Archive for September, 2010

Is it the stroller? It has to be the stroller. Because ever since I started pushing that thing on a regular basis, people of all shapes, sizes, ages and sexes have been beaming at me. Beaming...

What’s especially puzzling to me about this whole smiley business is that the Wee Lass doesn’t even have to be in the stroller for me to receive all of this stranger love. Like right now, for instance. I parked her in class, straightened up the little cubby that holds all of her Wee Lass trappings (lunch box, monogrammed pillow for naptime, Hello Kitty rainboots…) and zoomed back home, pushing the kid-less Maclaren. And lo and behold, grins greeted me the entire way.

I’ve been reading The Power recently, and yes, I’m enough of a die-hard crunchista to admit that. (Wait! I think I just coined a new term – crunchista…) And as my millions of fellow “Power moms” already know, it’s about love, pure and simple. Love as a way to get stuff, yes, but also love for its own sake. It’s a basic message, and powerfully beautiful.

As I strolled this morning without my little lady to chat my ears off (really, the girl can talk…), I started thinking about another love-related item besides The Power that I’m completely digging at the moment: The “On Loving Kindness” meditation on one of my favorite Andrew Weil CDs. In his soothing, doctor-y, guru-y voice, Weil implores his listeners to wish happiness, peace and liberation first to themselves, and then to an ever-widening circle that eventually encompasses every “being” in the universe. It’s pretty great. And most definitely something to smile about.

I give California Baby a whole lotta love on this website, for the simple reason that it totally rocks. The ingredients are natural and organic, the scents are divine and it’s affordable. In short, it’s an equal opportunity yummy-fest for mamas and their tykes.

If you’re a fellow “CB” fan, and happen to live on the west coast (specifically southern Cali), you’ll want to mark your calendar for a week from this coming Sunday. That’s the date of the company’s first-ever Family Festival, which will celebrate the opening of its new eco-friendly manufacturing facility and promises to be both super-fun and completely philanthropic. In fact, 100 percent of ticket sales will go to the Garden School Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to providing garden-based learning — think: hands-on exposure to nature — in “living classrooms” in L.A.

Because I’m Miss East Coast, here’s the fun Momover Lady will be missing on 10/10/10: Healthy snacks, green arts and crafts and, if I sprang for a VIP ticket, a chance to putter around the labs with company founder Jessica Iclisoy and concoct my very own Momover-ized version of a California Baby product.

Go, go, go and send me your sunshine-y L.A. vibes!

Now that I’ve embarked on my big fall cleaning spree, I’m on an organizational tear, burrowing into all my secret stashes of stuff. If I did this on a more regular basis, I’d probably never step foot inside a drugstore or the mall again. (Riiiight, like that’s gonna happen; Momover Lady does like to shop…)

My most recent “aha! there it is!” is a brand new Sonia Kashuk Hidden Agenda Concealer Palette that I nabbed at Target months ago and promptly misplaced before opening. Love Sonia the person (she’s one of the experts in my Momover book), and love Sonia the stuff, too. I’ve been using one of her bristle hair brushes on the Wee Lass’s goldilocks recently, and it works like a charm.

But back to that palette, which is a mini marvel. Because Hubby and our little lady are forever rushing me out the door to go here, there and everywhere, I often apply my makeup in the flip-down mirror of the passenger seat of our SUV. (I don’t drive, which is making me crazy, but we’ll save that for an upcoming blog post. Grrr…)

So on Sunday morning, there I sat, dab – dab – dabbing away with the teensy weensy brushes included in Sonia’s one-stop shopping concealer kit. Usually I just use my beloved Bobbi Brown stick foundation to cover up redness around the nose and chin. And if I really need to look spiffy, I’ll continue to do so. But there’s something so precise about being able to “spot-conceal” with that tiny tool.

I have pretty good skin, especially considering how much I’m out in the sun, jogging along the river and power-schlepping the tot back and forth to school. Still, it’s not like I don’t have itty bitty bits of this and that (i.e., spots and “broken” capillaries) to place in the beauty equivalent of the Witness Protection Program. Sonia’s cute little kit lets me do that, just like a pro.

I soooo would rather have been baking on a beach in Bali, frozen bevvie in hand, but Saturday’s closet clean-out was a smashing success.

The first clue? When the Wee Lass walked into my home office / wardrobe lair and said, “Mommy, it looks a whole lot betterer in here.”

But not only did it look a whole lot betterer, it felt a whole lot betterer too. That’s because for once, I used the ultimate litmus test for which clothes get to stick around and which ones have to shuffle off to Buffalo: Does this item give me confidence?

Here’s what falls under the gives-me-confidence umbrella:

1. It fits my body now. Not my body 10 years ago, and not my body 10 fewer pounds in the future. I would like to lose some weight, and I’ve already decided that doing so will be my wellness goal for 2011. But the last time I looked, it was still 2010.

2. It fits my current lifestyle. Once upon a time, I attended several black-tie events every year, and therefore needed a pretty sizeable stock of long gowns. Since that isn’t the case anymore, I whittled down my stash to just two keepers. One because it is just so damn gorgeous, and the other because it is a timeless navy stretch-velvet number that will never go out of style.

3. It’s in a flattering color. I know I’ve been yapping about this a lot lately, but it’s a big bee in my bonnet. After the purge, I’m happy to report that I’ve finally reached a tipping point: I now have as much hot pink and purple in my wardrobe as I do life-force draining black. I also bounced almost everything in brown, which, for my fair / rosy complexion, is almost as deadly as black.

4. It’s comfortable. Not sweat-pants comfy, but just not an item that constantly needs to be fussed with. For instance, if a top continually heads south, and has to be repeatedly hiked-up so as to not reveal too much boob-age, how comfy is that? Ditto for anything remotely scratchy. But as Part One of my clear-out was clothes-only, I don’t know if I’ll adhere to this edict for shoes. In my humble opinion, shoes get a bit of a free pass on the comfort front, because they’re so easy to slip on and off. (And they can make or break an outfit, but that’s fodder for a separate blog post…)

I once had the great fortune to interview the minimalist German fashion god(dess) Jil Sander, who told me she thinks women would benefit from having far smaller wardrobes. Fräulein Sander was right of course; narrowing your options to the stuff that totally rocks allows you to see what you own and — gasp — perhaps actually wear it. I know I unearthed several treasures in my big archeological dig. But I ditched every single thing that didn’t whisk me right off to Confidence Town.

I have no idea who this red-heeled broad is, but she looks remarkably chipper, right? Like she’s having the time of her life in her organized-to-a-fare-thee-well walk-in mini-boutique?

In about three hours, that will be me. (Plus roughly 10 years, I’m guessing, and minus the stripper spikes…)

When Hubby dragged me, kicking and screaming, out of Manhattan and across the Hudson River two years ago, the carrot he dangled in front of me was a lovely home office all for me, equipped with a slamming closet. And for someone who’d basically been living like a caged Zhu Zhu Pet for decades (albeit happily), the lure of more space worked like a charm.

Right now, though, after a challenging week adjusting to my new drop-off and pick-up schedule, it looks like a bomb went off in here. In an upcoming blog post, I’ll address the changes I want to make in my office. But for right now, it’s time for me to enter Closet Country, Swiffer and Hefty Bags in tow.

To support my mission, I’ll be deploying some of the tactics I learned in a clutter-busting course I took that was taught by Patricia Diesel. She was / is hilarious, but also totally tough-love. On the first night of the class, she went around the room (of all women!) and asked us about our individual “issues.” Man, it was intense; some of these poor gals were definitely candidates for upcoming episodes of Hoarders.

I felt like a knucklehead-slash-impostor bemoaning my vast collection of beauty products and towering stacks of fashion magazines, but guess what? At the end of the day, too much of anything (with the possible exception of Chanel purses) can start to make your head explode.

I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I gotta motor. But before I scoot off, I wanted to share a few clutter-control books and flashcards that I’ve found really helpful…

Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui

Organizing from the Inside Out 50-Card Deck

It’s All Too Much: An Easy Plan for Living a Richer Life with Less Stuff

I have a few more faves in my clutter-book library (yes, I see the irony in that), but I don’t want to encourage hoarding. Write to me if you’d like to know what they are, and enjoy your Saturday while I’m cleaning…sniff sniff…xo

Judging by the behind-the-scenes data gleaned from the Momover Facebook page, plus the shout-outs I get here at the site, it’s clear that the ever-growing Momoverette community dots the entire globe. We already know about Kate from New Zealand, who provided us with some great tips about working out while you’re breastfeeding. And the gaggle of like-minded mommies also hails from India, Turkey, Vietnam, Japan, Ireland and the Maldives, which I want to jet off to like nobody’s business.

So it’s in this spirit that I’ve been commissioning articles from my dear, dear mama-friend Alev, who has been living in the Netherlands with her hubby and two cherubic children for the past few years. She’s the one who told us about the Bakfiet, which she uses to tool her tykes all over town. And she wrote a great piece on post-partum hair loss, which has been viewed many, many times since it was posted a month ago.

Now comes her latest missive: A look at the Dutch custom of assigning a free(!) baby nurse for a week to each and every mom in the country. These highly trained gals are called kraamzorgs, and they sound like a major sanity-saver. Perhaps we should all pack our bags and high-tail it to Holland?

I knew it would happen, but perhaps not q-u-i-t-e this early: the Wee Lass was ashamed to be seen with me yesterday as I power-walked her to and fro school. Pourquoi, you ask? Because of Mommy’s choice of footwear, that’s why….

Here’s the deal: Our nanny has just enrolled in a schmancy cooking class, so for the next six months, Momover Lady is really, truly in charge of drop-off and pick-up. Rather than just a festive, “See, I really exist” outing once in a while, I’m officially in it to win it.

And I’m loving it. The Little Lady and I have the best chats, the view of the Hudson River is completely gorge, and yesterday we were extremely naughty, treats-wise, at Chock Full O’ Nuts. (Who knew they served ice cream sandwiches the size of Texas?)

All that bonding is amazing, and I’m (about 90 percent) grateful for the opportunity. But there’s no question my schedule has been turned on its ass. And as a consequence, my own fanny just might spread if I don’t wrest control of the situation. Between my work gigs, my tremendous backlog of Tivo-d episodes of The Rachel Zoe Project and my new mommy duties, hitting the gym is tricky.

That’s why I decided to trot out my circa-2006 MBTs for the total of four miles I’m logging with this drop-and-fetch routine. I wore them a lot after I delivered the Diapered Darling, and I’m pretty sure I even wrote about them in the original version of Momover on Cookiemag.com. (Sadly, those groundbreaking, life-changing installments have now disappeared into the electronic ether…)

But now, with all the cute knock-offs by Skechers and Reebok, my oldies-but-goodies just look mostly oldie. So I think I’ll get a pair of the new RunTones. Maybe in black, if such an option exists, so they won’t read too “Mom” when paired with dark denim. After all, I can’t have the Wee Lass dying of embarrassment already, can I?

She’s a dirty blonde rather than a redhead, but I live with a real Fancy Nancy. And what that means, on a day-to-day basis, is a non-stop request to ramp-up the glitz and glamour around these parts. If the Wee Lass had her way, I’d be wearing a dress or skirt every day of my life, just like she does. And I’d be positively p-i-l-e-d with jewels.

But here’s where it gets strange: She has really good taste and great ideas about stuff Mom should buy (or at least take down from the closet shelves and trot out on occasion). I’ve already mentioned the kooky-crazy cameo choker she recently picked out for me at Target. Love that, wear it all the time…

Over the weekend, at a gargantuan mall near our home, my pint-sized personal shopper was raring to go. After lunch with Mama and Papa and a few laps on the double-decker carrousel (every mall should have one!), she made a beeline for one of those cart-type kiosks. Of course she did; it was like a beacon of blinginess amid all the shops filled with woolly sweaters.

Within minutes, I’d purchased the bracelet and ring I’m “modeling” for you here. Chic, right? I was already thinking “Chanel camellia” when I saw the ring, but as soon as the vendor uttered those words, I whipped out the plastic. Without question, the stretchy, crystal-strewn cuff was the perfect partner. Grand total: $70.

Seeing Mom glam it up made my daughter really happy, which is nice. But what’s even better is the stunning conclusion I came to, which I think can benefit ALL of us mamas: If you’re gonna go the fake route, white stones somehow “read” much better than any of the colored variety (i.e., rubies, emeralds, etc.). Or, god forbid, fake turquoise, which is an abomination. Personally, I think it’s fab to mix real diamonds with the faux variety, so don’t hesitate to rock fake rocks on the same hand you wear your engagement and wedding rings on. Ice, ice baby….

Something weird and slightly sinister starts happening when you reach your 40s: Your face starts to cave in a bit in certain places. And if you’re a “later mom” like me, that means weekday mornings deliver a delightful double-whammy of puffy eyes and deeply grooved dark circles.

I can hear you now: “Hey, I’m only (fill in obnoxiously young age here, grrr…) and I have puffiness and dark circles, too!”

Right, right. I’m sure you do. But I’m also pretty sure that your eye-area beauty bummers are probably temporary, brought on by hitting the hay too late or ingesting too much salt via a close encounter with a margarita (or three) and a bowl of chips and guac. (Note: There’s often a hereditary component to dark circles, but that’s a little too ambitious to get into in a blog post…)

At this stage in the game, the only long-term fix for my deeply grooved dark circles is injectable fillers. That doesn’t make me especially happy, mainly because it’s expensive and I’m not a massive fan of needles. (Let’s put it this way: I’ve been writing about Botox for 20 years and have only gotten it once.)

But puffiness is something I can alleviate, if only just long enough to look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for school drop-off in the morning. I totally swear by my spoon trick, which couldn’t be easier – and it’s free! And now I’ve discovered a new beauty multi-tasker that works like a charm, albeit temporarily: Murad Hybrids Eye Lift Perfector. It’s a concealer and firmer in one, and after trying it over the weekend, and then again today at the crack o’ dawn, I’m really liking it.

My advice to you younger puffy-eyed Momoverettes is just more sleep (and no, I’m not kidding, just lop an hour or two off your nightly Facebooking); watch your salt intake; drink lots of wah-wah; and stick a few spoons in your freezer. For my fellow older mamas, look into the Murad. And then meet me at the doc’s office for a syringe full of Juvederm.

You knew there was no way in hell I would get out of buying the new Barbie DVD, right?

Long before she segued from Diapered Darling to Wee Lass, my little lady began amassing a killer collection of Barbies. But before anyone sics the Mommy Police on me, you can blame my job, not me personally. Because we traffic so heavily in superficiality, beauty editors are frequently gifted with limited-edition Barbie dolls. So in the past few years, I’ve re-gifted my daughter with the wildly sexy MAC Barbie with the suede over-the-knee boots and the boho-beauteous Anna Sui Barbie , gussied-up in a floppy-hip Seventies hat and gorge cameo necklace.

This morning, I was pressed into service for the fifth (!) official screening of the new flick, held in our den. And now, before I head-out on my weekly outing with Hubby to see “The Town,” the new Ben Affleck-directed movie starring swoony Don Draper (oops, I mean Jon Hamm), I want to give you the Momover Digest of the reasons why you shouldn’t feel guilty about letting your own cutie watch Fashion Fairytale.

Herewith, the life lessons to be learned:

1. Careers have ups and downs, and must be ridden like waves or rollercoasters.

2. Rather than constantly competing, women need to support each other.

3. Paired with a skin-tight wetsuit, a silvery bob looks amazing on a femme d’un certain age.

4. Paris is the most magical city on the planet.

5. Hard work is its own reward.

I’ll let you decide which of these to incorporate into your Mommy-ing going forward. Right now, this Barbie-lover has a date with Ben. xo

Update: Go see The Town. It’s excellent. Totally sitter-worthy. Okay, I’m finished with the amateur film critic bit. For now.