If you’ve managed to secure the talents of a babysitter or willing grandparent on New Year’s Eve, make sure to make the most of your night off and dress to kill. Starting with the ears.
My daughter has reached the age where she must take at least three random items with her wherever she goes. And then, leave them in the car. While I’m not about topick a battle with her every time we leave the house,I amgoing to try to find a compromise — say by letting her bring as much as she can fit in one of the mini linen totes from Nubius Organics.
So what happens when the incentive of sporting tight little undies isn’t enough for your little guy to ditch the diaper?
You gethim way cooler boxers of course.
I thought I’d seen a stuffed everything — bears,phoenixes, horny toads…you name it, they’ve got it. You know, just in case you have a little one obsessed with flamingos. But dachsunds?
Once in a while, I sit down to review something for CMP and have trouble with it. Not for lack of words, but because my daughter has somehow gotten her hands on the item and refuses to give it back.
Since joining the cult of motherhood in 2004, myregular trek to some loud, late night dance club where I slugged down glow-in-the-dark cocktails has…
Sometimes my initial response to new music is, "Wow, that’s really, um, different." And by different, I mean bad. But sometimes different is good, as in the case of Different, the debut album from Elizabeth Street.
At the ripe old age of thirty, I’ve come to realize there’s something to spending cash on quality items–particularly bags. After going through way too many crappy sacs these past two years, I have a new mantra: It’s not expensive if younever have to replace it.
We tend to see certain ironic baby tees over and over, with the same cheeky quips (cranky baby! chick magnet!) repackaged with different graphics. So I had to stop and give pause when I came across the 100% organic cotton shirts created by mom Liz Murphy of Speak Clothing.
One prerogative we all have as parents – forcing our kids to wear hats against their will. Without some way to secure it below the neck, I just don’t know a single kid that won’t toss the thing to the ground at the first opportunity.
New moms will agree that new mom advice is easy to come by. For example, there’s your mother-in-law and her stories about brandy in the baby bottle, or your childless cousin who’s quick to tell you about the evils of television watching. What’s hard to come by, however, is good advice.
I’ve always found something really homey about employing the fridge as a magnetic board for family photos and postcards. But with the ridiculous assortment of magnets we end up accumulating it ends up looking less like a gallery and more like a bulletin board in the college dorm.
Plane rides with little ones can be a challenge, particularly for those of us who actually feel a modicum of sympathy for the childless traveler who gets stuck next to us. If you weren’t able to procure an entire row to yourself on the Jet Blue flight home from grandma’s this holiday, try diffusing the situation with a little humor.
My little girl loves jumping in puddles after a good rain. She’ll get a huge grin on her face, just before her bounding through every fallen drop in her path. The only part I have issues with, however, is the post-splashing whining about wet socks.
There comes a time in every mom’s life when she realizes that that diaper bag she once spent hours (weeks? months?) choosing, is often obsolete. Sometimes you just want to grab a few diapers and wipes, stuff them in a Ziplock bag, and run out the door. But that wouldn’t be very stylish now, would it.
Given that my pre-baby figure is MIA and unlikely to return without surgical assistance, I now consider clothes shopping for myself to be a less than perfect way to while away an afternoon. But shopping for my girls? That’s another story.
Growing up in the midwest, I endured some harsh winter mornings at the school bus stop. I gladly donned a heavy winter coat and warm mittens, but I drew the line at hats. Even though my mother was a talented knitter, she always tried to stick me in some goofy beanie. Talk about harsh.
For me, one of the few downsides to the holidays is having to smell that nasty synthetic pine tree scent wafting from candles everywhere. Or worse, the cinnamon scent. It smells less like grandma just baked a pie, and more like grandma just got back from the cheap candle booth at the flea market.
Mention music boxes to any mom, and undoubtedly she’ll be able to recall with vivid detail the very one she fell in love with as a child. It’s not hard, considering we all had the exact same one – it featured a spinning ballerina and played either You are the Sunshine of My Life or the theme from Love Story.
I’ve got two little girls myself. But when I’m buying gifts for the sons of friends and family, I tend to shy away from the camouflage pants and the construction-themed tees that every store seems to push on me. I suppose I feel they can still be "all boy" without dressing like miniature soldiers or welders.