The Elements of Style

You know the woman I'm talking about - you see her in the grocery store and her bag perfectly coordinates with her jacket. And her hair is clean, and her nails are perfect. Or out at the museum and she has on a plain white shirt and a stunning stone necklace. Sometimes she might be your friends, and she has the perfect outfit for every occasion - playdate, wedding, dinner out. She might partake of the current trend, but somehow she rises above it. The trend fits her, she doesn't fit herself into the mold. There's one thing all these women have in common. They don't worry if their sweater matches their shirt, or if their flats look good with a skirt of if they have on the right type of hose. They know that they make it right. The are surrounded by a force field of confidence.

Let's face it. You can't buy style. You are either born with it or not. Unfortunately I was not. Try as I might, I'm always just a little off. And I can't even tell you how many times I've been to a wedding, or preschool event, or book club meeting and wished about half way through that I'd worn something else. It's hard to believe but my first job was at a fashion magazine, and one of my responsbilities was to help write fashion guides. This experience taught me how to spot style, but somehow I didn't acquire it for myself.

My vision for myself was somewhere along the lines of Grace Kelly with Audrey Hepburn's clothes. It would have been great. And for a long time I thought that if I just grew my hair out, or had a shopping spree at Banana Republic or got a makeover, I'd suddenly have it.

So last month it occured to me. I'm over 40. If I don't have it now, I'm never going to get it.

It didn't stop me from getting that shirt at Banana Republic though...

Invisible Mom

Sometimes I feel like I'm invisible. Friends that only talk to you about carpool and playdate logistics. Children that whine about dessert. Potential babysitters who take days to return your call (or don't call back at all). Even worse, potential employers who don't return your call.

But now I have the best one yet. We had part of our house painted back in May. The job is 95% of the way done. And the painter isn't returning my calls. But here's the kicker. I owe him $1,500. And STILL he won't call me!

California Boy

My friend Claire just reminded me of something Miles said recently. He saw her husband smoking and said, "That man's on fire!" She said he's a real California boy!

This isn't the first time I've been struck by how different my kids' upbringing is from mine. I never had Mexican food until my twenties. (And it made me very sick). My kids have quesadillas at least once a week. And Mia loves black beans. Sometimes I'll give my kids half an avacado with a spoon with their dinner. When I was growing up, my mother sometimes bought avacados at our upstate New York grocery store and they sat on the window sill like little green bricks for months until we could eat them. And - of course - my kids learned how to do downward dog at age two at their daycare yoga class.... while the first time I did yoga was at the ripe old age of 34!

Mia's Addiction

When Mia was born my Mom gave her a soft white lamb - the kind with a head but a flat body (reminiscent of a bear rug) that functions as a blanket. Miles already had the doggy version of this toy - which he loved - so we named it Baa and kept it in her bassinette with her. Marcia, our babysitter, used to sometimes wrap her little fists around Baa's ears.

But then something happened. At some point Mia decided that she liked Baa's stubby little tail better than her soft pink ears. And she decided that what she really liked about the tail was the way it felt when she rubbed it under her nose while sucking on her binky. Even better if it was dirty. Better yet if it was moist from her snot.

As she has grown older, I have found her rubbing Baa's now-grey tail on other body parts. Her toes are a favorite. So is her vagina.

Sometimes, as a mark of affection, Mia will offer you a rub of Baa's tail. Sweet and yet disgusting at the same time. I have made a point of washing Baa once a week. (Sometimes difficult to schedule because it needs to be during a time when her presence is not mandatory for an hour). But still she has a smell that is best described as "unique."

What I have found so interesting about this addiction is that Mia's need for Baa has not diminished as she has grown older. But as her ability to vocalize her needs has grown, she has been able to express this need much more.

For example, as we're about to part with Baa - either because we have to put her in the washer or leave her in the car before we go into the grocery store - she'll often say "I just need two more tail rubs."

She recently started preschool and I was wondering how the whole transition would go. She's had free access to Baa all day at her daycare. I bought her a backpack big enough to hold her lunch and Baa in case she needed to bring her. But I was reluctant to let Mia know she could bring Baa, because I'm afraid that if she gets into that habit in two years we'll be having a tug of war outside the kindergarten gates. Or she'll be sneaking her into her locker in 7th grade.

When I brought her home after her first day she was tired, tired, tired. And she lay down on the floor with Baa and binky. When I told her that she needed to pee and wash her hands after an outing (our family rule) she said, "I just need some tail time."

Don't we all?