Ben's 31st birthday weekend

We had so much fun for Ben's birthday, even if we were superlame and skipped our fancy schmancy dinner reservation to go suit shopping and to a chain steakhouse. And even though we spent Sunday with no water. And even though I got Ben wineglasses, wine, and a wine of the month club membership-- all gifts that I can SHARE.

Ben started his morning with some presents

We had a birthday breakfast at a coffee shop

Then Ben's parents came to town, and we went to a bakery for brunch

Jack flailed his way out of the picture

I wonder what he wished for

Ben loved his cake even tough it had whipped cream frosting. He prefers whipped cream to buttercream-- how sick and wrong is that?

Jack capped off lunch by trying to yank Ben's extra face off

Even though we were waterless on Sunday, Harry and Jack were giddy with the delight of actually playing outside after a long, long winter.


We watched these guys fix our water for quite some time Sunday night.

Monday morning, I went to get my crazy checked out, ad Ben accompanied Harry's class to the fire station. (Which? Dude. We have been switching off field trips this year, and Ben gets the cool ones.)

I love Harry's field trip listening face.

Monday night, we finally cooked the Lobster Gram Ben's parents sent him for his birthday. (another shareable gift-- WIN!)

Pretty, huh? And really, really delicious.

Today, after my Fashion FAIL of a day, Ben worked late, and I let the boys have a pizza picnic in front of a Batman DVD while I read Parenting and decompressed.

Ben, thankfully, came home right before Harry's bedtime, and I am here, melted into the couch blogging and eating mini Snickers ice cream bars. The perfect night.

Don't forget to check out All Kinds of Pretty! We have another new blogger joining us today!

I think I am fine, in case you were worried.

The doctor I saw today (not my regular doctor but super nice) did not think I have a brain tumor. Instead, she told me to maybe calm down a little bit. (But to come back or to email her if I develop any scary symptoms or get too worried). She thinks it is either being caused by a low grade tonsil infection (my tonsil. they are so, so big. I wish my boobs were as big as my tonsils, you know, proportionately) or it may be a real smell, since Ben has smelled it sometimes. She also said if it's a real smell, I could legitimately be smelling it in my car and at work and that I should chill. Which? Easier said than done because when I opened the door to my office today, I was pleased to smell a stale, smoky smell (because that means it's real!). Then I ate my lunch w/o thinking of it at all, but now that I am done eating, I can smell it again, and I'm worried (when the same smell did not worry me 5 minutes ago). So yeah, Chill out. Also (and I forgot to mention this at the doc), sometimes it makes me cough. Would a manufactured smell make me cough?

So, yes. I am crazy.

In other words, nothing new to report.

Oh? Want to hear about THIS total clusterfuck?

A water main broke at the foot of our driveway yesterday, and we had NO WATER from 8-8. We also had a giant 14 ft hole at the bottom of our driveway, which was inconvenient, to say the least. We were thisclose to packing up our crap and heading to a hotel when the water came on. Poor tired Harry lost his marbles because he was so excited about the prospect of a night in a hotel, but Ben and I were thrilled to be able to shower (well, I was. Ben is kind of a dirty bastard. No offense).

Because it was finally a gorgeous day here, we spent the day away from home running errands, playing at the playground, eating out, and using the facilities at Target.
See, these sunglasses are chic on anyone

Jack trying out the booster seat. Not a good idea that.

Thankfully, Harry started dunking his hotdog in his chocolate peanut butter m&m custard sundae because then I stopped taking bites of the sundae. Which? best sundae ever. It's from a little custard place by our house that I probably drive by at least 3 times a day. I may stop for one of these sundaes every time I pass the place from now on. Then, in 6 moths, I will rule the Biggest Loser.

Funny beer. Anybody try it? I took this picture at lunch, and I so would have had 7 pints of this crap if I had known I would come home to STILL NO WATER. But that would have sucked because where would I pee??


A usual (or what will become usual), I will end this post by urging you to got to All Kinds of Pretty and leave us a comment or two. We've been talking about everything from church clothes to baby slings to sexy date night outfits in the last couple of days, so check it out!

Picnic! Phantom smells! Mom style blog!

I have not been here very much this week, and I have one good reason and one psycho one.

First, the psycho: I have been smelling a smoke smell since Wednesday night and Dr. Google and some crazy people in crazy chat boards have convinced me I have a brain tumor. I go to the doctor on Monday, and I have been spending all my time FREAKING OUT about it. Wednesday night, I smelled the smell, which I smelled about a month ago (but it went away) all over our house. Ben got a few whiffs of it too, and we thought it was coming from our neighbors' house (remember, we live in a townhouse and share a wall and we know our neighbors smoke.) One night-- right before the smell went away last month-- we smelled it really strongly sitting on the couch, and we mentioned it. Then we heard our neighbors' font door slam shut, so we thought they were outside smoking, heard us complain, and went inside. Then the smell went away for awhile (we did smell some broccoli cheese monstrosity coming from their house once in the interim). When I smelled it Wednesday night, I was not worried about a brian tumor because I assumed the smell was from the neighbors. Then I smelled in Thursday in my car on the way to campus. Still, I reasoned, my car is parked in my garage and it would make sense that it smelled kind of smokey if my house smelled that way. Then I smelled it in my office (and nobody else who came in my office smelled any smoke at all). Then I smelled it in my classroom. Then I freaked the fuck out.

This morning, I woke up with no smell (but we sleep with our door shut and our bedroom windows open). I used my netti pot, in case the smell is a result of something going on in my sinuses. I took jack to Little Gym and smelled not a whiff. We stopped at a coffee shop after gym class, and I smelled the smell again. But here's the thing-- it's a really thick, heavy, stale coffee and cigarettes smell-- not terribly different than the smell of a coffee shop, so I told myself that's what it was. Then I smelled it in the car. And now, sitting on my living room rug typing this, I smell it again. Maybe a hint earlier in the Target greeting card aisle, too. (I didn't smell it at all when I came home, but since I shut the windows and turned up the heat, it is back).

Ben thinks I am panicking and attributing any close smell to the "the smell" and creating some kind of weird sense memory. He swears that he also sometimes smells a smokey smell in our house (never as bad as I do, though), and he just basically thinks I am losing my mind. Which? I wouldn't be surprised-- I've been thisclose to batshit crazy for years now.

So that's the psycho reason, but here's the happy one: the mom style blog I talked about on Tuesday, which is called All Kinds of Pretty. Find it here: http://www.allkindsofpretty.com.

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.