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