Ear Bling

She didn't call me high maintenance, but I know she was definitely thinking it. I recently upgraded my old I-pod earphones to these 'Shugabuds Swarovski Earphones'. You know, the earphones with all the 'bling'. I think I deserve a little credit for choosing the most sedate color - all white, as opposed to say - pink (I was tempted though) or iridescent rainbow (yeah, um - no thanks.) But someone saw them and laughed and said 'Only you PP, only you..." I wasn't offended, but it did make me go, Hmmm. Do I come across as high maintenance? Because I really, truly am not. Am I a bit of a 'princess'? Well, yeah. And unabashedly so. Do I like nice things? Absolutement. Do I indulge myself on occasion? Yeeeessss. Okay, so I'm high maintenance. Deal with it. :-)

Primpin' and Preenin', pp

"Those Neighbors"

You know the ones. With the kaleidoscope of Christmas lights all over their house and front yard, trees and shrubs the minute Thanksgiving dinner has been eaten. They have a wreath in every window and have even brazenly flung open their curtains ALL day and ALL night so that you can see their overly (ahem) accessorized tree.

Well, we have become one of them. I am not yet down with the blown up Santa and pulsating Rudolph(s) in the front yard, but we are in the realm of almost 'slightly ridiculous'. But I kinda like it. I think.

I even got a new ornament for the tree! Yes, Starbucks doth rock this chick's world. For long time. p.s. No that's not my house. (Nor is it my neighbors', thank God.)

Jingle Bellz, pp

Life Does Not Stop...

...Just because you are having a bad day. It does not pause to give you a moment to grieve or to be sad - hey, you're lucky to find time to breathe, you know? This is especially true if you are a wife and mom. There are noses to be cleaned, bums to be wiped, (I know, ew) husbands to be loved. Life does not care.

It's raining in your world today? Oh, what a pity - but are you done with that client file I asked you to work on two minutes ago? More important, is it PERFECT? It's raining, you say? Well don the wellies and keep sloshing through. You know Life is. You have killer cramps and a terrible migraine? I'm so sorr- hey, can you emcee at this gala tonight? Nordstrom is having a SALE, girl!

You don't get it, do you? Life 'don't play.' So put on your big girl drawers and deal.

But when I look at those two, I am still grateful that even if my world is rocked, theirs is Rock Solid. Thank you Jesus.

Ever grateful, pp

Wuss, much?

I have been busy with work and life in general. But I am back and fiercer than ever, so fear not. :-)

Now to the business at hand. Numero Uno son, just turned three - pride and joy of my heart and possible, WUSS? Sigh. He is immensely popular in school, loved by every teacher and pupil it seems, but he just appears to be extremely socially anxious - at three! Isn't three the age when you're supposed to be equal parts rambunctious and carefree and totally oblivious to people and what they think? I mean I noticed he seemed a little sensitive for a rough and tumble little boy, talking about 'hurt feelings' and 'feeling sad', but I just chalked it down to his being expressive. Then there was that time at a birthday party at 'My Gym', when they were all supposed to say their name and run around the circle by way of introduction and I literally held my breath for at least one minute, so anxious was my son, this wonderful little sweet boy. He was literally in tears, nervous - nay petrified- he so wanted to do this intro thingy - I mean, which young boy doesn't just love running around and being the center of attention? I watched him battle within himself, biting his nails as his turn reached closer and closer, and when he turned around and his eyes met mine, I almost cried with him. I had a smile plastered firmly on my lips, but inside I was yelling 'Go on Numero Uno Son! Mama's right here with you!' And I half stood up, ready to grab his hand and do the lap with him, should his resolve fail. Yes, this Mama goes all out for hers. But he did it! And I have never been so proud, because I knew what he was feeling, and I felt it right along with him. So my husband and I discussed it that night - was Numero Uno a wuss or was it because he wasn't familiar with the surroundings, the parents there, the kids?

Fast forward to our vacay at Dreams (which I highly recommend by the way) in Punta Cana over Thanksgiving. They had the most awesome kids program EVER. With a sunken pirate ship, tons of activities, excursions etc. So great - I would have gladly been a kid for a day just to participate. Numero Uno Son lasted 5 minutes. Literally. I watched him hidden from his view, after I dropped him off, contentedly building a sandcastle, when all of a sudden he flung down his shovel and little pail and threw himself wailing into Ms. Malinda's arms. No clue as to what set him off. But he would not set foot in the club again for the duration of our vacation. He did agree after much pleading to take a picture in front of the club - that was his concession. So yes, he is a wuss. The daughter I never had maybe? :-)

Earth Mother, pp

Flaky

I cannot be trusted because I do not know my own mind. Or rather my wants change almost as soon as they become 'wants'. The boots I coveted last month, are not the boots I must have this month. The coat I bought (and returned) two weeks ago, I purchased again this week. All of a sudden I cannot live without this here body hydrating butter - which is, flakiness aside- totally wicked awesome.



My purplish lip gloss phase? Is now a nude/chocolaty brown obsession. Why I went crazy over these Wolford tights last month, I have no clue? Just flaky I guess. :-(



In shopping Rehab, pp

Tea parties

It's not just for little girls. At least not at our house, since those -little girls, that is- seem to be in short supply. Dear Hubby took us for a lovely 'spot o' tea' at Tea on the Tiber in historic Ellicott City. It's so weird how when you live so close to something, you never really bother to check it out, you know? I was so glad we did go here though. They usually cater to the 7 years and older crowd, but Hubby convinced them to make an exception for Numero Uno son. Of course he proceeded to charm all the staff and behaved quite well, considering. Who says 'soaking up culture' always has to be about museums? I am a firm believer in allowing my kids to travel as I travel and experience what I experience, as long as it is not inappropriate.

It was actually quite charming - everything from the old mansion, our own personal space in the library, fine china place settings for all three of us, the petit fours, fruit, scones and clotted cream, incredibly tiny yet yummy crustless sandwiches, oolong pomegranate tea, chai cream tea, etc etc. We totally pigged out and still could not finish all three tiers. But we came close. And at $25 a person, it was a steal.

One Bad Apple...

I really, really, really wanted to like - no, LOVE- the iPhone. Its sleek, dark multitasking good looks were just so...'pradalicious'. I stalked it for a long time, just waiting for the perfect time to make it mine. I even bypassed the first one, to give them ample time to work out the kinks, you know? When the 3G finally debuted, I waited a fashionable amount of time, read EVERY possible review and opinion out there, tried out a friend's own, did all the research one could possibly do, short of like being an intern at Apple.

So of course, mere hours into owning it, I finally admit to myself that I absolutely HATE it. I really, really do. I did not know that an inanimate object could send me into such paroxysms of frustration. And I'm usually a chill kinda girl. But everything irritates me about this phone. The 'touch type thingy'. The fact that you cannot copy and paste - I know, right? The gratuitous smudging. The fact that my 'settings' icon needs to be thumped to work. The fact that putting it to my ear results in random conference calls to myself. The fact that the folks at ATT could not figure out how to sync my email to my phone was the last straw. Did I mention the 'touch type thingy'?. Ugghhh.

So come tomorrow, I shall be a Black Berry girl. Yep, the BB i so resisted for years will now be my phone of choice. My 'anti BB' stance was pure rebellion (against the BB toting, bluetooth earpiece wearing culture in DC) culture. but I am over it and firmly ensconsed in the BB program. Woot. Woot.

ttyl (not) apple, pp

In case you didn't know...

...tis in vogue to vote. And be smart about it. Just like shopping around for the best bargains on your most fabulous purchases. except much more important. Much, much more. So get out and exercise your right to choose - with your fabulous self.

Watch this space for a picture that sums up exactly how Numero Uno son feels about the whole process. Sigh. If only it were that simple.

Baracking da vote, pp

I don't want no trouble with the Law, Officer...

A picture is worth a thousand words. Ah, how I love these boys...

Have a Cookie...

Guess who can fit into her old skinny non stretch SIZE 4 PLAID pants again? Me! That's who! I capitalized the size 4 because size matters and is really, really important to me. Yes, I get fixated on numbers sometimes. The plaid, because, well everyone knows that Plaid just makes you look FAT, regardless (e.g see pictures above). That I actually wore them to work today means I didn't look too bad. Or didn't care. Either way, I fit - Yay! Months ago, I just knew I had lost all the 'baby weight' right? so I tried to fit into these here pants and seriously? They wouldn't even go past my knees. I kid you not. So I am shouting this from the rooftop of my blog. WOOT WOOT! And these are not your run of the mill, vanity sized pants, where everybody is a size zero (read:the gap). These are Cynthia Steffes with no stretch. The kind you have to put on with a shoe horn and pray that someone has a sewing kit nearby, just in case you get a tear in the- you catch my drift. So yeah, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I will be giving a one year Cookie Magazine subscription to one lucky reader who leaves a comment about their weight loss journey or even just to say 'Good job, Prada!'. If I get more than one response, I'll just have a raffle of sorts. (The entry ends on November 7th, so you have a week.)

I know I lost some of you at 'cookie'. Please, I am not trying to make everyone fat now that I have neared my weight loss goals. :-) Promise. Cookie magazine is simply a wicked awesome magazine for the chic, modern mama. It just rocks and is full of useful tips about everything. Granted, you may not be able to afford the $352 Burberry bib for your infant which complements the $1500 boots for you, but it's worth drooling over. And it is at no cost to you. So you have nothing to lose. Except maybe major cool points for actually admitting (gasp) that you read my blog. :)

P.s . How cute are those black and white oxfords, huh?

Have a 'sweet' day, pp

All Grown...

We are all grown up. Numero Uno turned three last weekend, Monkey boy turned 9 months that same week and I, mother of these two am well, maturing. Finally. I stuck to my guns and had a luau themed low-key production at our gym with just ten invited guests. I completely ignored the list of 18 (yes 18) kids that his teacher proffered and invited (discreetly) just his closest pals. Bad momma, I know. Nothing personal, but there is a recession, you know? And I did those parents a favor. Because who really wants to drag their child at the most inconvenient time (nap time) to yet another 3 year old bash? Exactly. Plus it was raining and hailing outside. My just styled hair went limp immediately and I did not even have a minute to apply lip gloss or change my shirt before the event. I arrived there 5 minutes after my first guests (darn those super-punctual parents) and the guest of honor arrived at least ten minutes after with his Daddy and Monkey boy. Half of our balloon arrangements got missing (it's a long story), the 'party coordinators' (Ha!) acted like they had never thrown a party for anyone before and it was each parent for themselves and their children. Hey, don't look at me lady, I paid to just show up, so there. It was a chaotic mix of scooter riding, bowling pin throwing, duckduckgoose playing three year old mess. My dear husband acted like the last place he wanted to be was at his son's party because -get this - he was tired. Well, bite me. The cake was pushed on its face by Numero Uno son and he blew out his candle before we even started singing happy birthday. But guess what? I did not freak out. I was not suicidal. I will even throw a big birthday party for Monkey Boys first. A really big, tacky, over the top one, with face painting and entertainers. See, we are all 'growed' up. :)

Like fine wine, pp

Hard Times

There is so much I don't have to have anymore. With the recession, I am sure I'm not alone in this. The obligatory designer 'it bag' - at least two a year (for my birthday and Christmas) - eh. My husband is off the hook, and frankly, I'd rather have the cold hard cash. These Tory Burch boots would SO have been in my closet by now, justified by my 'fashion rationale' - "i'll have it forever.', 'why else do I work so hard?'. Er... to pay bills. Basic bills. Like cable, gas and BGE. Mmm hmm. For my boys - cause, they stay fly - recession or no recession. But I do wait for sales though, even for them. And I obsessively utilize the free returns for my online shopping expeditions. And Marshalls is my friend - especially for pajamas, singlets and winter coats for the kids, sweaters and the like for yours truly. Don't get me wrong, I'm no 'frumpy Molly' (no offence to Molly's across America.) but I rethink decisions. Alot. Like this adorable melton coat by Laundry. And this camel coat by Via Spiga. Cocktail dresses by Vera Wang, BCBG, etc. How often do I go anywhere at night, anyway? Exactly. And when I do, I am not hurting for stuff to wear. Hardly. Like a birthday party I will be attending this weekend. It's this outfit for me, a Calista Clothiers creation- accessorized with a red croc belt and some killer platforms and I'm all set. So I am all 'growed' up and so not superficial. But still fab. :)

for richer, for poorer, pp

Who's in The News?

Me! memememe! Shameless plug of me and the Gilt Groupe - which I have plugged already in a previous entry - gilty pleasures. Look at me! Please...



p.s I apologize for the lack of posts. I just hate not having any photos along with an entry, seems so empty, you know? I have a camera now, so it's all good. But just look at ME, will ya?






We caught this member wearing her Gilt Groupe purchase. Chinwe shows off a little shoulder in this smoldering, statement-making number. With a bright, eye-catching color and the right accessories to boot, this member makes styling look all too easy.
Dress: Cynthia Steffe
Hometown: Columbia, MD
Current residence: Ellicott City, MD
Favorite food: Anything spicy (over white rice)
Restaurant: Cindy Wolfe's The Charleston in Baltimore is great ... But then, there's Le Cinq in Paris...
Reading material: Autobiographies, anything by Chimamanda Adichie, fashion magazines, blogs.
Momentary style obsessions: Tory Burch boots, searching for the perfect shade of purplish/lavenderish gloss, Bottega Venetta bag and at least one Roland Mouret dress.
Style secret: Confidence is sexy. Invest in good quality, timeless classics and never pay retail for anything!
Favorite Gilt brand: I love them ALL. Equally.
Fashion icon: These days, Genevieve Jones.

Legally Blonde and other things you shouldn't admit to on your blog...

But I went to see it. The musical. The Legally Blonde musical, yes, with Elle Woods and pink and sorority girls and gratuitous 'dumbness' (or is it blondeness?). Yup, that one. And I do not feel any dumber. My I.Q doesn't seemed to have dropped. And it was fun! And I (dare I put this in writing?) actually gave the cast a standing 'o' when they were done. (Ducks out of post, in case irate intellectual throws Starbucks and/or No. 2 pencil at screen. Sneaks back in.) Who am I kidding? No one reads this blog anyway, right? Anyway, it was fun and girly and sweet and I went with my girlfriends and we all (gasp) wore something pink and had champagne and fairly good seats (because that is the one perk of being 'old', you can at least afford good seats, right?) and were not out of place and there were more thirty year olds than tweens there and even straight men (double gasp) so it was all good. But my point is, I don't do this enough - i.e hang with friends and do non-mommy stuff and I should. Point number two- I need a new camera. Exhibit A below was taken on my girl friend's camera phone. If there ever was an 'uglifier' - it's this camera. And I certainly am not that fat. So there. p.s. You should really go see Legally Blonde the musical. It was pretty good!



humming 'omg, omg you guys.." pp

The Tale of the Vintage Clogs...

Growing up, as the last of six kids (of which four are girls) as you can imagine, I wore a lot of hand me downs. Let me rephrase that, I wore a ton actually. I was always happy to get my hands on that stylish 'basket bag' or shirt or shoes, that had been passed down through a number of girls in the family. Sometimes by the time the item got to me, it was so last season. But my motto was, better to have it, than not at all. I spent what must have been thousands of hours in my neighborhood 'tailors shack' getting alterations on my 'wardrobe' for the next semester at school. There were skirts to be shortened, 'gathers' to be loosened, shirts to be turned into dresses, pants into shorts and sometimes- I kid you not - skirts. I also wore a lot of vintage, before vintage was cool. I would rummage through my mom's trunk boxes. "Seventies polyester shirts are 'in'?" Coming right up - a light beige one that only needed to be taken in at the waist ever so slightly. Long belted dresses? Score! Clogs? That one was a challenge. My mother, being a hoarder, of course had several new pairs from the seventies. Gorgeous, now that I look back , made from pure mahogany colored leather with tassels and impossibly high square polished wood heels. But the dilemma was that the very quality of the 'vintage' clogs dated them and so it would take 'mucho balls' to wear them. You see, there were two kinds of clogs being sold then. The excruciatingly ugly black dutch clogs that every one had and one slightly less ugly variation that some of the cooler chicks had. Mine was just not happening. But one Monday morning, I gathered up my insecurities and dusted off those clogs and strutted my stuff like I just bought them from Champs Elysee. Someone said 'Nice clogs" to me and my heart skipped a beat as I waited for the mocking laughter. there was none. I learned four important lessons during that period of my life: 1) You make the clothes and not the other way round, so let confidence always be your undergarment :) 2) Always, but always 'do you' - not everyone is going to get it, but you know, you're not running for president or anything so it's cool. Really, it is. 3) Make friends with a really good tailor and score yourself some free alterations 4) it's okay (kinda pretty cool actually) to be a little different and innovative.

Anyway, I saw these outrageously priced Tory Burch Clogs and it brought me full circle. I survived without them then, methinks I will make it now, n'est pas? :)

pp

PradaPrincipal, interrupted

I was going to have a glamorous pradalicious weekend. This was ordained, because, you see - I deserve it. My husband deserves it. I mean, with two little ones, let's face it - after a while it's hard to find each time for each other, or indeed, even finding each other becomes an egg hunt of sorts. Because one (or both of you) are in opposite sides of the house, hiding from the kids, or watching your shows, or just having 'me' time. So 'us time' gets lost in the shuffle often. Well, Friday night was going to be a nice adult night to do nice adult things. Like go to a premiere. Yes, it was for a Nollywood* movie, but a premiere by any other name...



It was nice to actually think about what I was going to wear. I asked my hubby what the dress code was, and of course he said "jeans and a shirt", which is manspeak for "dunno, didn't ask." Ah, men. Gotta love 'em, bless their uncomplicated souls. So, the fashion wheels started turning - I had to put together something that would not be too dressy, just in case it was a more casual affair and nothing too ' hithereIjustrolledouttabedtocometothisevent' looking. I decided on a black mini DVF wool dress with 3/4 sleeves, purple over-the-knee cashmere socks, black Maryjane shoes, with three or four silver and oxidized chunky silver bracelets and cuffs. Add hoops and a big, bold purple flower pin and I was good to go. I am currently wearing my hair in a chin length bob, so I was just going to sweep it to the side with a couple of barrettes/ hair pins by good ol' 'Goody'. And Viola! Premiere here we come.



Except life happened. And it was Nanny's week off and she actually had plans - I know, who knew, right? And could not be cajoled - nay, threatened :) into staying Friday night and leaving Saturday morning. So, yeah. I watched 'The Game' (fabulous yet underrated show by the way) upstairs in my jammies and hubby watched {insert some political show here} downstairs. Deja vu? Oui. As well as tres pathetic, while we're being honest.



The next day we all (MB, Numero Uno, PP, hubby) went to the Smithsonian to catch the Jim Henson 'Sesame Street/Muppet exhibit and the 'National Air and Space' Museum. I know, how fabulous are we?

Prada's postscript: To be honest, the sesame street exhibit was a bit of a snooze for me and numero uno son - except where they got to make 'puppet faces' and have their own puppet show. But the NASM rocked. I was all giddy with excitement and so was NU son. It was no premiere, but it was fun!

Living the life, :-) pp



*Nigerian Hollywood = Nollywood

I could so be Rachel Zoe...

I mean, like totally. Just a browner, heavier, less fabulous version. But I would kill to shop for people and style people and let them know what worked for them or what would revamp their whole look. I would do it for free- that's how much I love doing it. And to get to sit through tons of fashion shows during fashion week, front row, nonetheless? Are you kidding me? Sign me up! Of course I would share the same challenges of wanting to keep most of my merchandise for myself, but what true fashionista wouldn't? Maybe I could be the cheaper, everyday stylist to the average woman who doesn't have the a) time, b) inclination, or who just needs that extra set of eyes and expertise for that special occasion {we all have those}. Would you hire me? :)

This is just business venture number 111000220034400000...

Dial-a-style*, pp

* Don't steal this - it's patent pending!! :(

** Check out the Rachel Zoe project on Bravo every Tuesday night. You'll just die.

Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Monkey Boy?

I am. Very much so. In a' pee in my pants', immature kind of way. The phenomenon known as MB crawls at the speed of light now - in this bizarre, sitting yet crawling, crab-like manner. So weird that I am fascinated by it and I sit there staring and bam! he's tugging at my pants leg or hair (depending on if I'm sitting on the floor or standing) or necklace, or earrings (ouch) and with a vise like grip hoisting himself up. Yes, the MB doth stand. On bow legged but sturdy legs. I actually thought he would be one of those babies that didn't crawl and just got up and walked. Cause from like four months, he would try to 'stand' and yell bloody murder if you dared try to sit him down. The result is that we might have a very bow legged little boy (it's true, not just an old wife's tale - a doctor confirmed this, so there) . And/or some kind of gymnast on our hands. He does these perfect little (unintentional) splits when he's been standing for too long and cannot for the life of him figure out how to sit down. Sometimes I just watch him. Just out of pure malice. Gotcha Monkeylicious. That'll teach you to be so freakishly strong. Which he is. His bites (with just two of the most impossibly teeny teeth you have ever seen in your life) actually bring tears to his Daddy's eyes. Numero Uno son is already telling on MB for wresting a lollipop from him. {Side note: How does an eight month old best a three year old in a 'snatch and grab' fight? I say MB won it fair and square. Go ahead then, boy.} I pride myself on training my babies to sleep in their cribs by three/four months of age. With MB? You guessed it - he has broken me. You can hear his bellows through closed doors and without a monitor. And our rooms are not that close. But gosh darn it, how I love that MB. (In spite of all the abuse.) But I am totally scared of the child.

Birth - the control of.

Dear FDA/ scientists/ would be inventors, women and all:

If there is any bill control pill that will not make me/ will make me (depending)

1) bi-polar, schizophrenic or otherwise moody,

2) balloon up by 5 to 50 lbs (yes, even 5 lbs I take issue with, what's your point?)

3) break out in prepubescent acne or angry hives,

4) cause hair loss and alopecia,

5) have incessant withdrawal bleeding that is equal to or longer than a regular period,

6) feel nauseated, bloated, suicidal, bitchy, crampy, witchy,

7) lose my sex drive,

8) give me cysts, growths, lesions, a stroke

9) give me an ungodly amount of discharge and/or any kind of foul odor down there,

Do give me a buzz. While I am not trying to get pregnant for a good while (or maybe ever again), I would prefer not to experience any of the above or kick the proverbial bucket, you know what I mean? Sheesh! Is it really that hard, people?

researching, pp

Jes' like Bisquick...

Numero Uno Son turns three later next month. Yay on the one hand, as it means good bye to the terrible twos (right?) and hello to three year old 'maturity'. Ha. On the other hand, I have been stressed out trying to plan the 'perfect three year old party', because from what I understand, three is when they actually get it. Everyone knows the all out one year old bash, is for the parents, and since Numero Uno's second birthday was nothing more than a balloon, cupcakes and pizza in school, I figured that this year I'd do something a little special - especially since he has been badgering me about getting him the purple 'mustache' (mustang) car we saw in B.J's for his birthday present. Never mind that he barely drives the one he has now. But it is my fault, in a way. Everything he asks for, "I'll get it for him on his birthday." The trouble here is that I have a toddler with the memory of an elephant. So come his birthday, I might have to take out a loan or something.

I was thinking a fire engine theme - an ode to his love of all things 'auto' with flashing lights and I found out that the Fire museum actually hosts parties - how cool would that be for three year old boys? For the girls, maybe not so much. Or you could have the party at home and have the fire truck swing by your house! Even cooler! But I am determined not to be stuck with three year old debris/ after party fall out, so outsourcing it is. Luckily in 2008, there are more options than ever. 'My Gym' (to which he belongs) - is like 'Gymboree' only better, IMHO, complete with games and everything. All you have to do is bring Pizza, juice boxes and presto - Par-tay! Or our gym - which totally rocks (check it out http://www.lifetimefitness.com/ - you will love it, if you actually like, go.) Same deal as 'My Gym', but even better - with swimming, obstacle courses, scooters - even rock climbing for older kids. And they provide the pizza and juice boxes! I tell ya, 'jes like Bisquick, them parties.'

But when I was googling 'birthday parties for three year old boys' I came across this site 'birthayswithoutpressure' and I was like ' How sad that anyone would need this', until I realised that um.. okay, that 'anyone' included me. Why am I putting pressure on myself to throw NU son this party that he could probably care less about? How about just having a simple party at home with three or four of his pals, a cake pizza, sun chips and ice cream and call it a day? Then of course buy him his beloved mustang. End of story. Me and all moms of his buddies would breathe a sigh of relief - cause really, who needs to attend yet another scintillating toddler party? Not me, not after this summer. So why inflict his on others? a) Because I am a glutton for punishment and masochistic at the same time, b) Because I want to show people and my son that I really truly love him, c) Cause I have 'working moms guilt' and this is in part, penance, d) I am lazy and do not want to move a muscle or use a brain cell. I think a bit of all of the above actually, but if I had to choose one, then (d) would be it. Oh and I would pay a fortune just to get out of small talk with some of those Moms. Mm hmm, you know the ones, right? Shudder.

So I have purged myself and I am suitably ashamed and chastised. But I can't promise you I will be baking a cake and making my own pinata just yet though. Not this year. Baby steps, people, baby steps.

the party planning, pp

Chatterbox

My Numero Uno son talks up a storm. He started speaking early, and not just baby babble, but good (though far from perfect) adult English. This is probably due to the fact that we kept the 'baby talk' to a minimum once we realised he understood what we were saying. So his speech is very 'proper' as one of my friends puts it. Even though he has been talking for a while now, once in a while I still look at him in wonder. Is that you, baby? With all those tiny little teeth, and a point of view and everything. Sample question: "Why did you cry in school today?" Answer: "Because I need my Mommy. (accusingly) You leave me, that's why." How cute is that? The fact that he always adds the "that's why" to end of his explanation kills me every time, I tell ya. Or, "Why won't you go to bed?" "because there's a dragon in my room, that's why." Don't you just die? Or is it a personal Mommy thing? Whatever it is, I am determined to nourish it. And with him in the "what's this? why?" oh so cute but undeniably tiring phase, this book by Jamie Lee Curtis seems like it would be perfect - and something he would undoubtedly grow into. It's called 'Big Words for little People' and it explains words that we adults use (without thinking, most times) in a way that kids can relate to. Too, too adorable. And with purpose too. Can't beat it - will be buying it for sure.

Books rule, pp

Paris.

view of Eiffel from hotel room

Yes, we are back from the fabulous city. Food in Paris was a bust. I just had to get that off my chest. The one meal I enjoyed cost an ungodly amount of money that I just don't feel comfortable 'fessing up to spending. Ye gods! I have honestly never, ever, had food that bad. And it's not like I don't like French food. Au Contraire, I actually adore it. Well, when it's seasoned and cooked right. So I deducted mucho points from Paris, as everyone that knows me has to know that I take my 'manger', tres serious. I had never been so happy to see a McDonalds in my entire life (we came across one near the hotel) I was this close to kissing the floor. For real.

But food aside, Paris was great. And everything was just a little bit nicer than I thought it would be. Parisians are less rude and snobbish than in the yesteryear, not everyone (in fact very few) were decked out in head to toe haute couture(lol) and everyone wears jeans now. It was a laid back, nice fab vacation. Well, not really laid back for us, obviously, with two little boys - one of whom had decided he was potty trained days before the trip and so would NOT under any circumstances pee in his 'pull ups' on the plane or anywhere else for that matter (even though I begged him to at one point) to this mothers' consternation and extreme annoyance. I mean, picture me- exhausted, bleary eyed at some ungodly hour, running down the narrow plane aisle to get Numero Uno to the stinky, cramped plane loo, while he's crying hysterically that "Poo-poo's coming, Mama!". Of course we get there, and nada. Just a few miserable drops of pee. All this after almost dislocating my arm to prevent him from falling down the cavernous, stinky toilet bowl. Now rewind and picture this twenty or so more times during the same flight. Exactement. I am grateful the boy is (finally) potty trained, don't get me wrong, but dear Lord, where is a nanny when you need one? I know, I'm a bad Momma. :-)

The boys (en Paris), having a laugh at our expense

But this picture of Numero Uno staring out his hotel room window, soaking up the culture, made all his hassling almost seem worth it. Almost.

Mom of the Year, pp

Mr. Egghead/ Ma Pauvre Bebe

My poor monkeyboy. Fell forward in his bumbo seat when he was trying to get a toy and bumped his head on our extremely hard stone kitchen tile. Ouchhhhh! Thankfully, the seat was on the floor, so he didn't have far to fall - but still ouchie! The poor thing was such a trooper and was playing happily again within minutes. His bump was iced and he seemed okay. Fast forward to two days later- the bump just grew 4 times larger and was soft and puffy to the touch. Before you could say 'ER', we were there - with bells on. I was, to put it mildly, in a tizzy. What if he had like a concussion or something? Or internal bleeding? Because obviously, some kind of fluid was collecting under his skin and the fact that he was acting like his normal self scared me even more. Surely that meant he had something 'not good' going on internally, poor baby. But long story short, he had a CT scan and he was fine- not a fracture (thank God) but a contusion which is a bad bruise under the skin. The Doctor casually told me that it would go in two or three weeks. Weeks? Oh no! To be honest, his 'new face' freaked me out a bit. It was oddly misshapen and warped on one side, like he was staring into one of those funny mirrors at the circus. I wanted my MB back! And we traipsed through airports to Paris and back, Mr. Egghead in tow, people looking at him, curious but most too polite to ask, and suddenly it was gone. Poof! Just like that. Now we weren't sure if it was really truly gone or if we had just gotten used to it. But it really has. In three weeks, just like the doctor said. I have my adorable Monkeyboy back! But here's a picture (in the third week, so you can imagine how HUGE it was initially) just so I always remember how grateful I should be for his beautiful monkeyface and more important, health. Viola...

Upgrade! (Lookin' Good Prada!)

Yes we are getting more and more stylish as the days go by... Just check out our new banner! I could just die looking at the caricature 'me' and my boys 'Numero Uno Son' and 'monkeyboy'. J'adore Melissa Kulesa of Kulesa Design. Everything is said in a french accent ( and in french) in my world these days - an ode to our Paris trip, if you will... Tres annoying, mais oui? Lol.

Travails of Travel

There is simply no need attempting to travel these days. None. At. All. The FAA (and cohorts) have squeezed every drop of fun from the whole process with the 3-1-1 rule, the non-priority seating of people with kids, the shoe removal thingy. Everything. It is so bad that even if, by some small miracle, you manage to make it across the ocean to your destination with all your luggage, tots and faculties intact, you are dead tired and cannot leave your hotel room until the day before you are supposed to go home, and then you end up doing the 'drive-by' tour thingy and then head for the airport - ( grumpy, unrested, and thoroughly dissatisfied with your feeble attempt at leisure) - to repeat the same 6-8 hour torture that you went through to get to your 'vacation.' Ha!

My beef today is that the travel agents have joined them. I would think that with the decline in air travel and business for the travel agents, they would be more enthused, more excited over the possibility of their commission. Or maybe just do their job, no? No is right. Here was my experience of recent with our Paris trip bookings. I mean, never mind that we had booked and paid (in full, mind you) for this trip months in advance. A week to the day, I get this EMAIL(because evidently, a phone call would be too much work, you know?)

Hello PP,
C is on vacation this week, and I got a call from the company who is handling your hotel stay in Paris, and they advised me that the R Hotel cannot accommodate your party for the nights that you are booked there.
They did offer an alternative for no extra cost at the V in two rooms there.
Both hotels are on the right bank. The R is in district 1 and the V is in district 2.
They do have another option near the R, called the L, but that would be a difference of 1442 total for 2 rooms.
Please let me know as soon as possible what you wish to do.
If you have any questions, you can either contact myself or my manager, D. Have a great day!

Basically, they had booked my hotel through a third party and were casually informing me that I would have to either stay in a cheaper hotel or pay more for another hotel which could accommodate my party. My 'party' being myself, hubby and 2 kids (7 month and under 3 years old.) Tell me people, should a travel agent not advise (before charging my account) on whether a suite is needed for a certain number of people? To me, this is right up there with letting you know you may need a visa or something. What I loved (read:sarcasm) was the way my regular agent was conveniently not in the office that day, and 2) how they tried to cavalierly make it sound like the problem was mine (and the third party agency's to resolve.) Keep in mind that I had hitherto had no prior contact with said third party agency.

I responded as politely as I could, letting them know they should work it out or refund my money. I got this reply:

I am checking with Travel Bound to see if they will cover the cost of your airline penalties if you indeed cancel. I will know that information shortly.
According to Travel Bound, they cannot accommodate a cot and a crib in their rooms at the R. I understand your frustration with Travel Bound because they should have advised you this at your point of booking in June.
There are other hotel options, but the best one at The L, that is closer to where the V is in district one, is about 1442 more. I was told by Travel Bound they cannot cover the cost difference if you choose this property.

I had an 'are you kidding me?' party all by myself when I got this reply. So another more strongly worded email was sent. This chick must not know I'm an attorney - in fact, bump attorney, try not addled. Cause this was getting to be ridiculous. Here comes the clunker.

Here is an option you may want to consider.
Travel Bound, the tour company who booked your room, told me by law the hotel cannot allow anyone bringing a baby into a room without a cot.
I asked Travel Bound if we took the baby off the reservation, could we have the room, and they said yes.
We could tell Travel Bound and the hotel you are not bringing the baby, and when you check in make sure the baby is not in sight of the front desk.
This is not something we normally recommend, but this is an extreme circumstance, and if you do not mind not having a cot, the best option.
If this makes you uncomfortable, we can look at other hotels that will provide four in a room.
Let me know what you think. Have a good evening!

No she didn't. Yes, she did! In writing! Did this person just ask me to collude with her agency to lie to the hotel and HIDE MY 7 MONTH OLD at check-in? Yes She Did! Where, pray tell, would I hide him? (assuming I was amenable, to her suggested option?) Under my jacket? In my carry on? I think I should have sued them at that point and been well within my rights! I was all set to cancel the trip and sit my butt at home, at least until some modicum of sanity returned to the travel industry, when I got this:

I have great news!
Travel Bound was able to keep you at the R.
They have two connecting rooms for you. It is guaranteed.
You do not have to use the second room, but they have to have it booked for you for no additional fee to you.
They will have the cot in the 2nd room, so you can bring that cot into your room.
At least you will have two bathrooms!!
Let me know if all is well. I think this is the best option. I do have other hotels in the right bank, but this way you can stay where you are.
Have a great day!

Great news, indeed. For her- even though I suspect she has no clue how close she and her agency came to getting the Prada Principal 'smack down.' Now all I have to do is to contend with the other stuff (see first paragraph) - you know, the travails of travel...

exhausted already...pp

Missing: Mojo

I have been going through a hellish couple of weeks at work. Nothing major, just work. Plus deadlines. Add overtime and two young kids and viola!, you have - no blogging. I mean, I barely have time to brush my hair, with my 50 hour work week plus commute, totalling at least 70 hours, and then I have to be wife and mother too? Come on! My face has is not liking this new frenetic pace and neither is my stomach. I have worse acne than my teenage me did and we are talking three to four HUGE Painful zits, that keep reoccurring in the same spots. Hello dark spots. My IBS (irritable bowel syndrome, for those of you lucky enough not to be the know,) is in full throttle. I am bloated, gassy, miserable. Tres sexy, non? My husband, needless to say is thrilled. But I am determined to get my Mojo back. Just as soon as I get my Mojo back... Sigh,
PP

Enter the CopyWriter...

It's been a while. And I have missed you all and missed this. I truly love to write, (even when there is nothing really, to write about) and so I will write even if just the one person reads my blog. Will write for cookies, will write for free.

Enter my latest 'business venture'. I am all about making what you love doing work for you. I love to write and I am good at it - modesty would be counterproductive in this industry, so bear with me- this is why I am starting a 'copy' business. I will write website and advertising copy, come up with slogans, by lines and catchy business names, for a fee. I know a friend who thinks it's a ridiculous idea, but again, when you google it - a number of people are doing it, even under the names I was considering, so maybe not so ridiculous, huh?

I'm not quitting my day job or anything, just doing what I know and more importantly, what I love to do for people, who maybe don't love it as much. Is that so wrong? More on this later..

brimming with biz, pp

All Purses Go to Heaven

Do I love my children more than anyone (or thing) in the world? Yes. Do I love my awesome collection of purses as well? Yes Ma'am. I have always loved pocket books. Big ones, little ones, fat ones, thin ones, patent ones, leather ones, canvas ones, woven ones, All purses go to heaven in my world, except imitation/fake ones, which I simply detest. I just think they cheapen your whole outfit as they are never well made anyway. But I digress.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away when I was a lowly program coordinator in an NGO, I got laid off and decided to invest part of my severance in something that I would always have. Enter my white gorgeous limited edition coach purse. Before the days when every teeny bopper was sporting a coach wristlet, Coach was actually a well respected pocketbook to have. Besides, the leather ones last forever.

So I treasured my bag and cleaned it lovingly with my special leather cleaner after each stint and pacedk it away in its dust bag every time. I used this pocket book for 5 years without incident until - you guessed it - the 'Numero Uno 'monster got a hold of it. "Butterfly" He says, gesturing for me to see his latest work of art. Only one problem, it's ALL OVER MY COACH BAG!!!! In blue ink that I will never get off. Front and back. Oh. I. Have.No.Words. Just, Oh no.
distraught, pp

Girls Rock!

Because I adore girls and completely identify with how important it is to empower those (sometimes fragile) egos, this is todays post - an email from a 'rockin' mom. I just love her site and what it's trying to do, and the Wii fit prize is an awesome incentive to win this contest! Enjoy and have a great weekend...
pp

We are launching a photo essay contest for young girls in America, asking them to submit photos of what it means to be a Tween Girl in America right now. We believe that girls in America cannot be labeled or pigeonholed. They're not just athletes, just pretty, just smart, or just students. They are a tapestry, and we believe that these girls are the best people to tell us who they are. We're giving away a Wii Fit game to the winner. In addition, we will post the top five entries and the accompanying text on our site at www.itchickclothes.com. The contest is open from August 1st to September 30th.
Who are we? We're owners of an online boutique of plus or extended size clothes for tween girls. We're also mothers of daughters. We believe strongly in helping girls find their voice, and we're giving away 10% of our sales in August and September to Girls Inc., a national nonprofit youth organization dedicated to inspiring all girls to be strong, smart, and bold. With roots dating to 1864, Girls Inc has provided vital educational programs to millions of American girls, particularly those in high-risk, underserved areas. Today, innovative programs help girls confront subtle societal messages about their value and potential, and prepare them to lead successful, independent, and fulfilling lives. More information can be found at www.girlsinc.org.
We're hoping to make our contest and our gift to Girls Inc. as big as possible. Will you consider posting our contest information on your blog to help us get the word out? We think this is a great opportunity for girls to find their voice through art and writing.
Contest details can be found at https://www.itchickclothes.com/index.php/contest.html. We are happy to answer any questions you might have for us. Also, please feel free to forward this email or our contest information to as anyone you think might be interested.

From two moms of daughters, thank you.
Catherine and Emily

Milk Is The New Prada: Where I Blog

Milk Is The New Prada: Where I Blog

Where I Blog

In response to a question by Latte Mommy.

This is how we do (what we do). At work. On our Lunch break***

The Other side of Thirty

This is so like my favorite topic. Because I live it, think about - am it. The thirty somethingish woman of today has quite the challenge on her hands, finding the delicate balance remaining fashionable without being 'trendy', youthful without trying to be too young. no mean feat indeed, in this day when two year olds wear low rise, boot cut jeans. Ha!

What this means is that your taste must - albeit reluctantly change. You can no longer get away with buying those camisoles from forever twenty one, urban outfitters, Bebe. those are for your children. Fictional or otherwise. You are still allowed in Banana Republic fortunately, and embrace staples from Brooks brothers, Ann Taylor and the White House, Black Market store. I personally will never stop getting stuff from Anthropologie. So sue me. but I have come to terms with the fact that I probably will never wear nine West shoes again, and not just because all the teenagers in church go there. The shoes are getting crappier and crappier and I am a bit of a shoe snob/label whore. I just know that the right pair of shoes can never be a bad thing. And it's the first thing the people that matter look at. And judge you by. Shallow, but oh-so true.

So I am more into the understated chic look. The accessories and or the 'interesting camisole, patent leather belt, SHOES are my passion now instead of the big statement bag. Not that I have anything against those, but I'm just in a 'keep em guessing' phase. more long Champ 'Le pliage' bag for work than Fendi B-buckle bag. More Kate Spade/Tory Burch flats than Gucci loafers. More age, more subtlety, I guess. Or maybe like I said, it's a phase...

peace, pp

Chictopia

It is always extremely gratifying when I find out that indeed there are folks just as nutty and quirky as myself. See, fashion is truly something I am passionate about. I love to wear nice things, attempt to design clothes, enjoy watching people's fashion choices. So I was overjoyed to discover chictopia.

Have you ever put together an outfit so clever or maybe so simple yet so utterly divine? Or maybe you just liked the way you looked that day? Well, there are fellow fashionistas on chictopia waiting to learn from you and admire you. And you can pick up quite a few tips yourself. In less than 15 minutes, I picked up three different ways to tie my scarf and an innovative way to wear a man's shirt(as a strapless dress!) Even if you just like to people watch, this site is worth it. And I am so adding it to my reader feed.

My Husband, The Rockstar

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My dear, dear man and I celebrated our 5th year anniversary yesterday. It makes me almost choke up now, when I remember who and where we both were in life, then. I was working full time at a Non-profit in Baltimore, while going to law school for my L.L.M, and interning for a Judge in Baltimore. Whew. He was no less busy, struggling to learn the ropes in real estate, under a mentor who unfortunately didn't pay that well. I remember us scrambling to get to the mall to buy his ring before 2pm - which was the time we were supposed to meet our four witnesses (family and friends) in our Pastor's office, for a small, legal marriage blessing. ( The 'Big Do' would follow the following year, but that is a story for another day. )

It just so happened that this year, five years later, we fought the day before our anniversary. A "not speaking to you like ever' tiff. And so I go off to work, sure my anniversary will be just another day, you know? When my darling man calls and asks where I want to go for dinner, still icy, I politely decline. I thaw after a few minutes and concede to a movie. We will go see 'The Dark Knight'. Hardly romantic, I know, but that's the mood I am in. Movie mood. We meet up there, me wearing the same Ann Taylor linen shift I wore at our wedding 5 years ago, (it still fits. 5 years and two kids later!) and he, a bleach stained (I kid you not) T-shirt and jeans. The movie is crappy and I scarf down a whole tub of bad movie popcorn, but at least we're friends again.

We get home at 10 pm and I head to the bedroom to rest my weary bones. And viola! I wouldn't go to dinner, so this darling, darling man that I married, brings dinner to me. In our bedroom. With the lights properly dimmed. From our favorite french restaurant that we usually go back to on nearly every anniversary, 'Tersugels'. And there is wine. And Salmon with butter infused shrimp 'cous cous'. And Lobster salad. And Peach Flan. And steak. And he changed into the white shirt he wore on our wedding day too. And... I'm just happy I chose this man to go through life with. I truly, truly am. Happy anniversary darling man. You Rock!

pradalicious

Buh-Bye...

...thirty-two, hello, thirty three! I'm not an 'ageist' - I know what it really means, but it's also my term for someone obsessed with their age or with being eternally young. On the contrary, I actually do revel in each year, because I truly believe that I do get better and more fab with time. But. Yes, there is a 'but'. Thirty-three just seems. So. Darned. Middle-aged. I mean, come on! I just embraced 'Thirty' it seems and now, all of a sudden, I'm in my 'mid-thirties'. Already???? Well, tell you what - we'll make it the most fabulous mid-thirties it could ever be. So 'Happy birthday to me!' and all that jazz. And bring on the 'middle agedness'...

(Last day of) Thirty Two...

(First day of) Thirty Three...

not bad, prada, not bad...

Room mates

Growing up in a house with five siblings has left me with an undeniable respect for privacy and personal space. Don't get me wrong - we were never on top of each other or anything like that, but there were long stretches of time where I invariably shared a room and thus could never really do with my space what I wanted. Thus, it has been somewhat of a priority for me, to give our little tenants as much space as they each can handle. But just here and now, with a live-in nanny and a guestroom that might as well have a revolving door, it ain't happening. So Monkeyboy and 'Numero Uno' Son are sharing a room {:-(}, albeit a large one. But with a Thomas the tank toddler bed, sleigh crib, armoire, dresser/changing table and rocking chair, not to mention architecturally impossible angles, it's a bit of a squeeze. I was at a loss as to how to decorate their room without each losing their own little personality. thank God they're both boys. I just went with allocation a side of the room to each, with the rocking chair area being a central spot and making MB's stuff a pale shade of green that wouldn't look too bad with NU's soft blue. And that has worked for us, until I got my latest issue of 'Cookie'. It is filled with so many tidbits about 'shared space' that I have been dreaming about headboards and beanbags. But alas MB is only 6 months old, so i will embrace patience as a virtue. :(

the decorating, pp