Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Yes, free gifts! Swag for the rest of us! I'm a sucker for these. Just like party favors for a thirty something, or Jelly Bellies for mamas. So if you spend a mere $100 you get...a bunch of delicious little samples worth (ahem?) $70! And...if you spend $35 more you get a deluxe gift from Caudalie! (And yes, I got the bonus gift...and a gift from Lancome to boot. So, I spent a bit. Don't worry, PVT! It will last me a LONG time! And I will look hot! Or, as hot as a lumpy pregnant chick with varicose veins can look!)
Now I'm not sure who is pricing these samples. Someone who probably orders a $1,349 bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild with their weekly dinner at the local Frenchy foodie joint. I DOUBT all these trinkets would retail for over seventy dollars. BUT...if you have to stock up anyway? I need a plethora of this for my poor overworked hair, which has just survived another moisture-sucking Oklahoma winter, and must now withstand the tornado-esque gusts that come sweeping down the proverbial plain. I need vast quantities of eye cream, to fight the angry feet of stomping crows. I need night cream to atone for all those (these) years of hard boozin'.
So...yes, it's probably just a big PLOY. But if all these baubles aren't worth $70...I certainly get at LEAST $70 worth of happiness of sorting through it all when it arrives.
Just call it...Jillonomics.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
It's lovely, yes? A beautiful soft buttery pink (yes, sorry. I'm a bit prepubescent in my taste. Neiman Molly, sophisticated urban lawyer, and wearer of all things neutral, just threw up a little in her mouth looking at a PINK purse), with plenty of room for fruit snacks and juice babas.
Alas, it is getting a bit...worn. I got it for myself as a "push present" (or, in my case, slice and dice present) after my second son was born. He is five and a half now. I bought it in a postpartum hormonal haze, and PVT was so horrified with the price ($350!) that I returned it once. Money was even sketchier back then, so it was not - and still is not - a small sum. I'm not sure if he relented, or I "rebelled," but I RE-bought it, and have loved the heck out of each buck I spent on the thing since.
So I think that if I do indeed bear a healthy child this September, I will celebrate with a NEW Juicy purse.
Something obnoxious like this:
I am a sucker for blingy metallic accessories like this. And a mere $398? PVT, some women insist on DIAMONDS for pushing out one measly kid. I'm on kid FIVE. C-Section FOUR. So I'm not being unreasonable.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
You wanted to be the perfect mother, so you gave up work, shopping, sex and all the other things you loved to breastfeed, make purees and wash nappies. But it's proving to be an exhausting, strife-ridden, painful experience.
Here's an answer. Give the baby a bottle and have a drink and a smoke, too, if it takes your fancy. Then turn to industrial baby food, disposable nappies and a childcare arrangement that allows you to get your life back.
Not only will you free yourself from the Great Oppressor (we're talking about the baby here, not the father), but you will become a role model for angst-filled contemporaries and encourage a long-term rise in the national birth rate.
I have to admit, I rather love this. (Perhaps because I'm half French, and it appeals to some atavistic longing to be chain smoking Gauloises in a Left Bank Cafe). Yes, I have a buttload of kids that I breastfed (nursing while nursing my Pinot Noir). Yes, I gave up work (but I was a CPA. Not exactly fun.). But give up SHOPPING? SEX? (Erm. Obviously haven't given up that.) HOOCH? If I pureed my own baby food, homeschooled, and disinfected cloth diapers, I'm afraid I'd would have strangled myself on the crib sheets long long ago.
Perhaps the point is this: no matter how "good" something purports to be for your child or the environment, if it drives you to the point that you become a shrieking, nagging, harridan (haven't we all been there?), it JUST ISN'T WORTH it. If breastfeeding makes you feel suffocated, don't do it. Can't stand bleaching another cloth diaper? You're worth more than an overflowing landfill. And no child ever met his demise in a jar of non-organic pea mush.
Just remember to have some fun, mummies. Buy some impractical shoes. Bribe a sitter and go swill some gin for lunch one day. Book a weekend in Vegas. Just don't give up your life for your kids. They don't want you to. They don't need all that guilt.
As for me? Maybe I'll take up smoking.
Oh, DON'T worry. After this baby is born.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
But it's just not the same, is it?
Now that we VTs are home from the East Coast, I will readily admit it was wonderful to return to our house and not another hotel room for six. But I was ambivalent about returning to Tulsa. Even after three years here, I still don't feel like this town is home. If only I had a Nordstrom to escape to - not simply to buy more leopard print stilettos and Geox shoes for my boys, but just to BE amongst all the beautiful baubles. To soak up all that rainbow retail beauty. To be among those Nordstrom employees, who may not know my name, per se, but know my account and Level 2 rewards status!
Yes, you can call me shallow. But everyone has their means of lifting their souls up from the nine-to-six muck, or the endless flow of kid poopies and bougars. And while PVT thanks the Lord the nearest Nordstrom is a four hour drive, I will continue my pining...until perhaps one day the good Nordstrom brothers deem us backward Okies worthy of their inimitable presence.
Until then, Quincy girls...sniff some shoes for me! Grab a white chocolate mocha at the eBar! Make sure you get the cutest shoe salesman (they all wear suits - as if buying shoes weren't enough of an aphrodisiac) to fetch your spring thongs! And congratulate yourself on your good purchases and fun at the Cafe with a glass of Pinot Grigio...
And hide that Nordstrom bill from your husband.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
they also have many selections for those of us who operate at less lofty echelons:
These are a few of the meandering thoughts I hope I spat out somewhat articulately for Dana. What do you think, my friends? Did I miss anything?
And yes, after three boys I consistently clothe my daughter in various combinations of pink vomit:
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
After seven grueling days of family vacationing, which has included sightseeing in the rain with our children (I believe I was the first to call uncle in our nation's capital, after many long rainy blocks - much to PVT's chagrin), refereeing the additional bickering that comes with unfamiliar territory (mostly children's bickering. Really!), many emergency pee runs (just a few in totally inappropriate places), more McDonald's consumption than any person should eat in a lifetime, and 34,893 steps up to the top of various Great Wolf Lodge waterslides (OK, OK. PVT, SuperDad nominee for March 2010, climbed all of these stairs while I splashed with the babies in gurgling fountains below), we have finally landed at Tarzhay Miss's abode near Norfolk, Virginia.