Archive for June, 2010

I have an array of cute sleep masks, which I don as part of an elaborate pre-bed ritual that involves scrubbing all that big city grime off my mug, dry-brushing my skin, brushing / flossing / protective rinsing because it’s insanely important and dabbing a bit of patchouli on my wrists. (Don’t laugh; for me, a whiff of that famously crunchy essential oil has become the olfactory equivalent of my Diapered Darling’s precious “night night” blankie.) Oh, and I make sure I’m wearing my Q-link necklace, which I’ve written about at length.

Anyway, from researching my book, I knew that a mask can aid with the basic tenets of “sleep hygiene,” which state that the optimal environment for snoozing is rawther nippy and crazy-dark. And since there’s a bit too much light streaming into my bedroom from street lamps, and Hubby often likes to watch baseball on the flatscreen with the sound politely turned off, I’ve taken to covering my eyes.

In chatting with my latest Mama Guru, integrative doctor Jeffrey Morrison, I learned something new: The pitch-dark scenario is crucial to the production of the vital hormone melatonin, which is non-negotiable for deep sleep. He says that if there’s enough light in your bedroom to see your hand in front of your face, you’re inadvertently short-circuiting your melatonin-making.

As if you needed another reason to make like Zorro, here’s a goodie: If you wear a silky style, you can prevent those awful pillow-case crinkles that, over time, can become etched into our faces in the form of teensy weensy lines and wrinkles. Trust me, you don’t want that. So grab a mask, hot mama, and get your beauty sleep.

Raise your pretty little paw if you’re as addicted to Susan Miller’s monthly astrology updates as I am. In my humble opinion, that gal does a huge public service to crunchy mamas like myself, who are forever looking to connect the cosmic dots between daily life with our Diapered Darlings and The Bigger Picture.

This month, for Scorpios, there’s plenty of that Bigger Picture stuff. (Tons of career opportunities, which is totally groovy in this still-volatile economy.) But dear old Susan also wants us to move our asses. And I quote:

“If you have no health problems, but have been thinking that all your Twittering and Facebooking has turned your body into a little blob of jelly, you may be ready to get serious about exercise. With the help of Jupiter and Uranus over the coming three months, you are in luck. If you apply yourself, you can expect great results just in time for September when you’ll be shopping for new things. Jupiter in the sixth house is my favorite place for near-miraculous shape-ups!”

Um, actually, I just got off Facebook and Twitter. And I haven’t worked out yet today. Could this woman be any more spot on?

If you’ve read my book (or previous installments of my Momover column on Cookiemag.com), you’ll know that I’ve had more than a few skin cancer biopsies in my life. I’d guesstimate ten, so now, when I’m completely starkers, I’m fairly strewn with little reminders of my wayward youth spent baking on the beach. And my wayward not-so-youth too; I’ve nipped off to several sun-drenched mid-winter vacations as an adult and — gasp — even used a tanning bed before special occasions such as my nuptials with Hubby.

My point, and I do have one, is that I am HARDLY the person who should be blowing-off her six-month skin cancer screening. But sadly, I’ve done precisely that. The little reminder card arrived in April, I should have booked an appointment for May but didn’t, and now I can’t get in to see my dermatologist until the end of June.

And how’s this for idiotic? I used a whopping SPF 8 at the town pool over the long weekend. Not only should I be using SPF 100, I should also be swathed in fabric, beekeeper-style. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m getting it out of me. And I’m slathering myself with sunscreen, stat.