Archive for May, 2010

For what seems like an eternity, I was driven slowly insane by those seemingly-impossible-to-get-rid-of microscopic red bumps on my triceps. Alhough they’d come and go, and there were entire (winter) months during which I didn’t give them a second thought, the minute warm weather rolled around I’d go positively ballistic. How could my life be so perfect, I’d muse, and my triceps so flawed?

I’m joking, of course—about the perfect-life bit. The bumps? Those were unspeakably real and massively annoying. Technically, it’s a condition known as keratosis pilaris, and it’s no wonder there are support groups on the Internet…

I suffered not-so-silently until I took a leisurely lap around Sephora last year and inadvertently rocked my little world. I had gone to replenish my stash of DERMAdoctor KP Duty, a cream that I’d been using, with mild success, for a while. But parked right next to it, however, was the real game-changer: the companion body scrub. It is b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t, and after 20 years of reviewing beauty products, I don’t say that very often. It’s so effective, in fact, that I rarely use the cream anymore.

And when I’m plowing through all my arm exercises, which I’ve been quite diligent about of late, it’s nice to know that I won’t be tempted to hide all that effort under a long-sleeved T.

I’ve posted numerous times about the complete running rut I seem to be in at the moment. And I’m still trotting around like a mad woman (just this morning, as a matter of fact).

But I’m also, happily, getting back into my weight-training with Definition, one of my favorite Joyce Vedral DVDs. For now, I’m zeroing in on my upper body, by doing the 15-minute “minimum” arm workout with dumbbells. I use 3, 5 and 8 pound weights, and while that might not sound like much, I can assure you that it ain’t easy to lift those puppies. At least not for me. And not now, because I’ve slacked-off on weights to run, run, run.

Which just goes to show you that there really is something to this mixing it up stuff. Right now, I wouldn’t be quite so achy from the weights if I’d made a more conscious effort to round-out my fitness routine this spring. But I think my sky-high stress levels were somehow willing me to lace up those running shoes so often. And there’s no question that running, jogging or “rogging” – which is pretty much what I do – is absolutely brills for reducing stress.

Right now, however, sleek, toned arms are beckoning to me. After all, it’s summer and I do have an adorable town pool to get to.

I’ve discovered a teensy weensy problem with publicly stating my fitness goals, and that would be the fact that I should probably actually meet them. So since I posted that I’m aiming to work out 200 times this year, as compared to 138 times in 2009, I kinda have-ta do it. But after a quick scan of my fitness log, I see that I’m already behind the proverbial eight ball. So far, I’ve exercised 56 times. If I want to make it to 100 by the half-year mark, I basically need to shake my groove thing every day from now until July 1.

Aargh…that’s a lot to ask of a busy mama bear, even one as hyper-motivated as moi. But perhaps if I get cracking, I can at least make a dent in that number by the time we zip off on our next family mini-break — a long Fourth of July weekend at the oh-so-cute Hershey Park. Stepping up my game by then would yield two big yippees: A slimmer and trimmer figure (always nice, right?) and a sense that I didn’t set the bar too high for 2010. But enough with the future-speak. Time to just buckle down and put one fleet foot in front of the other…

So I just met these two extremely beautiful mama-people — Jodie Patterson and Kiara Ellozy, owners of the hip Georgia New York hair emporium on East Houston Street in Gotham — and lo and behold, they each recommended the same product for my fried, frizzy locks: Moroccan Oil. And since their groovy space is positively teeming with hair-beautifiers (all of which you can buy on their website), the fact that they both zeroed-in on one particular potion tells me I may just have found my magic elixir.

I can hear a few of you beauty-savvy types already: “Duh!”

In my defense, I can only say, yes, of course I know that Moroccan Oil has been hot for a while now. But I’m only one mama, with one head of hair, and there are only so many frizz-fighters I can work my way through in a timely manner. Still, I’m excited for this one. It smells incredible and the turquoise box is tres festive. Hopefully, after some diligent dabbing, I’ll be able to spin my straw into gold.

Here’s one for the kids-say-the-darndest-things file: The Diapered Darling looked at me sweetly the other day and said, “Even though you have frizzy hair, you’re still a good mommy.” Um, thanks? Ouch?

She’s right, of course — I’d like to think on both counts. I’m pretty sure, although I’m not 1000 percent positive or anything, that I’m a good mommy. And there’s no doubt that my natural hair texture leaves a little something to be desired. For years, I was in total “Texture Denial,” and tried to fight it by spending a small fortune on blowouts. Then, apres baby, I got a little bit crunchier and just let Mother Nature do her thing.

Right now, I’m somewhere in the middle on the whole matter. I’ve had more than a few blowouts recently. But on rainy, drizzly days, like today, I just give in to the frizz gods. Sure, I try every frizz-fighting serum that crosses my desk; that’s been part of my job description for eons now. Still, I can’t say I’ve ever found one that makes a serious dent in the rough stuff.

So I’m finally considering getting one of those salon keratin treatments. My beauty-expert spies tell me that they don’t contain as much formaldehyde anymore, so they’re a lot less brutal on your locks. If I do get one, I’ll report back to you, regardless of the results. And I’ll be sure to tell you what the Diapered Darling has to say about the whole thing.

After all, her opinion counts. Big-time.

Hurrah! Hubby just secured our place at an adorable town pool. It’s not in our own town, mind you, and requires a bit of a trek in the SUV, but that hardly matters, does it? As a family, we get downright giddy when we’re around water, so as soon as Memorial Day weekend hits, we’ll be parking it poolside on a regular basis.

Now comes the shopping bit. I’ve grown mighty fond of my Victoria’s Secret one-piece Magicsuit, just like the one in this here itty bitty ol’ picture. And while I don’t look anywhere near as scorching hot as supermodel and new mama Karolina Kurkova when I’m wearing mine, I still feel pretty confident. It pulls me in where I need to be pulled, and, thanks to an underwire, pushes me up where I need to be hoisted heavenward.

Although I’m generally not a fan of high-powered “shapewear,” I find this suit utterly bearable—even throughout a full day of beaching or pooling it. That’s why I need to get it in several more colors, stat. The Diapered Darling has an endless array of cute suits. Shouldn’t I? Why, yes. I should.

There must be some way to bottle vacation bliss, right? So you can just whip it out and spritz yourself like you do with your favorite perfume? (Not that you asked, but mine’s Aqua Motu by Comptoir Sud Pacifique, which smells like the ocean, oh so conveniently…) I’d pay a hefty sum for a flacon of “Week Off With Hubby & The Diapered Darling,” as I’m sure most weary mamas would. A dab behind the ears and presto, Zen calm, even in a sea of work chaos.

To get myself back in the game, mentally, this week, I’ve been channeling some of the best tips from the many self-helpy, get-your-act-together books I’ve read over the years. But because I have too many non-blog oriented matters to attend to before the day ends, I can’t plow through my vast library to tell you which tip came from which beloved tome. So what you’re getting is an official Momover Digest take on how to achieved focused calm and get your work done, damn it:

1. Be ruthless about avoiding all NEAs (Non-Essential Activities) until you complete the task at hand. And yes, this includes checking your email for the millionth time this hour. I forget how many minutes it takes the average person to regain focus after an interruption, but it’s waaaay too many.  So at the very least, don’t interrupt yourself.

2. Sit in that chair for a full 90 minutes — straight — and work. Break out your egg timer and pack a snack if you have to, but don’t you dare budge.

3. After you’ve done what you need to do for the day, say it out loud, even if you’re the only one who’s listening. We all need to put firewalls between our professional and personal lives. So finish your tasks, get out of “work head” and go have some fun!

It’s freezing in New York at the moment, but that’s okay, because I need to do my annual liquid bronzer haul anyway, before the outdoor furnace kicks on again.

I’m perhaps the biggest beauty geek on the planet, but I completely started to hyperventilate when I was prowling around the St. Tropez website and saw that they now offer no-commitment color in the form of Wash Off Instant Glow Body. Since I categorically cannot be trusted with self-tanner (seriously, I look like I’ve been attacked by a wild animal after using that stuff), I rely heavily on liquid bronzers when I can’t pop by my beloved City Sun for a spray job. To me, liquid bronzers offer the best of both worlds: Color that goes on exactly where you want it, and washes off exactly when you don’t want it.

So the St. Tropez has now moved to the tippity top of my shopping list, alongside this collection of newbies and all-time faves:

L’Oreal Sublime Bronze One Day Tinted Gel

Lorac TANtalizer Body Bronzing Luminizer

Estee Lauder Bronze Goddess Luminous Liquid Bronzer

Stila Sun Gel Body

What these all offer is a great, believable glow, delivered in a flash—minus any unwanted surprises. I kinda think we mama bears have enough surprises in our lives already, don’t you?

So we’re back from DW, and in all honesty, I’m not happy about it. I missed our cats Thunder & Lightning in the worst way, but other than that, I could have just as easily camped out at the Polynesian Resort for the next six months. There was one afternoon, in between morning and evening jaunts to the parks, that the Diapered Darling and I wandered down the white sand beach watching a mama Mallard duck with eleven — eleven! — babes waddling behind her, leaving the most adorable tracks in their wakes. In one direction: the turrets of the Castle. In the other: hammocks and unspeakably yummy umbrella drinks. So, so soooo much fun…

In my last post, I discussed “packing the pretty” for our vacay. And I’d have to say that I looked pretty pulled together throughout. But I did notice, from all the videos Hubby took with this new flip, that my fail-safe Florida ‘do — a super-tight bun — isn’t doing me any favors anymore. I just have to accept the fact that what worked for me, hairwise, in my 30s isn’t quite cutting it in my 40s. I need to get over my fear of frizz and just embrace my big, puffy 80s hair band tresses. Either that, or get a tres excellente haircut, which I’m seriously considering.

Another observation: Shorts need to fit perfectly to look great. I have a tendency to buy J Crew Bermudas a size too big because, again, that’s what looked good on me 10 years ago. Now I think I need to get my actual size, and, gasp, possibly go a little shorter. My legs are pretty slim from all the running I’ve been doing, and at my Olsen Twin height, a slightly shorter inseam would make me look taller.

And here’s one last Disney eye-opener I was bit flabbergasted by: All the little girls tarted up with Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique “makeovers.” For some reason, our wee lass, who is herself utterly Princess-besottted, didn’t connect the dots between all the wannabe Sleeping Beauties in her midst (made-up, tiared and fairy dusted to within an inch of their lives) and the very special places she could have gone to get that done to herself. I’m sure by the next time we head to Orlando, she’ll know the ropes. But for now, I’m just happy to see her, sans Jasmine costume, in a cute little sundress and coordinating barrette. She can leave the war paint for Mom.

Where oh where is it written that our family gets to hang out with the “real” us, while the rest of the world gets the buffed, hemmed and diamond earring-ed version? I’d like to turn that notion on its flat-ironed head, beginning with my imminent trip to central Florida.

To that end, the past 24 hours have been a flurry of beautification and fashionification, kicking off with a pedicure at the local day spa with one of my fave pale pink shades (Essie Starter Wife), followed by a spray tan at City Sun. After years of experimenting with various fake bake techniques, I’ve decided I officially can’t be trusted with self-tanner, so I either get sprayed or mix a little liquid bronzer in with my body lotion and apply it only to the bits and baubles people actually see. But here’s another trick I’ve learned: Opt for the medium level of spray stuff rather than dark—no matter how ghostly your pallor. There’s less residual mess, and I find it lasts longer, for some reason.

Next, I embarked on a touch of crash-shopping. I nabbed a cozy hot pink hoodie at Banana Republic,  and scored big at my neighborhood couturier, Target. There I purchased numerous cute Converse One and Mossimo items, including crazy-comfy faux Birkenstocks and a gauzy navy sleeveless dress that sounds very un-Disney, but is actually totally chic.

And now, before I go night-night, I’m furiously packing my makeup bag. Making the cut are my new besties, including my Sonia Kashuk Super Sheer Liquid Tint in Rose, my Physicians Formula Bronze Booster, some new Gucci Westman-created Revlon lipgloss that arrived at the office sans label, and and my beloved Neutrogena Shine-Control Blotting Sheets to keep the 90-plus temps-induced oil slicks at bay. I mean I wanna look hot, but not that kinda hot.