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?

The Greying of Me

For a long time whenever I saw a grey hair I would yank it. But after awhile I started having so many that I was afraid if I kept yanking I'd end up with a little halo of stubble across the top of my head as the hair grows out. So now I'm just watching it grow trying to decide whether I want to get back on the highlight treadmill.

My understanding of grey hair is that it comes out of your head grey. A perfectly fine, brownish blonde strand doesn't suddenly go grey over night. So I was quite surprised tonight, when brushing my teeth with my ponytail hanging jauntily over my shoulder, to see a grey hair inside it.

Somehow, this bugger had made it through the plucking stage and grown past my shoulders. If my understanding of the mechanics of grey hair is correct, it has been growing out of my head for three or four years at least. And it suddenly occured to me that throughout the plucking stage, I had never actually looked at the back of my head. For all I know there are MILLIONS of greys back there. So good to know that I wasn't fooling anyone.

But for anyone out there who didn't hear the newflash last month - I got CARDED at Bell Market. Which is quite an accomplishment at my advanced age. So instead of getting depressed about the greys I'm just chanting to myself, "I got carded. I got carded. I got carded." Who cares if the light isn't so great in there?

Mia Thinks She Owns The Place

We had another milestone this week. Mia started preschool. (Ok, so I cried again).

But here's the amazing thing with the younger siblings. It was actually sort of anticlamatic. Not that we didn't make a big deal out of it in our house or anything, but she was so ready that it took most of the stress out of it. The most difficult part was that she insisted on bringing two items for show and tell instead of the one that she was supposed to. And got into a snit when I made her leave one in the car. (Which is why she is frowning in all of her first day pictures).

But I found it quite amusing. When we got there she complained about the location of her cubby. Then she went to play with the tactile bins. And later in the morning, when some of the big kids put on bathing suits and got into the kiddie pool, she went into the adult bathroom (which is strictly off limits to kids), into the cabinet, found the box with her emergency clothes, put on her own bathing suit and went outside to play.

I'd say she was settled...

Bye-bye Diaper Pad

Tonight I was cleaning the dining room. And I looked at the diaper changing pad that is tucked under my desk and thought, "I don't need that gross thing anymore", took it outside and stuffed it in the trash. Then I poured a glass of wine. I had a great sense of accomplishment. It isn't exactly the same as running a marathon, but, nevertheless this is a nice place to be.

What A Difference A Year Makes

Ok, so really fourteen months....

But Mike had to leave early from our family vacation to Hawaii last week. And I had to come home alone with the kids. Oh yes, and of course not predicting this, I had booked tickets with a change of planes in Honolulu. Oh yes, and we had mechanical difficulties that kept us on the tarmac for an extra hour.

But here's the amazing thing. It wasn't that bad. Granted my Mom and stepfather were staying down the street and took us to the airport. I don't want to in any way diminish the fact that they took us to the airport and helped us check in. But still, they had to leave us at security. (And did I mention I cried?).

My trip alone to Florida with them last year was probably the most stressful outing of my life. (African safari? No big deal. Coup in Fiji? Piece of cake). And I still think I deserve some type of Purple Heart for Mommies for surving that one.

But now, at three and four years old, I didn't have to bring carseats on the plane (we checked our boosters). I didn't have to bring a million extra outfits. I didn't need diapers! Our seat was near the bathroom so I could leave Miles while I took Mia to the potty. Miles could go by himself! They could drink without sippy cups. (Although it was a teeny bit tense when Miles poured his ginger ale into his lap). They actually napped! They watched DVDs!

Also, one of the things I've noticed about Miles is that although he can be really naughty sometimes, when the chips are down he usually comes through for me. And when the plane landed in San Francisco, no less than FOUR different people who were sitting around told me how good the kids had been!

Kids Menus

The NY Times published an article today, lamenting the kids menu and how it is driving our kids toward more chicken fingers and fries. As someone who is struggling to move our family to a phase where we all eat ONE meal and it is all the same one and it is relatively healthy, all I can say is Hallelujah! We're a long way from that goal, but from time to time Mia will eat spinach salad or Miles will have steak and asparagas. But no matter how close we get, I know for sure we really don't need the fries in the mix....

End of an Era

Mia had her last day at daycare today. And Mommy cried all the way home.

Yoga Frequency

So after a rough winter I've gotten back into a routine of going to yoga once a week and I have to say, it just isn't enough. Even though I've been able to stick with that pretty well, I just don't seem to be able to get any better. I still struggle with my backbends, I'm not getting any stronger. I need to go more than once a week. But if a mother of two small children is spending, three plus hours a week at yoga, does that make me superficial? Or selfish?

Dragging You Down

Here's the thing about your spouse's anxiety, stress or depression. You can either be impervious (and perceived as cold) or you can take it on yourself and get sucked in. Normally I'm pretty oblivious and I just go about my business, but now I'm finding that my spouse's stress is starting to drag me down too.....

The Grudge

Mia is starting preschool in two weeks, and I have to say I'm pretty curious about what it will be like! Mostly she is easygoing, and a good listener.

But she's also a bit of a grudge-holder. She sometimes complains about her friends at family daycare. One day this winter, when we were skiing (of all things), Mia said, apropos of nothing, "Paigey didn't listen to my words at Denise's." Four days later and she's thinking about it while skiing.

But that's of course nothing like her Dora book. How many times has she said, "Miles ripped my Dora book and I'm not too happy about it!". And I'm like, yeah, Mia that was last summer! Get over it!

So I'm interested to see whether she learns to develop friendships at school. Or whether we'll have a litany of complaints about Maggie or Courtney or Lindsay "not sharing their crayons, or ripping her construction paper or whatnot!

I just can't wait to enjoy this aspect of her personality when she's in junior high!

You Say Tomato

We had a major "milestone" in our family three weeks ago. Drum roll please. Miles started eating tomatoes! He'd never even put one into his mouth before. (Yes, even though he is half Italian!). But I asked him to try one of the little organic sweets from Trader Joes one night at dinner and he ended up eating six! I wasn't watching, and when I looked at his plate and saw that they were all gone, I was stunned. I made him get up and shake his shirt to prove that he hadn't hidden them.

He's actually tried several new foods lately and it is very exciting. He didn't like cauliflower (no surpise there). But he liked oatmeal. And tried mango. And of course tomatoes.Mia's been eating those little tomatoes for awhile. I've gotten her to try tomato sauce and she says she likes it. So maybe Miles will try it at some point too. And maybe, maybe someday our family will actually be able to have lasange for dinner.

Ciao!

Raising Cain

A couple of weeks ago I read an amazing book called Raising Cain. It is about "protecting the emotional life of boys." I found it very moving. It is SO easy to get annoyed with Miles, because he doesn't listen. Or sometimes doesn't pay attention. (Today, after swimming, just when we got to the car he said "I have to pee." So we turned around to go back to swim class. And I'm carrying Mia. And he stops and plays with flower boxes and store windows. I'm thinking, if you have to pee so bad, get the hell in there!)

But the book made me feel so guilty about all the times I get annoyed with him. It talked a lot about raising boys that are able to deal with their own emotions, and are therefore able to be nice to other people.

It also made me conscious of how difficult life could be - at times - for someone like him. Already his sister, who is 18 months younger, knows more letters than he does and is a better swimmer. She is happy to read alphabet books or do her swimming. Miles is interested in letters only so much as he can write signs or play. So it is going to take him a longer to learn and will be more challenging to teach him.

What I took away from it:

• Help boys to have an emotional life. Show them that it is OK to have feelings. Teach them how to talk about them. If they can't identify and talk about their emotions, then they can't be expected to deal with them later in life, or to treat other people well.
• Help boys with school. Pick a school that adapts lessons for people like Miles, who are smart but maybe not so great at sitting still and doing drill and practice. Help to create a good experience for him right out of the gate so that he doesn't dislike school and turn away from it.

Okay, that's it. There was a lot more in the book, but this is what I took away from it. And that's enough.

Same Old, Same Old

I haven't been a very good blogger over the past ten months. Here's what happened. First, I became the newsletter writer for our preschool. Which was fun except that I didn't know how to do desktop publishing. So things that should have taken me twenty minutes took about eight hours. Then I took on a contract position for two days a week for three months and that pretty much made me crazy. And then finally I took on the enrollment job at school, which made me even more crazy.

But here's the really sad thing. Here I'm writing again, and things aren't that different!

-I'm still unhappy with my weight
-I have even more grey hair
-I'm still a terrible listener with my kids
-I don't go to yoga enough
-I need to get a job
-I'm still obsessing because I don't have enough "passions." Maybe if I had, I'd have some fabulous career right now, or be the expert that the NY Times quotes on some obscure topic
-I love my husband but he snores

So for my three readers out there... you haven't missed anything!!

Friends

Do you ever have those days when your friends drive you nuts? Oh come on, you know you do! It's probably even me!

Mom's Clothes

I remember when I was in high school and my Mom would buy clothes for me but I always liked what she bought for herself better... Mia's already starting to borrow my clothes. The other day she slept in my pajamas!

And lately she's been bugging me to borrow my labordorite necklace. She thinks it looks like a candy necklace. In a moment of weakness I let her have it, and when I turned around she was whipping Miles with it. So I told her she can have it when she's fourteen. (Hoping she'll forget.) But it made me think of when I was little and used to ask my grandmother if I could have her diamond engagement ring when she died. Nice kid, huh?

No Mother Left Behind

Recently I was talking to an old friend and she told me that she'd taken up pole dancing as a hobby. You know, pole dancing. Like the women do at the Bada Bing Club on the Sopranos (although my friend assures me she has a shirt on).

This is not some slutty friend who wears tight pants and low cut shirts and flirts with all the husbands. She's a fine, upstanding mother and a card-carrying member of the PTA. But another friend had encouraged her to join a class and now she was hooked. The thing, she told me, is that she felt like she had left so much of herself behind when she became a mother. And this was a way to recapture the part of her that used to love to dance and really let it all go at clubs. A part she really missed. And could now revisit. But now with platform shoes.

So of course I started obsessing about all of the aspects of myself that I had left behind. The part that liked to get shit-faced on beer at some divvy local bar on a Sunday afternoon. The part that actually had time to get into bed with a good book on Friday night - and stay up all night if it was good enough. The part that liked to go camping and would then stay up all night listening for bears. The part that could actually plan - and pull the trigger - on a trip to Europe.

But here's the encouraging part. Considering how much my life has changed, my list isn't raelly that long. And in just fifteen more years I'll be able to do it all again!

My Little Princess

And I mean literally....