Musings

So yesterday I posted a rather edgy blog. One that sparked some pretty fiery commentary.

Today's blog is SO not going to be one of those blogs.

Have you guys heard of Fancy Nancy?



Fancy Nancy is the precocious, over-accessorized heroine of a whole legion of books that my daughter has become completely devoted to (and somewhat obsessed with). I have to admit, I've jumped on the F.N. bandwagon myself. The writing is funny and clever and the illustrations are full of movement and detail and, well, they're just doggone cute.

Patoot has grown so fond of F.N. that she has the first book almost completely memorized. This is awesome for two big reasons:

1. Memorizing books is one of the first big steps towards reading!
2. Patoot's dramatic readings are beyond adorable. When she reads the poignant lines: "I don't feel fancy anymore. I want to go home." It KILLS me. Every time.

Miss Fancy is also wildly creative AND uses big words ("Then I get an idea that is stupendous! That's a fancy word for 'great.'"). Oh, and she also wants to learn French, because "everything in French sounds fancy." Really, what's not to love, people?

But today I've come across an odd side-effect of our new-found love of Fancy Nancy. Not only does Patoot want to be her...but I think I kind of do, too.

Patoot's very literal in her Nacy-isms: when the Insane Clown Beagle had done something insane the other day and was getting scolded by yours truly, Patoot said to me in all seriousness, "Why don't we get a NEW dog, Mommy? Like Fancy Mancy in da Posh Pooch?" I nearly bit my tongue clean off to keep from laughing at that one, while the Esposo got all offended: "HEY! I LIKE our dog!"

My Nancy-ism was far less obvious. Esposo just bought Patoot "Splendiforous Christmas" for doing a good job of listening at school the other day. So we've obviously rolled it into the regular bedtime rotation. And the illustrations of this book are particularly winsome, because they're not just fancy -- they are Christmastime Fancy! I know I've already told you guys how pumped I am for Christmas this year anyway. Well now...now I'm completely regressing about it. There's this one line near the end: "I tell everyone, you can NEVER have too much tinsel." And I found myself longing for my childhood tree which was always glistening with far more tinsel than was reasonable. My dad and I especially loved piling on the shimmery, slippery stuff. My mom...hated it. And, as a grown-up, I understand why. She was probably still vacuuming up tinsel well into the summer. So as soon as my youngest sister was a bit older, she banned tinsel from our tree. And that was that.

As an adult, I always wanted a "classy" tree. No big, bawdy colored lights allowed, no garish garland, just twinkly white lights, pretty ornaments arranged just so and strands of lovely metallic and "glass" beads perfectly wound around the branches. I was always Very Particular about my tree.

Now I find I'm getting Particular again. But this year, I want the Kid Tree. The wild and crazy, colored light a-blazing tree, laden with a veritable maelstrom of tinsel.

I think the Esposo is going to think I've taken leave of my senses. And he will probably be right. But dang it. How much fun will Patoot have throwing stuff that looks like liquid silver all over the tree? So what if I'll be finding it peeking out from under rugs and tucked between couch cushions for the rest of the year? I think it will be worth it.

Thoughts? Am I insane? Or did those of you with kidlets experience this same kind of nostalgic insanity when said kidlets were old enough to "get" Christmas?

Fa-la-la-la-la, comment away.

So I turned my lack of stuff to do into a Christmas shopping opportunity.

During my lunch break, I got...

* A scarf, hat and gloves for an 8 year old boy in a family my department is sponsoring for the holidays. Five dollars each piece!
* Two cute fleece tops and two bottoms for my two Wee Niecers (4 months and two years old, respectively). Eight dollars each piece!
* And, um. Stuff for me.

T-shirts! Fabulous, essential, long-sleeved T-shirts. TEN DOLLARS EACH.

This one:



And then another in the same style, but black. They will be in heavy rotation this winter, let me tell you. My work wardrobe is already thanking me.

And the best part, of course, was the sale! These are nice, sturdy, quality Ts I would wear to work. For $10. It was absolutely like getting two shirts for the price of one. It seems Gap is having an "Every T-shirt for $10!" sale, but I think it ends today. There were lots of different T styles to choose from — long sleeved, Henleys, waffle-knits, v-necks and classics. In all sorts of colors too (I just happen to be a Gray-and-Black kind of gal).

Get thee to a Gap. You won't be sorry.

Due to some inane scheduling strategy, it is slower than slow at the office today. I mean, it's Watching Paint Dry slow. Frozen Molasses slow. Turtles on Xanax slow. Sloooooooooooow.

And without real work to occupy my mind, a melange of disjointed, crazytown thoughts are buzzing about my head instead. It's very disorienting.

For Example:

*watching my feet as I walk down the hall*
"Do I walk like a duck? I think I walk like a duck. Or maybe it's these shoes. Do these SHOES make me walk like a duck? How do I fix this?"

*clicking randomly on jcrew.com*
"Hmmm. I'd like a new winter coat. Oh, that camel one is nice! Wait. I have one just like it. Hmm. What about a black car coat? Oh, oops. Have one of those. Um, well, oh! I really like that red pea coat! Except...yup. I already have a red pea coat. I think it's even from J. Crew. Well this is futile. Oh well. At least I know I have classic coats in my closet. Which reminds me..."

"I need to get to the dry cleaners."

*squinting at tiny cell phone screen, trying to figure out what these pictures sent by my MIL are*
"Is that...a Barbie RV set? Or a costume closet? Or...drums? Dammit. Why can't the Esposo's family just CALL me and ask what they should get Patoot for Christmas? Must they send me minuscule pictures from toy stores to my Came-With-The-Plan cell phone? We can't all have Crackberries, you know."

"Which reminds me...what am I wearing to the Esposo's family's pre-Christmas party this weekend?"

An so on.

In other news: I am WAY behind on my Writer's Group writing challenge. I know I just need a few days to make it. I can write and finesse 25 pages no problem. IF I had my own laptop, that is. Sharing one just doesn't work for larger projects like, yanno, WRITING A BOOK. We can share to update our Facebook statuses (stati?) or watch a movie from Netflix.com together. But the times when I actually have TIME is usually late at night when the kidlets are asleep and the Esposo has an internet show. Blissful solitude. Except...since he has an internet show, he also has the COMPUTER. It's all quite vexing. I need to get off my arse and just borrow one of the busted laptops that have been offered to me recently. It's past time.

Also: I am letting myself down, yoga-wise. The week after my Triumphant Return, we were in New York and didn't get home in time for my Sunday class. Then last Sunday I was sick. This coming Sunday? I'll be in NYC again (and while I will fight tooth and nail to get home early this time, you all know how well that works out). I am going to fall out of practice before I even get back INTO practice! Damn you, Life. Why must you complicate matters so? I think I'm just going to have to suck it up and go after work tonight or tomorrow. I hate doing it, because it means I won't see the kidlets before bed. But it's just one night. Right? :(

And in conclusion: my entire house is sick. Patoot got sick on Thanksgiving, then the Munchkin, now me. Esposo has been a Wonder Dad, trying to do all the late-night shifts so I can sleep. However, I feel his kindness will backfire and he'll be sick next. Oh well. The family that coughs together, stays together. Or something.

Siiiiiigh. All right. Need to find another way to procrastinate today...

All righty, kids. Tomorrow marks my very first holiday under the new Dairy-free Regime. Let's make a little menu of my Can and Cannot foods, shall we?

CANS:
1. Turkey (Unless it's basted in butter, but I can always *sob* forgo eating the crispy, seasoned, bad-for-me-anyway skin)
2. Cranberry Sauce
3. Butternut Squash (I asked my mom to put aside a portion before she adds the *weeps* butter)
4. Gravy (There's no dairy in gravy, is there? Just drippings and water and flour, right?)
5. Salad (sans dressing)
6. Carrots (I'm making these: I am using a yummy-sounding recipe for roasted carrots that whitehousemom posted a little while ago. They are drizzled in olive oil, not butter. Score!)
7. Wine (huzzah!)

CANNOTS:
1. Mashed Potatoes (NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!)
2. Stuffing
4. My Mom's Awesome Mexican Dip (this omission particularly stings)
5. Biscuits
6. Anything Sautéed in Butter (this includes veggies)
7. Cheese (obv)
8. Dessert. Like, probably every single dessert offered.

EXCEPT ONE!

I found a dairy-free pumpkin pie recipe online. Now, most dairy-free recipes are for vegans and, therefore, gross (for example, what in the name of God is a "powdered egg-substitute??" Blerg!). But this one was created by a mom who has kids with food allergies! I'm thinking of bookmarking her blog for future reference, because she really seems to have done her homework. So here's the pie I'll be making tomorrow:

http://mykidsallergies.blogspot.com/2007/10/pumpkin-pie-recipe-dairy-free-nut-free.html

It calls for rice milk, but the Esposo bought coconut milk too. I think coconut milk sounds awesome in theory, but it might compromise the integrity of the pumpkin-ness of my pie. Thoughts?

***

Now for the babble. I did warn you.

So, I have found myself in the ridiculous predicament of planning an ensemble around...nail polish. Yes, you read that right. Ok, look. I just really, really want to wear my Jumpin' Jade nail polish tomorrow.

You remember...



The problem is, I also know that I want to be comfy as well as cute. I have this stretchy brown skirt that will allow for second helpings, but it looks best with this lilac shirt (and a long brown scarf, for a fashion-y flourish). Will a lilac shirt be weird and clash with dark green nails? Or am I over-thinking this as usual because, honestly, the color is so dark it's almost a neutral at this point.

I'm over-thinking it, aren't I?

***

Well, in any event, I hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving — regardless of what they eat (or wear).

Coffee + chocolate soy milk = dairy-free café mocha Starbucksian goodness.



Mmmmm. Soy-licious.

Dudes. Check this out...

Patoot at 5 and a half months:



(wearing her Chinese New Year ensemble, natch)

And the Munchkin at 5 and a half months:



(getting ready for his Baptism)

I mean — WOW. Could these two kids look anymore alike? I have given birth to Clone Babies. Granted, my Munchkin man is somewhat meatier than his big sister, but look at their FACES. Their SMILES. Even their hairlines! It's CREEPING ME OUT.

But it's also kind of awesome. Growing up, I didn't look like anyone I was related to. And it seriously made me wonder if my parents had found me on the doorstep one morning. I guess you can see certain elements of my parents in there now (and my sister and I, while not looking especially alike, make the exact same faces), but as a kid I really stuck out. My brothers and sister had light brown hair and light eyes (blue, blue and green, respectively). And there I was with dark brown hair and brown eyes. WTF? Where did I come from? Was I some foundling gypsy baby? Why didn't I look like my siblings? It really bugged me.

One memory in particular springs to mind: I was a teenager taking my Sensational Sister (who was probably 5 or 6 at the time) to a movie. We both had a friend with us. While waiting in line for popcorn, a woman standing behind us remarked how sweet we older girls were, taking our little sisters out to a movie. "Oh, we're the only sisters," I said, but didn't gesture to my sister when I responded. I guess I just took it for granted this woman would know which little girl I meant. So it took me by complete surprise when the woman leaned down to talk to my sister's little friend — who had long dark hair and dark eyes — to comment on how it must be nice to have a big sister like me. Then she straightened up and said to my actual sister and my friend, "It's so funny, you two look so much alike I would have sworn you were sisters, too."

This story still wounds my sister to this day. ;)

So I'm relieved to know that Patoot and the Munchkin will never have this problem. Oh, I'm sure they'll learn to roll their eyes every time they hear someone say, "Well YOU TWO are clearly related!" But, I hope they'll also secretively love it.

***

Tune in tomorrow for some dairy-free Thanksgiving ruminations as well as (what else?) my inevitable hemming and hawing over what to wear to dinner. Oh, the suspense!

Ever since Halloween, retailers across the country have been taking part in an annual ritual commonly referred to as Pushing the Season. Black cats could be seen sharing shelf-space with Santa's reindeer at CVS, and immense shopping destinations like Dedham's new Legacy Place had all of their carefully landscaped trees wrapped in white lights before November 1st. These kind of antics are no surprise, of course. Retailers push the season every year. And many people, myself included, have the same reaction every year:

"Oh, dear God. ALREADY?"

"I am SO not ready for this."

"Are they kidding? Who wants to think about the holidays NOW?"

And so on.

Then last night, driving home from New York, two surprising things occurred that made me question my yearly gripe-fest. One: for reasons unbeknownst to either the Esposo or me, we suddenly have XM radio in The Car of the Future again. Neither one of us re-subscribed, so we'll see how long this anomaly lasts. And two: when we stumbled across an All-Holiday Song channel...I asked the Esposo to leave it on.

At first I wanted to leave the carols on because it was kind of funny: every year when Esposo and I drive home from NYC on Christmas Eve, we listen to Christmas songs all the way. It was like getting a little preview of a month from now. But after two songs, Esposo made a move to change the channel back to something normal. And I stopped him. Because listening to the carols was cheering me up. Like, a lot.

I had been in a foul mood when we first got in the car. A combination of the Munchkin's mysterious eczema, my now super frustrating dairy-free lifestyle, scores of un-solicited advice for clearling up the aforementioned eczema (everything from grinding up flax seed in my oatmeal to thoughts from a psychic), a general feeling of being Judged by everyone over the way I have been handling this whole alleged allergies thing....plus my everyday worries about money and my widely documented lack of sleep...well. Let's just I wasn't in a Happy Place. And I am notoriously hard to cheer up.

But play me a few Christmas tunes, and suddenly I'm all smiles. Huh? What? This wasn't like me. Who was that insanely grinning girl in the Saturn VUE?

It was around this time, when I realized how out-of-character I was acting, that I asked the Esposo:

"Do you think people need Christmas a little earlier this year?"

I mean, it kind of makes sense. For the past year, the news has been all Gloom and Doom. Everything from The Great Recession to lost jobs to the war has conspired to make us one mopey nation. Maybe a little old-fashioned holiday spirit is just what the doctor ordered for our country this year. Come to think of it, I've noticed more houses have put up their Christmas lights already. And...it doesn't inspire snark from me this year. It's been making me excited and happy and "Oh I can't wait to show the Munchkin his first tree and help Patoot write to Santa and...and..." And so on.

So what do you guys think? Can a sad, cranky, cynical nation be cheered by an early infusion of Jingle Bells and that Festival of Lights? I'm pulling for a Yes. Because, come on. I think we could ALL use a little extra holiday spirit this year.



Snoopy certainly agrees.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Goldilocks (a strange name considering she was a brunette, but I digress). One day, Goldilocks needed something sassy to wear to a wedding. So she set off to explore the Deep Dark Closet in hopes of finding the perfect dress.

The first frock Miss Locks came upon was cute and colorful and, indeed, full of sass. She shimmied the close-fitting sheath over her belly and across her hips, looked down and cried:

"Oh no! This Dress is much too Small."



Disappointed, but not disheartened, Goldie continued her quest until she came upon yet another gown in the Deep Dark Closet. This one slid on with room to spare. Perhaps a little too much room. For as she held out her arms and spun in celebration — the dress fell clean off.

"Oh no!" she wailed. "THIS Dress is much too Big!"



Now Goldilocks was really in a pinch. She felt lost and confused, as one is apt to feel in the Deep Dark Closet, and began to lose hope. Was she destined to attend the wedding in ho-hum work attire?

Just then, a kind Hunter came across our hapless, between-sizes heroine.

"What's the problem?" he asked.



"Oh, kind Hunter!" Goldilocks wept. "I have a wedding to attend and nothing to wear! This dress was Too Small and this one is Too Big! Whatever shall I do??"

The Hunter, being a hunter and thus good at looking for stuff, bravely forged deeper into the Deep Dark Closet. Goldilocks, thinking she'd seen the last of that poor bastard, started making desperate last-minute shopping plans in her head. Then all of a sudden, the Hunter crashed back through a dense over-growth of Sensible Skirts and held aloft a dress Miss Locks had all but forgotten she owned. "What about this one?" he asked.

With trembling fingers, Goldilocks tried it on.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "This Dress is Just Right!"



(Note: that is not a picture of the Goldilocks from this story. Ironic, considering this model is actually blonde.)

And so, Goldilocks and the Hunter lived happily ever after. Although she did sustain a massive headache at the reception and, being dairy-free, could also not eat much of the wedding feast. Also, her Scary Booties didn't really go with the Just Right dress either.

"Man! Why am I always left out of the story? I need to find me a Wicked Witch or something."



The End.

I was going to entitle this "Retail Therapy," but I'm not in a bad mood. I'm just really, really, REALLY tired. So what's been going on, shopping-wise, is more like the retail version of a sugar high. Are you with me? Let's continue.

It began innocently enough last night at Old Navy. The fam and I went on a little excursion to obtain some yoga-and-budget friendly clothes for me. I got the capris and long yoga pants I'd found online, but they didn't have the blue shirt I'd seen in my size. So I got an equally cute lotus flower-patterned black tank, a plain short-sleeved t-shirt in a grayish blue and a black long-sleeved workout shirt with raspberry pink trim. So far, I hadn't deviated from my mission.

Then I bought this (but in gray):



Yeah. Those are sequins. I don't think I'm going to be rocking sequins in yoga class anytime soon. But, guys. It was $7 (SEVEN DOLLARS!). And I have already decided I am wearing it with my dark-wash jeans and a black cardigan to go see New Moon with the girls on Friday night. So...yeah. I can justify it!

But then the madness continued. Again, I feel that I can somewhat justify what happened just now at CVS (CVS, by the way, is the ultimate in instant gratification shopping. It is my mecca of tiny indulgences. ANYway). Esposo and I are going to a wedding in New Jersey this weekend (his second cousin). So I actually had legitimate reasons for going there today. I needed new deodorant, razors, sheer black nylons and a wedding card. Which I got.

What I didn't need was the smoky gray eyeliner or the rhinestone-tipped bobby pins or the Insta-Dri nail polish in Petal Pusher (this stuff is miraculous, though. Honest-to-God dries in 30 seconds, tops. A Mom of Two's dream!). These kind of purchases are almost unavoidable when I frequent CVS. But, again, I am justifying them because I intend on wearing the eyeliner and one of the bobby pins Saturday night.

So there.

But while we're discussing Saturday night, I have a Fashion Dilemma, as usual. I have christened this latest conundrum: A Tale of Two Dresses.

From the moment we got the invite to this wedding, I have been planning on wearing this:



Cute, no? Doesn't the sash kind of look like an obi, too?

And I was going to accessorize this cheerful little number with big silver earrings that look a little like lace doilies (but in a good way), a crystal nugget necklace, a bunch of silver bangles, the aforementioned black nylons and...you remember these bad boys:



Incidentally, my scary booties will go over HUGE in the tri-state area. I know this because my fabulous Brooklyn SIL had a litter of kittens when she clapped eyes on them two weeks ago. She even looked in the foot bed to see the designer so that she might go forth, purchase a pair and rock them WAY harder than I could ever dream.

Anyhoo.

Sassy ensemble, yes? So what's the problem, crazy lady?

I, um, haven't tried the dress on yet. I wore it a year ago. It PROBABLY fits. But those Baptism pictures have made me question my girth lately. So, in a panic, I borrowed this dress from my Sensational Sister:



A totally classic, foolproof dress. It's A-line, not a sheath, which is unquestionably more forgiving a cut. And can you see that it's this yummy espresso-brown? And, yet....

It's boring, isn't it? When you see it next to that pink and white and black confection, it just looks BORING.

Sigh.

But if the Exciting Dress doesn't fit, I have to wear it. Not like I'd kick it out of bed for eating crackers or anything, it's just not fair to compare a staid brown dress with a colorful, obi-sashed frock. So if the Mommy Belly deems Exciting Dress a little TOO exciting, I need to flash-up the brown one.

So now to barrage you with questions.

Would these shoes look totally crazy with it?



And what if I wore nude fishnets? (I know, I know. "What's with the fishnets again?" I swear to you on a stack of LUCKY magazines, fishnets are truly considered mainstream fashion these days. Honest. I am not just a common trollop.)

I dunno. I thought the gold heels and fishnets would spice things up a bit. And while we're talking crazy-talk...do you think I could get away with wearing one of those long, thin scarves instead of a necklace? I can borrow one in glimmery golds and creams. Would adding these unexpected accessories sass-up this über-traditional dress?

Or should I just invest in an industrial strength pair of Spanx and wiggle into the dress I actually want to wear? I mean, it may actually fit. I'm trying it on tonight. Fingers crossed.

Oh, blogiverse. Can you save this damsel in fashion-distress?

All I want for Christmas
is a good night's sleep.
A good night's sleep.
Yeah, a good night's sleep.
Gee, if I could only have
a good night's sleep,
then I would be so sane for Christmas!

I know what you're thinking: "Lady, you have a baby. What did you expect?" And yes, said baby does wake up every night. But he only wakes up ONCE. The repeat offender of Sleep Interruption these days is none other than Miss Patoot. The three year old. She's never been a particularly good sleeper; she's been waking up at least once a night since the day of her birth without fail. But recently she's been waking up almost every hour on the hour. Which means I've been waking up every hour on the hour too. Which further means: I am on the brink of sanity.

Now, most of the time it's pretty easy to get her to go back to sleep. A drink of water, a re-tucking of the covers and she konks right out. But this week especially I think she's been having nightmares. Last Saturday afternoon, we happened to see a little of of "Ella Enchanted," which was on ABC Family btw, and — SPOILER ALERT — at the very beginning Ella's mom kicks the bucket. It wasn't very explicit, the mom was just laying sick in bed, but it was clear something Very Sad was happening. Patoot got very quiet and snuggled closer and closer to me during the scene. And all I could think was, "Great. Now my baby girl knows that sometimes mommies get sick and aren't in the rest of the movie."

Case in point: the next day, the Esposo reported that Patoot climbed under a table at day care and cried because I was at work. This. Never. Happens. I think it's safe to say that I'm rather dis-enchanted with Ella right about now.

Seriously, though, I feel awful for my poor Patoot AND I feel awful physically because I AM GETTING NO SLEEP. Does anyone have any suggestions on how to end this sleepless cycle? Warm milk? Hot baths? Children's Benadryl? (just kidding) Or do I just keep on reassuring her that Mommy's still here until the nightmares subside?

****

On a pseudo-related topic, all this sleep deprivation has made me CRAVE a weekend getaway with the Esposo more than ever. I don't even care where we go. I just need a nice bed and sunlight-blocking shades and a late check-out and I'm golden. A friend at work recommended this hotel in Maine. It's a fancy-shmancy resort, but you can get crazy good deals in the winter. Which just so happens to be when my tenth wedding anniversary falls. Score. Tell me what you think...

http://www.anchoragebythesea.com/

So I may or may not have mentioned that my little Munchkin-man has eczema. Itchy, red, I-want-to-scratch-my-cute-baby-face-off eczema. A baby's skin is wicked sensitive in general, so at first the pediatrician wasn't overly concerned. But once the dry, scratchy patches spread from his head to his little bod, today's new parenting buzz-word was finally dropped.

ALLERGIES.

Of course, we don't know what, exactly, he's allergic too. The eczema could be a trigger for ANYthing, from gluten to laundry detergent. The most common baby allergy is dairy, so that is what we're testing for right now. And by "we" I mean mostly me. And by "testing" I mean....I CAN NO LONGER CONSUME DAIRY PRODUCTS.

*weeps*

Actually, in all honesty it's been much easier than I imagined it would be. And with good friends like prncssdidi making me butter-free gingerbread and bostonerin bringing me a goody-bag of dairy-free treats, it's been almost fun. I say "almost" because I haven't been truly tempted yet. Talk to me Friday night when I'm at the movies and unable to partake in one of my favorite indulgences: neon-yellow butter movie popcorn. Siiiiiiiigh. THAT I will miss. And I know the holidays will be rough too...mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, PIE...everything good about holiday eats involves copious amounts of butter.

But, on the bright side, bostonerin, who had to cut out dairy when her little Chicken was an infant, said to me, "You will lose weight like it's your JOB."

That, I won't mind at all.

And, strangely, I DO feel a little healthier already. It's only been since Thursday, but I guess immediately cutting ALL dairy products from one's diet is noticeable. One of my co-workers even said my face looked thinner today. Score.

While we're talking about feeling all healthy, guess where I went over the weekend?



Yup! I made my (somewhat) triumphant return to yoga class! Ok, it wasn't even somewhat triumphant. I have A LOT of work to do to get back to the level I used to be. But instead of the pain-fest I was expecting, it was actually FUN. I fell and wobbled a few times, but I remembered stuff too. And while I KNOW I wasn't going as deep into my poses as everyone else, I just said to myself, "Of course you aren't. You're out of practice. You'll get there." And didn't get frustrated over it.

It also helped that the teacher not only remembered me, but was excited to see me and demanded I not wait so long between classes again. Don't worry, Terri. I'll be back. ;)

One thing I do need for next class: yoga gear. REAL yoga gear. I trotted off last night wearing the Esposo's baggy track pants and one of his oversized t-shirts. Then I spent every inverted pose with said t-shirt over my head and came out of every standing pose pulling out a massive wedgie.

So today I started looking at some fancy-shmancy yoga apparel sites, but who am I kidding? Old Navy has yoga stuff and instead of being $40 for a top their tops start at $3.99.

First I'll need a pair or two of proper pants. I'm liking these capris, but I should get a long pair too:



Then I'll need close-fitting (but not Spandex-crazy tight) tops. This tank is super cute (and super cheap!):



And this deep purple number will be good for when it gets bone-chillingly cold:



Seriously? Getting in shape is so much more fun when it leads to fashion babble, isn't it?

Anyhoodle. Time to finish my salad and vegan curry pumpkin/apple soup and get back to work. In the meantime, if anyone has any dairy-free tips for me, comment away!

This morning, my toddler, baby and husband were all demanding my un-divided attention at the same exact time for very disparate reasons. All I wanted to do was drink my coffee (which was already cold), eat my gingerbread and read my LUCKY mag. Sigh. One can dream.

Now, as a Mom of Two, I'm used to not getting to do stuff like drink coffee before it gets stone cold. But this episode was particularly cacophonous. Let me give you a morsel of Life with Mostly Irish...

Patoot: Mommy, Mommy! You have to blow up balloons for the dragon party! (note: I still have no idea why we were having a party for dragons, but it required her to wear a tiara)
Munchkin: *nurses. abruptly stops. starts again, with fervor.*
Esposo: (reading Rolling Stone at me) Ok, you ready? This is the line-up for the 25th anniversary Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concert...
Patoot: No, Momma. PINK and PURPLE balloons! (note: there were no actual balloons present)
Munchkin: *squawks. pulls away from nursing rather violently to laugh at sister. starts again. begins randomly whacking me in the face.*
Esposo: (still talking throughout)...and oh my God, Bruce's song list is amazing, I think we need to go to your parents' house to watch this on cable...

And so on.

Dudes. It's seriously time for me to go back to my old class at The Blissful Monkey Yoga Studio.

It has been, um, probably a year or more since I've been. Yeah, ok. It's been yearS plural. Which means, of course, just one class is going to kick my ass.

Yoga seems easy if you've never done it. You're just standing around breathing, right? Ahh, no. The poses are crazy-hard to stand in for two seconds let alone two minutes. Or two millennia, which is what it ends up feeling like when my legs start to shake and turn to jelly and the hyperventilation sets in and my muscles seize up and I crumple to the floor in a sweaty heap.

Oh my God. I'm terrified. I am terrified of the Blissful Monkey.

"Boo!"


I know, right? Who could be scared of that cute little guy?

This chick, right here.

What's worse, is the only class that fits into my schedule is the really really HARD class. Gentle Yoga for Beginners? Yeah, that meets at 5:45 on a Tuesday while I'm still at work. No, looks like I'll be taking this bad boy...

Vinyasa
This is a vigorous class that is suitable for students of all levels. Vinyasa literally means breath-synchronized movement. Constantly flowing, we use our breath as a string to create a garland of asanas, or postures. This class is a challenge! The student will build stamina, strength, flexibility and grace.

"Challenge" is an understatement. I remember this class. When I first started taking it, I was immobile for days afterwards. And now I'm a Mom of Two, which means my body is more banged up than ever. I'll feel embarrassed when I can't hold a pose as long as everyone else (if I can even get into the pose in the first place). And I'll be extra embarrassed of my out-of-shape bod in front of all the lithe hipster-girls in their tight, cropped yoga pants and spandex tops and tattooed abs. It's not a huge class either, so there isn't anywhere to hide. At least there aren't any mirrors on the walls. *shudder*

As you can see, I can come up with a million reasons not to go. But. But, but, but. I was so much happier with myself when I was going regularly. I mean, I was never a skinny-minnie, but my body felt flexible and strong and....taller somehow. Leaner. And I was proud that I'd turned the girl who couldn't touch her toes into the woman who could flip herself upside-down into a Shoulder Stand like it aint no thang. Plus it was good for my mental health, too. It was a full hour and a half of me time. The air was always full of relaxing New Age-y music and scented with lavender. The instructors were kind and encouraging. it was quiet and restive and restorative. AND every class ended with "Corpse Pose" (literally just laying flat on your back, eyes closed) while the teacher massaged your temples.

Oh. I almost relaxed the tension in my shoulders just now, remembering that. Yeah. It's time.

I know I've had way too many false starts trying to get myself back to this class. I need to take the bull by the horns (or the monkey by the tail) and just GO. So tomorrow's the Big Return, kiddies. Please send me some good, energized, yoga-style vibes!

And perhaps some painkillers.

Namaste!

So happily, I was able to find some quality Munchkin pictures from his baptism that I, or rather my ill-fitting dress, was not featured in.

Getting ready for his big day:



Full-on Italian baby baptismal outfit (including hat):



The money shot:



I do make a cameo in that last picture. See my nails? They were painted in this wicked plum color from OPI called "Give Me Moor!" I wonder who names those polishes? That would be a fun job.

Ahhh, moving on (I am so easily distracted. Shiny object, shiny object!)...

Anyhoo. As you can see, my little man had fun and — bonus — is no longer a heathen baby. The ceremony was lovely, the party went well, the food was yummy and a fine time was had by all.

In fact, the only "episode" that happened last weekend (because something ALWAYS has to happen when family is involved) was the demise of my toaster. Here's the story...

I was upstairs putting the baby down for a nap, when I heard "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!!" shrieking from downstairs. I panicked, thinking Patoot was seriously hurt. What I found instead, was that my mother-in-law, frustrated at her sibling at the time, had projected her ire into my toaster and it had burst into a Towering Inferno. She pulled the flaming appliance off the counter and started stomping on it. The fire alarm beeped like crazy. Patoot stood in the living room with her hands over her ears looking scared. My father-in-law was in the shower and heard nothing. Esposo (playing an Interwebs show in the basement) said to his online audience, "Uhhh...my fire alarm is going off. Thanks for listening. Gotta go!" and unplugged. Meanwhile, my MIL dragged the smoking but no longer flaming toaster by the cord, like a bad dog on its leash, down the hall and out the front door.

When all was said and done, no one was hurt and it made for an amusing story. Also: don't you think Flaming Toaster would be a great name for a punk band? Any nameless bands can have at it. Just send me a free copy of your debut CD. 'Kay?

Ok. Back to work. Ciao for now!

Dear Cover Girl,

I am writing to suggest you add a warning label to your Cool Eyes sparkly white eyeliner. This morning, after dutifully apply the aforementioned liner to achieve a "well-rested look" (quite the feat, considering I am the mother of an infant), I got into my car and drove to work, as is my custom on work days. The morning was overcast, but a rogue sunbeam found its way through my car window and directly into my left eye. The instant this muted ray of sunshine came into contact with your glimmering, well-priced product, a blinding white light obscured my entire left eyeball. It would appear the sparkling agents in the product refract sunlight very, very well. I no doubt looked dazzling, but as I was driving I would have preferred my eyesight over a vibrant, gleamy look.

That said, I believe it would be in your company's best interest to add the line: "Take caution when in sunlight; may cause temporary blindness."

Thank you for your attention.

Before we go any further, since I know you've all been waiting with baited breath to discover how that whole Pop of Color issue with my new baptism outfit worked out...the color we're going with...is... (drum roll, please)...

PURPLE.

The decision was made based on my badass eggplant-purple purse and the suggestion (from my friend Amy) that I go a little wild and wear colored tights with the staid black and gray dress. I figured purple would be a good choice for tights because they're so dark, at first glance they may read black. But you KNOW something is up with them, then you take a closer look and think: "Sassy!"

At least, that's what I'm hoping for. "Sassy!" Not "Silly."

I'd like to find a purple bracelet to round out the look. In deference to the religiousness of the day, I will be wearing the Celtic cross I bought in Ireland. But a colorful bracelet would be fun. Of course, I don't own any purple bracelets. I have jade and lapis and garnet, but no purple. Maybe my mom has something I can borrow. I bet she does. She has More Jewelry Than is Humanly Reasonable. I strive to reach that level someday. ;)

Anyhoo. Now that THAT unexpected errand has been taken care of, I have been freed to think about all the other stuff I have to get done for Saturday. And as I've been thinking about it, I've impressed myself with how much I've managed to do cheaply. So I thought I'd share a little of my cost-cutting short cuts with you!

1. Invitations.
These bad boys can run you a bloody fortune, even the simple ones. I spent approximately $2 on ours. Using the measurements from a box of invitation-sized envelopes I got at Staples, I created a template using Quark (but I've used Word before, too). Then I just found a font I liked and typed out my text. I left enough space at the top for a pretty detail of some kind. I then took my simple computer print-out to, again, Staples and had the template copied onto some card stock-weight paper (I used a sage green). Then I cut them out and stamped a Celtic cross at the top of each one. Done and done. I've made more complex invitations before (remember the glitter?) but these were better suited to my wacked-out schedule. Plus, they looked nice. Double-plus, TWO DOLLARS.

2. The Location.
It's hard for Esposo and I to host family things at our house because my dad is CRAZY allergic to the Insane Clown Beagle. But we don't have a lot of money to splash around on fancy halls, either. A few years ago, I discovered that renting out the restaurant side of our favorite place, James's Gate Pub & Restaurant, is mad-cheap. I'm talking "$100 for the entire duration of the event" cheap. They don't advertise that the room is even available for rent. So that's my next tip: if you like a place but aren't sure if they do events, ask if they'll rent the space to you anyway. If events aren't their main source of income, chances are good it will be cheap.

3. The Food.
Everything The Gate makes is yummy, so this was easy. Since the Baptism is mid-day — after lunch time but not quite dinner — we went with heavy apps. So you could totally fill up and feel, well, stuffed. And we got hearty things like soup and quesedillas and chicken fingers. But since they aren't considered "meals," they are, again, cheaper. Throw in a salad and a fruit plate and, bam. Good eats for less money.

4. The Flowers.
If you've got a good eye and don't mind (or actually enjoy, like I do) arranging flowers, there is NO NEED to hire a florist. Unless you have the money, in which case, yeah I'd hire one too. But I don't and I don't have to because I can do it myself. Grocery stores these days have really good flower selections. I'm going to go the night before and/or the morning of and get a bunch of bouquets, break them up, then re-arrange them in my various and sundry clear glass vases. When people send you flowers, save the vases. Even if it seems crazy, like you have enough vases to open a Vases R Us, save them. Those vases all tend to look the same and can be used later.

5. Thank You Notes.
Honestly, this will be the most expensive thing I do. Since Patoot's first birthday, it's been my habit to take the best picture of her (and now, Himself) from the big day and turn it into a thank you card. Snapfish has super inexpensive options and really cute designs. I'll probably spend up to $20 on those. And it's totally worth it, since a box of thank you cards from CVS can run you between $12-$16 anyway. I'm willing to pay a bit more for something personalized that will also serve as a memento for the guest (i.e., a picture of the Wee Man of Honor). So that's my big splurge. $20.

Seriously, guys. I'm really bad at saving and managing money. So I'm rather proud of myself for finding ways to cut corners that are not only cost-effective, they are also fun (for me).

So. What short-cuts and DIY tricks do you guys rely on? Share!

At approximately 7:30pm last night, I realized I had a fashion problem.

At approximately 1:15pm today, I pretty much solved it.

Remember back in May (before my little man was born) how I was all proactive and bought an outfit to wear to his baptism? Yeahhhh. I bought it thinking he'd be baptized in August. Seems I was about three months off. The short-sleeved top and FABULOUS saffron yellow skirt I got from J. Crew are still as cute as can be...just not especially seasonal. But I am so taken with the vibrant color of the skirt, I was determined to pull it off somehow. So last night I tried a few of my long-sleeved tops with the skirt until I was satisfied I'd found one that looked right. Then I called in my Very Opinionated spouse.

me: What do you think?
him: Cute!
me: Oh thank God. So I'm all set for Saturday, then.
him: Whoa, wait. What? I thought you were picking out clothes for tomorrow.
me: Nooooo.
him: Oh. Then, no. I'm wearing a suit on Saturday, honey. You look like you're going to work.

Sigh.

He's tough (and sometimes rather annoying) but he's right. I would have been a basket case Saturday morning once I compared his fancy ensemble to my cute-but-not-exactly-fancy look. So instead of being prepared months in advance as was my original plan, I now had 4 days to pull something together. Ya know. With all that extra free time and money I have laying around. ;P

I fretted about it all morning. I trolled jcrew.com and anntaylorLOFT.com. I hemmed. I hawed. Then I went out at lunch to look in a LOFT near my office. After doing one lap around the store, I figured it was a lost cause. All work-y separates. No dresses. Alas.

But on my second lap I discovered, hidden in the sale racks, TWO dresses on sale. Two of the same dress, mind you. But I liked it! It was a black and gray abstract plaid wool-blend sheath dress with a slight A-line, scoop neck and a cute little ruffle/girly cravat detail at the neckline. Hit just at the knee. Looked cute with those Scary Booties of mine.

"Fear me."


I tried both sizes on, the smaller of the two fit nicely (which was a lovely surprise) and it was — wait for it — $39.99. YES. Dress Crisis, averted.

There's only one thing that's still gnawing at me a bit. I was CRAZY about the bright saturated color of my original, now-out-of-season skirt. I thought it was bold and cheery and a great choice for such a special event. Now I'm all in blacks and grays like I always am. I know. 'Tis the season of dark neutrals now. But I'd really love a pop of color SOMEwhere. I thought a scarf at first, but I don't know how that would look with the detailed neckline. Hmm. Stumped.

Aaaaaand now here's the part of the show where I turn it over to you guys. Does anyone have any suggestions how I can brighten-up my look? It's a baptism, after all. It's supposed to be joyful!

A Halloween re-cap, in pictures.

The Queen Bee and the Beekeeper.


Baby Jaws.


My Mermaid and her Bumble-Cousin-Bee.


Pumpkin lineup.


...and finally, how the Munchkin spent most of his first Halloween:


Hope everyone had a Happy, Safe and Good Candy-filled Halloween! :)

According to my desk calendar, today is the Day of the Dead in Mexico.

Fitting.

Yesterday, my mom and aunt finally declared my Nana's house clear and ready for my siblings, cousins and I to come over and take (and hopefully not fight over) any of her possessions we wanted. It was, well it was what I expected. Awkward. That apartment was such a focal part for my family's history, and now it was still and empty, the only remaining items arranged throughout the living and dining rooms like the world's saddest yard sale.

I didn't know what to do at first. This was NANA'S stuff, after all. Not mine. But I knew she'd want her grandkinds and great-grandkids to have heirlooms in whatever wacky form they may take, so I eased myself into the idea by making a box for my Sensational Sister who was at work and wouldn't be showing up until later. I started with Nana's jewelry.

Jewelry is a funny thing, emotion-wise. Some pieces of jewelry hold just as much emotional weight as a pair of shoes: they are fun and pretty and purchased solely to wear. But then you have the pieces with Meaning. Engagement rings and anniversary necklaces or a pendant from that favorite vacation. I tried to give my sister a mix of things: crazy-big, retro bead necklaces in turquoise blue and yellow. A diamond cluster ring — the only other ring she wore, the only ring she ever bought herself. A now-antique floral pin. The watch she wore almost every day. A medal of the Virgin Mother. And so on. Sister's box packed, I finally turned to do the task myself.

I took a similar assortment, including a necklace I never saw her wear, but she had saved all these years for what I can only assume must have been for a reason. It looks very old; a small carved coral rose strung on a delicate chain. When I knew Nana, she probably thought the piece too dainty for her to wear, judging by all the over-sized beads she bought herself. Which is why I strongly believe it's a necklace the grandfather I never met must have given her. My Nana and grandfather have (IMO) one of the greatest love stories of all time, so while I have no proof this necklace was from him I really feel like I'm right and I'm thrilled to have found it — this little, almost-overlooked token of their romance.

There were other surprised in store for me that day, too. When I mentioned how I was sure I already had some of the plates from this green and white set I noticed (Nana was always giving Esposo and I food when we lived above her), my aunt said, "Oh, you should just take the rest then. That set was your aunt Betty's, you know." I felt a little jolt as I held the teapot. My great-aunt Betty, my Nana's only sister, passed away when I was in high school. I hadn't thought of her in a while, when all of a sudden...there she was. Her husband, my great-uncle Bill, also made an appearance when Esposo reported finding a huge box of ancient tools in the basement. "Those must be Bill Jones's," my mom mused.

It suddenly occurred to me that, as the last remaining member of her generation, my Nana would have become the keeper of all of these family heirlooms. Aunt Betty's china. Uncle Bill's beloved tool set. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. When Esposo came up from the basement holding a WWII army jacket, everyone gasped. "That must be your Uncle Morris's" my mother said. My great-uncle Morris was a confirmed bachelor and lived with his sister, my Nana, for as long as I could remember. Having never known either grandfather, my two great-Uncles, Morris especially, doted on me like a granddaughter. Morris passed away when I was in college and — distracted as I was with my dramatic and fabulous youth — the loss didn't effect me as profoundly as it did yesterday as I stood bewildered in my Nana's empty living room, clutching a jacket I'd never seen him wear.

An entire portion of my family. All gone.

Before I left, I noticed a beat-up man's watch on the breakfront. I asked my mom whose it was. "Well, we're not sure. It could have been your grandfather's. It could have been Uncle Morris's. It could even have been your Uncle Bill's. I asked all the boys if they wanted it, but..."

I understood. My brothers were even worse at this whole "pick out your own heirloom thing" than I was.

I reached out and slipped the watch on my wrist. Amazingly, the second hand was still running. I seem to remember Nana wearing it, now that I looked at it. It has one of those stretch bands, and fit loosely on my wrist without falling off. "Can I have it?" I asked. "Sure, honey, since none of the boys seemed to want to take it."

I don't know who wore it, but I feel like it's a memento of all of my grandfathers, the one I was cheated out of and the two who spent the rest of their lives trying to be one for me.

1. I am slowly but surely turning into my mom. In this instance, that's a good thing. I stayed up late last night after work to make pumpkin cupcakes for Patoot's and the Munchkin's school Halloween party today. They're just regular yellow cake, but I frosted them to look like pumpkins. See?...

It may be a wonky pumpkin patch, but it is truly sincere.


2. I sent the kidlets off to school this morning in SUPER CUTE Halloween t-shirts. The Esposo brought their real costumes along to be donned later today for the school's Halloween parade. I tried to take a picture of the two of them in the shirts, but it was dark, they were moving and my cell phone is from the dawn of time.

Ergo...Fuzz City. Sigh.

(Good smiles on both of them, too!)

3. Since I am here today instead of home, I am MISSING the aforementioned Halloween parade. Wahhh. Esposo sent me this picture so I would feel included:

That's my mermaid in the middle.


I love how everyone else around her is this chaotic mess of toddlers, yet she has the presence of mind to stop and pose. That is Nature AND Nurture at work there, people.

4. So I tried on my sister's bee-girl costume last night. You know, the one that looks like this:



Holy black Halloween cats, Batman, that thing is SHORT. It's like a shirt with a tutu detail at the hem. SO not long enough to cover my whoopsidaisy. I held it up to my torso, stared at my sister who is of a similar height and exclaimed: "What in God's name did you wear with this?" She grinned sheepishly and said, "Um. Fishnets." I gawked at her. Her defense? "I was in college!"

Kids.

Since I'd rather not be the Lindsay Lohan or Brittany Spears of bees, I shall be wearing a nice pair of black PANTS with my bee-shirt, thank you very much. The entire party doesn't need to see where my babies came from.

5. Meanwhile, the Esposo's beekeeper costume is coming along nicely. He got that white canvas jumpsuit from Lowes, and today I bought him a wide-brimmed hat and some white tulle to make his protective headgear. But the piece de resistance has got to be the little badge I just made him on a whim. It looks like this:

Bad Bee-havior
Honeybee Farm

Dann Russo
Head Beekeeper

I crack myself up.

Alrighty. If I have time tomorrow or Sunday, I'll update you on the kidlets' trick or treating and the antics of my "grown-up" party tonight. Have a fun and safe All Hallows, ya'll!