What timing. Just as I was contemplating schlepping 12 miles across town to get my pre-makeup makeup (ah! The irony of pushing 40 - spending a jillion dollars on makeup to get that "no makeup" look!), Nordstorm sends me this missive to encourage me to shop on my arse: my favorite "buy $100 of stuff and get this super cute beauty swag "free"" promotion. I am always a sucker for this one, because the samples are so much fun; I will probably never buy the Bulgari WIPEYS, but the one time I used it to "freshen up" my face and hands, I felt like Carla Bruni-Sarkozy (my latest girl crush) stealing a moment in the backseat of the limo before stepping out for my Left Bank lunch. Marvelous.
Speaking of arse (weren't we?), mine has been busy lately: I am flying SOLO for a few days. Military wives (my own sister Tarzhay Miss!) and other mommies whose husbands travel frequently will guffaw at my angst, but I'm just not used to it! The dinner/bedtime stretch is of course the hardest, when they all have valid concerns or angst and there just ain't enough Mama to go around.
And then when they're finally in bed, I start worrying about all the little NOISES I hear. I try to talk myself out of it (South Tulsa is not a hotbed of criminal activity! I've lived in Manhattan! I've lived in JERSEY CITY, where I was beaten and mugged!), but it's a lot easier to be sanguine about bumps in the night when there's a big six footer a pillow over. So I put the sledge hammer under my bed for reassurance...TAKE THAT, Mr. Bad Guy. Now if I can only remember to remove it before one of these various little boys decides it would make a great light saber...
When My Son was Born Sick, I Wished Him Gone
5 hours ago