Urban Girl, Interrupted

International Book Giving Day: Getting Ready

2012-02-12T12:22:00.001-06:00

"I don't know why my heart feels so happy when I read. It just does."

Mason said this to me yesterday as we stood examining his bookcase.

My children began collecting books before their chubby little baby hands could even hold them.

Loving books has always been a part of their lives.

So, I wasn't sure how they'd react when I announced plans to donate a portion of their collections for International Book Giving Day (this Tuesday, February 14th).

They surprised me by jumping on board.

Gigi announced she had "lots and lots". That turned out to be the case. We packed up nearly 50 from her room. Many were board books left over from baby days. Others she felt that she had just read enough.

Mason willingly added more than a dozen in the pile.

International Book Giving Day is supposed to be about giving to others.

Instead, I find it has become its own gift to my family.

I'm watching my children turn from (too often) me!me!me! people into generous little souls. They're imagining who might get their books. They're smiling and they feel good.

Of course, there's the added bonus of decluttering their rooms which has been its own little gift to me.

So, how are you celebrating?

Here are a couple things you can do to join the movement.

First, if you're participating go to International Book Giving Day's website and add your name to the comments of the post I linked to (along with your country). The organizers will add your name to the list (which now includes several others, including Judy Blume).

You can print off and tape to the front of your giveaway book(s) this bookplate from author Clara Vuilliamy featuring characters from her soon-to-be-released book Martha and the Bunny Brothers.

Or this second bookplate designed by author/illustrator Viviane Schwarz. I think I'm using it for the books I'm giving my own kids.

Then, don't forget to share your experience. The best way to let others know how you celebrated is by sharing a photo. This could be a photograph of a child unwrapping a book, a book covertly deposited in a waiting room, a Valentine's Day book exchange, or whatever you're doing. A few ways to share the photos: 1) add a photo to the International Book Giving Day flickr group, 2) post it on International Book Giving Day's facebook page or 3) email a photo to amy dot broadmoore at gmail dot com.

As for us...we're taking our books to a local non-profit or two.

And that makes my heart feel happy.

Duluth boy's vision goes global: International Book Giving Day!

2012-02-08T12:50:00.001-06:00

Let's be frank.
Valentine's Day is kind of a nightmare.
As a single gal, it felt like a wretched excuse for people to flaunt their coupledom.
Now, married, I realize it's a mine field of expectations and potential disappointments.
(Do grocery store flowers count as an appropriate love offering? I vote no.)

So, I'm loving this idea.
It's called International Book Giving Day and it takes place on February 14.
It is all about LOVE; the love of books, the love of reading, and sharing that love with others.
The idea was hatched by a Duluth boy last year who thought it would be an excellent way to give and receive books (since flowers maybe weren't high on his list).
Now, thanks in large part to his blogger mommy, what started as one family's mission has blossomed into a truly global effort.

Delightful Children's Books (written by Duluthian Amy Broadmoore) has partnered with the UK blog Playing by the book to spread the word and blogs around the world are jumping on board.
It's so easy to join the fun.
Here's how to celebrate:
1. Give a book to a friend or relative.

Is there a child in your life who would enjoy receiving a book on Feb. 14th? In lieu of or perhaps in addition to cards or chocolates, choose a good book from a bookstore or public library. Do not underestimate the value of a library book lovingly selected and wrapped in pretty paper. (Just don't forget to return it.)

2. Donate a book.

Wrap a box of children's books your kids have outgrown and get them in the hands of children who could use a book or two. Donate your books to your local second hand store, library, children's hospital or shelter. Alternatively, donate your books to an organization working internationally to get books in the hands of kids.

3. Leave a book in a waiting room or lobby.

Choose a waiting room where kids are often stuck waiting, preferably one with few to no good books available. Deposit your book covertly or overtly in your waiting room of choice. You'll be like the International Book Giving Day Santa...or Cupid. Get your kids involved and show them how much love can be shared with books. (The goal here is to spread the love of reading to kids so choose a fun book, nothing controversial).

You can also like the International Book Giving Day's Facebook page and encourage your friends to participate.

Let's see how many people we can get to commit to giving a book to a child by February 14th!

Winter and Why I May be Smoking Incense...

2012-01-27T18:11:00.001-06:00

Children suck at shoveling.
Fact.
This afternoon, after a fast and not-so-furious snowfall, the kids followed me outside to clear the sidewalks.
Mason lasted all of 3 minutes and kept dumping shovels-full of snow onto the already cleared path behind him.
After I helped clean his mess I turned around to find Gigi flat on the ground making a snow angel. Her shovel had been abandoned.
I believe her 4-year-old brain had no memory of the job I had, just seconds beforehand, given her to do.
So I sent them to clear the porch steps and, working together, they did a dreadful job.

When they ran off to play, I realized I wasn't even a little bit annoyed.
And after a few quiet moments I reached an inner calm that simply can't be found while sweeping or doing laundry.
The rhythm of the scoop/throw/scoop/throw/scoop/throw...maybe it put me in a little trance.
But I perfectly enjoyed it.

Let me back up and say it is well-documented information that I do not like winter.
Sometimes, when it's tragically cold, winter makes me cry.
This annoys people. Especially my husband.
I will never win a Northlander of the Year award (if there is such a thing).
But, maybe this is what all those people are talking about when they discuss the Perfect Duluth Day.
Maybe it's about letting go and enjoying the moments given to you in whatever form they arrive.
I still miss my friends and the fancy restaurants and the shopping and so many other things about the city I left behind.
I may never be a pure Duluthian at heart.
But today I had a Perfect Duluth Day.
And I'll take it.

Worst. shoveler. ever.

For the Love of the Library aka What I'm Reading

2012-01-26T15:51:00.001-06:00

It's not often I cheer when I get a notice in my mail from the city of Duluth.
But this was different.
After several years of reduced hours, the flyer listed the new, expanded hours for the main and two branch libraries.
In other words, our city's books are being released from prison.
In honor of this joyful occasion I thought I'd review some favorites of my recent library finds.
I just think books are better when they're free.

Super Sad True Love Story
Gary Shteyngart

The New York Times named this one of the 10 best books of the year and I agree. It is a sad story, that's true. And it's satire, thereby funny. Yet it's also terrifying. Set in near-future New York, it takes many of the trends in current society to absurd (or not so absurd) conclusions. Consumerism, youth-worship, ageism, and near illiteracy contribute to the collapse of the USA. While Shteyngart's message is brutal and forceful, there's subtlety in his writing. He uses the terms "middle class" and "poor" synonymously and I barely noticed until halfway through. This book will make you want to move to Italy. It is one of the best/most important novels I've read in a long time.

Stories I Only Tell My Friends
Rob Lowe

This book did not change my life. That's probably not the ringing endorsement Rob Lowe was looking for. But I read it in two days. And, honestly, if what he wrote is true then he is the L.A. equivalent of Forrest Gump. This guy was either present for or on the periphery of nearly every major Hollywood moment of the past 30 years. The name-dropping in this book is ridiculous. But somehow it humanizes Lowe, proving how enamored he remains of his celebrity life. It made me like him all the more.

Blue Nights
Joan Didion

As many people know from The Year of Magical Thinking, Didion lost her husband and daughter in a very short span of time. This second memoir on the subject is, in fact, sadder than the first. Blue Nights speaks to aging, grief and loneliness and to increasingly living inside one's own head when one's body can no longer be trusted. Not to be morbid, but I had to google Didion to see if she was still alive. This powerfully written book reads like a goodbye.

The Best American Nonrequired Reading
edited by Dave Eggers

Reading this book was like going to school but having all your classes be awesome. I was/am astounded at the writing talent that fills this book, the variety of story form, and the abilities of a bunch of high school kids to determine each entry's worthiness. My favorites: The Art of the Steal, Le Paris!, and the Best American WiFi Network Names. I'm thrilled I came across this at the library. As the introduction says "no reading should be required...for the true reader."

Time Was Soft There: A Paris Sojourn at Shakespeare & Co.
Jeremy Mercer

I'm a sucker for travel memoirs and probably read too many. But this one is wildly different from those we-bought-a-villa-and-fixed-it-up-and-oh-what-a-bother-with-the-french/italian/spanish-construction-worker. What drew me to this story most...I was there during the short time this author was living at Shakespeare & Co. I have a picture of myself standing outside the bookstore in Paris, reading a book. My travel partner and I were rushed and didn't have time to go in and I remember that bothered me for a good long while afterward. Sometimes a story will make you consider what lies behind the doors you never opened. This did it for me. And it's an excellent read.

Trends I Hope Will Go Away with 2011

2012-01-23T14:22:00.001-06:00

There's an occupational hazard to working at a college that hadn't occurred to me until I first experienced it.
Call it tragic or just plain bad fashion.
It can hit you like a slap in the face.
Believe me, there are fashion decisions happening on a campus near you that would boggle the mind.
We all know the college years are prime time for experimentation (this subject has been thoroughly exhausted by the adult film industry). They're also marked by poor judgement.
The combination, which can inspire genius, also leads to some of the worst mistakes a person will make in his or her lifetime.

This coming from a woman who wore black tights and combat boots with cutoff shorts much of her senior year.
I want to say I'm standing by that look. But...

Of course, bad fashion is not limited to college. Some people insist on making these choices for many years, even after the trend is no longer trendy.
I just want these to go away.

Bedazzled Butt

On a rare night out last summer, Eric and I dined on the patio of a favorite restaurants. We sat near another couple and, as is my way, I was totally checking out the woman. She had a classic look, minimal makeup, blonde hair neatly gathered in a ponytail. She was wearing a crisp white shirt. Everything about her looked polished and I was impressed. A bit later she stood to leave, turned her back to me and nearly blinded me with rhinestones and white stitching contrasting her dark jeans. Can I just say that nothing will take the class out of a classic look faster than a blinged out ass? It's horrible and just shouldn't happen. I would say it especially shouldn't happen on women over 30. But the truth is I don't think it should happen. Period.

The Smurfette

I actually blame Rachel Zoe for this one. And maybe you need to live in a northern climate to understand how stupid it is. Here's the general idea...spend hours coiffing your hair just so, then take a floppy knit sack and plop it on the back of your head. I have seen so many teenagers and young women try to pull off this unfortunate look and every time I think two things. 1) you look like Smurfette and 2) your ears must be cold. So, while Rachel Zoe may be THE fashionista of all time she seems to miss the point that clothing, especially outerwear, is as much about function as it is fashion. This look is played out and silly.

The Pirate Hooker

Thigh-high boots were THE trend of 2010. And I'll admit there's a definite couture quality that lends to their appeal. However, outside the international circle of supermodels there are about two dozen women who can pull these off. Especially when the boots have an extreme heel. Consider a woman...I mean a normal woman...around 5' 4" with thighs that are bigger around than, say, her knees. Not only will the boots nearly reach her crotch, they'll also pull tightly around her thighs. I know a lot of women who want to look sexy but few who want to look like a hooker. So, those women tend to fold the boot down. The result is they look like a pirate. Sadly, while these are tempting, the average woman cannot win with this look. They should be banished back to the runway.

Leggings/Tights as Pants

I originally believed this to be less a trend than a misunderstanding regarding the function of the legging.
That is, until I began googling pictures of leggings as pants. Thousands popped up and I soon discovered a massive internet campaign against the use of leggings as pants. Hollywood loves this look. And, according to a friend who teaches at a fancy college, so do fancy college girls. I will be the first one to admit that the woman pictured above has an award-winning butt. If I had that I might be inclined to show it off, too. But that's what skinny jeans and skinny pants are for. The problem, as I see it, concerns her visible thong, which is just TMI, and the high probability of camel toe. Not sexy. So, leggings while quasi-pants, should still be covered with a shirt or dress in the bits and pieces area. Tights, however, are basically socks for your legs, ass and lady parts.

I could talk about a host of other weird trends of 2011. The head scarf/turban look comes to mind. Or how about the retro Olivia Newton-John inspired headbands? But, most of the truly bizarre stuff never really caught on in Minnesota. So, I can just blissfully proceed as if they never existed.

Relaxation, Interrupted

2012-01-13T17:20:00.000-06:00

Taking a bath is a luxury typically reserved for toddlers, ladies of a certain social standing and, I suppose, Romans.
So, when the opportunity presents itself for such indulgence in my life, I do not enter into it lightly.
Put another way, I take my bathing really seriously.
There are always candles, a book, essential oils (today a cocktail of tea tree and lavender). And sometimes there is chocolate or a glass of wine. Or both.
Add to that a fair amount of the hottest water I can stand and I am ready to slip into relaxation.

Not me

That was the agenda this afternoon.
The kids had a long week and were settling down with a movie. Time was on my side...or so I thought.
The warmth of the tub was just beginning to sink into my skin when I first heard the fiddling of the doorknob.
There stood Gianna who decided she should help me by rubbing water on my shoulders, getting a large cup to pour over my head, petting me and calling me "sweetie" like I was some stray terrier.
As much as I appreciated the effort, it wasn't exactly what I had in mind for my serenity retreat.
I thanked her, kindly, then suggested she give me five minutes to myself.
I don't advise this.
It is quite difficult to explain the concept of five minutes to a 4-year-old.
Most likely it will take more than five minutes to do so.
But, Gigi complied and walked out of the bathroom. Seconds later she opened it again.
"Has it been five minutes?"
No, honey. A little while longer.
"Ok."
Another few seconds and the door opened again.
This happened on repeat for the next minute until I finally told her she MUST go watch the movie.
My lovely little girl shrugged, made an innocently unflattering, but probably accurate, comment about the appearance of my breasts then closed the door behind her.
This might have been enough to stomp the zen out of any mom's spa moment. But I was determined.
I grabbed my book, sunk in and endeavored to relax, dammit.
Then I heard a voice from down the hall.
"Mama? MAAMMMAAA?? IS IT FIVE MINUTES??"
She was sitting on the stairs, waiting me out. Like a stalker.
Several more seconds passed and she opened the door saying she had to go potty.
She didn't.
Turns out it was easier and far less stressful to have her pass me the shampoo and tell me stories while she sat on the floor shooting a water gun over my head.
I'm not saying it was relaxing.
But, did you know that pink giraffes got that way by drinking strawberry milk?
Me, neither.

No time for goodbyes

2012-01-09T19:58:00.001-06:00

I'm walking down a winding country road with my husband, Eric.
An inland lake stretches out on one side, rows of cabins on the other.
Gigantic, crooked trees creak against the wind. The sky is weird.
We come to a rectangular home and peek underneath. A nasty storm has just passed, the rains washing away tons of sandy earth. What had been a crawlspace under this cabin has opened to a craggy, bumpy cave. With flashlights in hand we jump in to explore.

It's a critical moment in which you realize THIS IS A DREAM.
I'm unnaturally fearful of tunnels and caves. However adventurous I may be in other areas of my life, it doesn't extend to tight, dark and structurally questionable spaces.
Still, in this dream I am having a time, jumping from ridge to ridge, climbing up steep ledges, then hoisting myself up and out and on to the next.
It is in one such cave/crawlspace that I see sand begin to fall from above. We make our way for the exit when the entire cabin shifts to the left and collapses. It lays me flat, pressing my belly against the ground. I look up to see Eric in a deeper hole to my right. The sky is breaking through above him and I know he'll get out. I yell to the kids (who are suddenly outside) to call 9-1-1. Then I say I'm sorry.
My final thoughts before I awaken...how can one moment be filled with such joy and delight and the next be so disastrously final?

It's 4am when I open my eyes. It's not going to be a good day.

The typical morning shuffle of readying myself for work and the kids for their schools...is typical.
I hit one morning meeting before settling into my office. And I almost forget the dream and the sinking feeling.
This morning marks the first time I've been on a computer in 3 days. It is nearly lunchtime when I check a coworker's Caring Bridge site. (She's been at the Mayo Clinic for longer than expected and the plan had been to bring her home sometime over the weekend.)
She's not home. According to her son's recent post she's in the "final stages" and family has gathered.
I pick up the phone and call my Aunt Janie. They are, my coworker and Janie, close...partners in crime and ridiculousness.
They have never told me a story of their exploits that didn't make me laugh out loud.
They are neighbors and great friends
I adore this woman for what she means to my aunt.
But it is the moment on the phone when tears run down my face and a sob escapes my throat that I realize this vibrant, laughing, supportive, kind, funny-as-hell woman is my friend, too.
And I will never see her again.
Two hours later she would be gone.
Just weeks after being diagnosed with cancer.
If there is a lesson to find in her life and death it will be different for each of us she touched.
And she touched so very many.
For me, I will try to embrace each friendship as it comes knowing it is a gift not to be wasted.
And I will do my best to live in the moments of joy and delight...until they are no longer.

Resolutions are for suckers

2011-12-28T12:58:00.001-06:00

I'm tired.
Yesterday I took a two hour nap and still went to bed early and slept 8 hours.
And today I tried to figure out how to sneak into my bedroom unseen by my husband and kids to nap again.
It's either narcolepsy or an extreme emotional holiday hangover.
I know I shouldn't do it. But every year I put myself under pathological pressure to get a bazillion things accomplished in a few short weeks. Then Christmas comes and I'm not sure anyone remembers I did any of it. The kids liked their gifts, sure. The cards turned out cute, okay. I baked some really good cookies if I do say so myself.
But, really, was it worth the sleep loss, potential ulcer and untold amounts of hair down the drain?
The holiday deadline has passed. Many things on my list did NOT get done, yet I find myself at a week with almost nothing to accomplish. Which is good because I can't seem to keep my eyes open.
Can I change this? I mean, I'd like to.
But I don't know if a person can resolve to be less neurotic. I'm not sure a person has control over that.
My husband tells me, "Calm down. Don't stress yourself out." He says that a lot.
And it makes me want to staple his lips together.
So, while I might try yoga again I won't resolve to be less stressed.
I have a feeling it would backfire.

But, as 2011 comes to a close, this has me thinking of other resolutions I could make.
Last spring I was determined that I would tolerate winter better.
Now that winter is here I'm also wondering if that is under my control.
Tonight, I helped prepare dinner wearing yoga pants under my pajama pants, a Smartwool shirt, topped by a hoodie, topped by a thick, wool sweater and wool socks under my fuzzy slippers. I also had the hood from the hoodie on my head.
It's a good look.
I know you might think I'm putting on a little of the drama queen...but I'm not.
I mean, yes, I have been known to do that from time to time.
But, tonight it was the only way I could crawl out from under a blanket to get anything done.
So, while I can't will myself to be a cold weather warrior I can resolve to deal with it better mentally.
And that will probably require a tropical vacation.

So, it seems my New Year's resolutions include yoga and a tropical vacation. I'd like to throw in a trip to Europe for good measure. That should just about do it.
Of course, I could contemplate all the ways I can be a better, thinner, more organized, more perfect version of myself.
But first I need to take a nap.
I'm tired.

Because Christmas should be funny, too

2011-12-09T08:11:00.001-06:00

Love and charity, peace and joy. These are the dominant themes of any favorite Christmas story.
Well, almost any. Not mine.
As much as I love this season, and I so do, I spend a good deal of time feeling like a hypocrite.
I try to do right, reading my children Christmas books about giving and goodness. Then, those same darlings sit down to write epic Santa lists even Warren Buffett would be hard-pressed to fulfill.
It must be confusing for them with commercials, product placement and peers all egging them on.
But it doesn't make me feel secure in my parenting.

So, because I need a break, I thought I'd share my favorite Christmas story.
At first blush it doesn't appear to be a Christmas story at all.
Santa's in it, but in a supporting role.
I first read it years ago on a plane and laughed myself sick as I sat alone. Or, more aptly, as I sat next to an increasingly worried stranger.
This was made worse, depending on how you tend to look at things, by the fact that I was sitting in First Class.
(My husband, with his precious metal status, got bumped up. I did not. He gave me his seat.)
You see, I do not have a First Class laugh.
I don't even have a Coach laugh. It's more Cargo Hold than anything.
I hope you enjoy the story even half as much as I did.
*Thank you to my cousin, Deanna, for finding this and sending it to me. And, thank you to David Sedaris for being the funniest writer on Earth.

Gift from the Universe

2011-12-07T12:00:00.000-06:00

I have a dear friend who routinely employs the mantra, "I'm giving it to the universe."
Whether in regards to his future employment, the mortgage on his home or scoring a table at a hot restaurant, he's letting the planets and the stars decide.
This is done without snark or cynicism, but with the complete sincerity of someone who believes in the ultimate goodness of life and the power of letting go.
I love the positivity of this idea. It embodies hope and the spirit of universal oneness.
It's lovely, really.
And I don't buy it for a second.

However, it's a delightful catchphrase. And I'd be lying if I said my best friend, Jane, and I didn't co-opt it for our own personal amusement.
In the past decade I've given many things to the universe.
My Friday morning pimple.
My cable bill.
That extra, unnecessary bottle of wine that always found a way to our table.
Universe, you shouldn't have!

Over time, both Jane and I had children.
And we started offering the universe things like diaper blowouts, "vacations" to waterparks, and husbands who don't unload dishwashers.
I have given Eric to the universe more times than I care to admit.
To be clear, I wanted him back but with a shiny, new attitude.
That never happened.
Naturally, I blame the universe.

But maybe I've been missing the point.
Maybe sometimes the universe, not unlike Santa, is watching.
Take this, for example:
Remember those boots in my What Women Want post about holiday gifts?
I'll refresh your memory.

I've been dying over these for the better part of a year.
They're everything I look for in a boot; impeccably made, highly functional, comfortable and yet completely cool.
Sadly, even when they went on sale, at $50 off, they were still out of reach.
Then something magical happened.
I wrote that post about what women want (which may as well have been titled "What I Want") and included the boots.
The next day Garnet Hill offered a flash sale to its Facebook friends.
25% off AND free shipping...on top of the sale price.
And I could not resist.
Since I always buy myself a Christmas present (so I'm never disappointed...think about it), I am now the overjoyed owner of these gorgeous boots.
They fit like we were made for each other.
Coincidence or kismet?
Only the universe knows for sure.

Hey There, Cupcake! Part I: Beer and Cake

2011-12-06T08:20:00.000-06:00

When the wind turns and the leaves fall I turn to baking.
It comforts me to fill the house with good smells.
It's winter now. I'm desperate for comfort. And I'm baking like crazy.
Christmas cookies are on the horizon.
But, I'm in a cupcake zone. And I'm experimenting.

Today, I decided to work with items I had on hand.
And because sometimes life is good, that included Fitger's Big Boat Oatmeal Stout...and bacon.
Seriously, I'm going there. (I'm also using peanut butter cups for the timid or vegetarian).

A lot of the recipes I found online paired Guinness cupcakes with Bailey's frosting, which sounds delicious.
But, the kids would be eating these so I decided to try peanut butter.

Fitger's is a craft brewery and pub in Duluth, Minnesota. Their Big Boat Oatmeal stout is creamy and chocolatey and rich, but not too rich. I'm no stout expert but I'd say it's less dense than Guinness, which is fine by me.

Fitger's Oatmeal Stout Chocolate Cupcakes
w/ Peanut Butter Buttercream Frosting & Bacon
cupcake recipe adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast
Makes 2 dozen cupcakes
Cupcakes:
1 c. Fitger's Big Boat oatmeal stout
1 c. unsalted butter (2 sticks)
3/4 c. unsweetened cocoa powder
2 c. all purpose flour
2 c. superfine sugar (if you don't have superfine just pulse granulated sugar in food processor)
1 1/2 t. pure vanilla extract
2 1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
2 lg. eggs
2/3 c. sour cream

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line cupcake pan with liners (you'll want those...these are sticky).
Melt butter with beer in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a simmer. Remove from heat then whisk in cocoa powder and sugar until smooth. Set aside to cool.
In a bowl whisk together flour, baking soda and salt.
In a separate mixing bowl, beat eggs, vanilla and sour cream together. Add beer mixture and beat to combine. Add flour mixture and beat briefly just to combine. Using a rubber spatula, scrape sides and bottom of bowl to ensure all dry ingredients are incorporated.
Fill cupcake liners about 3/4 full. Bake 17 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.
Cool in pan for 5 minutes then transfer to cooling rack.

Peanut Butter Buttercream Frosting
1 c. unsalted butter, room temperature
1 c. powdered sugar (or more, to taste)
1/4 t. course salt
1/2 t. vanilla
3/4 c. peanut butter
Beat butter with hand mixer until light and creamy. Add other ingredients and blend until smooth. Use a pastry bag with large tip to frost...or simply spread with knife.

Topping
2 slices of bacon cooked to a crisp, then chopped fine or mini peanut butter cup (cut top chocolate layer off and split in cut in four pieces)
Sprinkle bacon on top of frosting or use peanut butter cup instead.

Official taster. And, yes, I let her help.

Kissy Face

2011-12-04T07:48:00.000-06:00

During a recent hour of make-believe, my daughter, Gigi, suffered three failed relationships.
First, she married "Alex".
It was a short honeymoon. She broke it off, saying she didn't think he was the right one.
She immediately took up with Brandon, who then "randomly broke up" with her.
Colin was her third suitor.
I, for one, was expecting big things.
Then he dumped her, too.
When I questioned why she said, "I don't know. I asked him what I could do to make him happy and he still broke up with me."
Oh. kay.
What am I supposed to do with that?
She's 4.
And I can tell you, without hesitation, she's never heard those words uttered in this house.

This scene illustrates a larger problem developing here.
My kids are interested in the opposite sex.
I mean, really interested.
Gigi's in love with a 9-year-old boy she met at summer day camp (not Alex, Colin or Brandon).
She spent glorious days following him, sitting on his lap and having him carry her around.
I'm pretty sure he thought he was babysitting.

And, twice now, I've caught my son in the garage kissing the neighbor girl.
Last summer, after the second incident, I decided we should talk.
Mason, who was 6 at the time, told me he and this girl pinkie-swore that this was the last time.
I asked if it had happened often.
"Oh, Mom, lots of times. Like, LOTS."

Seriously. I honestly don't know how this happened.
We generally don't watch prime time TV with the kids.
We don't go to movies with characters who aren't animated.
And, we definitely don't make out in front of them. We don't even really make out...ever.

I'm particularly befuddled because, based on my own childhood, I expected to deal with this later rather than sooner.
My first kiss happened in 9th grade.
By school age standards, downright geriatric.
I assumed my children would be late bloomers, too.
So, naturally, I blame my husband.
While I don't know the gory details, I do know he saw more action at a young age than I.
Everyone did.

At this point I'm trying to figure out how to rein this in, reverse course...and introduce the concept of cooties.
It's delicate territory telling a 7-year-old boy that girls are gross, especially when he has a sister.
But, I'm not above it.
Somehow, for now, I worry less about Gigi.
Last night she said Colin emailed her. She sighed while staring at her Barbie laptop, telling me that after the breakup he said he washed his lips, found another girlfriend and was getting married.
Gigi then put her hand on her hip, looked at me and said, "That's okay. I'll just find a new one at boyfriends.com".

Gigi's breakup advice: Wash your lips.

Baking with Kids: Quick Energy Pick-ups

2011-12-02T08:07:00.000-06:00

My lifelong love of baking started early. I owe that to my mom, who either had the patience of Job or a very tall glass of wine.

As early as 4-years-old, I stood atop my special stool ("Up it's a chair. Down it's a stair.") measuring out flour, sugar and anything else Mom would let me touch. The memory of the mess, even now, is just as vivid as the smell of baking cookies.
I want to pass this love on to my children.

However, I've found I should do an hour of yoga before I let my kids help me bake.

It doesn't typically go well.

And, there's not enough wine in the house. Ever.

But, I've found something we can make together that is practically foolproof and doesn't even require actual baking.

It's a recipe from my mother-in-law, perhaps ironically titled Quick Energy Pick-ups. These may be what passed for health food in the 70's.

But, they're fun, easy and a tasty treat to pull out of the fridge.

Quick Energy Pick-ups

1 c. peanut butter (creamy or chunky)

1 c. confectioner's sugar

1/2 c. powdered nonfat milk

3 T. water

1 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips (can substitute chopped nuts, raisins or shredded coconut instead)

Mix peanut butter, sugar, powdered milk and water in a bowl until well mixed and powdered milk has been fully incorporated. Add chocolate chips and mix well. Roll into balls, place on a cookie sheet or shallow dish and refrigerate. Once they're chilled and set (an hour or two) you can put them in a Ziploc bag. Store in refrigerator. Yield: about 20.

When Fashion Attacks, Part I

2011-11-30T12:31:00.001-06:00

I just tossed a pair of pointy-toed stilettos.

They looked like witch shoes.

I remember loving them in the store. Six years later, I couldn't give them to a friend without embarrassment.

Then today, no joke, I saw a similar style in a spring collection preview.

Balls. I can't keep up.

Such is fashion which, despite its fickle nature, I love.

I spend an unhealthy amount of time pondering styles and being flummoxed by questionable choices.

And I decided to share my sickness with you.

My current obsession: ugly footwear.

Thousands of adorable, covetable styles are awaiting your feet.

So, what I don't understand can be summarized in one word.

Danskos.

What started out as nursing and med student gear has spread like a virus through the Mom world.

I see them...everywhere.

I went to a party where every woman in attendance detailed their latest Dansko purchase.

I was mute, powerless over these clunky, orthopedic, little Dutch boy clogs.

They taunt me with the hideousness.

I mean, seriously. What the hell are these?

Claims of their comfort and support do not sway me (especially since I find them heavy and cumbersome).

But, moms are a pretty convincing bunch. And grouped together they can launch an impressive marketing campaign.

And, wouldn't you know it, some ladies have found a way to make them look...cool.

This picture was featured in The Sartorialist, which, for those who don't know, is the blog bible for the fashion set.

And then there's this picture I found on a Google search:

Cute, right?

So, maybe I need to concede the point that these shoes actually work for some people.

My sister-in-law is a big fan and she's cute.

They're just not for me.

When I wear them I look like I have clown feet.

And, before you accuse me of inappropriate footwear choices, I must defend myself. I am not the asshole tottering around on 5 inch stilettos through an ice storm.

But, I'll take my Frye boots any day.

Because they're cute...and you'll never see them paired with nursing scrubs.

The Anti-Black Friday Wish List: What Women Want

2011-11-28T16:42:00.001-06:00

UPDATE: The Vintage Pearl, which makes customized Mommy necklaces is having an online sale through Friday, Dec. 2. It's only 10% off...but worth consideration. The code is merrychristmas. This is a great gift for grandmas, too. We got one for my mother-in-law last year and she cried.

UPDATE #2: Attention Minneapolis friends: All Stacey Johnson jewelry will be 50% off at Bahu Boutique next Saturday, Dec. 10. (99 10th St. S., across from the Downtown Hilton). A great opportunity to support a local designer.

I skipped Black Friday for the first time since being a mom.
It felt good not only because I slept in past 4am. I also didn't buy too much. I didn't want to barf by noon. And I didn't riot over some $2 waffle iron I don't need while having my butt crack exposed to the world.

Not that I would ever do that.

My plan this year; buy less, but better, with a focus on small, preferably local business.
It's an excellent plan for any man/husband/dad out there who wants to impress...or who simply wants his gift to not suck.
So, here's my list of What Women Want at several different budget points so no one cries on Christmas.
$25 or so
It's tough to hit a homerun with $25, but not impossible.
Here are a few things I love.

Smartwool socks
Because Minnesota winters are cold and these socks rock.

Cute and cozy. Reflections Leaf $19.95

Awesome for workouts. PhD Ultra Lights $12.95

Marine General of Duluth stocks a decent selection and typically has a 20% off sale during the holidays. Of course, Trailfitters has the best styles in the area.
------
Soy Candles
I loathe candles with scents like cinnamon raisin, homemade flapjacks or L'eau d'Old Lady.
But, some candles are true zen masters.

Aveda candles smell like peace. I love Shampure.

You should be able to get these for around $30. In Duluth, you can find them at Justin Paul Salon or Shear Katz.
------
Personalized Jewelry
This is tricky territory. One person's perfection can be another's joke (see previous post). But, you can make someone feel special by making it personal...presuming you know your loved one's name.

Sterling Silver Initial Necklace, $29.99

I found this on clearance on the Sundance Catalog website. There are only a handful of letters left. I have it in gold and really like it. It's small and cute.

$50 or so

Base Layers
When I get cold, which is virtually every day from November to April, I tend to focus on things that will restore feeling to my butt.
I'm dying for a pair of running tights, which I'll wear for exercise, as a base layer or even as leggings. Of course you can find some online or locally at Trailfitters and most likely Duluth Running.

Mountain Hard Wear @ $55

Warning: Many brands of these tights run as much as $100. This gift is probably best suited to a wife, because girlfriends have not yet become practical.
------
Organic Cotton PJs
If you love someone you want them to sleep well. Because if they don't they become psychotic humanoids who threaten to stab you in the neck. Sometimes. That said, why not buy your love some beautiful pajamas?

These Asian wrap pajamas from Garnet Hill are heaven and they're on sale until Dec. 22 for $49. Maybe they don't do anything for you. But this isn't about you. Pervert. Besides, sexy lingerie is so 1992.
------
Mommy necklaces can be tacky. But many are sweet and might evoke the good kind of tears. Plus, it's a way to get the kids involved in a gift.

The Vintage Pearl, $48

The Vintage Pearl is a popular choice for these. But I encourage you to browse Etsy, too. There are dozens of designers there, including the one I linked to.

$100 and up
With a little stretching of the budget and maybe a sale you can get a North Face jacket in this price range. I love mine and want to keep it forever.

North Face Aconcagua Jacket $149

I would look to Northwest Outlet in Superior. Great selection there.
------
Women love clothes. But, I'd steer clear unless you know her very, very well. I mean, you know her pant size, inseam, bra size, and you definitively know her style. If you're confident, go to Andi's Closet.

The gals who work there are young, helpful and up on the latest trends (in NYC, not DLH). Stick with tops. And don't get her skinny jeans. It's a well known fact that one 1 in 10 American butts look good in those things. Even if your woman is one of the blessed few, she'll need to try them on.
------
Boots are another story. Everyone loves boots and most feet just don't get bootylicious. I could write an entire blog just about this. But here are some options:

Kenneth Cole Reaction Flirt-y $145

Wedge boots are a fun way to wear heels without killing yourself in the snow. I found the above on sale for a decent price at Zappos.
Below are some others that are not cheap...but so cute I want to bite them.

Gentle Souls Buckle Biker Boots, $245 at Garnet Hill

------
Getting back to the jewelry idea, you can wow your cool chick in this range (no diamonds required).
Personally, I believe bracelets are the best bet. Women will experiment more, from a fashion perspective, on their wrists than their necks. Here are some I love:

Stacey Johnson, $92

I adore Stacey Johnson jewelry (above). She's from Duluth, now lives in Minneapolis. You can buy her stuff locally at Waters of Superior in Canal Park. Here's a tip: If you don't see something you like in the case, ask if there's more in the drawers.

Silver Three Ways Bracelet, $88

Once again, I'll direct you to the Sundance catalog where they have delightful little beauties like this one above. Many of the choices are around $100.

------
Some final thoughts on Gift Certificates. Quite honestly, this is the answer for the shopping averse who are unwilling to take any of the stellar advice I've just offered. A few great options are Sephora or Ulta. Locally, I really love Duluth Running, Trailfitters, Andi's Closet (all previously mentioned) or, especially, the salon of her choice.

Please, just don't buy her a gift card to a grocery store. Food is great and all, but this falls somewhere along the lines of putting a vacuum cleaner under the Christmas tree. No amount of ribbon or bow is going to make up for the fact that you just reduced her life to that of a housekeeper. You may never have sex again.

The Wrong Side of History

2011-11-23T17:44:00.001-06:00

It's all fun and games until someone pepper sprays you in the face.
Then somebody suggests you had an encounter with a condiment.
And millions of people agree.
This place is fucked.

I feel compelled to write about the horrific display of force against peaceful protesters on the UC-Davis campus, even though a big part of me doesn't want to.
Why?
Because thousands of writers more deft and artful than I have pretty much covered it.
Because thousands more with a pay grade above mine have weighed in on the legal/social/political ramifications.
And, also, because it's just not funny.
As a humorist, or at the very least someone who writes with funny in mind, I have a difficult time expressing my feelings about this utterly humorless situation.
It is appalling. Disgusting.
But, it's also pathetic.
I'm outraged that this man, Lt. John Pike, and his copycat colleague, have not been thrown in jail and criminally charged.
(Both are on administrative leave.)
I'm sickened for these kids who endured a physical attack at the hands of police just for expressing an opinion.
(One vomited blood. Two others, treated at a hospital.)
And, I'm mortified that there are countless nitwits defending these actions, as if admitting to police brutality is akin to siding with the terrorists.
Believe in the cause or don't. That shouldn't matter.
This happened. In America.
I could go through the events but you know them by now. Or you should.
The reason I finally chose to write about it is because, despite all odds, someone found a way to make this funny.
And the joke is on Pike.
Or, more aptly, the joke IS Pike.

Pepper Spray Cop has gone viral.

He's become the poster child for all that is wrong with this country.

His casual posture...just too easy to mock.

This one makes me laugh. A lot.

So does this one.
Holy hell.

It's tough to look like a badass when you've become the ass of the internet.
And, while it doesn't take the place of criminal charges or having this guy stripped of his badge, it does make me feel a little better.
So, with that I'll say happy Thanksgiving. Don't forget your condiments.

A December to Remember

2011-11-21T22:27:00.001-06:00

I threw up a little in my mouth last night watching my fourth holiday commercial in a row.
That's how not ready I am for the season.
Then, like a gift, came one of those jewelry ads.
The absurdity of it reminded me of my husband, Eric. Which doesn't sound like a compliment, but it is.

You know those conversations you have with your significant other, the ones that change your relationship from polite to real?
Ours (for me) took place about a decade ago and centered around one of these commercials.
It was a mix of earnest, honest and ridiculous.
And I'll try to recreate it for you here...as I remember it.

(Disclaimer: The following conversation is only my very strong opinion. I left out the parts where we discussed the particulars of the jewelry so as not to offend.)
//
[scene: Eric's living room watching a woman on tv cry over mass-produced necklace.]
Me: "Ugh. Like anyone would want one of those!"
Eric: "What??? No one wants one of those?"
Me: "Um, I'm going to say no."
Eric: (suddenly very stern, maybe mildly angry) "Well, that's just garbage. It's like they're purposely lying to make guys look stupid. You're telling me no one would wear one of those?"
Me: "No, no. I'm sure they sell millions. I'm guessing some women want them...probably."
Eric: "What do you mean 'probably'?"
Me: "Just not any women I know."
Eric: "What's wrong with those? Why do you hate that necklace?"
Me: "Well, it seems to me that absolutely no amount of thought would go into a gift like this, as if the giver bought something for a generic version of a girlfriend and not an actual person. I mean, just because you spend a lot of money doesn't make it thoughtful. Plus, it's awful."
Eric: "How can a necklace with diamonds be awful?"
Me: "It's not exactly fashionable."
Eric: "Is jewelry considered fashion?"
Me: "Um, yes."
Eric: "I'm never buying you jewelry."
Me: "That's probably a good call."
Eric: "So, what you're saying is I should watch Christmas commercials and do exactly the opposite of what they're telling me to do?"
Me: "Pretty much. Except those Lexus people. They know what they're talking about."

He'll buy you a beer, just not jewelry

(Disclaimer #2: I'm sure Eric would remember this conversation differently.)

Panic! at the Preschool

2011-11-14T12:26:00.001-06:00

Sometimes it seems wrong that you can't give a 4 year old Xanax.
If my saying that makes you question our relationship, I get it.
That's cool.
But you're not Gigi's mom.
And at least one of us should be medicated for our daily drops at preschool.

It all starts out so well. We skip happily through the halls. We sign in. We put our show-and-share in the box.
We're good.
And, then, BAM.
The sobbing, the vice grip on my neck, the "PLEEEAAASSSEEEE, MAMMMAAA! DON'T LEAVE ME!"

And, I leave.
Of course, I do. I have to work. Gigi has to be at school.
Besides, staying doesn't help. On the contrary, it makes things worse.
I've tried sitting with her, comforting her. I've tried art projects. Puzzles. Books. Songs. Dancing.
The sobs get louder. The grip gets tighter. They general hysteria gets more hysterical.
If I leave immediately, her episode (I'm told) lasts only about a minute.

I thought this would all fade away, that as the months passed she would forget her fears.
But, for the millionth time in my parenting journey, I was wrong.
And now it's become her routine.
I know this because a few weeks back Eric had to bring Gigi to school.
On the car ride there, she laid it out.
"Dad, we're going to sign in. Then I'm going to hug you. Then I'm going to cry. A lot."
Dad, it turns out, was having none of it.
He decided the best way to handle this was to break her down, reprogram her in his version of boot camp for 4 year olds.
He told her, in no uncertain terms, she would not cry.
And, well, she cried.
Eric then picked her up, grabbed her Owlie backpack and left.
By the time they reached the dry cleaner's, Gigi said uncle. She decided to go back to school, be good and not cry.
Success, you say?
Dad saves the day!
Yeah, not so much.

Now, Gigi has night terrors about the panic attacks.
The panic attack preceding the panic attack, you might say.
And, I'll give you one guess who gets to talk her down from the tree at 2am.
Psychologists call Gigi's experience separation anxiety regression. Kids are supposed to get over this in their toddler years but sometimes slip back into old habits.
The technical term for our parenting technique?
Full throttle ass-hattery, maybe.
But, as it turns out (again, according to psychologists), I'm handling this better than my husband.
And, since I'm almost always the loser of these debates, I can't tell you how gratifying that feels.
Firm, consistent ground rules mixed with lots of love and reassurance apparently work best.
But, I'm willing to entertain other ideas to get us through.
So, if you have any, please pass on your coping strategies.
Besides the ones that involve Xanax.

A bowl of spaghetti...and knowledge

2011-11-14T09:26:00.000-06:00

A conversation overheard at my dinner table:
Gigi, age 4: "Girls have bigger boobies than boys do. See." (lifts up shirt)
Mason, age 7: "Boys don't have boobies, Gianna. They have...dimples."
Gigi: "Daddy has big dimples."
Mason: "I don't. But I'm growing them." (lifts shirt)
ME: "Actually, they're not called dimples. Dimples are the indents in our cheeks when we smile."
Mason: "Oh, yeah. I forgot. What are these things called then? Pimples?"
Gigi: (pause, pause) "BOOBIES!!"

A favorite photo circa 2008

Inside the Magic Box

2011-11-09T22:52:00.000-06:00

Supermodeling is tough work. What with the costly drug habits, the people staring at your legs and the eating kleenexes for lunch, life just can't be that awesome.

So, it's a good thing my daughter isn't a supermodel.

She only thinks she is.

Yesterday, Gigi suggested I give her a makeover. When I asked what that meant, she told me she needed lots of sparkly stuff like shoes and bracelets and blinking things (??)...and suggested I do something "all crazy" with her hair.

Then she started vogueing.

I suppose that's what I get for taking my kids to photo shoots.

I've been having them professionally photographed for years.

Not the "professional" photos of the 70's and 80's child, often taken at Sears and later immortalized at awkwardfamilyphotos.com. But, the real deal.

And I'm not alone.

Maybe that trend accounts for such an incredible pool of photography talent in Duluth. And, I've sampled a few.

But, for many reasons, I've come back to Magic Box Photography.

The kids and I met Chelsea Morgan on a crisp October morning at Chester Park near the 4th Street entrance. She had never photographed there before, but I just knew we would find some great shots.

And, she didn't disappoint.

You may have noticed Eric missing from this picture. For the second time in two years, he missed our session.

I'm a sucker for black and whites and ordered many of my prints like this:

This picture of Mason makes me happy.

And, this next one makes me a little sad because you can almost see what he'll look like as a teenager.

This old foundation with graffiti is what I hoped we'd find. That mix of natural and urban elements is exactly what I wanted.

How cool-slash-adorable is this picture?

And then there's this one. It looks like we're in a fairy forest.

Chelsea of Magic Box has a gift and a great eye.
She also works amazingly well with kids.
But, the other things that keeps me coming back are her professionalism and her prices.
The last photographer I used kept me waiting a month to see the proofs...and then weeks more to get the finished product.
The pictures were stunning...but, still.

Chelsea set up our viewing appointment almost immediately and I got to see the proofs in a little over a week.
And, while not cheap, her print prices are reasonable.
(I'm comparing them to two other excellent photographers in the area whose price sheets almost made me pass out.)
Even with her lower prices, this is an investment.
But, it's one I've never regretted.
These are my babies...who are no longer babies.
When I awaken tomorrow, my little boy will be 7. And I never want to forget this toothless grin.

I used to believe in forever...but forever was too good to be true.
Winnie The Pooh

The Kitchen Help, Part 2 (The Big Reveal)

2011-11-06T16:38:00.000-06:00

Sometimes home improvement projects sound easier than they are.
By that I mean they always sound easier than they are.
We were lucky enough to hire someone to do what ended up being a challenging and tedious job.
Even that did not free me of a few contractor-related headaches.
But, the results are in.
And, here's our new kitchen.

I want to remind you that all we did for this particular project was put in glass mosaic tile as a backsplash.
In case you forgot, here's the before.

We knew, of course, that the old tile was holding back the overall design of the space.
But, wow!
I almost feel like I should be featured in one of those commercials dancing around with a Swiffer mop.
That's how cool my kitchen looks.
Yet, I still can't figure out why anyone would get that excited to clean.
Okay, here's one more close up view of the tile.

I'm unreasonably proud of myself for this transformation. All it really reinforces is that I'm a good shopper.
And, while I hesitate to send any business to Home Depot, this glass tile was on clearance for only $4.97 a square foot.
Next projects: finding over-the-sink wall light, purchasing brushed nickel switchplate covers and figuring out a better storage situation (because, while funky, the metal cabinets we kept are short on space).
Then, we're done.
Maybe.

The Kitchen Help

2011-11-02T12:03:00.000-05:00

We closed on our house 7 years ago this week. I was about to have a child, quit my job, move to a new city and (eventually) get married. Most of that time is a blur.

I do, however, have a total recall moment walking through our house (which was not yet our house) with my husband (who was not yet my husband). He'd been there before and warned me I would hate the kitchen.
"It's going to be a deal breaker."
But...I didn't hate it. I could do without the grubby Mexican tile counter tops or the insane clown posse floral stenciling that was visually screaming at us. Yet the kitchen space was, and is special. A huge window makes it light and bright and french doors open up to a pergola-covered deck.
The rest we figured we could fix a bit at a time. That became our plan.
I should say that became Eric's plan.
My plan involved knocking down walls, moving the basement door and gutting the space.
That didn't happen. And it's ok.
Because I've become charmed by our vintage metal cabinets.

Circa 1940's

People scour salvage yards for these things and painstakingly restore them.
Ours are in good shape and (bonus!) already in our kitchen.
Plus, (double bonus!) they were free and wouldn't cut into our cheap-as-we-can-do-it budget.
So, I decided they would be my design inspiration.

Project #1
We painted over the loud stencil art in a butter hue.
The paint was a dining room reject and had been sitting in the basement. So, basically, free.

Before with crazy town stencil and Mexican tile

After

Project #2
Next, we replaced the 1970's dishwasher, but only because it died. We spent about $450 on this baby.

Project #3
The counter tops posed the first serious design choice. I wanted to replicate the look of concrete to give our kitchen a sleek, modern look. Since I couldn't afford that, I decided on Corian.

Corian in Medea

Many people questioned this call and pushed for a choice that looked more like granite. But I know what I want.

It looks so neat and clean. Even though it's often neither. Budget wise, this was a big one for us and cost about $3,200 (with sink and new faucet).
We've taken down ugly shelving with hideous brackets, put up crisp curtains and a funky light fixture. (cost: maybe $250)
And today, friends, we enter a new phase in the project!!
I am pumped.

Project #4
I ran across this mosaic glass tile at Home Depot when we were there to buy a rake.

Majestic Ocean glass tile

I liked the colors and the glass and Eric liked that it was on clearance for less than $5 a square.
Today I get to say goodbye to these painted blue flowery grandma tiles.

They're kinda cute, yes. But their country-ness is killing the buzz of my modern aesthetic. With demo and installation, this project is going to cost about $850.
All told, I redesigned my entire kitchen for less than $5000. And, we spread out that cost over about 3 years.
If I were a patient girl I'd say this was easy.
And if I were a simple girl I'd say we were done.
But we all know the truth.
(I'll post pictures of the finished product...hopefully soon.)

Fairy tales do come true...

2011-10-12T18:04:00.000-05:00

I couldn't stop smiling when I watched this clip from Ellen. This girl is a nut and I would love to know her.

Magic Boy

2011-09-29T15:31:00.000-05:00

My son saved my life.
Sounds dramatic. (And I do have a touch of the drama queen.) But, I believe it's true.
Mason was unexpected like a 60 degree day in December.
Children were not in my life plan. Holy hell, I had better things to do.
Not that I ever seemed to do those things.
I did know how to work. A lot. And nothing says you're-livin'-now! like a 60 hour work week.
This face changed all that.

circa 2005

Instant. Love.
Newborn Mason was my peaceful zen master.
He was the sort of infant who nursed endlessly and outgrew his clothes overnight; the baby who would fall on his face and look up with a mixture of surprise and amusement; the toddler and preschooler who invented words and forever changed our family language.
He was, and is, an odd mix of crazy, tender, wise and accidentally hilarious. Mason makes everyone laugh.
I call him my Magic Boy.
At nearly 7 years old, he still folds up his ever growing legs until he fits like a baby in my lap, wraps his arms around my neck and lets me rock him. In fact, he did this just yesterday.
It was a moment of clarity.
I am...Mason's first love.
It's pretty Freudian, I'll admit. But, I think I'm right about this one. And I suddenly understand that everything he'll ever know about how to love and how to treat his Love he'll learn from me.
I suppose this isn't new information and I'm not breaking any ground here.
But, you know when you hear some profound theory and you say to yourself, "Of course. That's so true."?
And then when that theory becomes your life you're like, "Oh, fuck. That's so true!!"?
Yeah, that happened to me yesterday.
It's heavy.
But, I guess my job, the job of any mom I imagine, is to become strong enough to make the weight of that feel like lightness.
I'm not always up to the challenge. And I am weaker at times than I care to admit.
Sometimes I downright suck at being a mom.
But I have a magic boy.
And just knowing that makes me stronger.

Grace...Aging...and a discount

2011-09-09T20:17:00.000-05:00

About a month ago I was out with a friend.
We ran into one of his old pals and blah, blah, blah we discovered this woman and I went to school together.
Immediately she said, "You're my age? How is that possible? You don't have any wrinkles!"
I wanted to jump up and hug her.
And I would have...if I were a jump-up-and-hug-her kind of gal.
Instead, I said thanks and told her I usually look like hell.
I suppose this is a pretty self-aggrandizing story.
Forgive me.
But, it felt...gratifying. Especially since my skin has hardly been a source of pride most of my life.
I suffered horrible, stress-induced acne in my 20's.
It was bad enough that I underwent dermabrasion.
Not the micro-dermabrasion they do at the fancy spas.
I'm talking the remove-your-epidermis-surgery-that-leaves-you-in-a gauze-mask-for-weeks-until-your-face-grows-back procedure.
So, I know from skin problems.
As the years passed I noticed new, age-related issues cropping up.
I've had great luck with salon peels for cell turnover (which helps with elasticity and wrinkles).
But, arghh, who can spend $100 every month for one of those?
Add that to the serums and creams at department stores and bad things started happening to my checking account.
That's how I found this online company.
It's called Makeup Artist's Choice.

Their products are A.MAZ.ING.
The peels (and they have many varieties) are professional strength.
This is the one I use:

Many of their other products are derived from natural ingredients.
I found a seemingly basic moisturizer which actually smooths out my lingering acne scars.

Plus, their lab is on the cutting edge of skincare research.
This stuff has changed my life:

Best of all, it's affordable. I might even say cheap. You're not paying for celebrity-endorsements here. Just straight up product in fairly generic packaging.
What I love most is the site regularly has sales with deep discounts on the stuff you already use and love.
Right now...until 11:59 pm tomorrow, September 10, everything on the site is 25% off with the discount code: fade.
Did I mention free shipping?

*a brief warning: some of their more potent peels are not for the faint of heart. I have a 12.5% TCA peel which I thought was going to burn my face off. I hopped up and down for 3 minutes in the bathroom trying to keep myself from neutralizing that sucker. It worked but it's quite a process. And then, 3 days later, your skins starts to peel off.