The Stay-At-Home Holiday Fashionista

When I got my first office job, I was thrilled that I had ample opportunity to dress Melrose Place style.  I loved wearing suits, tailored clothes and high heeled shoes.  Once I became a stay-at-home mom my fashion sense faded along with my old pair of blue jeans which are now practically white.  Actually the jeans I was wearing for a while were my mom's cast offs.  (Bet you didn't know that, Chris.)

Now that I am finally back at pre-pregnancy weight albeit my shape is not what it used to be, I can now fit into my old clothes comfortably.  My usual look is a plain collarless knit shirt, long or short depending on the season, and a pair of jeans with plain flats or sneakers.  I wear these for practicality, economy and comfort.  That’s my personal mission statement and how I roll.  I don’t see the need to wear the latest style mainly because there is no pressure to dress to impress.  Dry clean only clothing with heels doesn’t work well at the playground or when doing chores around the house.  Most stay-at-home moms know what I’m talking about. (Don’t you?!)  The hair gets put in a ponytail, maybe makeup and a matching top with bottoms and sensible shoes.

It is this mindset that drives my mom and my sister up a wall, especially when I have an event to go to.  I admit that when I open my closet door, there isn’t much in there that is eye catching.  When Alan’s company holiday party approaches, I venture to discount department stores to see what the latest fashion statements are.  This year I had a double whammy – high school reunion and a holiday party.  Oh boy!

My game plan was to visit the discount department stores to see what I could find.  If nothing turned up, begrudgingly off to Macy’s and the mall where I was sure to put a dent in my wallet.  I was pleased when I found the sleeveless sequined shirt in my size right off the bat.  I grabbed it and moved on to find something to put over it as well as other outfit options.  My heart skipped two beats when I saw the portrait collared  fitted jacket. Next to it was a fully sequined dress or tunic.  I grabbed them too along with a pair of leggings.  I felt like I was reliving my childhood playing dress up.  Before going into the fitting rooms a.k.a The Evil Rooms of Stark Truth, I grabbed some heels so I could get an idea of the full dressed up look.

When I put on the sequined tunic, it seemed to be a little too long to put the leggings underneath so just put on the heels and with a deep breath hoped that I could summon the look of Marilyn Monroe, brunette style.  Let’s just say that the dress would have been a definite yes fifteen years ago and leave it at that.  I told this to the woman monitoring the dressing rooms and she sincerely apologized as if my aging was her fault.  I let her take the blame.  The woman in the stall next to me must have been having the same experience I was because I heard a lot of huffing and she was talking to herself saying, “No, no, no.  That’s not right.”

Since the jacket, the sequined shirt and leggings fit and seemed to go well together, I decided to buy those along with a swimmingly shimmery gold shirt as another distant option to go under the jacket.  When I got home, I tried on the ensemble including the sequined shirt and was pleased with how I looked.  When my fashion advisors, Mom and Chris, came over for Thanksgiving, I proudly told them not only did I buy a new outfit for the reunion but I thought it was quite stylish.  This statement quickly snapped them out of their turkey induced tryptophan haze so I quickly went upstairs to change.  The great reveal did not elicit a response I was expecting.  Apparently the sequined shirt was too long and was unacceptably past the bottom of the jacket.  I had done some quick research on this previously and noted in ads that girls wore untucked shirts under blazers.  I was firmly told this was not apples to apples.  The sequined shirt would be fine by itself, no jacket, or wear something else under the jacket.

Disheartened at my attempt to be current with fashion, I mumbled that I had an ugly gold shirt I bought as an option but told them it looked just awful.  They said try it on.  I put it on and their eyes lit up.  I was so dumbfounded by their reaction that I asked them a few times if they were kidding me.  They said no and that this shirt was the correct length.  In my eyes, it was the same length but hey, my eyes are trained for sensible clothing and I was way out of my element here.  Another reason I was hoping the gold shirt wasn’t going to work out was I felt I spent too much money on clothes I was going to wear only a few times ever.  I wanted to return something to ease my conscience and wallet but it didn’t seem to be working out.

The day of the reunion I called Mom to confirm what time she was coming over to watch Nate and to tell her that I found a “new” shirt to go under the jacket.  She happened to be out with Chris at a restaurant.  I don’t know how but Chris heard my voice on the phone and said to Mom and loud enough so I could hear, “She just doesn’t want to wear that gold shirt!”  I excitedly explained that this shirt was bright pink and offered a punch of color to the black leggings and jacket.  They weren’t convinced.

When Mom showed up that night, I showed her the altered ensemble.  Her look was the same as Thanksgiving when I showed her the sequined shirt – not good.  This was not the type of confidence boosting I was hoping for an hour before meeting people I haven’t seen in many years.  With great reluctance, I continued getting ready for the night which included wearing the gold shirt.  For color, I wore strappy red shoes which are only meant to be worn for fifteen minutes a day.  The reunion was three hours long.  I still haven’t learned my lesson on going out with appropriate shoes.  In a small twist of irony, no one mentioned how I looked that evening which means I could have worn anything including an “old” outfit and saved money not to mention the comfort factor.

Alan’s company holiday party is a few weeks away from the time of this post.  I’m going to have to get my money’s worth out of the sequined shirt.  For some reason, I just cannot return it even though it is the most nonsensible item in my closet next to my wedding dress.  I’m thinking about reconsidering another babysitter for Nate on that night so I can wear what I like without Mom’s disapproval.   But I do find some humor in Mom and Chris’s strong repugnance of what I consider to be seemingly good fashion choices.  I also find it somewhat amusing that at my age Mom’s opinion as to what I wear still matters great a deal to me.

You Know It's Fall When...

For us in the Northeast this year the weather hasn’t been exactly a reliable source to signal what season we are in.  The chilly spring weather continued well into the summer and then the rains came.  I’m sure I heard someone hammering, taking a cue from old Noah and began building an ark.

In fact, lately it almost seems as if Summer realizes that it missed its opportunity and is now claiming October as its own.  The weather has been nicely warm.  But Autumn has arrived rather graciously and most people are welcoming it with open arms.  The nights are cooler and the showy colors of bright red, orange and even purple leaves are displayed on the tree covered hillsides of the county.   Some neighbors have tastefully decorated their homes with corn stalks, pumpkins and friendly faced scarecrows.

Even with all this beauty and charm around me there is one thing that completes the ushering in of Fall for me – Gronsky’s pumpkin pancakes.   My faithful blog readers know that Gronsky’s makes fantastically awesome home fries but what they do with their pancakes is a recipe just short of manna from Heaven.  One fork full will bring a delightful surprise of sweetness mixed with autumn spices.   Not only are they delicious but the portion size is completely filling for two people with an average appetite.  These bad boys may not pack a wallop on your wallet but I can just about guarantee they're out of the ballpark when it comes to the caloric count.
September 30^th happened to be a Friday this year.  Alan works from home on Fridays which means the family can eat breakfast together.   On this particular day we decided to eat at a restaurant and since Gronsky’s is close to home and is affordable, that’s where we went.  We sat at the table and I was prepared to order my usual when the waitress came up to the table and announced the pumpkin pancakes were beginning today.  Jackpot! 

When my order arrived, the pancake was to the edges of my plate, sprinkled with powdered sugar and topped with a melting dollop of divine spiced butter.  I usually put syrup on my regular pancakes but this was so tasty, especially after smearing that butter thoroughly all over it, that I didn’t want to adulterate my breakfast.  I can tell you that I recently tried it with syrup and was disappointed.  Alan gave me some of his home fries to make up for it and it did.

If you’re in the area, I invite you to give those scrumptious pumpkin pancakes a try.  Don’t wait too long cuz they're here for a limited time only!

The Luck of the Leprechaun

This entry is dedicated to Tara R.

It had been a tough summer.  I envy the moms who make motherhood look so effortless and carefree.  I can’t say I’m having that experience.  I love my son with all my heart but the past three or so years have been the toughest of my life.  Part of the problem is Nate’s developing brain is constantly looking for input, mostly from me, which I have little energy to supply.  I could have him leave me alone by allowing him to watch hours of TV but I don’t want that either.  I bought activity books which resulted in reading, writing and solving math problems earlier than the school’s curriculum.  The social aspect of school has helped a bit but his cerebral need is perpetual.  If that’s too wordy, try this:

Tired mom who doesn’t want to play for several hours
+
Denying son of electronics games and TV =
Son’s infinite possibilities to annoy mom

I’m not sure if that can be a mathematical equation with “infinite” in there but then again, I was never good at math.  What I do know is that the eye twitch I’ve been experiencing since August is still there but it has eased since I discovered a wonderfully easy technique that entertains Nate and changes his behavior while at the same time not using too much of my energy. 

Nate loves to write notes on 2x2 sticky pads.  Many times they say “I love you” on them.  I find these notes all around the house: the refrigerator, my nightstand and of course on the floor.  One day I saw he had written something new.  It was a note to the leprechaun asking him for all his money.  When I read this a cha-ching sound went off in my head.  If money is the motivator, why not use it? 

With a great sense of renewed hope for my mental well-being, I secretly authored a note as the leprechaun.  Here’s what it said:

To Nate,
You did not say “please”!  To get my money, you must be a good boy and keep your promises.
The Leprechaun

It should be known that just 8 hours before this, Nate adamantly stated that the promise he made to listen to his parents meant nothing.  

When Nate found the leprechaun’s note, he was ecstatic.  With the note grasped in both his hands and eyes wide with anticipation, he read it out loud to Alan and me.  He was encouraged that the leprechaun said he could actually get some money but I don’t think he fully realized what it was going to take.  It took a few days and a few notes from the leprechaun saying he was watching and was sad by the bad behavior he saw.  The leprechaun’s advice was very close to what Mom and Dad have been saying all along.  Within a week, Nate’s behavior had changed quite dramatically and for the better.  He’s five years old – I’m not looking for perfection just an attitude adjustment so I could wake up in the morning and not wish I had stayed in bed with the covers over my head.

I admit I enjoy seeing Nate run to the table with high expectation of finding more notes.  After all, he began keeping correspondence and was eagerly waiting to read the answers to his questions.  In my eyes, this translated as Nate was finally listening to me.  The first week, Nate was looking every couple of hours.  I explained that the leprechaun only comes when no one is around.  I found that leaving notes twice a day seems to maintain the peace and happiness that Alan and I so desperately want in our household. 

Nate has been so well behaved that the leprechaun has even left a small treasure from his pot o’ gold – a quarter.  This event has been epic in Nate’s young life so he has enthusiastically told many people about his fortunate experience including librarians, grocery store cashiers and the mail carrier.  He has told some of his classmates who seem cynical about it but fortunately, this hasn’t shaken Nate’s belief that the leprechaun truly exists.

Like most stages in Nate’s life, eventually he will grow out of it.  I hope it is something he just loses interest in (while still keeping good behavior) and doesn't find out that the leprechaun’s advice and treasure was only as far away as his loving mother. 

The Country Tourist Goes To NYC

Alan and I celebrated our eighth year of wedded bliss by taking a jaunt to New York City.  As we traveled towards the city, nostalgia swept us back to the days when we were dating and often times would go into Manhattan on a whim for dinner or simply walk around exploring.  The fog of remembering those lofty, romantic times lifted quickly as we were abruptly brought back to the reality of being stuck in a major traffic jam on the Pulaski Skyway.  It turned out to be a half hour time delay at the Holland Tunnel.  With a bit of frustration, I looked out my window for something interesting.  We previously talked about visiting the Museum of Modern Art but now we didn’t have to go because there was an abundance of skillfully crafted graffiti art exploring all the colors of the rainbow and varieties of shapes.   In my neck of the woods, graffiti is monochromatic bird poo stylized in different splat formations on a car – usually my windshield. 

We decided to park at the Newport Mall in Jersey City and take the train in rather than endure traffic.  The old memories washed over me as we bought tickets at the Path train station.  Actually what washed over me was the inescapable sour smell of stale air mixed with urine floating up from the guts of the underground station platform.  It was quite a contrast to the sweet smell of freshly mowed grass and wildflowers in bloom in the fresh country air I am now used to.  While we waited for the next train to arrive, I peered down at the rails and engaged in one of my favorite urban past times of finding mice and rats scurrying around rubbish.  As more people filed in talking with each other or fiddling with a handheld electronic device, the flat screens located throughout the platform area caught my eye.   No one else seemed to notice them.  While I stood there staring, mouth agape, wondering how in the world these things haven’t gotten stolen; the crowded train to Christopher Street pulled up.


I entered the car and grabbed the nearest stability bar to hold onto.  Standing over a guy playing a soccer game on his tablet, I became engrossed as if watching a real game.  Was what I was doing considered rude or invading someone else’s privacy?  What are the etiquette rules about these situations?  The fact that I didn’t have an electronic device that was actively engaging my attention made me feel out of place and outdated since my phone only does calls and texting.  I’m also not used to standing over people while trying to get from Point A to Point B.

At least I didn’t stand out fashion wise, I thought to myself.  I especially wore my patent leather, three inch heeled sexy shoes, a departure from my usual worn out ones, so I could walk around confidently and to look nice for Alan.  I should have gone with the more humble approach.  Women everywhere had on simple flip flops, probably bought from an expensive boutique but simple, not to mention enviously comfortable looking.  We had more than an hour for our restaurant reservation so we had plenty of time to walk around.  With each step, my mood boosting shoes began to lose their confidence building power and reversed into little chambers of torture.  Within fifteen minutes I was sporting agonizing blisters, making me walk like a Chinese woman who has had her feet bound into “golden lilies”.   I wondered why I chose to ignore the number one rule of visiting any city – wear comfortable footwear. 

It was at this point of my frustration when I tried to salvage the romance of the evening by remembering I had brought the GPS with me.  With a flood of relief and a low cackling laugh, I spied an empty bench in front of a closed tea shop.  As we sat, I eagerly searched for a nearby steak restaurant.  I was relieved there was one less than a mile away.  I tried convincing my brain that I could walk a mile with searing pain.  Unfortunately, the GPS was more like a cruel maze game.  It seemed to reposition our destination further away every time we thought we were getting closer to it.  Fortunately, I brought an old fashioned paper street map.  We stood there on the corner, pointing and looking confused and in my mind’s eye - complete tourists.  How embarrassing!

Alan’s phone rang and we both knew it was the restaurant telling us our table was ready a whole half hour early.  I gave Alan a look similar to that of a football coach gives to his quarterback in the fourth quarter of a tied score playoff game, one and half minutes left, third down.  Run and get that table!  Going through all this pain would be for nothing if we didn’t get that table.  He looked at me reluctantly as he weighed leaving me behind, barely being able to walk versus having to deal with my huge disappointment that we missed eating at a terrific restaurant.  Food won and he ran in hot pursuit.

Now alone, I had to pull off looking like I knew where I was, where I was going and feeling great while doing it.  That’s how I interpret the average city dweller and felt I had to put on airs to blend in.  The best thing I had going for me was I was in the Village and didn’t have to worry about men heckling me.  So using my antiquated paper map, I located where I was and saw where I had to go.  Fifteen minutes later I walked into the crowded restaurant where people were laughing while I was wiping the sweat of pain from my brow. 

As I walked to him, Alan gave me a sympathetic look like I was just hit by car and had dragged myself away from danger to safety.  I smiled, gave him a kiss and said, “Happy anniversary and thank you!”  I put away the pretense of who I wasn’t, a sophisticated city dweller, and happily accepted who I am: wife, mother and jane-of-all-things.   

Rubbing Elbows and Other Parts with a Witch

I have never been the type of girl that likes to put any product on my face.  I tried to wear makeup in high school because that’s what I thought all teen girls had to do as a rite to womanhood.  During those years, I had the rare fortune of almost never having breakouts or even an occasional zit so it wasn’t truly necessary to wear makeup.  The persistent mask-like feeling of makeup became so agitating that after a few weeks, my pressed powder pancake got archived in a makeup bag with the lipgloss I stole from my mom’s coveted dresser drawer five years earlier.  I still have both products today.

In my late twenties, I read in a magazine article how young looking actresses used natural organic products or only water to clean their faces.  Water was so cheap, a.k.a. free, that it couldn’t possibly work well.  Witch hazel was mentioned so I thought I’d give it a try.  I soaked the cotton ball with the oddly medicinal smelling stuff and applied generously to my face.  There was no tingly sensation to let me know that this stuff was actually working.  After a week or two, I gave it up feeling disappointed that the witch hazel didn’t bewitch me as I had anticipated. 

Recently, my skin has taken an about-face turn.  I should have thoroughly enjoyed all those years when my skin was extremely easy to take care of.  Nowadays the hormones are partying like it’s 1999 and throwing their version of confetti which is very noticeable and revealed in the form of large, red dots on my face.  Ugh!  I tried using teen acne products but it dried out my skin, making it look older.  Not the look I was hoping for.  What’s a girl to do?!

My mom empathized with me and said I should try witch hazel with a few drops of aromatherapy oil.  She had been using it for a while as a toner and it evened out her olive skin beautifully.  Even though I had been there and done that I had to give another try.  For the most noticeable part of my body, I had to exhaust all avenues of skin care.  Within a week, my skin cleared up and seems to be balanced.  I was so thrilled by the results that I looked up witch hazel online and found it also relieves itchy insect bites.  As I’m usually the first course on the mosquito menu, I had ample opportunity to try it out.  With great satisfaction, it took the itch right away.

 I guess those self absorbed actresses were right – witch hazel does work even though it’s heinously inexpensive.  I just had to learn to let the witch work its magic.

Discovering The Deserts of Arizona

My family and I recently took a trip to Arizona to visit family.  The flight there was a bit rough as a huge storm hung like a Miss America contestant’s sash across our nation’s midsection from Canada to Mexico.  As I get older, my tolerance for riding in airplanes is getting less and less.  My balance has never been quite right after I had vertigo so maybe that’s part of it.  Anyway, by the time it was time to disembark I was very pale and in desperate need of fresh air.  After we got our luggage and rode a bus, which didn’t help my motion sickness, to get our rental car we were set for an hour and a half’s ride to Payson. 

The city of Phoenix was warm, dry surrounded by stretching fields of different hues of mauve colored dirt.  I welcomed this after a long, grey and cold snowy winter and spring weather not much better.  It wasn’t long before we were on Route 87 with desert wilderness on either side of the road.  The saguaro cacti stand for decades on end with their arms up as if waving hello to passersby.  The mountains begin to elbow their way skyward; higher and higher the further north we travel.  As I looked out the window I saw an occasional small grouping of tiny low-lying houses or a ranch but mostly I see scraggly bushes.   Once in a while I would see flashes of red.  It was the ocotillo plant that looks like an upside down spazzy octopus with bright red clusters of small flowers at the tips.  This was our first time visiting in the late spring when the mountain air is warmer and the winter snows have watered parched plants in order for a surprisingly bright floral display come springtime. 

When we arrived at our hotel, we were already eager for the generous breakfast buffet in the morning.  They have a waffle iron so anyone can make fresh waffles as desired.  I like to see the faint smile on Alan’s lips as he saunters over to make one for himself.  He usually asks if I’d like one but I think it’s more for the fun of making one more rather than filling my stomach.  Nate likes the fact he can have a bagel with cream cheese every morning.  I like that they have a pretty good variety of breakfast foods but my will power is strong enough to resist the not-so healthy stuff.

The town of Payson is surrounded by miles upon miles of state park which, for a native Jersey girl, is a refreshing change from living with every bit of real estate having a manmade structure on it.  We met up with Alan’s brother, Mike, and went on many adventures.  The first was at Tonto Natural Bridge State Park.  When we went last year, we walked over the bridge and “oooed” and “ahhhed” at the immense tunnel.  This year we tried a new trail that follows a creek.  Well, it was more like a series of stagnant pools left from the melting winter snow.  It was very rocky and was more like an amble than hike but it was worth seeing rocks that looked like slides from the water rushing over for centuries.  It was such an interesting sight that I wasn’t bothered so much by the hundreds of skittering spiders hiding in the gravel beneath our feet.

There was another small trail that led to a special area where the water fell in gentle curtains on tendrils of angel hair ferns in front of the small caves.  It was a wonderful surprise to feel the cool droplets of water on my sun-warmed skin and completely refreshing especially when land and air are so dry.  I half expected little faeries to come out of hiding and fly around us spreading pixie dust.

My idea of refreshing was superseded when we went to Fossil Creek.  To get to it, we had to drive a half hour on a dusty, gravel road with terrific and stomach turning views of the canyon far below.  Nonetheless, this place is a true oasis.  Although we didn’t hike to it this time, there is a spring that gushes out so much water that it creates a fairly large creek.  Mike told us not to expect to find fossils but rather everything the water touches is covered in a chalky like substance from the high mineral content.

When we got out of the car, it was ten degrees warmer than when we first began our descent into the valley.  A quick change into shorts and sporting our backpacks, we were ready for adventure.  We didn’t see a trailhead so we took a steep path down to the creek bed.  After I got my footing, my focus was immediately drawn to the rushing water sound and I was struck by the beauty I saw.  Not too often have I seen such a place where nature has not been rearranged by man to make it “beautiful.”  Perhaps that was not the complete case here but I was so overwhelmed by its beauty that I would not have wanted to believe it.

The rocks and boulders gave their shoulders to the sun and our feet as we tread on them.  A log that had dropped in a shallow pool had already been encased by a mineral cast.  The water was a gentle blue color in some areas, like that of the Caribbean Sea.  The sun was efficient at heating us so that we took to hiking in the creek itself.  At first the coolness felt sharp against our skin but we soon became accustomed to it.  Because the water comes from an underground spring, the temperature stays the same – never too cool but also not too warm. 

Nate, who had tried walking across a shallow area, tripped and fell in.  Shortly after, he began to shiver so we stopped in a flat area and used a sun-warmed boulder like a hot plate so Nate could warm up.  We began to talk about going back to the car but the inner kid in me desperately wanted to hike on to see more.  It’s terrible to admit I wanted to shirk my motherly duties to my son so I could go have fun.  Alan knew I wanted to go ahead a little further and encouraged Mike and I to go on for a while.  With more gratitude than I could express, I shifted my backpack and took to the towering wall of rocks next to us.

I cannot say that I am in great physical shape but I felt like I glided over fields of rocks as if it were flat land.  The excitement of seeing what further mysteries the creek could offer us propelled me forward.  I was feeling like I was a teenager again with endless energy and not a care in the world.  We reached an area where a family decided to enjoy their afternoon.  It was this exact spot that we would return to a few days later.

A waterfall had cut its way through rock and fed into a deep turquoise colored pool.  I could not believe that the beauty I saw at this place a few days ago could be usurped but it was.  There was a shallow area where the kids could safely walk around and splash in the warmer water.  Alan and Mike climbed to the higher rocks which offered a balcony view of our playground.  They took turns jumping off.  It looked like fun until I climbed up there.  Perhaps if the water was warmer I would have decided to be a daredevil like the guys.  That’s the story I’m sticking with anyway.

When we got back to New Jersey, I did not feel rested although satisfied we did so many cool things plus spent time with family we don't see very often.  I dislike using clichés but I needed a vacation from my vacation.  I have to say that if you are looking for family adventure with low or no cost, check out Arizona beyond the cities and tourist towns.  The month of May seems to be like a really good time to go.  Nature has so much awe and beauty to reveal to you if you are willing to look for it.

Springtime Easter Treats

Whenever a holiday nears and Nate's school announces a party, I feel guilty if I don't participate in the festivities.  As moms that have two or three kids write their names on the sign up sheet to bring in treats, my guilt doubles.  Where do they find the time?  Aren't they tired?  I only have one kid and I'm tired with no time.

Here's a little treat that takes no more than a half hour to make from start to finish.  There is no baking involved and the results will pleasantly surprise you and your guests!

Makes about a dozen.

What you'll need:

12 ounces of semi-sweet chocolate

14 ounces of sweetened coconut flakes

bag of small jellybeans

double boiler or heat safe glass bowl with small sauce pan

1 cup of water*

parchment paper or silicone baking mat, on a cookie sheet

a pair of latex gloves

Heat a double boiler or a heat safe glass bowl over a small sauce pan with a small amount of water in it until it boils.  *The water should not touch the bottom of the glass bowl.  Turn the heat down to a simmer and put the chocolate in the bowl.  Stir constantly but gently with a spatula until completely melted.

Remove the melted chocolate from the heat and let it cool for a few minutes.  Add half of the coconut flakes into the melted chocolate and stir until the flakes are covered.  Add the remaining coconut and repeat, ensuring the coconut is completed covered in chocolate.

I found wearing latex gloves made this next part easier than not wearing gloves.  Take a small handful of the coconut mixture, a little larger than golf ball sized, and loosely mold into a ball.  The coconut should not be smoothed.  Place onto parchment paper or silicone mat.  Continue until you have a dozen or so.  Then gently take your thumb and make an imprint into the middle of each ball, making a nest. 

Once finished, place cookie sheet in the refrigerator for ten minutes to set the chocolate.  Fill nests with jellybeans.  That's it!