Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Happy New Year!

Bubs as Baby New Year. No top hat or 2009 sash, true. But baby, boy, baldish, be-diapered-- close enough. Best wishes for a Happy New Year!

Happy Feet

I have been on a lifelong quest to find a reasonably cute shoe to fill that ever-so-elusive niche between tennis shoe and dress shoe. And now, thanks to my fashionable friend Krista (and by extension Jora), I recently discovered these Dansko clogs. I have literally worn them every day (and everywhere) since gifting them to myself last week. You know that huge, hilly San Diego Zoo? Oh, my clogs and I were all over it. And they've been to work, the park, a dog walk . . . My feet have never been so happy. Makes me wonder what I've been wearing on my feet all this time. Nothing this good, that's for sure.

Shoes For My Boy

Snook and Bubs are only 22 1/2 months apart. That's why it never ceases to amaze me how many new baby products came out in the relatively short time between their births. I'm only slightly exaggerating when I say close to half of the baby gear I used with Snook was rendered hopelessly obsolete by the time Bubs came along.

But the new product I'm most excited about these days is this Tredz line of toddler shoes that Robeez recently introduced. Aren't they cute? I was already in love with Robeez' soft-soled shoes for babies. And Snook did her fair share of walking around in those. But this new brand of shoes has a rubber sole, rather than soft leather, so they're even better for active, walking, outdoorsy-type toddlers. And they're supposedly just as flexible and pliable as the baby version. Can anyone vouch?

While Bubs is not walking quite yet, he is fast approaching his first birthday, and he's already taken up to five tentative steps in a row. As soon as he's officially up and walking, I'll be swinging by one of my favorite (and few remaining, boo hoo) baby stores here in town to pick up a pair of these shoes for my boy.

And while I'm on the subject of shoes, stay tuned . . .

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Little Miss Fancy Sunshine

Could someone please let me know if they're planning to film a Little Miss Sunshine sequel? Because if and when they do, I will need to race Snook over to the audition pronto.

Do you not see the resemblance (minus the chocolate cupcake residue)?

Or maybe her new look was inspired by the Fancy Nancy doll she got from her grammie (my mom) for Christmas. Have they done a Fancy Nancy movie yet?

Wry Baby Tackles Towels

You moms out there will surely agree that some of the funniest baby shower gifts you received came courtesy of Wry Baby. I mean who among you hasn't gotten a good chuckle over their oh-so-clever onesies? Kind of a refreshing departure from all the duckies and giraffes, wouldn't you say? And you gotta love their slogan- "Raise Funny People."

Most recently, Cost Plus World Market asked the comedians over at Wry Baby to come up with some hooded towel sets to be sold exclusively at Cost Plus. And boy did they deliver.

Pirates served as their first source of inspiration. The washcloths feature sayings such as “Nobody Likes A Smelly Pirate!” and “Live Clean! Fight Dirty!" Hilarious!

Princesses came next, with equally zany washcloth sayings such as "Princesses Don't Do Showers." And the princess hooded towel and washcloth set even comes with a cute fairy tale about a little princess who was cursed by a dragon to be super stinky but was eventually rescued by a king and his bar of soap.

So if you know someone in that most delicate of conditions and want to shower her with a unique gift (and get the biggest laugh at the baby shower), I say head over to Cost Plus for one of these towel sets. Who knows, they may even become collector's items some day. Or get one for your own pirate or princess. (My mother-in-law already beat me to it!) Lord knows we moms could all use a little bathtime levity every now and then.

Monday, December 29, 2008

A Song (And Dance)

I know this song is over a year old, but I heard it again last night and couldn't stop smiling. There might have been a little dancing as well. It's just so sweet. And what more could any of us ask than to be taken the way we are. Love it! Hope it makes you smile too. And dance.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

The Cherry Dress

A children's fashion standard is the cherry dress, or so I learned a couple of years ago when my mother-in-law ordered one for Snook, and it arrived a whole year later. Why did it take so long to get here? Because there is only one place in the whole world where they make the cherry dress, and that is the St. Louis Woman's Exchange. You can read all about this amazing, enduring, historic place right here.

Although the cherry dress is traditionally an Easter frock, I couldn't resist putting Snook in it on Christmas morning, what with the red, white and green color scheme and all. I'd also love for her to get as much use out of it as possible before she grows out of it (especially since I'm not too adept at letting out hems). She did get chocolate on it, so a trip to the cleaners is in order before her next wearing for sure.

Jackie put John-John in the boy's version of the cherry dress many years ago.

Bubs, however, opted for this even more timeless ensemble on Christmas morning.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

A heartbreakingly beautiful version of a classic, and my heartfelt wish for all of you!

Monday, December 22, 2008


I don't get to break these bad boys out too often, living in San Diego and all. But when it's time, it's time. And now is definitely the time. It's downright freezing up in here. Guess this is what I get for complaining about all those 80-degree Christmases we've had in recent years. Chatter, chatter. Oh well, thanks to these, I can at least feel my toes.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

To Disney or Not To Disney?

If left to my own devices with this whole parenting thing, my style probably would have tended a little more toward the fringe, with a touch of hippie, and maybe a dash of granola. I did after all attend and absolutely adore a mommy-and-me nursery class with Snook at this school. And I could totally ditch the TV. But, thankfully, I'm not alone on this journey. And, as it turns out, my partner in crime is a little more, shall we say, mainstream.

Which leads us to Disney. Seriously, what could be more mainstream than Disney? So I was not at all surprised when #1 suggested earlier this year that we become Annual Passport members. I did, however, have two initial concerns: (1) Given my watered-down-earth-mama sensibilities, I didn't think my little ones necessarily needed to be exposed to all that is Disney at such tender ages; and (2) I was worried that making frequent trips to Disneyland would make it less special. Growing up, my family did the once-a-year Disneyland thing, which meant my brother and I got crazy excited at the mere thought of the place.

But then I realized that my concerns were at direct odds with one another. I mean, if I didn't want my kids to believe that Disneyland was the be all and end all, then why not go as often as possible and thereby desensitize them to the place and get them to think it was no big deal? More to the point, why venerate a corporate behemoth? Better to save the veneration for Yosemite or D.C. or Normandy. I also told myself it would all balance out with our frequent trips to the zoo, library, Children's Museum, etc. Or at least those were the arguments I came up with to get some peace of mind about the whole thing. And #1 can be very persuasive. So I went along with the plan, and we've now been to Disneyland an obnoxious six times since May (including a doubleheader during that time I said I would be out of commission for a couple of days).

I say "obnoxious," but during those six days at Disneyland, we have had really wonderful times together as a family;

made friends with royalty (and a very popular fairy); and

gotten some great Halloween-costume inspiration.

Plus, doesn't Bubs (shown here at five months) look adorable in his mouse ears?

And look! On our recent It's a Small World adventure, I learned Disney does have some lefty leanings! Who knew?

So at our house we obviously answered the question posed with a resounding, "Disney!" And I have to say, #1 was right, it's been a ton of fun. Did you see those smiles? Which is the whole point, right?

Saturday, December 20, 2008

All Banged Up

I got bangs. Not sure why. Needed a change I guess, but I wasn't ready to cut my hair off and I'd never be brave enough to dye it a different color. That leaves bangs. Wasn't sure if I liked them at first. Okay, my first thought upon seeing my new forehead fringe was to wonder how long it would take to grow them out. And I had to let Snook pour water, no joke, on my professionally hair-dried, professionally flat-ironed head, before she would accept them. No comment on #1's initial reaction. What is it about husbands and kids that make them want you to never change your look from the day they met you? But now I'm thinking maybe they're okay. Maybe this will even be my new look-for-life. I could forever be known as "Heidi, you know, bangs." I don't know. Who cares? It's just hair. They're just bangs. The more important question is: Am I in good company?

Easy Fudge

You won't believe how delicious this fudge is, considering how easy it is to make. Thanks go again to my grandmother-in-law. Here's the recipe:


1 (12 oz.) prepared chocolate cake frosting
1 jar (16 oz.) peanut butter (smooth or chunky)

Grease 8" microwave-safe pan. Spread frosting in pan and smooth top. Add peanut butter. Cover. Microwave at high 2 to 2 1/2 minutes. Watch carefully. Remove from microwave and stir well. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour. Cut into small squares. Enjoy rapturously good fudge!


My firm held their annual holiday party yesterday afternoon. Of course, we kicked things off with one of those gift exchanges where everyone brings a gift, and then one by one everyone selects a gift that can then be stolen two or three times before the gift is declared "dead," and you end up with whatever gift is in your lap. Kind of the musical chairs version of gift-giving. I haven't normally fared well with these things. An itty bitty book light comes to mind. But yesterday, I got lucky.

Check out this pretty little set I got to take home. Mine is dark heather grey, with some silver bling stitching up the sides of the cami. And after trying it on, I can attest it is soooo comfortable. "Super soft" does not do justice to the material. More like "second skin," or "barely there." Plus, the picture doesn't show the cute packaging the shorts come in. A little, satiny, mesh bag adorned with a scarlet ribbon and a tag that reads "a matching knit short: the perfect present." I couldn't agree more--for yourself or a girly girl on your list. One bit of advice--go a size smaller than you normally would. The pieces are a little roomy.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Open, Open, Open

I'm so excited about this I think I may pull something. Have you heard? A brand new Broken Yolk Cafe is all set to open in the Gaslamp in early 2009!!! Yes, the same Broken Yolk where every worth-her-tan lines 21-year-old San Diego chick went on Sunday mornings in PB to knock back mimosas (and breakfast) after a long night at Moose's. I don't remember (or even care) if the food was all that great. All I know is that for the longest time (just ask #1) I have been complaining about the dearth of a decent homestyle diner or coffeeshop-type-place in San Diego's Gaslamp District. If I'm forgetting one, please let me know, but I've looked and looked for many, many (don't want to age myself too much) many years.

I'm talking about a dining establishment on the order of Mel's in San Francisco (also in LA). Oh, how I miss that place from my law school days. (Would it be too much to ask that they open one of those in San Diego?) The meatloaf, the grilled cheese, the shakes. It was just the kind of comfort food the body craves in those witching hours between 11:30 p.m. and 2:30 a.m. And just the kind of place the Gaslamp has always been missing. I still remember my poor girlfriends and I, hunkered down in the parking lot of the 11th Street Jack-in-the-Box, attacking a bag of greasy tacos after going hard at Tsunami's all night. If our mothers only knew.

This past year, I thought I'd finally found what I was looking for in Maryjane's Coffeeshop at the Hard Rock Hotel. And Maryjane's has been good to me. Just walking in that place makes me feel like such a hip mom. Got so addicted to that feeling, in fact, that I've dragged all of my out-of-town guests there since it opened. But then there was the time that Snook almost got run over in the hotel lobby by a half-naked-drunk-off-his-tuchis hotel guest, which got me thinking I probably needed to come up with an alternative.

Enter the Broken Yolk. I'm planning to sit in front of that place desperate-holiday-shopper-style until they open their doors. I can already picture Bubs happily dropping greasy spoon after greasy spoon. Anyone up for a breakfast/lunch date (with kids of course)? So excited!

My Beautiful Baby Niece

Snook and Bubs have a cousin! She'll be 5-months-old tomorrow. Isn't she the very sweetest?

Here she is at Disneyland celebrating her mama's birthday. Yeah, she was the hit of the whole Park.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Bullseye Beauty

This isn't going to land me in the beauty consultants' hall of fame any time soon, I realize. But I have to announce that I'm over it, fed up, done. "With what?" you ask. With spending exorbitant sums of money on high-priced skincare lines that do not work for me. I suppose it could be the stress of hoping my new investment will pay off that wreaks havoc on my skin. But whatever it is, the more I spend, and believe me, I even splurged J. Lo-style on one particularly remorseful occasion, the worse it works out for me. And then, to add insult to injury, after the product fails to deliver, I find myself unable to part with it because of the guilt and because the packaging is probably what I fell in love with in the first place. The result being I still have several offenders taking up precious room on the shelves of my medicine cabinet, reminding me daily of their broken promises.

So this past weekend, in honor of my new pact, I went back to basics with this tried and true old standby and with Target's Oil of Olay Regenerist knock-off line. I actually tried these generic lotions and serums in a fit of frugality once before and really liked the results. But I couldn't shake the feeling that surely I could be doing something more for my skin. No, it turns out, several more hundred dollars later, I couldn't.

And now, after only a couple of nights of using my practical new purchases, I'm already noticing a glow emanating from my face that wasn't there before. The glow of #1's praise for my thriftiness? Maybe. The glow of having no pressure to search frantically for miracle results that will never come to fruition? Could be. Or perhaps it's the glow of my new products' cheap plastic containers reflecting off my skin? Whatever the source of the new glow may be (could it be the cheapo products?!?!), I just refuse to try to "fix" what isn't broken and break the bank in the process ever again. Talk to me again in a month I suppose, but for now, let it glow, let it glow, let it glow.

Saturday, December 13, 2008


A cookie party invitation arrived in my mailbox a couple of weeks ago. One of those parties where the invitees are asked to bring three dozen cookies to exchange. Well, the big day is coming this week, and I had absolutely no idea what type of cookie I was going to bake, or, more importantly, when I was going to bake them. Until this afternoon that is, when we visited my grandmother-in-law, and there on her counter were the cutest, yummiest-looking little confections I've seen in a long time. She said they were called "haystacks," and they took my brother-in-law all of about ten minutes to "bake." I tasted one, fell in love, and knew my problem was solved. Here's the recipe:


1 (6 oz.) pkg. semi-sweet chocolate pieces
1 (3 oz.) can chow mein noodles

In 3-quart casserole or large bowl, place chocolate pieces. Cover with lid or plastic wrap. Microwave at medium or low 3 to 4 minutes until melted. Stir chocolate smooth; add noodles and using two forks, toss to coat well. On strips of foil or wax paper, form into 1 1/2 inch clusters. Cool to set. Makes about 24 (1 1/2 inch) "haystacks."

You can also apparently add such ingredients as butterscotch, caramel chips, marshmallows, peanut butter, or any type of nut to these little babies, and they'll turn out even better. You can also use white chocolate. YUM! Or even sprinkle coconut on top to make them really festive.

I'm hoping for a masterpiece! And really looking forward to that party! Phew!

Friday, December 12, 2008

Survivor = Mother

I'm not a Survivor fan, but I'm dealing with a lot of "Mom" issues today (low-grade fever, runny noses, puke, nap aversion, sleep deprivation, messy house . . .). So I thought I'd post this shout-out to all Moms today that my aunt sent to me this week. I thought it was a pretty funny take on an old idea.


Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 2 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.

There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 2 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.

In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.

Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time--no emailing.

Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment.

He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care.

He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.

The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.

During one of the six weeks , the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.

They must attend weekly school meetings, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

They will need to read a book to the kids each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:00 am.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information:

each child's birthday,
shoe size,
clothes size
doctor's name.

Also, the child's:
weight at birth,
time of birth,
and length of labor,
each child's favorite color,
middle name,
favorite snack,
favorite song,
favorite drink,
favorite toy,
biggest fear and
what they want to be when they grow up.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance.

The last man wins only if... he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right to be called--Mother!

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

My Broken Heart Will Go On

This happened a couple of weeks ago, but it still hurts. I'll preface by saying that everyone who knows me knows that I love Celine Dion. Even if I don't like the song she's singing, which happens quite often because some of her stuff is a little poptastic for my taste, her voice still brings tears to my eyes (the good kind, for you smart alecks out there) and gives me goosebumps almost every single time I hear her sing. She also seems to be a genuinely sweet, ebullient, giving person. Because of all this, I dressed as Celine for two or three Halloweens in a row (sorry, no pictures [especially since one year a fellow reveler asked me if I was supposed to be Jenny Jones - ouch!]);

caught her Las Vegas show two times;

own a pretty impressive Heart of the Ocean replica;

and am a proud, card-carrying Team Celine fan club member (and have been since 2000).

So on account of all the love and devotion I've shown Celine over the years, her being my lady and all, I never in my wildest dreams thought she would be the one to cause me such a titanic-sized heartache. This is what went down:

In case you hadn't heard, Celine is in the middle of a seven-continent, world tour at the present time.

I had resigned myself to missing the show, however, because San Diego wasn't one of the cities on her tour list, and I just couldn't commit to driving north all night to catch her because of work, kids, you know how it goes.

But then, a new day came in mid-October when Celine's promoters announced that she had added a San Diego date to her tour!!! She was slated at the last minute to appear at the San Diego Sports Arena on November 25th!!! I was so excited!!! My friend, Joyce, and I bought our Team Celine seats at the earliest possible opportunity and just waited (along with her husband and my mom [#1 refused to be my date - one Vegas show was enough for him]) for the happy day to arrive.

Then, horror of horrors, the following message arrived in our in-boxes less than a week before the show:

November 19 , 2008

AEG Live, the promoter of Celine Dion's Taking Chances World Tour, has regretfully had to cancel the artist's San Diego concert on Tuesday, November 25, 2008 at the San Diego Sports Arena. Celine's physician has instructed her to refrain from singing in order to completely recuperate from a recurrent naso-pharyngeal infection which was further complicated by inflamed vocal chords."

A naso-phrago what? To make matters worse, the e-mail continued:

"After reviewing artist and venue availability with tour logistics, the promoter was unable to reschedule the concert."


But cry as I might, I had to surrender myself to the fact that Celine was not coming to San Diego after all.

I spent some time being sad, but then I got mad. The medical explanation just sounded a little fishy to me. I thought maybe what really happened was Celine had caught a glimpse of what passes for San Diego's Sports Arena and thought better of coming south. Or maybe she was saving her voice for the bigger LA market, where she was headed after San Diego. But then again, the Celine I know and love isn't someone who would make the decision to cancel a tour date lightly.

So I decided to do a little research. The Team Celine website advertised that Celine was scheduled to appear on the Grammy Awards Nomination Concert, which aired last week. I set the DVR and finally got around to watching the show this evening. And you know what? That poor little songbird's wings really were, in fact, clipped. Celine sat on a stool throughout her whole televised number and just barely whispered the notes to some song about being 17 again. No soaring octaves, no big notes held for impossibly long durations. Just a singer, sitting on a stool, humbly singing a little song. It was Celine, so her voice still sounded beautiful, but not otherworldly like it usually does. So Celine is forgiven for breaking my heart last month. I hope she feels better soon, accepts my apology for all the bad thoughts I sent her way, and comes to San Diego some day soon!!!

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Ode to the Mothers Lounge

I submitted the following wannabe "My Turn" essay to Newsweek magazine about two years ago. They declined to publish it (boo hoo), so I may as well publish it here. Especially since I've got nothing else tonight, and I'll be out of commission for the next couple of days (more on that later). Here goes:

Ode to the Mothers Lounge: As a new mom, I found an ideal haven in the most unlikely of places.

My husband makes fun of how much time I’ve been spending in public restrooms lately. What he doesn’t realize is that since becoming a new mom, I have discovered that some restrooms in our hometown offer the perfect place to take care of our baby – the mothers lounge.

Snook and me at the Carlsbad Outlet Mall Mothers Lounge, circa early 2007

For anyone who has not been in a mothers lounge, they really are something to behold. When done properly, the mothers lounge is a separate alcove of the women’s restroom that is appointed with large, comfortable armchairs, and, of course, changing tables, sinks, paper towels, diaper disposal bins, and every other baby-friendly amenity you could think of. In some cases, there is even muted lighting and soft music playing. Simply put, the mothers lounge is the ultimate mom-and-baby-friendly place in a world that can often be anything but.

But it is not the lighting or the furniture that have me so enthralled with my new discovery. It is the fact I have found an oasis where I can comfortably nurse my baby in public (gasp!), change her diaper, and temporarily remove her from the over-stimulation of the outside world, while still allowing myself the sanity-preserving luxury of getting out of the house. And even more wonderful than all of that, it is the chance to meet other moms and babies.

I experience an indescribable thrill when the restroom door opens and I hear the unmistakable squeak of a stroller. At that moment, I know another mommy chorus is about to begin. The oohs, the aahs. He’s so big! She’s so alert! What a cutie! Indeed, I can hardly wait to engage in the inevitable small talk that will tell me if this new little one is a boy or a girl, the baby’s name, age, and so on. And there’s always the shower of compliments over each other’s strollers, diaper bags, etc.

The other beautiful thing about the mothers lounge is that the tasks I perform at home alone with my baby, which can sometimes have me wondering, “Is this what my life has come to?” become an enjoyable opportunity to showcase my new talents when performed in the mothers lounge. Look how thoroughly I wipe my baby’s bottom. See how lovingly I apply her diaper cream. Watch how calmly she nurses. I guess if we’ve learned nothing else from the glut of reality programming these days, it’s that real life is way more exciting with an audience. And the mothers lounge provides just that.

The mothers lounge is also a place where you can come and automatically fit in if you have a baby or even if you know a baby. I’ve especially noticed that older ladies can’t help but steal a peek at the new moms caring for their babies. Many smile and go on their way, but others wander in with wallets full of baby pictures, bragging about the newest additions to their families.

I recently came to appreciate mothers lounges even more after a bad experience. On a trip to New York City, my husband and I stopped into a brand new, state of the art shopping center. Of course, a feeding and diaper change were in order for my 3-month-old so I searched out the nearest women’s restroom. I didn’t dare expect a mothers lounge, but imagine my horror when in the midst of the gleaming stalls and automatic sinks, not a single chair or changing table could be found. I ended up having to change my baby on the sink counter, but stopped short of nursing her on a toilet.

So kudos to those developers who have had the foresight to reserve a few precious square feet for a mothers lounge. Perhaps they realized there was something in it for them, since moms like me are more apt to frequent places equipped with such lounges.

I only have two complaints about mothers lounges. The first is that “lounge” is something of a misnomer since we lounge moms are hard at the work of mothering – the toughest job there is. Although I suppose “lounge” is more appealing than “trench.” The other is the sense of melancholy I feel when it comes time for one of my new mom friends to leave. I almost wish we could pass out business cards to keep in touch: Profession – Mom and Baby. Skills – Nursing, Diapering. Specialty Areas – Parks, Beaches, Restrooms.

But then again, perhaps the beauty of the mothers lounge is the very fact that this makeshift community only shares fleeting moments with one another. Unlike more organized playgroups, which are sometimes plagued by unhealthy competition and comparisons over who will crawl, walk, talk first, mothers lounge relationships offer just a brief snapshot of our parenting existence. In that half hour or so, we get the chance to see and be seen as the mothers we’ve always imagined – prepared for anything, tending to our baby’s every need, perfect. It’s a fantasy, but what sleep-deprived mother couldn’t use a little fantasy.

So I don’t think I’ll get over the thrill of spending time in the mothers lounge any time soon. And when my husband winks at me and asks if I’ll be spending another day in a public restroom, I’ll answer, “With any luck, yes!”

Friday, December 5, 2008

WrestleMania No More

Bubs was born loving the changing table. To the point that on those occasions as a newborn when he would launch into one of his inconsolable, inexplicable crying fits, I would change his diaper, we're talking a brand new, unsoiled diaper, just to calm him down. Worked every time. Well, that all changed at around 6 months when all of a sudden, every time I tried to change that kid's diaper, it would turn into a WrestleMania match, with me suffering way more SmackDowns than him.

I mentioned all this as an aside to his pediatrician a couple of months ago, and she said, "Yeah, that's why a lot of Moms turn to pull-ups early." What?! Never ever would have occurred to me. Pull-ups are for your 2-year-old potty-training types, right? I mean, I think the smallest size they come in is 2T-3T. But I was desperate. So I ordered some pull-ups for baby Bubs. Genius! Sure, there's a little extra room in the tushy, but not too much. The fact that I can easily change him, even while he's practicing his hits and pinfalls, is all that matters. Thought I would share in case any of you were dealing with a little Hulk Hogan (or Hoganette) and, like me, never would have thought outside of the diaper. Pure genius.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Did You Watch It?

We make a point of catching the VSFS around here every year. For some reason, I really look forward to losing myself in all of that in-your-face hotness. Last night's show was a little disappointing, however, because the models were strutting across what looked to be some kind of stage instead of your traditional, audience-penetrating, walk-the-plank, yes-you-may-study-me-from-every-angle-because-I-am-that-hot runway. This stage was probably 100 yards away from the closest audience member. How is that risky? Granted the cameramen were still doing their typical, up-close, up-drawers shots for the viewers back home, but still. The other downer was the number of times they panned to Martha Stewart, who for some reason was sitting front and center. Oh well, it was still hot. And one sequence was actually quite beautiful. Flowers and butterflies served as the backdrop for a model wearing a deconstructed gazebo-turned-negligee that was interlaced with meandering rosebush vines. It's airing again on 12/17 in case you missed it and want to watch something hot.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Does My Heart Good

#1 (shorthand for my husband, so I'll keep his ranking in mind) came back from dropping off Snook at preschool this morning looking a little proud. Naturally, I asked him what was up. He told me the following:

Snook and he got to school a little later than usual because they went out to breakfast beforehand. When they finally arrived, one of the teachers was comforting a little boy who was in tears. This boy was apparently so distraught, his mother was still there trying every trick up her sleeve to get him to calm down.

In walks my Snook. The teacher looked up, saw her and said, "See, there she is. I told you she was coming today." The little boy instantly dried his eyes and disentangled himself from the teacher. Snook breezed by him to go play with something or other. #1 said the little boy trotted after her, totally at peace, never once looking back at the teacher or his mom.

My heart is doing somersaults knowing that Snook is helping to make a little boy happier at school. Maybe I'll get lucky and some independent, know-it-all little girl (with a heart of gold) will help my Bubs some day. It was a good day to be a Mom.

A Tote for Your Tot

Snook needed a backpack for preschool. My mother-in-law happily obliged with one of the cutest backpacks I've ever seen--a whimsical, Stephen Joseph personalized children’s backpack. They come in every theme imaginable, have a durable magnetic closure, and can be personalized, customized, and sanitarized. I made that last one up, but I really love it. I'm constantly amazed at how much stuff (lovies, blankies, back-up clothing) I can stuff in there.

Here the big preschooler is stepping out with it on her first day. So if your tot needs a tote for school, or a weekend at Grandma's (I'm jealous!), or what have you, one of these could easily and economically fit the bill. And the pajamas, and a good book, and a blanket, and a . . .

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Do You Have a Kids' Menu?

Everyone knows it's hard to eat out with kids. But I haven't let that stop me. In fact, I have probably already inflicted my kids on hundreds of restaurants. While I do try to seek out your more kid-friendly establishments, I just can't go to Lenny's or Chuck E. Cheese's every time (or any time for that matter).

But this past Friday I probably pushed the envelope a little too far. You see, my single, younger brother was in town, and in the interest of entertaining him (and satisfying my own curiosity, to be perfectly candid), we went, with my kids and my mom, to, wait for it, The Tilted Kilt.

This place is affectionately known as the Irish Hooters. But did I let that stop me? Noooooo. In my defense, they did have a high chair (which Bubs almost fell backwards out of while smiling at one particularly buxom server), and a pristine (I wonder why) changing table in the women's restroom. The employees also could not have been friendlier or more welcoming. Can't say as much for the other patrons (99.9% of whom were male). The expressions on their faces clearly read, "Is there nothing left?" Not surprisingly, the answer to my question, "Do you have a kids' menu?" was negatory. So we probably won't be going back. For that and other reasons all too obvious to mention.

Be Angelic

Soldiers' Angels sent out an e-mail last week asking everyone to please do all of their online shopping this holiday season through GoodShop, where a percentage of each order made at hundreds of stores will be donated to Soldiers' Angels, or any other charity of your choosing. Big time retailers such as Amazon, Target, Gap and others are participating in GoodShop so that every time you place an order with them, you'll be supporting your charity! All you have to do is go to, select your charity, and start shopping at your favorite stores.

You can also use GoodSearch, the Yahoo-powered search engine, for all of your web searches and your favorite charity will receive a penny every time you do a search. Happy shopping!

Go Cats!

I should have seen it coming. The days are getting shorter. The nights are getting longer. Football season is finally, mercifully starting to wind down. Which can only mean one thing. College basketball season is about to start up. While I'm not looking forward to my imminent widowhood on Thursday and Saturday nights, after 6 years of knowing my hubby, I know there's only one thing I can say at a time like this--Go Cats!

At least Wilbur and Wilma are kind of cute.