Velvet Underground

In my early to mid-twenties, I liked to go out dancing with friends and boyfriend (now husband). Our group of friends were not the preppy 90’s crew, or even the grunge scene type. No, we liked the goth/alternative clubs, and so we dressed accordingly.

In my closet are a wide array of bad clothing choices from that period, most of which involve velvet. I don’t know why, but somehow I equated “alternative” with velvet. There’s a stretch velvet top that is iridescent – pink or green depending on the light. There’s the black lace dress with velvet trim. I also had the dark green crushed velvet tie crop top with matching stretch crushed velvet flare pants – purchased from a store that sells stripper wear.

And then there’s this:


The red velvet halter mini-dress with sparkles at the bottom. It may not be the worst, but on me it was the worst. First, I never had the legs to carry off a dress that short. And a halter top on me is not that flattering. I’ve never had the large breasts needed to give the top of that dress the shape it needs to not draw attention to even the smallest belly bulge.

I bought the dress at a college clothing resale shop, and I really should take it back there. I mean, do I honestly think I’ll ever wear this dress again?

Still, it could be worse. I’m not the only one in the family with lapses in fashion judgment:

This is Aaron’s clubbing shirt. He still threatens to wear it out again.


Want a chance to win a $250 Coach gift certificate? Submit your worst fashion faux pas that still resides in your closet to the Parent Bloggers Blog Blast in honor of the new Harper Collins book The Little Black Book of Style. You have until midnight tonight.



Three Haiku In Praise Of Coffee

(My childless, tea-drinking self from years ago would never believe I wrote this.)

Long night, baby cries
I pull up to the drive thru
“Welcome to Starbucks”

Eyes sting from no sleep
“Grande iced mocha with whip”
Mom’s Little Helper

Bitter chocolate taste
I’m addicted to mocha
Sweet caffeine mistress



WOHM, Now SAHM/WAHM*

It’s done.

Yesterday afternoon I did something that was, surprisingly, hard for me. I went back to work, where I met with my supervisor and handed over a crisp white envelope containing my letter of resignation.

I was due to come back to work next week. A little part of me knew deep down that it wasn’t going to happen, but the other larger percentage of my brain was still trying to leave the door open unless some miracle solution would appear to me like a burning bush.

It’s not that I wanted this job to be a career. It was only part-time, and I had my difficulties with some co-workers now and then. I was a student advisor, which was rewarding, but also meant I had to deal with a lot of obnoxious students who tried to work the system. It wasn’t what I had in mind when I graduated with a BA in History, and I’m currently back in school pursuing a nursing degree, so I knew I would never be there long.

But it was still hard. Damn hard. I nearly cried when handing over the letter, blubbering that I wish I could still work there, but circumstances being what they are, it’s not possible right now, blah, blah, blah.

There was no way it could work. Since losing the babysitting services of my friend, who charged a very low amount, I looked at other daycare options. But $1500 a month for three days a week is more than my salary, and even two days a week at $1000 would be my entire salary, making it pointless to leave both girls with someone else three days a week. I can make no money just as well from home as I can from working with the girls in daycare. Also, with the possibility of Cordy being diagnosed with a delay of some sort, I want to be available to get her any help she may need.

The truth is, I’m thrilled to be a stay at home mom. Thrilled that I will be able to continue breastfeeding without scheduling pumping sessions into my day. (And thankful, because so far Mira hates bottles.) Ecstatic that I get to be there every day as my second daughter grows and develops, instead of hearing what new trick she did at daycare.

I had planned to be a work at home mom when Cordy was born – at that point I had been working from home for four years – but then my former company cut telecommuting from its benefits while I was on maternity leave. Daycare had never been in my plan, but we were forced to find care quickly and leave infant Cordy there while we went into the office five days a week. I was miserable and depressed, which is why I sought out this part-time job I’m now leaving.

(Let me clarify at this point that I in no way see moms who work outside the home as bad moms. I just didn’t plan on working in an office when we decided to have kids, so it was a bit of a shock to me. I’m a big believer in “whatever works” parenting – whether for financial need or personal need. No SAHM-WOHM war here, OK?)

The other side of this is that I’m a little scared, too. It’s strange to not have a job to go to each week, or have an office as my home away from home. It’s frightening to realize our income is taking a serious hit and I will have to employ some drastic budget cutting strategies to make ends meet. There’s enough foreclosures in our neighborhood – I don’t want to be one of them. It’s also a little unnerving to have to think of something to do with the kids every. single. day. Oh, and have few chances at intelligent conversation with adults. I’ll miss that the most.

As I’ve said before, it’ll all work out somehow, and even though I’m very nervous about our finances, I’m grateful for the chance to be home with Mira and Cordy. And this change in status may give me the chance to find new work online – I’m already proud to be working for Family.com, and there’s always the possibility of finding other paid writing gigs.

If the past two years have taught me anything, it’s that I can’t fight the tidal wave of change that life sends my way – instead of being pulled under flailing and kicking, better to get on top of it and surf, baby, surf.

So here I am. A stay at home/work at home mom, arms outstretched and surfing along that wave.

*Translation: Work out of home mom, now stay at home mom/work at home mom



My 10 Second Introduction

OK, enough moping, and on to something fun. So MochaMom is asking everyone to introduce themselves before BlogHer so we have a little bit of an idea who we’re meeting. But this year she’s asking for a 10 second intro. So who am I?

I am:

– 31
– have a B.A. in History
– starting nursing school in the fall as a career change
– a fan of sci-fi and historical costume drama movies
– somewhat socially awkward
– someone who rarely wears makeup or spends a ton of time on her hair
– fashion challenged (but I did remember to buy my Spanx to hold in the postpartum tummy!)

Time’s up? But there is so much more! Guess you’ll just have to talk with me to find out the secret about that time in the whisky museum in Scotland…

Even though I went to BlogHer last year, I’m literally twitching with nervous excitement this week. There are women I met last year that I am looking forward to seeing again, and there are several I can’t wait to meet for the first time.

A tip for when you meet me: I can get overwhelmed in large crowds, so if you notice my eyes wandering around the crowd while we’re talking, I swear I’m listening. Seriously. I’ve always been a good multi-tasker, and now that I have kids, I’m a professional multi-tasker. So please forgive me if I’m not looking right at you the entire time – I will try to keep all of my senses on one conversation at a time.

The big change for me this year is that I’m bringing the whole family with me. Mira will be in the baby sling with me much of the time (if you’re doing the scavenger hunt, catch me nursing and it’s 15 points!), and Cordy will be in childcare, possibly making an appearance in the evenings. Too bad there’s not a scavenger hunt category for meltdowns, because I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige for you.

Aaron will also be in Chicago, too. Mostly he’ll be on his own, ready to take Mira if I need a break, but he’ll be attending the cocktail parties in the evening. Then we can put him next to Queen of Spain’s Aaron and see if they really are long lost brothers, or if they’re actually clones and the world will fold in on itself.

I did get my business cards in the mail the other day, and they look spiffy. No swag for me to hand out, but if Mira or Cordy act up too much they might get raffled off to some lucky participant.

And finally, Mira has reached a developmental milestone that might charm everyone she sees. She’s now smiling.

I call this one the “coy smile”…

…and this one “the drunken frat boy”. Yeeeaahh!


Just Another Day

I woke up this morning with a baby attached to my breast, asleep next to me in bed, just like every morning this week. I slowly got up, trying not to wake her, got dressed, then carefully carried her downstairs.

“Happy birthday,” Aaron said to me as I walked into the living room.

Then it hit me. “Oh yeah, it is my birthday, isn’t it?”

“Did you forget?”

“Yeah.”

I guess after you hit 30, birthdays don’t register as much anymore. Or maybe it’s because I have a newborn, and therefore every day feels like the same day over again right now.

So yeah, today is my birthday. I’m 31. Feels a lot like 30.