Getting Out of Dodge
Thanks to the lovely interweb, it’s easier than ever to inform the world about a change of address. But if you’re like me, you’d rather do the classy thing and kick it old school with the snail mail.
Go Ahead and Cuff Them
I stillrememberthatsweet 18K gold ID bracelet I was given as little girl. I wore that thing every single day, turning my mom into a nervous hovering wreck for fear I’d lose it.For my own daughter, I want something similar, only a little more 2006 anda little less anxiety provoking.
Looking for Mr. David
When you hear of a children’s artist by the name of Mr. David, you probably have a certain image that comes to mind. Chances are, the image is not that of a twenty-something Bay-area rocker and former skate punk who was heavily influenced by his hippie parents and their 60s’s music collection.
Isn’t a Jack Jill’s Brother?
I am clueless about cars. Give me a reliable car with four wheels and a good mechanic and I’m set. However, it has crossed my mindthat I’m not so sure what I would do if I had engine trouble on the road, or God help me, had to buy a car without the assistance of my husband (aka The Haggler).
Sports Obsessed From Head to Toe
I would like to call myself a football widow. No–I would love it. Because it would an improvement over what I am now, which is a football/golf/ baseball/world soccer widow.
Less is More
I was one of those naive moms-to-be who swore up and down that my tasteful adult abode would never become plastic toy central. "The baby stuff will stay in the baby’s room," I insisted. Ha.
Girl Loves Robot
I’ve had a thing for robots ever since Lost in Space. It continued with Rosie from the Jetsons, and then of course, R2D2–who, between he and C3PO, was clearly "the cute one."
Who’s the Boss?
We all know who’s really in charge. Here’s a hint: it’s not the adult with the accusatory finger and the timeout chair. It’s the kid with the pouty lip, sweet smile, and incredibly cute face that can make us crumble in an instant.
One Word: Plastics
Yes, I am a hypocrite. I look at all of the plastic baby gear spewed across the floors of my home and I can’t stand it. Everything’s just so bright and loud and, well, plastic-y. But then, when it comes to plastic jewelry, I’m like, "ooh, so bright! So loud! So plastic-y!"
Go Ahead and Light One Up
I remember those simple dayswhen I was the sole decision-maker of nursery decor. But then my daughter turned two and suddenly everything had to have that darn pudgy yellow bear on it.