 year renewal of our vows would occur and then it would be more fitting. More suited to the occasion, more apt.

Then all of a sudden, I couldn't wait. Or more like, didn't want to wait. Maybe I thought of all the other posts I have sat on, waiting for the perfect timing, that never came. Or the perfect words I had that I totally forgot when the 'perfect time' came, and I thought, "Nah, today is good enough for me."

So, nine years ago, my sister read an excerpt from 'The Velveteen Rabbit' at my ceremony. I love that book, and the excerpt about what it means to be loved and how it feels to be loved. I've always loved the book, even as a child, when my understanding of it was superficial at best. It touched my core.

Now, to see my seven year old reading it, and getting it, albeit on his level? It touches my core. Yes it does. One day he'll get it on the level I get it NOW.

But for today? Well, today is good enough. :)

Be well, pp

Smiling regardless

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 14:13:00 +0000

Yeah, pretty much this. :)

Valentines day

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 20:42:00 +0000

I used to consider myself a romantic. Maybe because I love certain things that are considered 'romantic'. Older and wiser now, I have realized that I just enjoy being treated well. Other than that, I am not particularly romantic. Not celebrating valentine's day is not grounds for divorce at our house. Most times, a card and simple 'Happy valentine's day' will suffice. I often forget our anniversary, and am reminded by my dear hubby. I don't expect (or want) flowers. Or chocolates. Since I kill every plant I've ever been given, and I am more of a chips and salsa girl- no sweet tooth here, sorry.

But treat me well. And let me never have to guess how you feel about me. I am not coy. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I have a terrible poker face. I suck at 'game playing' and giving people the 'silent treatment'. I generally like people, unless you give me a reason not to, then, it's on. :)

On one of my favorite shows on television right now (Scandal), the heroine Olivia Pope, described the kind of love she craved. I am paraphrasing here, so bear with me: "Painful, tortured, complicated, hurtful, love." To which her ex-boyfriend responded , "Love isn't supposed to hurt." Atta boy. I have always maintained that while I might not know what love is, I do know what it is NOT supposed to feel like. You can keep your painful, mixed signal, up and down love. I'll take passion, but this girl is too old not to know where she stands with the one she's in love with. This woman knows that love should make you happy.

In the interest of full disclosure though, I must let you know that I do enjoy and understand a good love triangle, and all the complexities. When I am writing about it, though. Not in my personal life. Or reading about it. (Cue Chris/Rihanna/Karruche saga).

And so below, a random assortment of things that made me happy yesterday, and in the days prior.

Go find your happy, uncomplicated love. Now shoo. Pp :)

My colleague's dunkin donut - she let me photograph it. I know weird- but instagram makes me happy.

Patent leather red pumps and plaid outfit of the day. Red makes me happy. Dressing up does too. :)

Well, you already know this one. 'Happy love' though.

The Principessa makes me 'Laugh Out Loud' happy. Always.

God's love makes me happy and awed all at the same time.

Pizza made with the kids in a heart shape? Do you really have to ask, people? Trader Joes makes me cheese!

Arts and Crafts makes me happy. Creating in general makes me happy.

He makes me happy. Adult time is always a bonus.

Cookie from a co-worker. Random niceties make me melt. :)

Love to love them

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Sat, 09 Feb 2013 17:20:00 +0000

And I love that I now have more time to love them. Sounds extremely cliched, but they are growing up way too fast. And soon, they would have outgrown certain opportunities to make certain memories.

Like, for instance, totally past the naked baby in oversized etsy elf hat pictures- it would be weird, and fodder for pervs. So I took a lower paying gig with a shorter commute. Sure, I'm poor :), but I can actually come home and cook. Or think about Wednesday family game night again. Or read bedtime stories to each kid. Not my condensed mommy-is-dead-on-her feet 9 pm version, or my 'why don't you all read to each other?' suggestions, that the kids are totally not buying, but a leisurely, make all the animal sounds and funny accents kind- lying in bed and cuddling kind. And doing it without Mummy resentment. Why is it always me that has to- insert activity here.

It's no longer a chore. It's a joy. Thank God for time with family. Thank God for heart shaped, handcrafted by kids pizzas. Thank God for Trader Joes pizza dough!

Joyously, pp

Go Ravens!

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 05 Feb 2013 13:22:00 +0000

I've never been a football ( or any other sport for that matter) fan. But these past couple of years- and this year in particular, I've been awakened.
Maybe because I could finally taste it, almost. Just goes to show you, nothing succeeds like success. But to succeed at anything, you must attempt. And maybe fail a couple of times along the way. That's what I'm taking from this years Superbowl win.

Well done, champs. Lombardi in da house! :)

Victory, pp

Life lessons

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 18:01:00 +0000

So today was a crazy day. Worked into the wee hours of the morning on some brief I had to refile. Woke up to near tsunami type winds. Nixed the A.M gym idea immediately. Finally got up, got up at 7.30am and decided that the gym was happening. Ofcourse every school bus driver seemed determined to thwart those plans. Had to do a three miler because I had Monkey boy's parent-teacher conference scheduled for 9am.

Made it to his school at 9.10- hair still dripping, no makeup, jeans and Uggs. Hey, not every day is a Prada day, okay?

At the PT conference, I'm looking over his books and the teacher points out a page where she'd asked him to write out words that sounded like 'such and such'. He had on there 'mackicow' for mexico, 'bufor' for 'before' and 'sex' for well, uh, 'sex'.

Well, my mouth hung open before I sputtered, "Well, he doesn't know what that means...", to which the teacher said "Oh, I think he has an idea." Ha!

So, at his 10.15 am well appointment ( over scheduling, maybe? Um, yeah). I decided to have a chat with MB.

Me: What's sex?
MB: Love
Me: Between who?
MB: Grown ups.
Me:(Heaving sigh of relief). Why not kids?
MB: Because it's inappropriate. ( My heart did a huge flip of pride- school word!). And it's yucky. ( Atta boy!)
Me: Is kissing sex?
MB: Yup.
Me: Who told you about sex?
MB: T.V
Whew. So all his innocence is not lost. And T.V is, as I suspected, the devil. Parental control, an angel of light.

It's alright though. My new motto- 'No sex bufor maxicow.'

MB at doctors. Pre-shots:)

January 20, 2013

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 24 Jan 2013 15:03:00 +0000

Happy Fifth birthday, Monkey boy! I love this lil guy SO much!

Here's to five year old angel-boys, ;)
Pp

All grown up

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 14:49:00 +0000

Or do I mean more childlike. Either way, today, for the first time in years, I made a decision totally unmotivated by fear. I had allowed fear of the unknown to steer my course for so long- I didn't even recognize the emotion anymore. It was disguised as being responsible, being logical, doing the adult thing, the right thing.

Creative types like myself, tend to eschew dreaming. It is a quality that comes naturally to us, so of course we despise it. And so we strive to become the opposite of what we think a dreamer is. A lawyer,, an accountant- hey, look at me, I have a real, serious job, I don't spend my time doodling on notepads, with my head in the clouds. Except we wish we did. And we spend so many years unhappy and unfulfilled- thinking that this is how life is supposed to be. Myth no 1- only dreamers are happy and being happy is irresponsible.

Myth no 2- money is the only currency. You CAN make money doing what you love, but you have got to actually DO it first, no?

I got tired of being driven by money yet not getting rich or enriched. Where does all the money go? Eighty hours, really??? And today, I had an epiphany. I have a choice. I can change location or my position. The heavens will not fall. It will be okay. I give myself permission. It is okay to dream. For someone like me to thrive, it may be the ONLY way.

It feels good. Pp

Word of the day.

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Sat, 12 Jan 2013 14:08:00 +0000

Nuff said. Go on, love on somebody today- in a way that isn't detrimental to self or someone else.

xoxo, pp

Am I too old...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Sat, 05 Jan 2013 19:32:00 +0000

... For these booties? Because my inner 22 year old says "ohemgee, no!!". But my 30 something year old self has her doubts.

I am admittedly fashion forward, never inappropriate, I don't think, and I can and do get away with wearing some of the trendier things that my peers wouldn't. Like rompers, for instance. Or some of my less conservative patterned tights. Some people even consider skinny jeans and uggs, a college fad, but I, mother of three, beg to differ.

But these Jeffrey Campbell 'Litas' in Taupe suede though? They are EVERYTHING to me, right now. They'd be awesome with my skinnies, my flared jeans, maxi A-line skirt, short sweater dress and woolly tights. Yes, I own them in my head. I actually thought they were hideous two years ago, but they've grown on me. And I'm loving all things taupe. And suede. And chunky heeled. Plus, I hear they are very comfy to walk in- and we all know I am the queen of heels. I want. I die. Unless, of course, you tell me that I am too old. :(

(then i will buy them in secret and only wear them when i know i won't be seeing you- ms judgy mcjudgerson :))

Imsogettingthem, pp