Have You Ever Been To The Same Grocery Store So Many Times In One Day That Even The Employees Are Looking At You Like You Really Need To Pull It Together?

I'm having one of those weeks we all seem to enjoy more frequently toward the end of a school session - the ones filled with meetings and celebrations and tournaments and school projects that require numerous trips to the grocery store and printer to complete.  And, in an ironic twist of fate, during the busiest time of the school year, it appears the staging business I ran with my mom for several years, has somehow risen from the dead.  Like a Phoenix, High Style Staging is cranking out estimates and sourcing furniture for a home.  Of course, this means we are hanging by a thread at the High house as we navigate through the expected and unexpected busyness of this week - but everyone is being fed and no one has missed an event, so I'll consider that a win.

This is one of the drawbacks to not having a regular career in an office, one that is consistent week in and week out.  Because I have chosen to work a variety of jobs from my home, I rarely have a schedule that is the same week to week.  I like it that way, but it does pose challenges.  It requires split second adjustments and sometimes efficiency takes a backseat.   I've actually found myself in the same King Soopers parking lot four times this morning.  It's not that I don't plan, I make lists - detailed lists - but I leave them at home and usually remember what I forgot about the time the door starts to lift as I'm pulling into the garage.

I'm also wearing this:

I had every intention to shower at some point, but that too has slipped through the cracks.  My outfit was not intended to last all day, but I'm glad I bothered to put on pants with a zipper.  That way I still feel "dressed" and not like I'm zipping around all day in something better suited for a bout with the flu.  Although, this look seems pretty close to flu-worthy.

I was feeling generous today and bought some cupcakes at Whole Foods for dessert.

They're on top of my cookbooks.  Does anyone else have to hide special foodstuffs?  These wouldn't last five minutes if my kids knew they were in the house.

gratitude:  going with the flow, budding trees, Method laundry detergent, grilling

thanks and love.

I Ate Altoids For Breakfast. I Think It's Time For A Trip To The Grocery Store.

I don't know about you other moms out there, but I kinda wish every day could be like Mother's Day.  It was a great weekend all around (yesterday was the tops), but we're feeling a beat behind over here at the High household.  It appears we forgot to schedule in any downtime this weekend and as a result have been going non-stop since about 2:00 on Friday afternoon.  Lots of fun, but we need to regain control.  We have hard limes and soft avocados on our counter, piles of laundry in the upstairs hall, 300 pairs of shoes scattered around our kitchen table, and we're down to yogurt and leftover Chinese in the fridge.

As hard as it is to start a busy week after a frantic weekend, it does become absolutely clear that non-scheduled time is critical to our peace and happiness as a family and as individuals.  Crazy weekends like this remind us how important it is to protect a few hours here and there to just 'be'.  It's fun either way, but we definitely feel better after a slightly less hectic 48 hours.

Since I'm feeling a tad drained, I'm wearing these pants today:

The pattern will keep me alert if I start to fade and it may give the illusion that I'm actually moving faster than I really am.

Meatless Monday will feature avocado toast and sliced tomatoes.  Or cereal.

gratitude:  the wonderful Mother's Day Geoff and the kids gave me, extra moisturizing lotion, patio planning, eating outside

thanks and love.

Looking Back, It Was Totally Worth Giving Up Wine And Coffee For Nine Months.

It's Mother's Day weekend!  I know the calendar tells us we only get one day, but I like the notion of spreading all things Mom over the entire weekend.  Of course, I don't expect the total focus to be on me all the time, but I think a little undercurrent of Mom Love for the next few days isn't too much to ask.

I like this quote, it speaks to me:

Mothering is an imperfect art.  While we want to do everything right, it seems like a few misses are unavoidable.  Anytime you're involved as deeply and with as much love as one is when mothering - you're bound to reflexively think with your heart, when your head would have been a better choice.  I just hope that Eliza and JD are understanding, forgiving and clever enough to turn the times I've fallen short into fabulous comedy and a quirky perspective.

Here is another written bit that captures some of what I feel: "I don't remember who said this, but there really are places in the heart you don't even know exist until you love a child." ― Anne Lamott, Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year

I was not a maternal person before I had kids. I was a bad babysitter. To be honest, I wasn't that fond of children.  I'd never ask to hold a baby and I'd avoid conversations with kids at all costs.  They scared me and I felt my nurturing skills were better suited for canines.  But being mom to Eliza and JD has amazed me in how completely and instantly it soaked into me.  It changed my experience with kids as a whole - I have to remind myself now to ask permission to hold someone's baby.  I am blown away by how much love I feel when I think about what Eliza and JD mean to me.  I didn't know I had it in me.

It's not easy though.  Especially as they get older.  The saying that parenting kids is like choosing to have your heart live outside your body is right on the mark.  The ups and downs of life and their growing independence are hard to face.  Sometimes I'd like to just put my kids back inside me and not share them with anyone else.  But, because I'm not totally delusional, I know Geoff and I must let them paddle their own canoe as much as possible so they can continue to sail even when we're not around. 

The knowledge I cling to, that brings me great joy, is that I will ALWAYS be their mom.  They will grow and I'll grow too, but we'll always be connected as mother and child. We get to experience this relationship through all our evolutions and hopefully we make each other want to be our best selves along the way.  I try to be lovingly present in each stage of our life together (though, admittedly I'm sometimes mopey and occasionally crabby about the passing and challenges of certain phases) because, though change is inevitable, the relationship is constant.  And for that, I am entirely grateful.

Cheers to all you moms out there!!

 I'm wearing this.

While in the cooler months, I'm drawn to a Paris street-style vibe, it appears once the sun comes out I embrace the summer in Provence aesthetic.  As an aside, these jeans are developing a bit of a hold "near the zipper", but they are soooo comfortable that I have convinced myself if I keep moving no one will notice.  I hope I don't regret this decision.

gratitude:  8:06 a.m. on February 10, 1998, 11:02 a.m. on November 2, 1999, hysterical laughter, time together

thanks and love.

Betwixt and Between.

It occurred to me the other day, that we are just a few short weeks from swimsuit season (cue nervous laughter).  We have a community pool just up the street from our house, so I can't avoid a Lycra based element in my wardrobe.  I haven't purchased a swimsuit in a few several years, and I am way past the point of needing something new.  Last year, it became clear to me that I'm no longer a good candidate for a string bikini and and I don't intend spend another summer feeling uncomfortable and dashing to the pool when no one is looking.  

It's not that I naturally am drawn to super skimpy swimsuits, but about five years ago we went to Hawaii and, as is the case with many who have a tropical vacation on their horizon, I undertook a vigorous workout regimen to better prepare my then 40-year-old body for some beach exposure.  I must say, it was a success and for the first time in a long time ever, I really didn't mind walking around in nothing more than a $15 Target bikini.  It was delightful, but since then, things have changed a bit.

Let's just say,  I'm more of a long walk and a lot of yoga kind of girl now.  It keeps me in good shape and mentally happy, but I appreciate a bit more coverage in swimwear nowadays.  I like a two-piece mostly for the avoidance of the dreaded lily white stomach effect, but I don't want to be one of those women who has crossed the line of age and body shape and makes everyone sad when she pulls off her coverup because she's clinging to a suit style that's passed her by.  I also don't want to give Eliza any body dysmorphia issues by moving right into a skirted one-piece and fearing the exposure that comes with anything more revealing.  I have never had less of a firm footing fashionwise and I attribute it to my age. The mid-forties are a swimsuit No Man's Land.

I also have non-negotiable requirements now - proper bum coverage and a little something extra in the top.  I've made the mistake before of buying one of the swimsuits from Victoria's Secret that adds an extra cup size or two up top.  I felt like I was wearing a floatation device - honestly, non-swimmers could have held onto it for safety.  On top of that, when I got out of the pool I had to discreetly wring out my "chest" or it would have stayed damp for hours risking a skin condition from the constant moisture.  I'm looking for some enhancement, not a complete transformation.  So I can't just grab a suit off the rack or order it online and expect it to fit properly.  I really need to try it on, but I'm rarely in the mood to do so.  Standing in the dressing room under the florescent lights and studying myself in a swimsuit layered over my underwear makes me need a glass of wine.  Very badly.

I know I need to invest in something quality.  Perhaps it's a sign of maturity that I'd rather have one fabulous suit I feel great in, than five swimsuits that leave me feeling too exposed or "enhanced".  I'll also make sure to have a good collection of coverups.  One needs to be prepared for the days when we want nothing more than to lounge poolside with a good book and a glass of something delicious and not worry about whether or not our stomach looks like a teenager's.

I'm wearing this today.

I love this particular necklace over a pattern.  Sometimes I think when we wear a patterned shirt, we feel like adding a necklace would be too much.  But I've found that's not usually the case.  Putting a necklace over a pattern creates a nice extra layer to look at, but it doesn't make as huge a statement as it would over a solid color.  Suddenly the whole look - patterned shirt and necklace - becomes a bit quieter but more interesting at the same time.  Give it a go sometime!

gratitude:  thunder, the smell of rain, the sound of lawnmowers, good timing

thanks and love.

Another Way Of Looking At It Would Be If This Blog Post Were A Venn Diagram, The Part Where The Circles Intersect Would Be Labeled 'P'.

Welcome to Monday!  In an effort to organize my thoughts and to cobble together enough minutiae to qualify as a legitimate blog post, I have decided that today's entry will be brought to you by the letter 'P'.  Which of course is a nod to dear old Sesame Street.  I loved it when the letter was painted on a bald man's head and when it was slathered in mustard onto what looked like a tasty ham sandwich.  So in the spirit of Sesame Street, here is my 'P'.  I made it with mini shredded wheat.

Moving on.  Our first 'P' word is Pigeons.

This is our owl, Hooty.

He is not real and, as you can see, is mounted on a large pole.  His job was to scare away the pigeons who live on our roof.  Over the weekend, he was relieved of his duty.  He was not very good at it totally ineffective.  The pigeons are mildly annoying to me, but Geoff borders on obsessed at times.  Along with Hooty, he's tried snowballs, Snap-Its, and good ol' clapping to get the pigeons to find another hangout.  He'd wave Hooty over the edge of the roof while standing on our balcony (often in his pajamas) in an effort to freak out the birds.  For a while, it seemed to be working, but I think they either became numb to the surprise attacks or just moved a little farther back from the edge of the roof.  Anyway, the pigeons haven't gone anywhere and having a plastic owl mounted to a broomstick on our balcony was getting a little trashy.  I don't know what Geoff's next avenue of attack will be, but I'm glad to have Hooty gone.  He lives in our closet now and seems happier.  I think it was getting to be humiliating for him to be so openly ignored by those he was charged to intimidate.

Our next word is Patio.

Because even though all the snow and chilly temps are making us feel like summer is a long way away, we know differently.  And if the warmer months are to be as fabulous as we anticipate at the High House, we need need to spiff up our patio.  One of our goals is to find replacement cushions for these chairs.

They are antique lawn chairs.  From the 1920s - very Gatsby.  When we bought them we thought how charming and funky it would be to have vintage lawn furniture.  That was before we realized there are no replacement cushions made in this century that are a perfect even a close fit for the chairs.  We have tried everything.  Big box stores, online cushion retailers, you name it.  To no avail.  It appears now, after a weekend of searching, buying, failing, returning and repeating, we will have to have custom cushions made.  They are not cheap and so, because the list is long for patio expenses this year, we may just have to find some way to block out all the horrible thoughts of almost 100 years of sweaty people sitting for a spell on our seat cushions.  I'm not sure it's possible.

Our third word is actually a twofer - Peer Pressure.

You would think, at 46 I would be able to withstand pressure from others to do things that are out of character for me.  Not so.  Apparently, I need to take some lessons in personal strength.  While we were on our quest for cushions this Sunday, we stopped by a Whole Foods for sustenance.  We saw a truck in the parking lot that JD, because he is 13, loved.  Geoff was mocking JD's fondness for it and all cars like it, and I was enjoying the banter (I personally do not care a bit about cars and could not tell a Ford from a Toyota to save my life).  Anyway, the boys thought it would be funny to take a picture of me in front of it giving a thumbs up - I guess the comedic value of juxtaposition is hard to ignore.  I didn't want to do it, but I also didn't be a stick in the mud so I gamely jump in front of the truck and this was the result.

What you don't see here is that, unbeknownst to me, the owner of the truck was about 10 feet behind me returning with his groceries.  As soon as the shutter of the camera clicked I could feel his presence approaching.  I put my head down and scurried away in shame and Geoff offered a "Thanks for letting us borrow your truck" platitude before he too ran away.  It was horrifying.  I want to apologize for being so weak, Mr. Truck Owner.  I don't understand why you'd want such a kooky looking vehicle, but it's not my place to judge.  I. Am. Sorry.

And finally, Par.

The last three Sundays have all ended with a family golf outing and I'm loving it.  More importantly, it appears everyone in the family is loving it too so I guess we may have a tradition or something starting here.  The boys make a tee time for nine holes at about 5:00.  While they play, Eliza and I follow them in the cart.  After the round, we have dinner at the clubhouse.  There are no TV's, no computers and we're outside enjoying some golf course loveliness.  Together.  Of course, Eliza still texts and yesterday she napped, but we're together and relatively focused on each other.  We'd like to get it to the point where Eliza and I could play along with the boys, but that may be a while.  I have an issue with the length of the club and the tiny ball size causing it to be nearly impossible for me to make contact with the ball more than twice in a row.  But I remain hopeful that with a little work we can make it happen, eventually.  Meantime, this Sunday night golf and dinner at the course is a truly wonderful way to end a weekend.  I am perfectly pleased.

So I'm wearing this today.

It's plaid.  I have no shame.

And once again we find ourselves enjoying another Meatless Monday.  I had big plans to whip up something new, but I am feeling rather unmotivated so today's dinner will be Salad Sandwiches.  I grew up eating this, my parents had something similar during a trip to London at one point and it's been part of our family menu ever since.  It's super simple, just make a sandwich of sliced tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, sliced red onion and sliced cheese (I prefer colby-jack).  Slather on mayo and dijon mustard.  Season with a little salt and pepper.  So good.

gratitude:  the smell of the outdoors in the morning, time to pull things together, music, a good book

thanks and love.

JD's Bus Driver And I Are Locked In A Battle Of Wits. Edge Of Your Seat Excitement, No?

I'm ashamed to admit, but when I wake up in the morning, JD's bus driver is one of the first things that comes to mind.  The guy never should have chosen a career that requires adhering to a schedule.  And because he doesn't understand what 'on time' means, I've taken to obsessing over his unpredictability.

Based upon the info we were given at the beginning of the school year, our pick-up time is 6:50 a.m.  The bus driver has been on-time about twice.  Sometimes he's three minutes early, sometimes five minutes late.  But it's not like he stays and waits for kids to show up at the scheduled time if he comes early.  If you're not there at 6:47, he's moving on.

I tried to figure out his system. There really wasn't any pattern to it and that's what was so vexing.  It seemed like he was late mostly on bad weather days - I cut him some slack assuming he probably had to scrape all 300 windows on the bus himself.  So on a few of the days we saw snow this winter, we'd slide in about 6:52 because all our evidence supported his arrival by 6:55.  That worked for a while, then suddenly we were driving up to the stop during a snowstorm at 6:51, and he was pulling away.  A cunning move indeed, Mr. Bus Driver.

He even achieved a personal best in lateness during the big storm two weeks ago.  He came 30 minutes late and by the time he arrived, our car was full of middle schoolers who looked like they were part of an ill-fated Everest expedition.

A few weeks ago, I'd had enough.  I refused to be beaten by his unpredictability.  JD has played along because I think he too, doesn't want to experience defeat at the hands of an erratic bus driver.  The goal (unspoken as it is) is to be at the bus stop at 6:47, rain or shine.  This ensures - whether or not our driver is early, late, or shockingly on-time - we're there.  The new system requires some speed on our part, but it appears to be working and I actually get a nice boost having to channel my competitive spirit so early in the day.

I just hope we can keep it up until the end of the school year.  Maybe on the final day, in the spirit of good sportsmanship, I'll get out of the car and shake the bus driver's hand.  I'll look him in the eye and congratulate him on a game well played.  And I'll leave, in my pajama bottoms and sweatshirt, holding a cup of coffee, the victor.

I'm wearing this today.

Skinny jeans, black T, neutral statement necklace, and a pop of color in my shoe.  It's casual, but not laying on the couch casual.

And, since it's the Cinco de Mayo and Kentucky Derby weekend we should all enjoy something fabulous to sip.  A Mint Julep is just out of my comfort zone - the thought of bourbon and mint makes me a little queasy.  So, I'm suggesting this - a strawberry basil margarita.  Clearly more of a nod to Cinco de Mayo, but it sounds fab.  Here it is (I found the recipe on the The Effortless Chic website).

First you need to make a strawberry simple syrup.  Combine 1 cup sugar, 1 cup water and 4-5 sliced strawberries in a saucepan.  Bring it to a boil and simmer for 10-15 minutes.  Cool the syrup, then strain it through a sieve, pressing the strawberries to get all the liquid out.

To make the margs, you will add to a shaker with ice, 2 Tbs. of roughly chopped basil, 2 oz. Tequila, 1 oz. strawberry simple syrup, 1 oz. fresh lime juice and a splash of Cointreau.  Shake at least 60 times and pour into a glass.  Yum.

gratitude:  Fritos, sunshine, lanterns, green grass

thanks and love.

And Now For My Next Trick, I'll Make A Metaphor Using A Funny Cat Video.

It's a cruel bit of irony when your 46th birthday lands on 'Take Your Child To Work Day' and you're a stay-at-home mom of teens. There are opportunities for insecurity on both fronts.  I can handle turning 46 (I think), but when people ask me what I 'do', I'm tired of not having something definitive to share.  I've loved being a stay-at-home mom.  Really, it's the best career I've ever had.  But my job description is changing a bit and I feel the need to adjust accordingly.

I felt comfortable making the choice to stay home with my kids because prior to becoming a mom, I had enjoyed a pretty satisfying professional life.  Plus, I felt advertising agencies were best left to the young and hip, and those not currently breastfeeding.  I was ready for something new and was up for the challenge of raising my kids 24/7.  I agreed with the notion that life could be lived in chapters, and I still do - the 20-something career chapter, the stay-at-home mom chapter, etc.  It's just that the pages I'm looking at now in aren't that easy to read.

I'm in the process of trying to figure out what I want to/can/should do with myself now that my babies are getting older.  My BFF, Tracy, refers to this as 'struggling for relevance' and that feels spot on.  I've dipped a toe into a few things over the last several years, but nothing has felt quite right - I need a Goldilocks moment.  I would venture to guess this feeling isn't exclusive to stay-at-home moms.  I imagine, to some extent, life direction issues arise for most people and they need to be addressed.  We evolve.  That's life.  And it's cool.

This is very representative of how I feel lately.  Perhaps you can relate.

In this case, I am the cat.  The shark suit symbolizes the appearance of me actually having a clue. The Roomba is my mind, and the duck represents my 'Thing'.  The Roomba seems to be directionless at times, turning randomly and bumping into things - moving the cat every which way.   Much as I'd like to say that's not the case for me it seems that my mind, and my subsequent progress toward learning what my 'Thing' is, is still somewhat unfocused and unproductive.  I'm turning in circles and bumping into the dishwasher. 

 I think the message here is that the cat could hang out and play with his friend, the duck, if he just got off the Roomba.  Our Roomba minds get in our way.  We over-think, we fear, we get confused.  I need to get off the Roomba.

And so I'm attempting to do just that.  I'm working on getting clear about what I enjoy and not judging whatever comes up.  That has led me to understand that family, food, style, humor, yoga, writing, living fully and with gratitude are things that interest me.  Plus, some other stuff that isn't coming to mind right now.  That's me.  I'm really trying to consciously keep myself open to possibility.  I'm also taking action by writing, keeping a little jewelry business going, and living in a way that represents what I value.  I'm hoping this will get me off the Roomba.  I even read that standing on your head can energetically change your perspective so I gave that a try.  Not sure about the perspective shift, but I did notice that we have Kleenexes and golf tees under our bed.

I'm wearing this today.

This is my "summer turtleneck."  I thought when I bought it that I'd never have any use for a Frenchy, striped, lightweight turtleneck but, turns out, global warming or La Nina or El Nino or something has caused Spring to be irrefutably turtleneck weather.  I am contrasting the stripe with a large pendant necklace and wearing my (somewhat shabby) leopard clogs.  I refuse to wear socks.

gratitude:  the spring pillow combo I currently have on my loveseat, our clean floors, finding the other clicker, funny writers

thanks and love.