Mom style?

Lately, I have been obsessed with a particular academic style blog, Academichic. Had I known about this blog in grad school-- or had I known that people blogged about academic style at all, or even personal style, really-- that's how blind to this corner of the blogosphere I was-- I would have never graduated because I would have spent all my money and time buying clothes and taking artsy pictures of myself in those clothes. Awhile back, Antenna had a great discussion of style blogs and what fashion might mean for academics. Since then, I have been reading Academichic everyday, and I have even been dressing exactly how the bloggers on that site tell me to dress because I am, apparently, an Academisheep.

Seriously, last month was scarf month, and I wore a scarf at least once a week. Last week was cardigan week, and I wore 3 cardigans (and I only have 4 total in my life). This week? Tights week. Yesterday, there was a post about playing with tights in terms of color and pattern and today? I am wearing patterned tights.

WTH? I don't even MEAN to be such a sheep. Today I planned to be bare legged with boots, but my black boots are a little too slutty for the office. And I am no style blogger, but here's a fashion tip: If you have to spend any length of time surveying your reflection in the mirror to determine if your boots are too slutty for the office, take the boots off, you slut.

It's kind of embarrassing because I know some people in my building love Academichic too, and I feel like when they see me all sheeped out, they are snickering silently. Paranoid much?

But really, can fashion be a form of resistance if you just dress exactly how you're told to dress? Not so much.

Also, I know there are a bajillion style blogs (and a whole cult of Anthropologie worshippers), but I have been reluctant to go any further than one pretty academic style blog because I don't know if I am ready for that world. On the other hand, I need to wear more than a rotating cast of Uggs and some Old Navy skinny jeans (that are always baggy in the legs-- always), so maybe a foray into the style blogging world would be good for my wardrobe.

Any mom blog friends want to start a mom style blog? We could look for brands that are sustainable, family friendly or woman owned, and we could write about form and function and clothes as nurture for the nurturers. About redefining mom jeans and reclaiming MILF as a symbol of empowerment (I know-- that's a teeny bit Eve Ensler for my taste, too. I'm not Third Waver, not really.). Yeah, actually, I AM sort of serious, so let me know.

And now, apropos of NOTHING AT ALL, pictures!

Here we are at Harry's sports class. it was bring-a-friend week, so he brought Jack. Also? I am more than happy to let this class be a daddy and Harry thing-- there was grass and fake grass and dirt and lots of running. Ill take the big! red! mat! any day.

He's a toothy little guy

Who still looks JUST LIKE BEN

Check it: I am so short, I don't even have to bend over to comfortably hold a child's golf club.

Jack is so dangerous lately. Look how premeditated this climb was-- he even put his water and his snack bowl up there first. All so he could turn off the light in the toy closet, scrunch up his little face and say "Daaaaaaah" (dark)



(snack bowl not pictured because he knocked it on the floor with his butt and then Harry tornadoed through the room and smashed the snack into a million billion tiny crumbs)

I include this picture only because the second after it was taken, the track pants Harry is swinging hit me in the eye, and I cried.

Over compensator

I was so not trying to be braggy or look-what-I-do in my last post, and I am afraid that's how it came off. As I said in the comments, I think it's all the same stereotype-- the over compensating working mom. Ugh. So, sorry to brag about my stupid schedule because that's not what I intended. (But seriously EVERYTHING is overcompensating-- my house has to be the cleanest, my food has to be the from-scratchiest, my kids have to do the most activities, etc. Ugh.)

When we used to take Saturday Little Gym classes with Jack and Harry (which we did one semester because Harry was not big enough to come hang out at LG while Jack was in class, so I needed Ben to take one kid while I took the other), I HATED the women I called (uncharitably) "The Saturday Mothers." These were the moms who felt so shitty about working away from home, that they squeezed every possible second of manic QUALITY TIME! out of their classes. They didn't let a moment go by without screaming the color of something or counting the number of times their child bounced or working on clapping an elaborate sequence to the Little Gym music. I hated "The Saturday Mothers" because I was working grad student hours (which? crazy, but 3 am crazy, so I only had like 15 hours of childcare a week) and was mostly a SAHM who had quantity time and didn't need to overcompensate like "The Saturday Mothers." My everyday was hanging out with my kids doing whatever the heck they wanted whenever they wanted to do it. But because I still thought of myself as a WOHM, I could bask in open judgement of "The Saturday Mothers" and think things like, "Why not just quit your job if you're so conflicted" and "Must suck to have other people raise your kid, but do you have act so obviously defensive about it?"

Then the last year of grad school, I worked the job I have now and stepped up my childcare hours, splitting them among 3 baby sitters, which was crazy but effective. I still made grad student wages, though, so I didn't worry about putting in full days at the office and instead worked in coffee shops frantically writing my dissertation. I worked more, but I still had the most flexibility you could possibly imagine. This year, I do the same job but more is expected of me as a real worker than as a grad student. I am much more accountable at work, and our nanny comes 3 days a week and we have another sitter one afternoon a week.

And suddenly, I am a Saturday Mother instead of an everyday one.

Look! Never before seen footage of Harry and Jack cleaning up their toys when told to do so! Also, do you like Jack's purse? He wears it when he pretends to be the mommy and go to work. But he always comes back.

Stereotypical

I have no clue when I became such a stereotype. So many stereotypes, actually.

The other day, I was the ultimate overcompensating working mom. I chaperoned a school field trip, still spent a full day at the office, and came home to bake-- and package individually with cute green curly ribbon-- 48 cookies for the school bake sale the following day.

Later in the week, I was the quintessential over-scheduling mom, signing both kids up for summer swim lessons and Harry up for spring and summer Tball and spring ballet, in addition to Jack's Little Gym class that runs through June and Harry' current swim lesson and sports class.

I enjoyed a stereotypical June Cleaver SAHM day where I made my family an entire organic meal from scratch, did 3 loads of laundry, and primped (primped!!) before my husband came home, after leading the kids in arts and crafts time and helping Harry practice writing H's during our TV-free time while Jack slept.

I rounded out my week with a day of being "that mom" who schleps her kids to activities all morning and has the sitter come by in the afternoon so she can go to the store and the gym unencumbered and with a stop for a leisurely latte.

I'm doing my part to participate in the Mommy Wars, I guess, by trying on many mom roles. No surprise, I like Leisure Mom the best.

Jack has been wearing these glasses for days. He tried them on randomly one morning (he found them under my bed, and judging by the dust, they had been there for a loooong time-- say tuned for a fascinating post about cleaning angst that I've had brewing for awhile), and Harry told him he looked like a movie star. He's been wearing them ever since.






Harry. He will NOT smile for the camera. Will not. He is going to look at pictures someday and think he had a sad, sad childhood.

The best 13 seconds I have recorded in a long time

Harry's class celebrated Dr. Seuss' birthday by reading The Cat in the Hat and making hats. Harry came home and made us play Cat for about 4 hours.

super intense cat in the hat, part 2 from sarah on Vimeo.

Google searches that might have brought you here

Somebody found this blog searching "pooped my pants while at the dentist." Also "mum has the same smell as umbilical stump." And I guess there's a masturbation blog with "all jacked up" in the title. So, um, lots of good search terms there.

Have a good Wednesday. We'll be here. Staying classy.

The Trouble With Tuesdays

Oh shit.

A funny thing. I have been screaming about makeup and skin care for the last two posts, and actually? My fucking iPhone is going to fucking kill me.

The really funny thing is that I have cut way down on caffeine (I am currently sipping my second-- and last-- cup of the day), so I am not all that freaked out. I figure I'll use my landline when I am at home, use my head phones when I talk, carry my phone in my bag instead of my pocket, and text or email more often to keep the radiation away from my head.

The really, really funny thing is that the phone issue is probably way more serious than the products, and I should probably have spent the hundreds of dollars on a new phone, not on new eye creams and lip balms. Fuck it. I just want to throw up my hands and smear myself with the HFCS and gasoline paste Becca advocates.

But enough about my big bag of crazy.

I want to talk about my shitty, rotten, Tuesday mood. Because, you know, it's Tuesday, and I feel stabby.

But first! A detour into Jack's crazy land. This morning, the kid ate his waffle into the shape of Texas:



I have to get up early on Tuesday and Thursday, so the 5:18 wake up call doesn't help my mood. I thought it was the 3-4 cups of coffee swilled in rapid succession that made me all strung out and jittery by 7:45 when I attempt to fold 2 loads of laundry, pack a lunch for myself, and cram harry into some school clothes in the last 15 minutes before the babysitter arrives. But like I said, I cut down on coffee and still whenever Jack said my name (which was a thousand times a minute), I wanted to scream, "I'm right fucking here, damnit!" (but I didn't, duh).

This morning was especially sucky. Harry was all hyped up about his Whole Foods field trip, and Jack was giddy with the power of self-toileting and decided to remove his own crapped-in Pull-Up and investigate its contents. While sitting on my bed. So there were extenuating circumstances.

I guess I am just going to have to follow the advice I gave myself back in the dorky, dorky days of speech competition and try to Fake It Until I Make It. I'll just act happy as hell, and eventually I will BE happy as hell. Right? Right?? RIGHT???

As cute as Harry's class was lining up and riding a big yellow school bus and walking around Whole Foods like a flock of huge disobedient ducks (zOMG the other shoppers were PISSED OFF. I thought I couldn't get more dirty looks there than I did on Saturday when Jack ate a good portion of a Burt's Bees deodorant stick and tried to abscond with a handful of essential oils, but the glares our little group of preppily-named kids enjoyed was pretty impressive. Apparently, hippies are in a hurry at the grocery store on a Tuesday morning. Probably on their way to hot yoga or to skulk around a used book store.), I was not in the mood for a bunch of preschoolers and their indulgent parents. But I was surprised to note that Whole Foods has way better organic yogurt and cereal prices than Trader Joe's. Typically, I am only there to buy deli meat, to check out their organic produce specials, to grab some grass-fed beef, and to buy copious amounts of pre-made entrees, wine, cheese, and baked goods. I rarely take the time to go up and down the aisles, but I did today and was pleased. It is still not as shoppable as TJ's because the store is very small and the aisles are very narrow, but we may try to work it back into our regular family grocery run-- right now it is more of a stop in on the way home kind of place.

But I digress. Our tour guide was fantastic with the kids, and she gave them all taste-testing papers and crayons. After they tasted a new food, they had to color in a happy face, a sad face, or a neutral face depending on how they liked the food. Harry tried everything, and he liked things he would never try at home, like gouda cheese and zucchini fritters. I was in love with the one crabby kid in the group who chose a black crayon and colored all the frowny faces before the tour started and kept asking the teachers when it was time to go back. He and I were kindred spirits today. Oh! But I learned something interesting about PRODUCE! Our tour guide said that every night they pack up the whole produce department and take it back to the cooler. Then in the morning, they set it all out again. Am I the only person who didn't know that? Also, I think I would like that job very much, the stacking and arranging of produce. Like playing Legos without someone knocking them down. I may apply for that job if the whole academic thing doesn't work out.

Before we left, I took a couple pictures of Harry in his classroom-- I liked seeing a side of him that's usually hidden. Harry played quietly by himself while the girls in his class swarmed the teacher and a couple of the boys played trucks.

This picture was the inspiration for our after-school activity tomorrow: HAIR CUTS!!!



This is Harry's serious listening face


Who doesn't like to pose by a meat case?

As you can see by his face, guacamole and drinkable yogurt were big hits

Someday his Facebook wall will be littered with pictures like these. But he won't be drinking yogurt.

The bus ride was, predictably, his favorite part.

The Crazy: An Update

In my last post, I was all "Blah blah blah blah, I love my Lancome makeup and am not changing it." Then I looked it up on the Skin Deep database and found out it's all poison. Eyeliner? A 7. Eyeshadow? A 9. Blush? Also 9. Lip gloss and stick? In the 6-9 range. Eff.

Because I DO love it-- nothing else I have ever tried-- and I have tried them ALL-- has better colors, prettier packaging, or more staying power.

Sadly, I tossed it all out, along with my DiorShow poison mascara and a Stila brozer/illuminator duo that might kill me on sight (10) and ran to Sephora.

I am really excited about the newish (August 2009) Sephora PURE collection, and I bought the Island Sunset palette which is not as ugly as it looks in this picture, I swear, although the blush is a little clowny. The PURE collection is not listed on Skin Deep, but I entered the ingredients and got a 4-5 provisional rating. Not too shabby. The Stila eye shadow I bought just happens to be a favorite, but it's a 5 on the database. The Origins powder (which? covers like a dream and actually stays on my face) is a 3, and the eye liner (mulberry-- the BEST COLOR EVER) is also a 3 and has a neat little smudgey stick on the end, which will save about 35 billion q-tips a week. I love my Primrose lipstick, and even though it won a Shape magazine green cosmetics award last year, it still gets a provisional score of 5-- but no cancerous agents, just endocrine interruptors and neurotoxins.

In retrospect, I would have been better off with Mac eyeshadows, which get a 4 and Stila lipsticks, which get a 4 also. I decided to keep my Lancome Hynose mascara, which is a 6 b/c the L'Oreal stuff, upon closer inspection, is a 5 and sucks. But still, there's aluminum in both, so I'm screwed there. I may try falsies, but the glue is, of course, deadly. Also Physicians Formula Retro Glow Ultra Dramatic Mascara, Ultra Black gets a 2, and I may try to snag it at Walgreens later. Origins also makes a 3 blush-- Pinch Your Cheeks, all shades, and most of their lipstick is a 4.

The other stuff I bought? Awesome. The California Baby stuff doubles as a good face wash for me, and the Alaffia lotion is heavenly. So far the Tom's deodorant held up to my workouts, and I added Tom's toothpaste for that dirty hippie smell all around. I am a huge fan of the Burt's Bees stuff-- all of it. I love the Jojoba oil as a makeup remover and scalp treatment, but it stains my clothes, which sucks. I also paid $12 for a bottle of Dessert Essence organic brand at the hippie pharmacy, but Trader Joe's has the exact same brand/size for $6.90. TJ's also has terrific hand soap, so I am phasing out our toxic stuff with that, and I am going to try TJ's hand lotion for our sinks when our Bath and Body Works stuff is gone.

Also? I just became so much harder to shop for, as I will never touch a Lancome or B&BW product again.

Ben pointed out that I was a smoker for 8 years and also used to put steroid cream on my hands and feet every night when my psoriasis was bad-- and I'd wrap my hands and feet in latex gloves so the steroids could really soak in. Think of the innumerable pedicures I have enjoyed. Also, I WORKED at Lancome and pickled myself head-to-toe in make up and product everyday for 2 years. The damage, is his point, has already been done.

Harry and Jack, in a a rare moment of not trying to kill each other. If you look closely, you'll see Jack's hot pink underwear.

Jack snuggling after his bath. He's only truly snuggly after bath and/or when he's sleepy.

But he'll still smile when his big brother makes a joke, no matter how tired he might be

We went shoe shopping for jack, who always rips his shoes off, and last time he did that, it was a sign that they were too small. According to the shoe saleslady, his current shoes were fine (note: she's a bad saleslady). Harry, though, (who has been falling down a lot, come to think of it)has been wearing a 9. And measured into an 11.5. Hahahaha. Ooops. He said, "Oh, can I have some Sketchers?" We were like, how the crap do you know brands of shoes? He was all, "I saw a preview for them on TV. Gimme." By preview, he meant commercial and by Sketchers, he meant these ginormous light-up ones. Awesome. (Jack found some super ugly black Crocs with red and black-checked fleece lining that he HAD TO HAVE and now both kids have terrible, horrible shoes. Win.)

And of course, Harry asked what made his shoes glow green and Ben was all Uranium? Plutonium? And now I'm freaked out about something new.