THE GODDESS PRINCIPLE: WE NEED A DAY

At six a.m. on Sunday morning, I opened my eyes to a sun-filled room and a curly haired 5 year old telling me to get up. Why? Did she have the coffee brewing and blueberry muffins in the oven?  Had the blind dog been walked and my morning paper gathered?  Had the public radio station been turned on to my favorite morning jazz program? Had brunch reservations been made? Was there a clean towel placed on my favorite pool chair next to a mimosa and a good book?

No. Sunday was not Goddess Day; it was Mother's Day. 

I rolled out of bed, stepped over the piles of laundry, and put on an ill-fitting bathing suit. Casey pleaded with me for 20 minutes to take her in the car to rescue a stuffed cat with silky fur and big eyes from a horrible life at the mall.  I told her that we would go rescue the cat after she picked out 12 stuffed animals from her toy bin that she didn't love anymore so that we could deliver them to new owners.  I was told, " No way. Never Never Never. You are not my friend mommy."

She's right. I am not her friend. I am her mother. I am a goddess. Perhaps she is a goddess in training.  The stuffed cat continues to live at the mall.

After washing the dishes and watering the plants, I was relaxed. There is something therapeutic about running water that lets your mind drift to a needed vacation near a waterfall on a sparsely populated island. I was brought back to reality at the sight of my daughter showing off her prize catch, a baby snake.  "Mommy, mommy, look at my new friend!" she exclaimed. "Let's look for its mommy" she pleaded.  "Heavens no, put it back in the grass and let it find its own mommy!" I gasped.

The baby snake was placed in one of Casey's many habitats that inhabit our yard.  For the next hour we "competed" in our ritual swim races. I guess its the age: where kids want to compete at everything; they want to win; they want to win a prize; and they often gloat about winning even if they win unfairly and with help from us goddesses.

Mother's Day would not be the same if it came and went without a list of life lessons.

Well I had written a gem of a list in the draft stage of this post. Then, I became distracted and I deleted my post. 

I must have been half-heartedly enthusiastic about my list, otherwise I never would have allowed such a slip-up.  Maybe I'm tired of reiterating "life lessons."   Perhaps, this is why I have 3 books featuring mother/daughter relationships lying around my house, each half read.   Maybe my five year old is right to tune me out most of the time.

My thoughts drift to the greek goddesses.  Haven't we all, at one time or another, gone the way of Persephone and eaten pomegranate seeds offered to us by a representative of the underworld?  Will my daughter stray from my learned teachings and separate herself from my guidance. You bet she will.  Feasting on Hades' pomegranate seeds guaranteed that Persephone would be separated a third of every year from her mother. According to this Greek myth, this separation is the cause of winter as Persephone's mother, Demeter, the goddess of the harvest and fertility, refused to let the world flourish while her daughter was away.  Upon Persephone's return from Hades each year, Demeter allowed the world to be reborn in springtime. 

All this talk of goddesses excites me to read about Hestia, Aphrodite and Athena, and study the crossover between myth and reality. It is time to celebrate my inner goddess. 

So, I raced into my house and unearthed a box of "femcrit" books and some supermama reads. I found it, the book I would enjoy on my Mother's Day!

  
My mother's day is from this day forward, goddess day.

That's A Wrap

Take One, Scene One:

Two friends are seated at a kitchen table surfing eharmony, a website of dating hope that one friend has recently joined.
The joiner says: "Let's look at my matches. If nothing comes of it, at least I will have 90 days worth of laughs."
Non-joiner says: "What was the age range you put in? My God, if that guy is 45, I'm 70!"
Joiner says, "Look at this one, he lists his job as "pharmaceuticals," he's a drug dealer, next!"
Non-joiner says: "Well, here ...this guy seems normal, he is an architect."
Joiner says: "Are you kidding...he's making out with his dogs in every picture. I hate dogs. Okay, I did say I like pets on the site but this animal lover, no way!"
Non-joiner says: "Okay, this guy then, he is a lawyer...no wait he has tattoos all over his arm...he probably got his law degree while in prison.  Next."
Joiner says: "All right, let me show you the 2 guys I have decided to break the ice with...look at these two.
Non-joiner says: "Oh my God, no way...no way...no way get rid of them...they are ex-husbands of friends of mine...only in their dreams are they what they say they are. Lucky I'm here to screen these guys for you."

At that moment, the computer screen beamed, "Windows is Shutting Down."
End of Scene One

You may think that you saw this scene on tv, you may have.  I am sure it has happened an unimaginable amount of times.  The other night it played out in my kitchen with my best friend, "the joiner."

So often you hear people searching for their "soul mate."  Who coined that phrase? It has become a cliche. My friends need to stop searching for one, as a nice friendly chap will do as a start. 

I need to have my joiner friend come back over and watch my favorite tear jerker flick: Cinema Paradiso.



Young Salvatore falls in love, has his heart broken, and never really loves again. His eyes are opened at the film's end. The film's ending is the best I have ever seen.

Call me a naive romantic, but I love the way love is portrayed in the movies. Love is wondrous and love is torture.

My true love is Robert Redford. Of course it is. He is intelligent. He is a cowboy. He is a thespian. He is a philanthropist. He was and always will be Hubble Gardner. And, well, my name is Katie.

I think I have watched, "The Way We Were," at least 30 times.  Katie Morosky is an odd choice for Hubble which is why us ladies love it!  Katie M did start annoying me after my 20th viewing however, I keep forgiving her because of dialog such as this when she pleads with Hubble to stay:
HG: "You never give up, do you?
Katie: "Only when I'm absolutely forced to. But I'm a very good loser."
HG: "Better than I am."
Katie: "Well I've had more practice."

I bet most women have dated a Hubble Gardner. I was in love with one for three years until his candy coating wore off, exposing his true Charlie Sheeness.   I fled.

Us women love to talk about love. What could be better fodder?  Over the years I can recall some pretty sage advice that I have given myself and others.  I continue to develop this love laundry list:

1. Know your value.
2. Desire a loaf of bread and not crumbs.
3. Don't rescue or look to be rescued.
4. Let yourself be adored.
5. The movies are not always right.

Regarding the Fifth principle, a scene from my favorite Mother/Daughter drama: The Joy Luck Club,  proves my point.  After Suyvan's dinner party at which her cooked crab was featured, Suyvan says to her Chinese daughter,
"That bad crab, only you tried to take it. Everybody else want best quality. You, your thinking different. Waverly took best quality crab. You took worst, because you have the best quality heart. You have style, no one can teach."

Listen here, my eharmony joiner friend(s).  You have the best quality heart.  You have style no one can teach.  Take the good crab. You deserve quality.

Where Are My Gold Shoes?

Today the sky is a dreamy blue.  A shade of blue that I have seen many times in children's picture books, in popsicles, gumballs and sheets of satin.

I wish if the sky fell it would just envelope me in its sweet, comforting blue hue.

The week has ended. A bittersweet conclusion.  My mom flew in for my daughter Casey's Spring Break.  With a "routine" break comes tender, sweet, funny moments and jittery, scattered, flip-outs.  The flip-outs are my short bursts of frustration where I cannot get my five year old to "do as I ask."


My mom's plane flew out last night. Casey spent the night at her dad's place and will return home soon. I am left with some waking hours of alone-time to let my brain and emotions melt into a pool of lumpy tapioca.   After this exercise, I will take my tapioca mindset and begin reconstituting it into a firm yet penetrable workable form.


Laundry is done, check. House is cleaned, check.  Dog is fed and walked, check. My yard is beautiful, thanks to my mom and Casey planting for days. . . Check Check Check!

The inventory of my surroundings is done so it is time to take stock of my thoughts.  Seeing Casey enjoy her Nonni all week and watching her behave splendidly for her brings me pause.


Mothers want the best for their daughters.  My mother sees the wonderful life that my daughter and I have.  She sees the beautiful relationship that Casey has with her father; one that I have worked hard to nourish and one which I continue to foster despite the sacrifices I make.  


Yet she wants me to be careful not to forget to nourish myself before all others...to vigilantly create my own life irrespective of my daughter...to pursue love...a love that will give me the adoration I deserve...perhaps the value I crave.


It is oftentimes lonely being a mother, having a child be so utterly dependent on you to know your way around the world.  It is especially lonely being a single, Alpha female raising an Alpha 5 year old female.  No matter how many "right" things you do as a parent, when you have lived your life in a driven, goal-oriented way, you see the "wrong" things you do in 3D.


But I must forgive myself for some of the lapses of "structure" I know that I need to provide my daughter in our home life: of going to bed at the same time, sleeping in our own beds, eating balanced meals at the table with no drawing pads and computers available. Yes I am guilty of cuddling up with my daughter on the couch during school nights and letting her drift off to sleep in my lap. Yes I am guilty of letting her sleep and wake up in my bed and letting her whisper softly to me each morning, "Mommy are you awake, look the day is here." Yes I am guilty of letting her draw while she eats and while I eat and write on my computer. 


But my daughter is not my life; she is the welcomed guide to my great life. Every day she grows and I grow. I teach her and she teaches me. She can do things better and so can I.  There are moments where I call her Veruca Salt; the spoiled girl who falls down the bad egg chute in pursuit of Wonka's golden egg, or Violet Beauregarde; the gum chomping take it and never leave it girl who turns into a giant Blueberry.   But there are countless moments where I call her my angel baby, a label the NICU nurses fittingly gave her at her birth.

Nearing Easter and having had my mom visit makes me think of my favorite children's book: The Country Bunny and The Little Gold Shoes.






The Country Bunny is the main character in a story that has defined my life and undoubtedly the lives of many other adults who grew up reading this tale of courage, resourcefulness, fairness, and determination. 

 In 1939, DuBose Heyward, legendary author of Porgy and Bess, wrote this story for his daughter. The Country Bunny is about a little girl bunny with brown skin who believed that one day she would become an Easter Bunny.  Her dream was a long-shot given that only “big white bunnies who lived in fine houses” and male “Jack Rabbits” had historically become Easter Bunnies, coupled with the fact that she had 21 bunnies to raise.  But the Country Bunny had a kind and very wise fan. A grandfather of all Easter Bunnies believed in the Country Bunny and he gave her the hardest task of all, delivering an egg to an ill child on the highest mountaintop.  With the help of gold shoes, the Country Bunny succeeded and became an Easter Bunny, returning from her quest in time to bring Easter tidings to her own bunnies.

I know many Country Bunnies and they enrich my life.  I see my mom as a Country Bunny. I hope that in time my daughter sees me as one too. 

I just found my Gold Shoes and I went out to my car and with my beautiful nails chipping and scraping, I removed the numerous stickers that Casey had plastered on the 2 rear windows of our car.  Those stickers had traveled with us for months.  Despite not being Jewish, nice moms at school wished us Happy Hanukkah because of the many holiday stickers gracing my car windows.  It was time for me to reinforce needed boundaries.  

The glue was great on Casey's stickers. They put up a good fight but finally yielded to my efforts.  Our car windows now glisten.  All I needed was to focus and assert my Country Bunny Alpha mompower.  

BUNNY BONNETS AND SPRING DECORATING TIPS

Many know that my bunny love fest is attributable to my grandfather whose nickname was Bunny. Our Silly Dilly store is bursting with bunny love now that our Bow Queen has loaded us up with custom bows for baskets and bonnets.

Here are some fun decorating tips to ring in Spring.

Doors and Entryways

Here is the wreath that we made for my front door!  Natural materials form the wreath and the straw bunny face. Kristin's beautiful custom bow uses burlap, high grade ribbon and bling. The added detail of the blinged feather on bunny's hat is perfect!  I have a beautiful frame around my front door and I always drape a seasonal garland to accentuate my holiday wreath.

You can opt for a smaller centerpiece on your front door like a vintage sign or our newly crafted Bunny Bonnets. We have taken straw bunny faces and adorned them with Kristin's bows.

Here is a rack of our Bunny Bonnets we placed in our store yesterday.

Here are some of the Bunny Bonnets up close:

Kristin's Ribbons are versatile. They have ribbon ties for tying onto baskets and a pin back so they can pin onto anything.

Inside Room Vignettes

Mantels and fireplaces are the focal point for your seasonal decorating. Here is my fireplace which I like to adorn with vintage seasonal images.

I also scatter seasonal pillows and create vignettes around the room.
Here is my mushroom vignette:

As I am a maniacal fan of Maileg danish design rabbits, xlarge bunnies hold court in my living room during the Spring. Here is Kristin our Ribbon Queen holding the new Spring '11 Cornelia Rabbit in our store. Cornelia is 3' tall and she sports a fabulous flower print romper and espadrilles!

Easter Baskets

The Easter Bunny's imagination is limitless when it comes to making and filling baskets. Each year, EB brings my daughter and me a themed basket. I usually get a basket of jewelry and hair accessories. 

Here is a Teacup Basket the EB likes to deliver. We have small teacup planters which can be filled with goodies or Alice in Wonderland treasures or a beautiful plant.

The EB also likes to use unusual containers for baskets. Pails for a Beach Basket; Felt Dinosaur and Pirate Baskets for Easter Day joy and year-round practicality; and fun canvas caddies like this one filled with Art Supplies.




Lately, I have been in love with all things Red Riding Hood. We have the cutest musical toy in the store with RED spinning around the belly of the cute hairy wolf. The song is appropriately Age of Aquarius from HAIR. 

I am in love with Piggy Story's new design Little Rosy Red which graces many new art products in our store, perfect for a Little Red Easter Basket.

And when you want to attend the Traditional Egg Hunt, go nostalgic and heirloom. Our Danish design, felt baskets, Fair Trade made in Nepal, are stunning for the Hunt.

Here is a basket with a custom ribbon:

At our house EB always hides our baskets. We receive a directional rhyme that leads us to our treasures.  This fun hunt was a tradition that a Mama Country EB started when I was a little girl.  

Have a wonderful Spring and do not forget to read my all-time favorite story:



The Moon Over Wonderland

Last night the moon was full and captivating. It was a Bella Luna; a Moonstruck moon. Every night Casey and I let Fiona outside for her evening frolick and we look for our moon. Casey, like plenty of us, is fascinated with the moon. Last summer when we were driving  through the rolling hills of CT at dusk, she whispered, "Mommy I am watching the moon. It is riding with us."

When looking at the moon, you can't help but be drawn into its glory and wonder who else is gazing at it at the same time. Are those other gazing eyes happy? Are they struggling? Are they diabolical? Are they pensive? Are they hopeful?

Moon gazing is grounding. It allows us to have a deeper connection to the rest of the world as it highlights our overall insignificance and significance.

With all of the current global happenings, it is difficult to not start your day each morning like Holly Hunter did in throwback movie "Broadcast News."  Her ritual each morning was to go into her office, sit down, engage in heavy sobbing, wipe the snot from her nose, and exclaim, "There, that felt good. I'm ready for my day."     

I do not begin my day sobbing at a desk, but I do typically begin my day in an intensely thoughtful, emotional way by giving mental affirmation and gratitude for every blessing that visits my life and the lives of others close to me, and wishing strength and compassion to all those in need.

It is imperative to channel hope and compassion in your life everyday. When I litigated discrimination cases, a job that required me to investigate, expose, and try to understand and remedy the behavioral flaws of men and women who harbored and acted upon ill will, ignorance and prejudice, I was given the privilege of meeting many, many people. Some I liked, some I loved, and some I disliked.

After years and years and thousands and thousands of hours of questioning people in such cases, one line of testimony from a company officer impacted me the most. He said that our species is "inherently flawed."  That premise has resonated with me for years and it will continue to do so.  I believe that that "flaw" is actually a purposeful design to make us a great species. We all have within us the ability to do good and to be kind and the capability to be mean and act selfishly.  We all act on these abilities every day; the only difference is the degree and extent of our acts.  It is our exercise of our gift of free will that defines how we live our lives. 

Acting upon hope and compassion for our "flawed species" gains the utmost importance  in view of our children and grandchildren. It is the children who are not corrupted by the challenges of life. When my daughter was drawing on the driveway with chalk, she found a dandelion. She squealed that we should blow the spores and make a wish. We blew and she yelled, "I wish that everyone has happiness in their heart."

My daughter is not growing up in a war ravaged nation. She is not living the tragedy that the Japanese children find themselves in.  She does not go hungry at night. She is not sleeping in a make-shift shelter. She knows not of physical or mental abuse. However, she sees kindness and unkindness at her young age, even if it pales in comparison to the horrors experienced today by other children.

It is that kindness and unkindness that I, as her parent, guardian and trustee, must diligently show her. Because she is 5, I use words like "grumpy bumpy" and "crabapple" to describe unkind behaviors, but I also stress that just because a person's behavior is bad, does not mean that that person is a bad person unworthy of compassion and forgiveness. The "grumpy bumpies" and "crabapples" are sad and misdirected and often need kindness and compassion. 

The lesson for my daughter is that "Class Equals Kindness." I do not care what your educational level or socioeconomic status is. People with class are kind. My goal is to raise a compassionate child and it is my obligation as a "flawed" adult to practice what I preach every day. It is us: the mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles and grandparents who are tasked with the privilege of illuminating the meaning of the Moon for all of our children living in each of our wonderlands.  

Only Dogs Need Apply

My daughter has been carrying around this section of the newspaper for days now. She puts it in her Pre-K4 bag in the morning and takes it out at night. No day passes by without several pleas for this hamster.

We are a one dog household. We have Fiona, our Bull Terrier.

When Casey came home from the hospital, Fiona was ready to assume her duty as charge nurse.  The two were inseparable. Both of them came to my law office every day for one full year. Casey was a baby and Fiona was 2.

Fiona is the largest bull terrier I have ever owned. She is 75 lbs. of loving. She has the sweetest temperament, barks only when needed, and is grateful for simple pleasures and companionship. Too bad my marriage didn't have the same relationship qualities.

When Casey turned one, I started planning, researching and developing Silly Dilly Tot Spot. When Casey turned two, the website was launched. When Casey turned three, the retail store was opened. 

As I celebrated opening the retail store, Fiona was stricken with spontaneous glaucoma and within days, she went completely blind in one eye.  Her other eye had compromised vision. For one year, medicine helped ward off total blindness.

To help Casey understand Fiona's condition, I wrote this story Fiona and the Magical Skating Pond 

 Today you would never know that Fiona is blind. She walks around toys, and navigates new pathways around objects I have moved. My story is right. Fiona sees life with her heart.  Sure it is back-breaking to lift her into the car to go for a ride, but she loves the wind up her nose.  Sure it is a circus act to walk her with Casey while Casey insists upon holding the leash and collecting rocks and bugs.

One frosty morning, I almost lost it.  I finished my shower. It was still dark out. Fiona barked to go out. Okay, I thought...she has no problem walking into the front yard to do her business and returning inside.  I opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

Superdog leaped off of the porch, bolted through the yard and ran down the dark street. Clutching my towel, I ran after her, screaming for her to stop.   I saw in the distance that she had stopped to visit with a little teacup dog being walked by a very elderly gentleman.

When I reached them, the man nervously asked, "she's friendly right?"  I replied, "too friendly, so sorry." The man and teacup pooch left. Without a leash, I straddled my bruiser dog and marched her up the road. We gave a nod to a city worker and waved hello to our neighbor. Nothing new at our house. . . Me running in a towel after our blind dog on a winter morning...late for school again.

Fiona is turning eight and she still spins in the air when we come home.  I love hearing Casey imitate my voice, "hi Fiona, hi baaaaaaaby."  

Sure a hamster is a cool pet, but our dog is the greatest! 

Note to readers: This blog entry was written for the purpose of being read to my daughter in furtherance of my position that no additional pet: hamster, rabbit, cat, fish, etc...will live with my knowledge at our residence.

Sweat the Sweet Details: Spring is Springing

News just in from family in Connecticut . . .  the spring thaw is happening. Kids from all over New England will have eaten their last snowball.

My mom, donning her sidekick camera, will have to shelve her woolens. Thank God the hunters didn't mistake her for a bear on one of her daily winter photojournalist walks!

The first spring flowers to bloom up North are the daffodils and crocuses.
Sweet memories of these flowers randomly blooming in patches of lawns and woods propels me to run and check my Home Depot credit account to see if it will permit Casey and I to grab an enormous ride-on cart and fill it to the brim with delicious Zone 7 spring blooms.

My nails looked too good anyway. I swear that I have manually rottotilled my garden with my bare hands. I think my mother, sisters and I were purposely born with square feet so that we could get a strong foothold in the garden, allowing us to squat, bend, weed, plant, and water for hours. Despite my years of nicknaming our feet, grape-stompers, we all garden faithfully and competitively.  Damn my mother for sending me photos of her hillside of hostas and my sisters for their perfect rows of tulips. They can't match my dew drop tree canopy around my pool!  All of us love wine, but we never owned a vineyard and the closest we came to stomping grapes was watching the I Love Lucy episode where she and Ethel stomp grapes in a barrel.  So garden-stomping square feet is a more accurate label for our tootsies.

My love for Spring flowers has inspired us to create beautiful Spring Ribbons for our store customers to beautify and personalize Easter Baskets. When I say "us," I really mean our ribbon creator, "Ribbon Queen" Kristin. I merely ordered some of the ribbon from Denmark.

Kristin's tireless manicured hands lovingly and painstakingly create our beautiful Spring Ribbons. They are available in a variety of colorways and they can bear your childrens' names. The Spring Ribbons will tie onto baskets and they will also have a pin back so you can pin them on a frame or hat. Each Ribbon is unique. Have a look:

When you love doing something, you don't mind sweating the sweet details. Just ask our Ribbon Queen. 

FALLING OUT OF OUR NEST

The popular item to bring to a baby shower or a kid's birthday is a memorable book with a personal sentiment written in by the giver. I love giving this book: Little Owl Lost.

It screeches 1970s.  The read is akin to "Are You My Mother," a tale that has been told many times, but this version brings a smile.  

Little Owl falls out of his nest and meets a variety of wacky drawn characters who claim to know who his mother is. After a tearful reunion with his mom, the story ends with Little Owl precariously perched to tumble out of the nest again.

I bet you that Little Owl, in hindsight, enjoyed being lost and positioned himself to repeat his fall.

Sometimes we all need to tumble out of our nest; out of our comfort zone.
Many characters, stories, and experiences await us . . . if we create the opportunity to meet them. 

Something so basic like buying a pink skirt when your closet is bursting with black and brown can add a new twist on your life by changing your perspective, even if ever so slightly. 

Why do we fear falling from our nest? It's human nature to to live out of habit, method, and control, even if its controlled chaos and contrary to our self health. 

I too have had fears from time to time. After my first pregnancy loss, I feared getting pregnant again. Then after my second miscarriage, my fear of pregnancy grew stronger. This fear did not paralyze me however as I yearned to be a mother.  The third miscarriage stopped me in my tracks. How could I: a nurturing, loving, nesting, control freak, type A, goal-oriented personality with a God-given large bosom (that I lugged around for 25 years) fail to allow me to produce a child that I could feed?  Why was I being denied this basic life right deserved by women? How could my body fail me?

I had to let my mind accept my loss of control. I jumped out of my nest.  That jump started my creative life; it began my new dreams. I wasn't mad at my body anymore. When I went for my first mammogram and the technician asked me, in a matter of fact, clinical way if my breasts were real; I chuckled, spun around, pointed at my butt and said, "with these biscuits what do you think?" End of discussion.

When I had my fourth miscarriage I was okay.  I knew that children would be a big part of my life. At peace with this knowledge, God gave me my daughter.  She found me and I found her. Now we journey together. We have built a nest. From time to time, we push each other out of it.  We are never lost.  We are always found.

So, after this heavy post, I leave you with some beautification therapy. Love yourself, love others, take risks and you will fly. Bumblebees have short wings and they are scientifically, anatomically built to fail to fly. But they do.

Here is a dress that we had made for our store. It is beautiful. What I love about it is the photographed memory it can yield. It will be my daughter's Easter dress. I will pin the butterflies that were made for the dress on her dress and hairband and on my outfit. The expected photograph will capture my feelings; that our lives are intertwined, that we are beautiful together, and that butterflies follow us wherever we go. This is the power of positive thinking!

Here is a favorite photograph of mine discreetly captured by Nicole Geller in my store several years ago. Casey was playing sweetly, loving the butterfly bonnet that I had just made for her. 

Toothless Wonder

Wow, it is Sunday morning, a day of rest after a six day work week interspersed with a boogie-booger infested, demanding stay at home sick child.  5:30 a.m. came and went. Our blind dog Fiona has had her morning walk and her perpetually floating dog hair has been vacuumed up. The dishes are done,and I'm on the third load of laundry.


So, at this very moment in my backyard, I am relishing the balmy 70 degrees and commanding directions that Casey is belting out to the several lizard captives she caught this morning. 


Earlier this morning, I was graced with a phone call from my "Renaissance man" brother Chris, who is a gentle, brilliant soul, dad, entrepreneur, funny man, and author of the website: mymeditativemoments.com


Our phone chat was the pit stop that I needed to refuel my sinus congested, delirious brain. I love focused, inspirational conversation. We spoke about surface appearances versus social appearances versus perceptive appearances versus desired appearances. Well, our conversation also included "tubby talk" about my 2 year old nephew's need for a bath, but the existential-layered thought talk is what I prefer to extract.


So here are my thoughts on "appearance" this week:

At 5 and a half, Casey lost her first tooth.
She was so excited, exclaiming that her big teeth were coming! The tooth fairy surely has a sense of humor, bringing her a singing frog, silver dollar and of course, chocolate.

That's right, chocolate. My child believes that all of the world's ills can be cured with chocolate, and so do I. I would rather "bake brownies for bullies than mind-wrestle them" is a statement I have oftentimes made in justification of my wondrous exit from the legal profession.  If every person sweetened his or her neighbor's life there would be less woes, wouldn't there be?
Where is that fairy with my chocolate?

I am quite positive that Casey and I could eat the same piece of chocolate and hers would taste more delicious. Why? Because she has not eaten as much chocolate as I have. Its appearance is still a fantastic novelty to her. The numerous years of my eating chocolate under many circumstances; parties, relationship break-ups, weight-loss celebrations, weight-gain realizations, friends' visits, miscarriages, holidays, sad movies, happy movies, the sun rising, the sun setting, and so on and so on, have slightly dulled the chocolate experience for me. I guess that I have taken its taste for granted.  I know that it will be delicious while I eat it, but then I also know that the euphoria will end with a crumpling of a wrapper. 

Casey's elation over her "lost" tooth prompted me to join in her celebration. We grabbed a tutu and stopped off at my store to pick up a "one less tooth" smiley shirt. On the way to school, she told me how she couldn't wait for her other teeth to fall out. From her booster seat in the back, my mop top beauty yelled, "I can't wait to get teeth like you mommy and to be 8 and to drive our car!" I tilted the rear view mirror to see the full expression of her one toothless grin and I smiled and said, "I love that you are the way you are today and that you are 5."

After she showed off her itty bitty tooth to the office staff, unknown visitors, the maintenance crew,  and her Pre-K4 class and teachers, I returned to my car and sat for a little while in my self-designated therapy parking spot. Casey is already more than 4 feet tall. Many people comment about their own personal amazement over her height in front of her. She hears that she is exceptionally tall and that they mistake her for being 8 or older. She hears me tell them that she is 5 and that she is blessed with potentially, superhero, Olympian strength.

As any mother, I pray that my daughter loves herself each day of every day of her life. I hope that she views her physicality as a gift, and that her loves, goals and accomplishments are above and beyond normal heights.

I then stopped off at the CVS on the corner and bought a Snickers bar. I  ate it like it was my first time ever doing so.

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PS, note to parents------do not be fooled thinking that I was able to sit outside and write this blog without interruption from Casey. After a few minutes of writing, our day set in: eating, playing, misbehaving, time-outing, reflecting on transgressions, and then going to the Gnomeo and Juliet movie. After all that, I resumed blogging. Happy Day.

Design Tip-Making Memories

My last post was pretty heavy so here is a dollop of sunny design advice to preserve memories of special moments with your child through her or his clothing in addition to the gazillions of pictures you have taken.

Last June, my daughter Casey experienced NYC for the first time with her nonnie and me on our annual Mother's Day celebratory jaunt. We rode the train in from CT, and Casey acted as if she were on the Polar Express, wishing the conductor, "Merry Christmas". 

Don't be hesitant to bring an age 4 and up child to NYC, they will flag a cab before you can open your mouth.  The best initial purchase is an Uptown double decker bus tour pass. You can jump on and off at many locations and see the city without hoofing it on pavement. Leave the walking for Central Park.  

In Spring/Summer, Central Park has enough attributes to occupy a family for days. The Children's Zoo, the concerts, the street artists, the paths, statues, bridges, playscapes and terrain will delight. 

Here is a bronze slide in the park.

One activity you might want to distract your youngster from obsessing over is a ride in a rickshaw carriage pulled by a bicycle riding teenager. Casey obsessed and my mother and I shamefully caved. So this frail Dutch teenager beckoned us over to the delight of squealing Casey. We forked over a hefty fee and hopped in for one of the funniest rides of our lives. My mom and I shoehorned ourselves in the petite carriage and sandwiched Casey in between our flavorful Italian physiques. Forget the seatbelts, there were none.

Our teenage bicyclist was optimistic that he was going to peddle us through the park! My mother could not stop nervously cracking jokes about how he would be due workers' compensation for carrying the heavy load we provided. As we ascended a big hill, our unhonored Olympian didn't break a sweat as he bobbed up and down pushing the metal pedals of his bike, switching the clanging chain to more helpful gears. He did it. He scaled Mt. Everest with us in tow! Then the fantastic descent. Our rickshaw flew down the hill. I knew my good deeds in life would spare us a tire blow so I enjoyed the whipping wind, the swerving maneuvers of our Olympian rider, and my happily screaming child. My mother smiled even though she had a white knuckled clutch of the side rail. 

Just when we thought the ride was over, our Olympian proceeded onto a stretch of Central Park South leading to the Plaza and 5th Avenue.  I couldn't believe it.  Our Olympian bobbed and weaved us through city traffic!  I felt like a cat with nine lives. The jury is out whether I recommend this experience to you.

The Plaza is a must visit and every girl, any age, loves the Eloise room. 

To preserve this special NYC trip, when Casey is done wearing this beautiful applique sun shirt by Lemon Loves Lime, I will cut out the applique and have a pillow made with NYC and the date of our trip embroidered on the back. 

Lemon Loves Lime summer collections have magnificient, bejeweled appliques that are adorned with crochet stiching that is unequaled in the children's clothing market. You can expect to pay between $48 and $56 for a shirt and $68 for an applique dress, but it will deliver to you a cherished memory of your child's fun.

Lemon's summer 2011 collection has exquisite turtle, flower fairy, cupcake, and mermaid appliques which can be saved and re-purposed as pillows or as a quilt of memories. Each applique shirt or dress provides a window into a short span of childhood whimsical dressing and living.

So when you are planning to spend limited funds on your child's summer wardrobe, skip the mindless, impulse-driven shopping cart and a stockpile of cheaper, forgettable outfits in favor of a few artistic outfits that will afford you a lifetime of memories.

Here is a priceless one!

Year of the Rabbit with a Cheetah Vest

It is the year of the Rabbit; a time to recuperate and lollygag. The Rabbit symbolizes graciousness, kindness, good manners and good taste.  The Rabbit is sensitive to beauty.

As a mother of one beautiful 5 year old daughter, I worry about the growing slippery slope that society is pushing us down in the commercial deluge of manufactured beauty. And, I am highly aware of the pushed beyond envelope of sex that litters my home in Tampa.

Each day, I drive my daughter to school. Our trip is several miles along the main streets of our city. She and I see more than a dozen strip clubs and sexy massage "clinics. We pass numerous billboards with 20 year old bikini clad girls marketing lunch face lifts, body wraps, botox and medical drug induced weight loss. We pass proliferating "sexy play" dress and accessory shops.  At Christmas, a cute female lawyer advertised her legal prowess in a sexy Santa suit.

God, if I swam with the current,  I should have stopped at my many local "gigantic box" stores to buy my daughter the new Vet Barbie and told her that Vet Barbie could easily straddle our 85 pound bull terrier to clip her paw nails in her tight Vet miniskirt! 

No. My daughter is out of luck. I didn't buy the Vet Barbie, and (snapping my fingers as I type) I never thought of wearing a Santa suit when I peddled legal services in my former law career. Perhaps, this is a reason for my high debt load.

Silly Dilly Tot Spot, my artsy, imaginative snow globe of childhood wonderment would undoubtedly make much more money if it were Silly Dilly Hot Spot and we sold volumes of sexy gear with a drive-through weight loss/wrinkle tuck window.

Tampa is not the only city where one can develop this viewpoint. National ad campaigns and the Disney Channel ratchet sex down to 7 & 8 year old levels and in my view chip away at childhood.

On Monday, while in the Atlanta airport returning from a successful winter clothing buying excursion at the Atlanta market, another buyer (who is a grandmother) and myself simultaneously stopped in our tracks and gawked at a life-size advertisement for perfume. Two teenage looking kids, a boy and a girl, were scantily clad and the girl was licking the perfume bottle.

I read that people were outraged and disgusted by a Doritos commercial that aired during the Superbowl featuring the licks of a hungry man.  Will people be likewise disgusted by the public display and commercialism of the licks done by a cute 20 year old girl?  I think not.


So as a mom proud of life etchings on my face and a healthy dose of cupcake fat, it is imperative that my child receive repetitive messages of natural beauty and an appropriate, tasteful public display of it. Balanced information is key to enlightened learning. 

As I said, I live in Tampa. Sun, year long, means more skin shows. Okay, I get it. We all desire toned arms and bellies. When I lived in CT and Boston, I relished the winter. Layers of woolens comforting our weathered bodies. When Spring came, it was irrelevant that we had gained winter weight and wrinkles.

My mother always says, "You can not best nature." She says this when we watch the sun set. When we stroll through a meadow of daffodils. When we collect crisp colorful leaves that have just fallen. When we hear the crackle of a freezing lake. When we smell the sweet smell of just mowed meadow grass.

I agree with this sentiment. You can not best nature. This applies to our environment and our bodies. I also believe that you can work with nature to enhance its beauty.

In Atlanta, I passed over many racks of revealing, polyester clothing marketed to 5 year olds in favor of beautifully designed and sewn clothing with fabrics that I yearned to find in adult sizes.

Sure, I paired a soft grey sweater dress with tights and a cheetah print vest for my daughter and for other customers who follow our design sensibility. Tasteful dressing does not mean dressing without style. My style choices would never be described as frumpy.

May the stars bless the grande dame I saw in the airport who had a debonair gentleman on her arm. She clutched a weighty Prada bag in her thinly thin arms. She precariously swayed in her high heeled ankle boots that were capped with a large band of cheetah print fur. She must have been cold as it was 40 degrees out and I seriously doubt that the glittery spandex leggings and tie front sweater with faux cheetah collar that she wore kept her warm.

I am a fan of fashion and a fan of function. As I watched her shiver, I felt toasty in my long black faux fur coat and embroidered clog boots. 

And when a blistering wind rushed in with the screeching train, I could have sworn that I heard the metal on metal cry: "CHEETAH".

middle aged mom's musings beginning

I'm doing it. Starting my blog. Shelved the New Year's weight loss resolution to feed my writing hunger.
Four years ago, I danced away from my law career to build, live, love and lollygag in a new vignette of middle-age parenting and mompreneurship.

I view a good blog as being loaded with joyful, funny, helpful tips and insights written by kind, loving, blogging narcissists. So, I will strive to deliver this type of blog.

Two movies capture my perspective of my life experiences. Cinema Paradiso (in Italian w/ subtitles) and The Joy Luck Club. Enrich your life with their viewing and get to know me.

My formula for living the good life is simple: LOVE=laughter, optimism, values and work ethic.

So, the blogging begins. Tag along if you would like.

Katie