Florida was wonderful... good weather, good times, and good family. Evan got to pet a horse and Chloe got to play in dog beds. So everyone was happy.
As our coming home gift to you I thought I would share with you our genius way of getting two kids around the airport (interesting how genius is also highly irresponsible):
(This one was right before the almost-fall)
(As you can see by her head Chloe was in the stroller)
Everyone made it to the cart safe and sound. I hope you all had a Happy Thanksgiving!
Chloe is sick. She has been unable to get off my chest for about 2 days. She hasn't been sleeping either. Thankfully Brian convinced her to take a car ride and sleep so I could breathe for a couple of hours.
We leave for Florida tomorrow and I'm not blogging from there. So have a Happy Thanksgiving and I failed NaMoBloPo or whatever it was. I'm not good at commitments which is amazing that I've been married for 8 years.
Evan is REALLY excited for Thanksgiving. He keeps telling me it's almost Turkey Time (which is from a Silly Bus song... if you haven't bought their CD for a child you know yet, do it now - seriously, I don't make any money off of this but I actually love their music and so do my kids) and then he tells me Christmas is next. We have caught on to the holidays.
And, the most exciting thing today... Evan's legs are finally long enough to ride his bike. Check out these videos:
(I sent this one to Brian and he asked me if I think Evan is compelled to sing... and yes, I do)
The problem is that going uphill is VERY difficult for him (he just started out after all) so I have to carry the bike (and it isn't light). But the bigger problem is that if we take the bike around the block, the street parallel to mine is awesome for him because it has a low slope down (that is where I took the videos) but then we turn the corner and my street has some serious uphill action. But if I go around the block the other way then he will have some serious downhill action. I mean, do people really have bigger problems than this (I'm kidding... I hope you know, it just all the sudden sounded ridiculous that these are my issues).
Last night I was looking through our pictures and came across so many memories and so much cuteness that I thought I would share them with you (and I'm a little crazy today since I'm trying to clean my house, go out to dinner tonight, have a good weekend, and be prepared to go to Florida on Monday... which of course brings up a whole other how am I going to blog from Florida moment so I'm not sure about next week).
Anywho... on to the photos:
Evan - just a couple weeks old - where did all that squishy-ness go?
Evan - in our first apartment in Atlanta - he is starting to look more like the guy I know.
Evan's First Birthday... E-A-G-L-E-S (which is only slightly embarrassing to say now but we still bleed green).
Evan goofing around as my camera was just starting to die... he was probably about 14-15 months old here.
Evan and I at the Fernbank in Atlanta... and look at my belly - Chloe's first camera appearance.
The Little Girl all cute and whatnot in our house (FINALLY) in Atlanta. She was about 12 weeks old here.
Chloe - the first camera evidence of mischief... look at those eyes!
Chloe - first swing experience, about 6 months. She doesn't look so excited here but now you can't get her off a swing and God help you if you try to use HER swing at the park (PS - gotta love Hanna Anderrson... she is still using that same coat, gloves, and hat and they are from last year).
Evan - About a month ago before his most recent haircut. He was making me a pie.
Chloe - about a month ago, in Target, trying on a Captain America hat (with Evan running away from us in the background).
No, this isn't a post about a picture of me in sweatpants, a stained shirt, and unkempt hair (although I'm sure you could get a picture like this from me about once a week... or every morning). It isn't even anything ugly about bodily fluids even though you will come in skin-to-skin contact with most of them (remember this post). This is a post about a motherhood truth that most moms know but it isn't often talked about (probably because we are too buys dealing with the truth... I don't think this is a secret or anything).
And here it is... you will not always like your children. In fact, for me, I'd say on a weekly basis the split is 50/50 on like/dislike. But I think I've figured out why and they "why" might just be one of the fundamental problems of motherhood (and I'm assuming the same rings true for fatherhood on this... so let's just call it parenthood from here on out).
So, these small creatures come in to your life. At first they are totally dependent on you (and I'll let you know when that stage ends) and then little by little they gain independence. All sounds like a good plan... right? Well, here is the problem. From the very beginning, even when they are fully dependent on you to do almost anything (except poop, pee, and cry because they got that down from the get-go) they are their own people... with their own likes and dislikes and their own opinions. And to make matters worse, before they are verbal you have to figure out their likes and dislikes and then once they are verbal (or once they can get their opinion across without being verbal like Chloe) their likes and dislikes will rarely coincide with your needs at the time.
So, for instance, you need to go to the store. Chances are your children don't want to. Now, I'm not saying you give in to your child but be forewarned that your child will use every bit of control he/she has to let you know the store is a no-go. They will throw fits, "lose" their shoes, take off their coat when you turn your back to put on the sister's coat, and various other temper tantrums. You can punish all you want but at some point you need milk, eggs, and bread because even prisons carry at least those rations in the kitchen so your family should get the same treatment. Of course, once you get to the store, everyone will tell you how adorable your son is as he walks around the store singing to everyone and how adorable your daughter is when she smiles and shows her dimple. And you will say "thank you" but you will think "I will gladly leave them with you for a week so you can enjoy their cuteness for even longer."
Oh, and I know there are mothers/fathers out there reading this post who turn their nose up at me and believe their children are not like this. These parents will claim their superior parenting skills have so worked that their children obey them immediately and the likes/dislikes of the child coincide with that of the parents'... and that this was the parent's doing. I'm hear to tell you that is a crock. That in fact these are the reasons your children "obey" at the moment:
You may have one of those children (I've heard these exist) who just aren't very strong-willed. Your child might just not have as many opinions as my children do. Guess what, these children are born this way, you can not take credit for this (just like I can't take credit for the fact that my kids don't cry when they get their haircut... to quote Lady Gaga, "they were born that way"... I can't believe I just quoted Lady Gaga).
Your parenting might indeed have worked to the fact that your children are afraid of the punishment (I'm no talking beating... could be as easy as time-out) and therefore immediately obey. But you know they are plotting right? They are sitting there right now thinking of all the disobedient things they will do when they are teenagers just to get back at you. Go ahead, look at them right now sitting there quietly... plotting. And don't worry if you think they won't be able to come up with any "bad" things to do, I'm sure my kids will be able to help them out.
Now, I'm not talking about huge things your children will do to make you not like them... I'm just talking about every day things. Like:
Evan deciding he didn't need to listen to me at The Little Gym and instead he chooses to run out the front door while I'm trying to get Chloe in her jacket so I have to take off after him with Chloe.
Chloe deciding she will eat any and all processed foods EXCEPT the one I put in front of her for lunch.
Chloe telling me she is done with her dinner by throwing her remaining food on the floor.
Evan deciding that screaming is an appropriate form of expression... anytime and anywhere.
Chloe thinking that at 18 months she no longer needs a nap.
You know, when I write these things they don't really sound bad. But I swear, when you are in the middle of corralling two children and one of them decides they want to be doing something different with or without your permission, at that moment, you just don't like your kid.
But it's all okay, because just as fast they will make it better by doing something cute (something that also comes from them having their own likes and dislikes, see how this can make you crazy) like needing to pick out their own clothes for the day and ending up looking like this:
(Sunglasses, winter coat, pajama pants, and fireman rain boots... too cute)
Chloe is now of the age that she likes to walk.... everywhere. She likes to walk to the park, around the block, in the mall, but her favorite place/time to walk is on the way home from picking Evan up at school. And so I push the double stroller and the two of them walk home (unless either of them thinks it's funny to run in to the street in which case they BOTH go in the stroller - hoping for some peer pressure here).
Usually our 2 block walk home takes about 25 minutes because we stop and get sticks, pretty leaves, acorns, etc. I love watching them explore the things outside (mostly because all of my vivid memories of childhood are outside, no matter the temperature) but today we went to a whole new level of love.
I know this picture just looks like two kids standing next to a tree with one kid dressed like it's blizzard temperatures and the other dressed like it's a balmy Wednesday (it was in the high 40s, apparently Evan doesn't get cold) but it's much more.
On the walk home Chloe all the sudden walked up to this tree and starting petting it. Evan, since he does most things she does and vice versa, went over and started to pet the tree as well. Then Chloe gave Evan a huge smile and spontaneously hugged the tree. Evan followed suit. It was all over before I could take a picture but they graciously posed for a staged photo (well, not graciously so much but they agreed to put one arm around the tree).
I just love that they hugged a tree.
Then Evan ran in to the street, fell, his lamb went flying, I ran out in to the street keeping an eye on Chloe and my stroller which was now rolling backwards, Evan started crying because he hurt his hands, I yelled at him for running in the street and shoved him in the stroller, he started throwing a serious fit, Chloe seemed confused as I shoved her in the stroller, and we all walked home.
So my friend came to visit this past weekend and it was awesome to see her. We met in Texas and then she moved up towards Philly when we went to Atlanta. Then we came up North and she moved down to Atlanta. We gave up trying to meet in the middle so she came up to see us. We did some kid friendly activities outside because it was so gorgeous... we ate fabulous steak... and then she watched Evan while I took Chloe to swim class (update on swim class - Evan's teacher was super nice this Saturday - maybe she read my blog? - and Chloe's class, which Brian usually goes to, is basically a way for me to pay for Chloe to play with toys in the water).
Brian left for South Carolina Sunday morning and Robin left for Atlanta early Sunday afternoon. Then I found ways to entertain the kids on my own.
After lunch but before their naps we went outside to play. Little Girl has recently found the joys of sitting IN the sandbox and Evan has embraced the trucks. Sadly the sandbox lid isn't airtight so some rain from our recent storms seeped in and wet the sand. Little Girl needed a wardrobe overhaul.
Then Evan decided to try out the T-ball.
(That one was a home run for sure)
And while I watched them peacefully play in the backyard I felt vindicated that I fought so hard for a rental with a backyard. This was all I ever wanted for them. A place to play and explore close to home.
Then they went down for naps. Chloe woke up about 3:30 and she was crazy. In this picture she is riding my foot and making this insane noise (which I know you can't hear through the photo) while also laughing at the same time. It was a little disturbing:
And when I woke Evan up at 4:00 we decided to go for a walk. As soon as we left the house Buddy showed up (who I've know been told is actually named Gizmo... but he will always be Buddy to us):
Halfway through the walk we all decided to go to the park instead. So without any provisions (water, snacks, diapers, or acceptable clothing for me since Sunday was a serious laundry day) off we went. Chloe and Evan both walked the entire way.
When we got there Evan's friend Xavier and Chloe's friend Evelyn were there. Xavier and Evan went off and Chloe decided to play hard to get with Evelyn (she just doesn't seem to go for children her own age). And then, the heavens opened, angels sang, and Chloe and Evan voluntarily shared a swing AND let me take their picture:
(Come on, that's cute stuff)
And then we walked home (well Evan walked but Chloe had to be carried since she was trying to steal all of Evelyn's goldfish the entire time), I made a dinner of such culinary expertise that the kids ate all of it (macaroni and cheese with a side of apples), we finished destroying the house, kids went to bed, I did dishes, attempted to put things away, made Evan's lunch for the next day, talked to my husband on the phone, watched the awesome and disturbing movie "The Girl" about Hitchock's obsession with Tippi Hedren (which I recommend) and then passed out. Because while I believe a worn out child is a good child this also means that Mommy gets worn out.
At about 6:15 AM Evan came in to bed with me. He was so wiped out from the weekend that he was still like this at 7:30 AM when I woke him up for breakfast:
Chloe, however, woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ready to do it all over again. Have I mentioned that the Little Girl is going to kill me?
Sometimes, when I have to get rid of an article of clothing that I love so much it is more like a friend than a shirt, I sing 80's ballads in my head. I'm not kidding and I know how crazy that sounds.
Like my gray sweater for instance (that you've most recently seen in this post). I love this sweater like a long lost cousin. But it is getting holes and washing it can no longer restore it to its old shape. It's lost its grandeur (and I swear it had it once).
So, every time I put it on and I see one of the holes, I sing a class Bon Jovi song, "Never Say Goodbye."
I finally came home from my self-imposed exile to my mother's house yesterday. The floor in our kitchen was done (and it is exactly what you would expect from a rental project where someone is trying to save money... I mean it's pretty ugly) and there is a hole where supposedly a new dishwasher will be someday.
I also came home to this note from the general contractor:
Most of the note was "blah blah blah" except for that last line. In case you can't read it, right under the line on the paper, it says: "Please check under sink for leaks." Typically when the general contractor leaves that in a note then you know bad things might happen.
Well, right now there is a bucket under my sink and the general contractor is coming back this afternoon to fix the leak that I found last night. Let's hope there is a solution other than wait for the dishwasher (which may or may not be coming).
But a friend is coming to visit this weekend so I plan on enjoying myself and won't be blogging tomorrow night because we're going out to dinner. Probably steak. She's from Texas. And, let's face it, some stereotypes exist because they are true.
Bubba: flame point Himalayan I got as a stray (run away) about 3 years before I met Brian. Bubba's given name is "Assissi" but I find him to be more like a bubba, sweet but a little bit slow. He is the granddaddy of our kitties. He is at least 13 years old but could be older. However, the old man shows no signs of aging.
Bubba au naturale:
Bubba shaved (he has to be shaved about every 6 months for his skin... at least that is what I was told):
Lucy: Orange tabby, total stray that Brian actually found online. Lucy was my replacement cat. My original cat, Kitty (yes, that was her name), passed away of the big "C" and Brian showed me Lucy to help me heal. When we first got her she wanted nothing to do with us but then she came around and now she has decided she owns me.
Dumb and Dumber (aka Bella and Socks): Bella and Socks are the brother and sister cats we acquired in Texas. They are Brian's replacement cats but the two of them only replace one cat. However, when we went to look at Bella, Socks, and their other brother who ended up at some other house, we somehow decided that two kittens = one cat. However, when kittens grow up they are distinctly two cats.
Socks (big brother):
Bella (little sister):
And recently we've acquired a fifth cat (mom, relax... just keep reading). Over the summer this black and white cat showed up on our back porch. He looks so much like Socks that we had to make sure Socks was in the house. The main difference between the random cat and Socks was that the random cat LOVED my kids. He would rub up against them, let them pet him, etc. And so, like any other normal family, I named him. And I thought long and hard about an appropriate name, one that would be unique and really capture the cat's character... I named him "Buddy". And everyone in my family now calls this cat Buddy.
For a while Buddy just showed up on the deck and then would go about his business. Until... my husband (with good intentions but he didn't grow up with cats) gave Buddy a bowl of milk. And now Buddy stops by my house a lot and keeps trying to get in.
Buddy, waiting outside for his bowl of milk:
I don't care that this neighborhood cat has decided to join us but my indoor cats care... especially Lucy who is our big bad protector. Additionally it isn't so easy to explain to the kids why this really friendly really cute cat needs to stay outside. That's Buddy for you.
(I know, blog fail... I missed yesterday. But I'm not giving up so here I go.)
Evan and Chloe have begun swim lessons. For Chloe it's really all about just getting her to put her face in the water since she seems to be allergic to getting water close to her eyes (even in the bathtub) but for Evan it's really about safety. Because, you see, Evan thinks he can swim. He will tell you he can swim (and he did tell me when I told him we signed him up for lessons). But, he can't. What he can do is float as long as he is wearing his floaties. And he can blow bubbles. But he definitely can't swim.
So getting him to the class the first time wasn't so easy. But once we went he left and told me that swim classes are fun. I thought this was awesome until our second class. Our first class was taught by a substitute since our regular teacher was sick that day. But the regular teacher showed up for the second class... and... umm... how can I put this nicely... I don't like her. Not one bit. And I have to shave weekly for this thing (yes, I don't shave often during the winter, if you do then I'm impressed and I'm sure your significant other is as well... my significant other has learned to deal) and I have to convince a little man that going somewhere Saturday morning separate from his sister (who goes to gym classes Saturday morning - how did this happen already with an 18 month old and a 3 year old I don't know) is tough enough without being annoyed at the person with whom I'll be spending time.
Here are the reasons I don't like this teacher:
She pretended to speak to the entire class but instead spoke directly to me. And this was about Evan's swimsuit. Here is the deal. His lessons are at an indoor pool (obviously) that I had previously been in this summer. This summer the pool was 100 degrees and steamy so I didn't make Evan wear his swim shirt. Well in the winter the pool is chilly... like seriously chilly. And the teacher was lecturing us (because she really does lecture) that children, especially those with low body fat, will get cold and won't participate. Now, there was Evan and one other kid with no shirt on but she spent the entire lecture looking directly at me... and only me. She then told us to buy the children swim suits that are similar to wet suits. Which I thought made perfect sense since the class only costs like $40 and I'm sure the suits are just as inexpensive and kids this age don't have growth spurts at all.
She called me out in front of the entire class. We were using barbells to help the children learn how to float on their stomachs and extend their arms. When used correctly it looks like this:
But, sometimes, when you're a parent that isn't always paying 100% attention because your kid has been acting up for most of the class, your annoyed at the teacher and can't believe you had to shave AND put on a swim suit for this shit, sometimes your kid can slide forward on the barbells so that they end up under your child's hips which then pushes your child's face in the water and your child comes up sputtering. Hypothetically speaking, if this did happen, you might not be too alarmed because at one point you were a trained and certified life guard and if something serious happened then you have good faith in your ability to step in. But, in the eyes of the teacher, you're a mom fail and the teacher will, and did, call across the pool, "Mom, when your child starts to slide off the bar bell you have to immediately grab him before he goes under water."
She made assumptions about my child and tried to tell me about his mood. By the time class was over Evan had had enough. Part of the problem was that he was annoyed and the other part of the problem was that the teacher spend 20 of the 30 minutes of class talking and it just isn't easy to contain an active 3 year old for that long... and he was cold (I know... just because she was right doesn't mean anything). I always have my children go over and thank their instructors (a move I may have to think about changing) so we did that. And the instructor turned to me and said, "He's tired." To which I just stared at her because the only things I could think of saying were completely inappropriate considering the fact that my mother spent years upon years drilling in to me that I have to respect my elders (and this teacher is my mom's elder). So, I said nothing. And she turned to Evan and asked him, "Did your mother let you go to bed late last night?" Evan just looked at me because he had no idea what was going on. And I did answer this one o tell her he did not go to bed later. She then told me it was important they get a good night's sleep before class so they can participate.
And, I'm writing this blog on Wednesday... his swim lessons were Saturday. I'm clearly still fuming about this. I can't wait to shave this Sunday.
I know it seems like I've already missed a post... but guess what, I read the fine print. Turns out I only have to blog on weekdays so in essence you all got a free blog. And you almost missed this one tonight and here is why...
On Saturday they tore up the kitchen floor in our rental since the tile was all cracked and the grout was coming up. And they found out that for the past how many years our dishwasher has been leaking on the drain cycle since someone nailed a 2x4 in to it. So they have to fix the sub-floor, lay down new floor (we're getting high grade vinyl... yippee), and get us a new dishwasher.
So I fled to my mom's house in New Jersey. And once I got there my post-nasal drip turned into a full fledged cold which sent me directly to bed.
So... it's fun all up in here. And it's cold. And there is a Nor'easter coming which means I won't be getting home until at least Thursday. And I bought one pair of pajamas per child since I thought I was going home tomorrow.
And these are my excuses why this post sucks. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. I'm going to chug NyQuil.
Listen, I understand that North of where I live Super Storm Sandy was a super bitch. She flooded areas, she tore apart my Jersey shore, I know friends who are still without power almost a week later. But here... in my little suburban world - meh. She made lots of noise and sent lots of rain but then it was all done and not even a branch on our house.
This doesn't mean that my area wasn't prepared...we were. Everyone closed shop last Monday and Tuesday and all stores sold out of: flashlights, D batteries, water, paper towels, and toilet paper (because apparently paper products are very important for storms). And Brian and I were locked in the house with two active and bored children... well, I was locked in the house Monday morning with them (Brian went to work... I know) and we actually weren't locked in the house Tuesday since the storm had abated by then.
And my kids were actually really good. Since I had very little else to do (I had actually cleaned the house really well the day/night before for some reason and laundry was all caught up) the kids had my undivided attention as a playmate and this makes them happy. I wish I could do it all the time but then who would cook/clean/do laundry/pay bills/blog/etc? And if I did do it all the time who would pay for my therapy bills?
Anywho... I wanted to share with you some of the ways my kids entertained themselves through the storm.
Monday:
I know it's a surprise for you all but there was music in our house during the storm (I was even prepared with a battery powered CD player in case we lost electricity... I know my priorities).
His stage is his bed. You'll notice there are no sheets on it. The one thing I did accomplish during the storm was changing sheets (Evan got a fancy new flannel set because his room is like a meat locker). Of course since we had to stop for musical interludes, dancing, and just random tomfoolery it took me almost an hour to make his bed on Monday. But who cares... what else was I going to do?
Later that day we went down to the playroom and... surprise... we played more music. I know that by now you are aware of Evan's skill with music... but check out how well Chloe can hang with her brother:
And then by the end of the day I had lost all control. Clearly, at some point, Evan decided not to put his underwear and pants back on so he was running around the house in just his pajama shirt. And at some point Chloe found an inflatable beach ball. Then, as only makes sense when you are half-naked and there is a beach ball around, the two chased each other up and down the hallway. And like any responsible parent I decided to tape the event and then shared it all with you.
Tuesday:
When we woke up Tuesday and Brian and I realized that if we didn't leave the house someone was going to get hurt. And since the height of the storm occurred for us the previous night we were free to leave the house. Since it was still raining we decided to go hang out at the mall... with every other parent who had a child within a 10 mile radius.
Our prevailing ideology for the mall was to do whatever it took to keep everyone happy. This immediately translated into renting a $7 mall stroller:
Some of the best dollars I've ever spent... even if 15 minutes later everyone wanted to walk instead of ride in the stroller. And so we walked around the mall. We came to a photo booth and somehow Brian convinced them to sit for pictures:
Chloe had no idea what was going and and I'm not sure Evan truly grasped the concept. Here is a close-up of my favorite one:
Chloe looks confused and Evan looks like he's in a horror movie. For some reason this combination cracks me up... I'm sick like that.
After this we had lunch at the mall and then on the way home the kids fells asleep so we drove around for a bit. After that it was life as usual... dinner, play, bed. It was like Sandy never even showed up.
But I feel awful for the people who did get hit and I can't even imagine what they are doing with kids without electricity for this long. I'm thinking that we need to donate to fix the Jersey shore and donate to a therapy fund for these people... or just long vacations without their kids... or maybe at this point even without their spouses.
It's my birthday. I'm a proud 38 years old (which is really no big deal since, for some odd reason, when Brian becomes one year older in May I change my age at the same time so I've been thinking of myself as 38 for the past 6 months).
Here are some things I've done on my birthday:
Made breakfast for everyone (except myself... I have to take my thyroid medicine in the morning and then I have to wait an hour until I can eat... it never seems to work out on time).
Went to a preschool Halloween parade and Trunk-or-Treating. I was actually "in" the parade and had to answer the 3 year old's questions of: "Where are the animals?", and "Where is the parade?" He did not understand he WAS the parade (and well, so was I). I also got to eat cinnamon pretzels and lukewarm chocolate (the "hot" portion was too much for the kids).
(He's in the back, by the door. He was a Jedi for school today because I felt it would be easier for him to use the potty in this costume rather than his Hulk costume from 2 years ago... see a couple bullets down for how that worked out)
(This had nothing to do with the parade or my son directly, but this is where the pretzels and hot chocolate came from and I had to share this photo because it's hysterical and all the children were mesmerized by this monster... it took Evan almost 30 minutes before he went up and touched its hand)
(This photo is in honor of my home state of New Jersey which was ravaged by Sandy... way down here in MD Bruce was alive and well)
I ate lunch with my little girl (or I ate lunch while she disdainfully sneered at her plate of ham, cheese stick, and apple... and then finally ate the cheese stick and nibbled on the apple).
I threw in my first of at least 3 loads of laundry I have to do today.
I picked up my barefoot son (turns out someone tied his drawstring too tight and he couldn't quite make it to the potty in time) from preschool and came home to watch Sesame Street (and add his clothes and shoes to the laundry).
I gave my 17-month old a lollipop (she wore me down people - there was nothing I could do but act irresponsibly).
(This is her "happy" dance... also known as "if I cry long enough and loud enough I apparently get my way" dance)
(Clearly she needs a haircut... I'll add that to my list of things to do once I make that list)
(Don't worry, her brother showed her how to properly lick the lollipop... and how to make sure you get the sticky goodness all over the couch)
I listened to Chloe cry for 45 minutes as she continued her new assault against sleep (we have been boycotting naps for over a week now and last night we started in on night time sleeping too). Eventually she gives up and falls asleep.
I put the boy in for "quiet time" where he asked me to fix his toe nail (a piece had broken off). So I automatically ripped the rest of it off which resulted in him telling me how I hurt him all through his "quiet time" book, then telling me he couldn't get into bed because of the pain, then asking me to put medicine (Neosporin) and a band aid on it until he finally settled down.
I paid our bills electronically and just for fun I also logged how much we owe on our credit cards. I then searched the Internet to see how to get rich quick and decided that there was no way there were that many Africans who could help me out just by me cashing their checks and finally accepted my debt-filled life.
And now I'm writing my blog for day 2 of the blog-filled month of November.
Later today I plan on going to the grocery store, folding laundry, making the children dinner (and by "making" I mean microwaving them Chicken Rondelets), having sushi delivered to our house for Brian and I, watching TV from the DVR, and going to bed.
Seriously, I can't even handle the glamour of my 38th year of life (but all sarcasm aside, I kind of like the low key approach... there are no high heels involved).
And so it's the first day of blogging every day. I decided to go against the grain and rather than blog about Halloween or or Sandy (both of which I will definitely blog about soon) I'm going to blog about me... or more specifically about my style (don't laugh... there is something to this).
You see, I recently read an article about professional blogging. And while I know I'm not a professional blogger (the lack of funds from this blog kind of makes its own point) I still think I can take some of the advice they offered. One piece of advice was to vary what you write about as long as it works within the framework of the blog. So, even though this blog is mostly about my children I believe that I'm still within the framework of this blog and since I have to fill 30 days with content you get a blog about me.
And, tomorrow is my birthday so I'm a little egocentric today. So there.
Anywho... when my husband first met me I was an Ann Taylor Loft and Anthropologie girl (in case you don't know those are names of clothing stores). I wore mostly skirts and high heels. I was smoking. Then we got married and moved to Texas and two things happened, 1) I gained weight (probably from the stress of moving and the complacency of being married), and 2) I embraced the more laid back style of Austin, TX. And maybe even a third thing happened - moving away from my family and where I had spent most of my childhood and adult life freed me to find parts of myself that had long disappeared. So, my style changed. I wore more flowing clothes, fewer "dressy" clothes, and got rid of the high heels.
I fell in love with layering, patterns, and cardigans. I mean, I fell head-over-heels-heart-beating-in-chest-can't-control-yourself in love with cardigans. My husband coined my new-found fashion to be "homeless chic". And while I really wanted to be offended... he was right on. I embraced homeless chic which I think of as a more grown-up and sophisticated version of grunge.
Then I had kids and moved about 4 more times. My "style" kind of devolved into whatever was clean, available, and comfortable. Slowly... little by little... I'm falling in love again with homeless chic. The best part about homeless chic is that I don't have to replace my mom wardrobe I just have to rethink how to put it together.
I actually thought about all of this today as I was at The Little Gym (look it up... if you have kids go there... if you don't, stay far far away). Evan had his class and I had to entertain the little girl so we went in to an empty room to run around. And I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought today I was the epitome of homeless chic (my next thought was I need to blog about this since, as I may have said once or twice, I have to write 30 blogs this month so I'm always looking for blog topics).
So, you may be asking yourself, "Well Ellen, all of these words are well and good but what does homeless chic truly look like?" (because I think all of my readers talk like characters in Jane Austen novels). Well readers, take a gander at this:
Here is the evolution of homeless chic (or how it all happens):
I need to get dressed to take Evan to his class and I have about 10 minutes. It's freezing outside so I know I'm going to wear my gray sweater / cardigan since I hate coats unless they are absolutely necessary.
I then decide I'm going to wear my Ugg boots because they are the warmest shoes I have (and socks are optional).
I open my closet and my flannel shirt that I just bought to wear when I was getting my make-up done from my friend's wedding stares me in the face.
I know I can't wear the flannel shirt alone because it's just a tad too short so I look for a tank top to wear underneath and I have to choose between skin tight or super long. Super long wins
I don't feel like wearing jeans so I pull these leggings out of a drawer. They are capri. At first I decide to try and button up my boots on the side like I've seen others do. I look ridiculous so that idea disappears. Now what?
I remember the knee high socks I recently bought at Target because they were $1 and I think I'm still in my 20s and decide they will work.
Glasses are a daily event so nothing new there.
And that my friends is homeless chic. It's about comfort, problem solving, and some laziness thrown in. It also helps when I tent to buy from the same palette so most of my clothes go together.
You now have my permission to copy my style and make this a trend throughout the US that will become so popular it will hit Hollywood and then travel across the world starting in Europe and moving it's way to Asia (it won't work in the really hot climates because layering doesn't work so well there). That's all.
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