Friday, March 26, 2010
FYI: Unless you are Sara Jessica Parker playing Carrie in Sex And The City, you should not have visible bra straps. They look trashy. And you are not fooling anyone by wearing a bra with clear bra straps, (Who thought those slippery things were a good idea anyway? They're like wearing a stretched out gummy worm on your shoulder and it's creepy) The nude bra is a better choice, but after seeing a woman in a pretty white dress today I originally was thinking, "Wow, she looks grea..whoah. What the?" And there they were. Her nude bra straps were just hanging out nowhere near her dress. If it's showing just a little bit, well, that's life and that's forgivable, but just hanging out as if you did it on purpose? Come On. They now sell bralief for $9.99 at just about any Walgreens in the country. Or here's an idea, where the proper bra.
I am still completely amazed when one of my children turns to me for comfort. Not that I don't think children should turn to their mother when they need comforting, it's just that fact that they honestly think I would be the best person to turn to in these situations and I haven't the slightest idea why. Other than being their mother by default, I have no training in comfort situations and I have no idea how to do it. And honestly, half the time it breaks my heart when they are upset, and a little less than half it's kind of funny. No heartbreak or falling down is not funny, what is funny is that they honestly think that I have the tools to make it all better.
Take this as an example of my maternal instinct: While taking a walk (Lily in stroller and Paris next to me) a gigantic bee swoops down in front of me. Since neither one of my children have been stung, I don't know if they are allergic and I'm paranoid about it. Rationally though, I realize that a little bee sting is not the end of the world. But, as we all know, I am not rational.
And this is exactly why I think it's absolutely hilarious that these two kids actually find me comforting. The only thing I have to say in my defense is that at least my over-reaction had yhe proper intentions and I didn't pull a George Castanza and push them out of the way so I could get away faster.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
So I'm walking to Whole Foods today and I notice in front of me are two very stylish young girls. I'm talking no older than 14. (I could tell by the complete lack of hips and cellulite). So anyway, both girls are wearing berry colored cardigans,-ok I think- good for them- and then I noticed their entire outfits. Girl A was wearing a vintage floral dress and gladiator sandals with studs. Her handbag? Fringe of course. Girl B was wearing a vintage T-Shirt with blown out jean shorts and wedges. Her handbag? Cross body of course. My outfit? -you ask? You may think one employed as a stylist might have one upped these young glamazons in training. Sadly, the answer is puma sweats, sneakers and a bobby pin.
FYI this picture comes from http://www.spoiledlittlemama.com/ which is apparently where a diva begins her training.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Because we work we have to find adequate childcare after school for the 9 year old that doesn't mean sitting in front of the TV for 3 hours until we get home. We told Paris that she would have to pick a sport. Paris, of course, picked hip hop dance. Ok, not the basketball I had hoped for, but this kid has her own thing going on, so we went with it.
Now, it is important to know a couple of facts before I continue...Paris is a tow head with big blue eyes, she is tall, (think about 5ft at the age of 9) skinny and unbelievably uncoordinated. (on the way to hip hop class she fell walking up the stairs) So the fact that she even picked something that requires coordination and rhythm is beyond me, but hey, she is her own person.
Cut to 30 minutes into her first hip hop dance lesson: Paris is successfully swirling 4 hula hoops around her hips and keeping them up. My jaw dropped. (I mean really?) Cut to 45 minutes into the first lesson: the kids are in a battle, or what I would call a dance off, and my lanky, tall, blonde, and somewhat awkward daughter gets right into the middle of dancefloor and starts breakdancing. God bless her.
I relearned what I have always known that day; always support your kids dreams and do what you love.