being heard.

Mama. Dada. Baba. Caca.

That was our lunchtime conversation today, at least on your side. As usual, I filled in all the details in between, asking lots of questions and exclaiming over your silly faces as you worked to get each word out.

Mama. Dada. Baba. Caca.

That's the extent of your 20-month-old vocabulary, my darling girl, if you leave out your strange array of animal noises and long, babbly strings of nonsense all starting with the letter D. Four words to describe the world around you. It's amazing to me how well you are able to communicate with us through these 8 little syllables - how you categorize everything in the world under these four headings. (Man in the grocery store checkout? Dada. Talking about your grandma? Caca, because she has to drive in one to get here. Picture of three cows? Mama, Dada, Baba.) Your wild gesturing, long list of baby signs (many invented by you), and ability to find pictures in your books to describe what your voice cannot helps us to know just what you mean, most of the time. The way you wiggle back and forth when we say "I love you" because it's the only way you know how to say "I love you, too."

But it hurts my heart sometimes, knowing that you have so much locked up there in your little brain that you can't quite get out. I see how quick you are to notice things, because you're such a good little observer, and how easily you make connections to what you already know. How much I dread when you drag out the Bird Songs book because I know how angry you get when you point at a picture of a Roseate Spoonbill or a Pine Grosbeak or a Ruffed Grouse and the bird call that plays on the tiny little speaker isn't for the bird you've chosen. How determined you were to find an old pacifier with a picture of a fairy on it because the magic wand we made together reminded you of her. How you pick up every detail of my longwinded directions about cleaning up for lunch and manage to follow them in your sweet little way. How much I want to cry when you stand next to other children and wave and wave at them with such earnest excitement, hoping they will see you and respond, because you don't know how to say hello.

Mama. Dada. Baba. Caca.

And I have teethmarks in my tongue for all the times I've had to bite it when well-meaning friends and strangers give us advice about you: "Lots of kids talk late, there's nothing to worry about." "You need to speak more slowly and enunciate more so she understands you better - then she'd be able to talk just fine." "You probably just don't understand what she's telling you yet - you really have to listen more carefully to understand toddler-speak." "Don't you think she's too young for speech therapy? That therapist is probably overeager for clients."

And you are young. And there's still time. And maybe you will outgrow it. But then again, maybe you won't. And we have tried so many things to help you. And what's effortless for lots of kids just isn't for you, and we just don't know why yet.

Mama. Dada. Baba. Caca.

My biggest worry? That you'll give up. That trying to communicate will become so frustrating to you that you'll decide it's just easier to let other people do the talking. That you'll retreat inside so we stop saying "Use your words" and "Say it with your mouth, please" and "You say. You say."

Because what I want, more than anything, is for you to know that you are heard.

Linking up with Just Write.

a corny family | DIY upcycled, repurposed family halloween costumes

In case you were ever in doubt, we're a very corny family.

Since we live in the heart of corn country, Jason had the idea to have Lorelei go as "corn on the cob" for Halloween this year. We decided to make it a family affair -- and we had a blast at the community downtown "trick or treating" event yesterday afternoon! It's harder to tell from this picture, but I went as the farmer for my two corn cobs -- I have on a Monsanto hat, twine suspenders, and long rolled-up blue jeans along with my flannel shirt. Jason was a good sport, wasn't he? :)

I'm pretty excited to have made all of our costumes -- and especially excited about being able to do it on the cheap with repurposed items. There weren't many corn costumes online to use as a guideline, so here are my tips if you decide to do it:

one green sweatshirt (I found lots at our local Goodwill -- you can always turn them inside out if they have a weird pattern that might show)
a few feet of bubble wrap (I save it from online purchases and had plenty to repurpose)
a yard* of green felt ($2.99 at Jo-Ann Fabric)
twine, brown yarn, or raffia (I used a ball of twine we keep in the garage for tying up sticks and yard waste)
yellow spray paint (I bought a very small can for a few dollars at Jo-Ann)
green thread and a needle [or tape/glue, if you can't sew]
optional: yellow or green tights
*I used one yard of felt for both Lorelei and Jason's costumes, just FYI

Spray paint the bubble wrap on one side and let it dry.

Meanwhile, cut the felt into "leaves" that are just slightly longer than the sweatshirt. I cut them into different widths for visual interest. Cut the top of each "leaf" into a rounded point. Then use your hands to pull on the leaves a bit to make them look a bit more natural.

Once the leaves look good and the bubble wrap is dry, go ahead and sew it onto the sweatshirt. I just used a running stitch at the shoulders and bottom hem of the sweatshirt and it worked perfectly (sewing the bubble wrap under the leaves seemed to keep it in place, and didn't hurt the appearance at all). If you can't even handle doing a running stitch, I bet you could tape or glue it in place.

I ended up putting the corn kernels + leaves on both sides (front and back) of the sweatshirt. If you're pressed for time, you could always just do the front.

For the hat, I used some leftover felt curled into a circle and then stitched up the side (again, you could staple or glue/tape here). I cut about 15 short pieces of twine, put them inside the top of the felt cylinder so they stuck out to look like tassels, and then cinched it all together with a brown hair tie to hold the twine in place. Then I cut the felt above the hair tie into leaves and pulled on them (same as on the sweatshirt) to help them stand out a bit.

And that's it! I thought about wearing overalls for my costume, but decided not to spring for new ones, since I couldn't find any at Goodwill. The Monsanto hat was a good find (and an easy get around here in the midst of farmland -- it might be harder if you're in a big city!) and helped to pull my "look" together.

Can't wait to get her into this costume again next week to go around our neighborhood (Lorelei will be bringing treats to give out to our neighbors rather than getting candy, since she doesn't eat it!). Share your costume ideas and links to pictures below, please!

I shared this post at:
Project Run and Play
Fine Craft Guild
Momnivore's Dilemma
Naptime Crafters
Someday Crafts

the post where I tell you that I'm a cancer survivor.

If you know me IRL, you probably think this post is a long time coming. It just hasn't felt right until now, for some reason. But yesterday I got that magic phone call that lets me exhale in such a big way even though I don't fully realize I've been holding my breath. The one where the nurse says "Your blood work came back negative." 9 years later, it never gets old.

Just like the ACS, I, too, am an official sponsor of birthdays.

Ovarian cancer. At age 22. Thank goodness for annual exams and doctors who are thorough and careful. Thankful, too, that a grapefruit-sized mass somehow stayed within my left ovary and didn't spread anywhere else, so no chemo or radiation. And very thankful my doctors talked me into keeping the other ovary intact to preserve my fertility, even though it means more surgery once I'm done having children, since I was lucky enough to get a type of ovarian cancer that can recur even 20 or 30 years later. The 6-inch vertical scar is still red but looks less angry now -- and I'm less angry now, too. Less scared. But still angry and scared, sometimes.

Last August was the worst -- even worse than the weeks before my surgery, because then it was just me and now, well, it isn't. Sitting in the doctor's office in that stupid paper robe and hearing the nurse shout down the hall to someone else, "Looks like she's got a mass on that remaining ovary." Waiting and waiting for the doctor to come in and trying to pretend I hadn't already heard, for some strange reason. Crying when I sang lullabies to Lorelei and knowing she would never remember them. And then getting the phone call that said the blood work results were negative, the ultrasound looked fine after all, that follow-up tests weren't necessary any more. That time, I had been holding my breath so much it hurt.

So I'm celebrating. And trying to raise awareness. If you have been putting off making that doctor's appointment, call now. And if everything turns out to be fine, the co-pay will still be the best $25 or $50 you spent this month. Because peace of mind and good health are totally worth it.

My amazing caregivers from the Fairview Women's Clinic are never far from my mind. If you're in Minnesota, consider participating in the Silent No More Walk/Run on September 8th at Rosland Park in Edina. Learn more about it here. There are events in Pennsylvania and Nebraska on the 8th, too -- check here to see how you can participate in these events and others during September (aka ovarian cancer awareness month).

On September 7th, participate in Wear Teal Day to raise awareness for a silent killer with a 47% five-year survival rate (just as an FYI, it's 90% for breast cancer based on 2007 stats).

Starting on September 1st and lasting all month long, all the proceeds I make in shop sales will go to the fight against ovarian cancer. And I have one more fundraiser I'll be promoting here on the blog, so stay tuned for more details.

Make a Mess Mondays: make your own fingerpaints

I'm back with a Make a Mess Monday post! This time, Lorelei and I painted the town red -- and blue, and green, and purple...

I was able to whip up the paint pretty easily during her naptime. To make it, I combined 3 cups of water, 1 cup of cornstarch, 5 Tbsp of sugar, and a tsp of salt in a saucepan and stirred (and stirred and stirred and stirred!) over low heat until it got really thick and paint-like. (I actually intended to follow this recipe, but then wasn't paying any attention and dumped in 3 cups of water so had to modify. Maybe it would have gone faster the original way -- it took quite a while for it to thicken.) Then I put a few drops of food coloring into each cup of a 6-cup jumbo muffin tin, added the paint base, and voila!

I wish we had a giant roll of butcher paper, but newspaper taped to the bricks on our patio ended up working pretty well. Next time, I'll tape even more down -- Lorelei wanted to have lots of room to spread out, and I ended up with a few baby footprints that I had to hose down later (it came off really easily, in case you were wondering). I gave her some sponge paintbrushes to try, and she seemed to love dipping them in the paint and then touching them to the paper.

I know from the pictures it looks like she ate more than she painted, but she really only put the brushes near her mouth a few times -- and since the ingredients are safe, I didn't worry too much about it (though of course redirected so she doesn't get in the habit!).

Not bad for a lazy afternoon activity. [p.s. did you see Margaux's post about her own cornstarch + baby fun recently?]

adventures in motherhood: why is it so hard to make friends as an adult?

Though this weekly post series is ostensibly about my life as a mom, I could very easily be writing this one just from my perspective as someone past the college years. Why doesn't anyone ever tell you how hard it will be to make friends once you're not in school anymore?

(image)

Jason and I were reflecting -- enviously -- on my brother's social life the other day. Granted, he has no children, but he's only 2 years younger than we are and he seems to be "out with friends" any time we try to get ahold of him. "How does he know that many people, let alone know them well enough to call them friends?" my husband was saying grumpily. And then it hit us: my brother lives and works in the city where he graduated from college -- so most of his friends are his old college buddies! (No fair.)

When I taught in Colorado for five years, I was lucky enough to work at a school full of kindred spirits, so I made strong connections with my coworkers. Most of us were in similar "life situations" (late 20s or early 30s, transplanted from all sorts of places across the country, married or in long-term relationships, pursuing a career in education out of passion for it rather than necessity, invested in working for progressive social change), so it was easy to bond over our commonalities.

(some of my favorite people from Colorado)

And then I moved to Illinois and started working at a very traditional public school where the teachers all grew up around here, went to two or three schools within easy driving distance of here, married someone from here... it's not that they weren't friendly, but the message was fairly clear from most of them: "I already have an established life and circle of friends, and I don't really have room for someone new who doesn't fit the mold." And the few people I did connect with? Well, it's not easy to stay in touch now that I'm at home during the hours we used to spend together.

There are three main moms groups in town, and one of them isn't  accepting new members. I have tried to go to events hosted by one of the groups, but I always end up feeling out of my element. And the final group -- where there are definitely kindred spirits, which is so, so lovely -- tends to be moms of older toddlers, so they often meet at times when I have to be home with a sleeping baby. I enjoy my time with them when I get to see them, but I don't feel like I've made any super close friendships (yet). It'd be nice to be able to hang out with other moms and kiddos close in age to Lorelei during the daytime rather than having to sacrifice my few sacred hours of time to myself at night, too...

I think that's part of the reason blogging has become such a big part of my life. When I check in on blogs from people like Emily, Margaux, Jennifer, Amber, Nicolle, Manda, D., Leah, and Megan, it feels like a virtual playdate: they all have babies who are a very similar age to mine so we can commiserate, swap tips, lend a sympathetic ear, and feel in general like we're not alone in these parenting struggles. Wish we could do it in real life, too! I'm so jealous of Libby and her group of friends who are all soon-to-be mamas -- how wonderful would it be to go through something like that together?

(some of my girlfriends from back home in MN at my baby shower -- wish we lived closer!)

Do you have any tips for finding adult friends, especially if you live far away from where you grew up or went to school? Have you tried using cards like the ones PJ is offering up in her giveaway?  I'd love to hear your insights!

adventures in motherhood: how do you know if you're ready for a second child?

A scary little scenario, using Lorelei's age as a guidepost: if I were my mother-in-law, I'd be pregnant right now with my second baby. If I were my own mother, I'd be two months away from conceiving #2.

meeting my baby brother at the hospital (I'm just under 2 years old; my Dad is not yet 29)

Yikes.

How do you know if you're ready to have another baby? Or if you even want another baby? I've been feeling the weight of this question a lot lately, and not only because Lorelei just turned one. It suddenly seems like everyone I know is pregnant, both in the blogosphere and in the real world, and I've been seeing lots of posts about having two from people like Kristin, Nicole via Taza, and Teresa. There are a million opinions out there about how to time your pregnancies so your children are spaced apart perfectly -- whether that's 2.5 years or 5 -- but it seems like the primary suggestion from everyone is this: you'll know you're ready when you start having baby fever again.

But what if you never had baby fever in the first place?

My pregnancy with Lorelei was largely the result of methodical, logical family planning on our part. Jason and I wanted to be married for five years and with grad school completely behind us before we started thinking about having children. Once that milestone was reached, we had several months of conversations about timing based on his tenure clock, some health issues I have, and our ages. We also weighed the pros and cons of a childless life versus one with kids and tried to imagine our futures with both outcomes.

We finally decided that, even though neither of us felt totally ready to have a baby right now, we always imagined ourselves as a family rather than just a couple, and it'd be better to start sooner rather than later so that, if we had fertility issues, we'd have plenty of time to sort them out. I spent three months charting my cycles, taking prenatals, cutting out caffeine and alcohol, exercising religiously, and meeting with my doctor before we decided to take the plunge. One month later, I was pregnant. And we were completely terrified.

I love Lorelei to pieces and I'm so glad that we had her. But I never had that feeling of "I desperately want a baby," so I have no idea if I'll ever feel that way. I never pictured myself having just one child -- but after the turmoil and agony of Lorelei's newborn days (not to mention childbirth!), I just don't know how I feel about going through that again. Plus, our life is so wonderful now -- would I ruin that if we added another baby into the mix? How will my heart be able to fit in love for another child, when this one takes up so much of the room?

What are your thoughts on having baby #2...or 3 (or more!)? What makes you so sure you do or don't want another one? And if you've already had that second child, what made you feel ready?

first birthday week: letter to my pregnant self on May 22nd, 2011

Dear One-Year-Ago Self,

You can do this.

(picture by our doula, Kim Wheaton)

Having a baby turns out to be the most difficult thing you will ever do, but I promise you that you will make it through this first year relatively unscathed -- though of course changed forever in uncountable ways. Some days, it will feel like you can't do it and won't make it through the next hour, let alone the whole day or week or month. And then it will suddenly be May 22nd, 2012 and you won't be able to believe that a whole year has passed by since you were last blissfully ignorant of the journey ahead of you (by the way, your water is going to break tomorrow -- just warning you!).

One year in, I still don't know what I'm doing. But I've learned a few things that I wish I had known a year ago today, so I'm telling you now:

There's no shame in making mistakes. In fact, don't even consider them to be mistakes -- you're learning how to be a mom, and it's really hard! There's no perfect way to parent, and soon enough you'll get into a rhythm. But until then, stop feeling guilty. Stop worrying that people are judging your every move. Mostly, stop judging yourself against a pre-baby vision of yourself as a mother. It's not what you pictured. And that's okay.

Take a shower. Wear something cute. Demand that you have time every day to do your hair and put on makeup. Get outside. Make time to read (don't wait two months to discover you can use your Nook or listen to audiobooks while nursing). If you do not do these things, you will suffocate. Remember your high school English teacher's policy of "dress right, test right"? It totally applies here -- you will be a better "you" if you feel good about yourself.

Feeling overwhelmed is normal. Crying in the shower is normal. Thinking you are a horrible mother is normal. It is also normal and good to see a counselor. Don't wait until month four -- go now.

Make connections to other moms. They are just as frazzled and nervous and overwhelmed as you about disrupting their babies' nap schedules to meet up -- so bring a pack-and-play and your Boppy with you or invite them to come over even though your house is a mess. You cannot do this alone.

Get a better camera than that point-and-shoot you're using. Believe me, you'll be thankful when you realize you took at least 5000 pictures during the first year.

Breastfeeding is difficult. And no matter what they tell you, it's definitely possible to be allergic to lanolin. Get help. Get a prescription for APNO. Don't be afraid to pump -- it's going to make life a lot easier, even though it seems weird and scary at first. And later, when you think it's under control, she'll start teething or get really squirmy or go on strike. There will always be challenges to nursing. Just like with everything else, let go of "perfect" and be okay with "this is what works for us."

(picture by my friend Beth)

This is the longest shortest time. It will feel interminable. It is. It's okay to be angry with people who say "Enjoy these moments while you can." Motherhood will not feel natural at first. You are just not one of those women. You will feel as if you've been thrown off a cliff. I promise you won't hit bottom -- just reach out for a handhold, because there are more hands to hold than you might think. You will survive, and your daughter will do just fine. Better than fine. She will become a beautiful, happy, sweet, funny, curious, affectionate little girl who is a pure delight to be around and you won't be able to imagine your life without her. And you will love being her mom.

love, Courtney

p.s. Lorelei is a terrible sleeper. Just warning you.

adventures in motherhood: true confessions.

Okay, I admit it: sometimes, I'm not the mother I always hoped I'd be.

(lest you think you need to call the authorities, my husband staged this photo shoot as part of a thank you to a friend who sent us a Willie Nelson baby CD. For the record, I haven't even had a cup of regular coffee since I got pregnant and/or during breastfeeding -- let alone allowing our daughter to ingest alcohol!)

To wit:

1. I never put our baby in pajamas because it takes too much time to fiddle with buttons, snaps, and zippers in the night. I put her in a sleepsack and figure she's probably warm/comfortable enough. Also, I sometimes don't bother changing her diaper in the night because, well, if she would sleep through instead of waking up so much, I wouldn't be worried about it, right?

2. I fed her pizza last night because I didn't feel like making anything baby appropriate. Sometimes, when she turns up her nose at what I'm offering, I give her baby cheetos.

3. Besides putting up a gate at the top of our basement stairs, I haven't babyproofed the house. Since she can't reach doorknobs yet, I just shut doors and hope for the best.

4. L is so obsessed with taking people's glasses that I bought her a fake pair at Target to play with and pull off our faces. As a result, within five minutes of seeing her grandma, she broke one of the arms of her glasses right off.

5. Pacifiers. Never ever ever thought I'd use one. Now my daughter is so obsessed with hers that she tries to sneak into her room to find them in her crib. We go into her room dozens of times a night to replace it when it falls out. I only allow her to use them when sleeping or in her car seat (which she hates with a fiery passion), but still...

How about you? What are your dirty little parenting secrets?

birds' nest cookies

My mom was here this weekend -- hooray for extra help around the house! -- and in between all of our baby-related activities we had to fit in some springtime cookie making. It's a long-established tradition that my mom makes these darling little birds' nests for us around Easter time, and since they're chametz, we have to gobble them up before Passover starts on Friday night. (Won't be a problem -- they're delicious!)

Here's the recipe, which makes around 3 dozen cookies:

one package semisweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup peanut butter (crunchy is best)
one package chow mein noodles (you probably won't use quite the whole bag)
two cups small, egg-like candies (we use Whoppers mini robin eggs, but jelly beans would be cute too)

Combine the chocolate chips and peanut butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. Heat in 30 second intervals, pausing to stir, until melted. (Alternately, melt in a saucepan over the stove.) Slowly add the chow mein noodles, tossing with two forks/spoons like you would a salad. Once the noodles are sufficiently coated (you don't want it to be too goopy, so keep adding noodles until it seems right), drop golfball-sized "nests" onto a cookie tray lined with waxed paper (or into individual muffin cups works too). Press two candies into the center of each one. When all the cookies are assembled, pop the tray into the fridge or freezer to set.

You could probably tweak this recipe in lots of ways (leave out the peanut butter, try butterscotch chips, etc.) If you have a different version, please share -- I'd love to hear about it!

beach baby.

Our vacation to Florida was a little slice of heaven.

Our little peanut is such a bad traveler that I was dreading our trip for weeks ahead of time -- and you know what? She was just as terrible on the plane as I thought she'd be. Poor thing can't sleep on the go, so a 20 minute nap after falling asleep crying on my shoulder was all she had the day we left. But she's a resilient little trooper and bounced right back -- and she loved every minute that she was awake (which was most of the minutes in the day).

The beach -- how I've missed it! I haven't been to see my in-laws since before I was pregnant (they've been here lots of times, though), and it was wonderful to be back on that sunny, sandy shore and to share it with my daughter, who didn't seem to mind that the water lapping at her toes was pretty icy.

The free babysitting, homecooked meals prepared by someone other than me, and long afternoons by the pool with a good book in hand didn't hurt either.

We still haven't come any closer to accomplishing my goal of taking a trip, just the three of us, to somewhere other than our parents' homes, but the older L gets the more I feel like we can do it -- even if it involves air travel.

Did you ever read Joanna's post about traveling with a baby? She published it the day my water broke; I remember reading it that morning and bookmarking it, hoping that someday we'd be brave enough to leave the house with our precious, fragile newborn-to-be. :) We're hoping to try tip #5 (a home rental rather than a hotel) this summer, and #10 (shipping diapers to your destination) is such a great way to save space in your luggage! We haven't tried #4, but I think we might next time...

It was fun to get L out of her winter weather clothing and show off her chubby baby legs again. Plus, sunhats are awfully cute for framing pinchable cheeks.

As for me, I had to invest in something to cover my part now that my hair is short -- thank goodness for cheap finds at Target since I pretty much hate wearing hats, which is why I didn't own one to use in the first place. And breaking out my own summer gear made me feel like I had just gone shopping (which, as you know, I've sworn off doing for a while). In case you were wondering, Old Navy doesn't have that exact dress anymore, but you can find similar styles here and here.

Thank goodness for balmy weather when we returned -- it helped to ease the transition back to real life. But I'm longing for summer in a way I didn't think was possible when out of the classroom!

adventures in motherhood: becoming your parents.

Have you ever looked into the mirror and wondered what your mom was doing there?

(people always tell me I look just like my mom -- you'll have to make up your own mind! I don't have her rad glasses, though.)

Since becoming a mother, I've been thinking a lot about the influence my parents had on me -- intentional and unintentional -- when it came to shaping me as a future parent. (By the way, hey there, Mom and Dad...)

It's hard to know exactly where I'll stand when it comes to sleepovers and learning to drive and breaking curfew and having boys over, but I can already feel myself making decisions about my daughter that are a direct reflection on my own upbringing.

Like staying connected to extended family, for example: even when times were tight, my parents committed to visiting both sets of grandparents every year -- twice a year when my brother and I were little, and then without fail every single summer. (My father, however, was not committed to traveling in comfort; we drove from Minnesota to Nashville in a little Ford Escort with no air conditioning. Brutal!) And I grew up knowing my mom's cousins well enough to be the guest book attendant at one of their weddings.

(on the left, my mom's family [that's my mom, fourth from the right on the couch]; on the right, my dad's mother)

And putting family first: my mom drove me to youth orchestra every Saturday morning for 6 years and never missed one of my swim meets, while my dad got me to every 6 a.m. school orchestra rehearsal on time and knew my teachers so well that they traded book recommendations.

At the same time, I worry about becoming my parents, too -- my mom worried so incessantly that she wound up hospitalized for it, my dad was so scary in his black-and-white ultimatums about how the world should work that I'm still terrified to walk in the grass barefoot, and my parents didn't go on a trip alone together until after my brother and I were in college.

(Clockwise: my parents and me, my poor jaundiced baby brother home from the hospital, our family, with my dad on a camping trip. Why is it that moms are usually behind the camera instead of in front of it? I should really get people to take pictures of L and me more often...)

Since I've been thinking about how my parenting reflects how I was parented, I figured the rest of you have wondered the same thing -- and that's why I've asked some pretty amazing women I know from real life and the blogosphere to share their thoughts on how their own upbringings have shaped them as mothers. Next week, I'll be featuring 5 interviews here on the blog; I'm so excited to share these bloggers' insights and experiences with you!

And if you decide to write your own "becoming your parents" post, I hope you'll link up to mine -- I'd love to learn more about what shaped your parenting decisions, too!

this week's adventures in motherhood: getting my heart in the right place.

I have a confession to make: I have a secret resolution I've been working on this year.

(image 1, 2, 3)

I am a clothes (and shoes, and bags...) fanatic. And I definitely have champagne taste on a beer water budget, though most of the time I reign myself in and stick to the sale racks (it's a good thing Anthropologie is a 45 minute drive away, though). I get a secret (okay, not-so-secret) thrill any time the person behind me in the checkout line at the grocery store taps me on the shoulder to say "I love your coat!" or when a student would hang back after class to ask me where I got my shoes or when a very flamboyant waiter at my favorite restaurant told me my skirt looked fierce. As much as we pretend it doesn't matter, your appearance is a big part of how people judge you -- and I admit that looking a certain way is a lot more important to me than it probably should be.

(image 1, 2)

But I heard a quote recently that stopped me in my tracks: "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." I guess I always sort of thought it was the other way around -- that your heart would be the one tell you where to put your money, time, and effort. Instead, I started really thinking about where I was putting my treasure, and what it meant about how my priorities and values had shifted accordingly. And is that really the kind of message I want to be sending my daughter about how to live your best life (really, Oprah, you aren't the only one who has ever used that phrase)? Total lightbulb moment.

So.

I stopped buying clothes this year. All year. (Okay, I did buy a dress for my brother's wedding. For 70% off the original price. And c'mon, it's a once-in-a-lifetime event, right?) Because there will always be cute clothes in stores, so taking a year off from buying them isn't going to prevent me from ever looking stylish again. Plus, this is a chance for me to really take stock of what I already own, decide what's "me," what's old and tired, and start making better use of the items I've already poured my hard-earned cash into.

(image)

And that gives me some more spending money for the things that really do make my heart happy -- like buying all organic produce to keep my little family of three healthy, supporting independent bookstores and new authors, donating to causes that matter to me, and planning trips to visit people and places that will last a lot longer in my bank of memories than something on a hanger in my closet.

Does this mean I have to change the tag line for my blog? Or shut down my Pinterest board? For now, I'm saying no -- I still adore fashion, and I'm not going to pretend that I'll never care about clothes again, because this is just part of who I am. But my commitment to being a great mom to L means realizing that I need to be a lot more conscious of my decision-making on the big stuff and the small stuff, too.

p.s. Have any of you read this? Or heard about this? I don't think I can go that far -- but a girl can dream...

the best date ever.

Happy day of chocolates and flowers and sappy songs, everybody!

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Remember that How I Met Your Mother episode where Barney plans the "super date" for J. Lo? Since I'll be spending my Valentine's Day evening at home with some Netflix, if I'm lucky, I've been fantasizing about my own super date from a million years ago!

My junior year of college, The (Future) Professor was studying in London and I found a super-cheap flight so I could spend a long weekend with him, which just happened to arrive on February 14th. I flew to Heathrow around 10 in the morning and desperately wanted to go right to sleep. Instead, we spent the day fighting my jetlag by doing a whirlwind tour of London -- eating street-vendor jacket potatoes on the steps of the National Gallery

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watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace

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having a charming dinner at a cute little French restaurant near the study center where he lived

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seeing the skyline from the London Eye

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and taking in a London Sinfonietta concert at the Royal Festival Hall.

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I may or may not have fallen sound asleep during the concert, but it was the most romantic Valentine's Day ever -- holding hands with the amazing guy I hadn't seen in almost two months while walking all around the city I had always dreamed of visiting. And for a 21-year-old college kid to have come up with such a perfect date-day itinerary -- especially such an absent-minded professor kind of a guy! -- made my heart sing. I've been to London again since that trip ten years ago this week, and I can't wait to go back someday, but it will never be as magical as when I spent that delirious, sleep-deprived first day there with the man I ended up marrying.

How about you -- what's the best date you've ever been on? I'd love to hear details!

this week's adventures in motherhood: saying no.

Do you say "no" to your child?

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L has been crawling for almost a month now, and she's getting really agile -- not that we can't catch her easily, but she makes a break for it pretty often (usually in search of computer cords, the bathroom, or our shoes). The baby development books I've read all seem to say that babies can start to understand the word "no" right about now -- but should I use it?

We have a family friend who insisted that "no" was a forbidden word in her house -- or anyone's house where her children happened to be. "It will break their spirit," she claimed. Instead, we were all required to redirect them towards more appropriate behavior. I know someone else who felt that redirecting wasn't even necessary (except perhaps in the direst of circumstances) -- children "need to learn for themselves" when it comes to things that are hot, sharp, or otherwise dangerous.

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On the other side of things, in Secrets of the Baby Whisperer, Tracy Hogg pooh poohs parents who take all breakables and valuables off shelves and put them away for years until their babies are old enough not to grab and destroy (meaning...10? 25?), saying instead that you should simply teach your baby what "no" means early on and they will learn what's off limits and what isn't. Parents are in charge, she intones -- you need to establish that lesson as early as possible.

I guess I'm finding myself falling into the "trust but verify"-equivalent parenting camp. Just because a baby knows "no" doesn't mean she abides by it. Plus, do you really want to risk it? I'm all for letting L explore to her little heart's content -- I follow her around the house as she snoops into corners, picks up rugs to find out what's underneath, strains to reach things on the coffeetable, and reaches under the bed to grab at dustbunnies storage bags and boxes. Is it all "baby appropriate"? Probably not -- but I figure that, since I'm right there, I'll be able to steer her away from anything truly dangerous if necessary while allowing her the chance to exercise her newfound freedom. But never saying "no"? It seems like a word that you want your kid to come to understand, especially if you need to get their attention in a rapid, dramatic way. I get the problems with overuse, but underuse seems just as damaging, doesn't it?

What are your thoughts on saying "no" to your child -- and where do you draw the line?