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More coolness from recent weeks…
Ready Sets Go
When it comes to baby gifts, I’m a huge fan of matching sets. Unfortunately they generally fall into one of two camps: the Little Brown Bear category, and the Trying Hard to be Funny (But Failing) category.
It’s All About Me
From among the audacious number of gifts my daughter received this holiday, I was happy (and proud) that her favorite was a book. Of course it was a special book – one personalized with her name on all the pages. Who could blame her?
Just What the Stylist Ordered
If you’re anything like me, you have a whole bathroom drawer devoted to those makeup bags so graciously "given" to you when you spend a jillion bucks at the cosmetics counter. Please, leave them in the bathroom. Not only do they scream FREEBIE, they’re a cheap ploy to get you flash the company’s logo around town.
Enter the Dragon
I’m always on the lookout for children’s apparel that straddles the line between my sigOth’s sensibility and my own. He doesn’t want her in everything pink; I don’t want her in everything Redskins. What we can agree on: These Kenji Dragon Pants from Tea Collection.
Avoiding Car (Seat) Sickness
When I found out I was having a baby boy, I quickly bought the most
masculine looking car seat I could find. Blue–dark blue–punctuated with every shade of blue. So what do I do if I have a baby girl next and I’m bitten by the pink bug, I wondered. I’d hate to toss a perfectly good car seat over the aesthetics.
Better than Duct Tape
The first time they throw thebottleon the ground, it’s kind of cute. They laugh, you bend over, and like the naive parent that you are, you give it back. But after doing it fifteen times straight, you realize that it’s not so cute, and neither are herniated discs or painkillers.
Putting Grannies Everywhere Out of Work
I used to live in Northern New Jersey, proudly known as "the embroidery capitol of the United States." Seriously. There’s even a sign proclaiming the honor that’s posted on the highway running through the town.
…and Thank You, Doc, For Not Saying Anything When I Forgot to Wax
The one time in my life I was totally dilligent about thank you notes was after the birth of my daughter. I couldn’t thank everyone enough for nine months of love, support, and yeah, the gifts.
Coffee Shop Music For Kids (Hold the Caffeine)
I have found a fantastic new kids CD. In fact if you play it with your eyes closed and a latte in hand, it’s almost like listening to a cool new indie band in your favorite coffee shop–if only coffee shops had Hot Wheels scattered around the floor. And the faint odor of soggy Cheerios.
Outcool The Playgroup
I am not apologetic that I use my daughter’s chest to promote my own interests, tastes and sports affiliations. It’s just a small part of my master plan to get her to agree with a few of them. If you share my perspective, you are going to have a field day at Reckon Wordwide, the online shop of poet, artist, and silkscreen master, Chris Weige.
Don’t Blame It On the Rain
After being quarantined for three months with a tiny infant thanks to the advice of some old school pediatricians, I was ready to get out of house – rainy fall weather be damned. This is where I learned that my child thinks that blankets are for kicking to the ground, even in 40 degree temperatures.
Tool Time
I may not be the handiest gal around, but I’m certainly not one to rely on my significant other to handle the "big stuff." And while you may not see me chopping logs in the backyard, I have been known to put together some tough toddler toys, some of which even required screwdriver usage.
mi SPA, Take Me Away
I am one of those people for whom one medicine cabinet is not enough. I have all manners of lotions and potions spilling out from every available crevice and corner in the bathroom. So when I run naked from the shower shouting about the joys of some new product, you have to believe it’s something special.
Balloon Animals
Ever since I got wind of the whole latex balloons are the devil stuff, I’ve been distraught. While I would hate for my daughter’s birthday celebrations to be entirely balloon free, I also don’t need to decorate the place with a bunch of colorful choking hazards.
Fun, Cubed
While my home has seen its fair share of battery-operated toys that never want to turn off, I’m proud to admit that my daughter prefers her cute little handmade cloth block my godmother made for her first birthday.
Little Creatures
Frequent readers of CMP will know that we’re not a big fan of barnyard animals on the kid duds, but we do love all things creepy, crawly, and traditionally unloved. So of course we were instantly smitten with the Beasty Baby monster rompers at indie emporium Aunt Beep.
A Totally Organic Experience
I listened to my mother when she told me, "Never underestimate the power of the rattle." However, after three plastic shakers and a stuffed bunny that sounds like it’s filled wtih a couple grains of rice, I was still faced with a screaming baby. I wish she had been a bit more specific about the kind of rattle.
Glide on the Peace Chain
Everywhere I go I’m seeing dogtags. And no, not just because there’s a military base in town. I’m talking about those blinged out engraved initial ones that look heavier than a bicycle lock. And while I like to keep up with the trends, this is one I’ve been keeping at arm’s length. Until now.
Sign Your Name To Someone Else’s Artwork
How many of us have wanted to chuck the soul-sucking corporate life and follow our hearts? (I’m raising my hand over here.) Jenni Gaynor actually had the guts to do it.
Project Runway, Here You Come
Since becoming a mother, I admit I’m a little lax about certain aspects of my appearance. However when it comes to my bags, I’m so picky that the folks at the local department store know me as The Crazy Purse Woman, who attacks them with questions like "can I get Purse A in the fabric of Purse B with the handles of Purse C?"
Play it Again, Bunny
When I was young, I had a beautiful wooden music box that featured a dancer pirouetting on a mirror inside. It was regaled to a high shelf in my bedroom except for the few times a year when my mom reluctantly pulled it down for me. I’m still bitter whenever I hear "The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy."