Why does J Crew want me to look like a ghost?

Have you seen the newest J Crew catalog? It's called the Very Merry gift guide. It has some very merry items, indeed. Such as the Timex watch with the white face and interchangeable colored bands? I prefer it in pink or dark gray, just in case anyone is wondering. Santa.

Too bad the sad models don't look very merry.

Take this girl, for instance. She has a darling little coat on. And she's coming down with the flu.

They all look like this. Asian, caucasian, Latino, they are all blanched out with chalky red lips. It's not a good look.

I think their makeup artist needs to stop watching Edward Scissorhands and start pulling out the blush brush.

- H

There is a slight possibility of high hormone levels

My kids love Johnny Cash. What can I say? They have good taste.

One day, while we were out gallivanting around (probably heading to or from Target), Cooper put in a song request.

"Mom, can you play the Firing song?"
"The what? What Firing song?"
"You know. The song with the fire ring!"
"The fire ring? Wha? Ohhhh, Ring of Fire? You want to hear Ring of Fire?"
"Yeah! Ring of Fire! Play Ring of Fire!"

So it began, their love affair with the Man in Black and his short but sweet songs about people whose lives go to hell in a handbasket, fast.

This morning both of my kids woke up ill. Griffin's eyes were glued shut and green goop was oozing out of his nose. Cooper's ears hurt and he had this persistent cough for the last few weeks. So we made the executive decision to leave Griffin home with dad and for me to take Cooper to the pediatrician.

On the way there, I got a request for the Fire Ring song again. Really, it's the perfect song for toddlers, what with it's talk about love being a burning flame and all. Kinda makes those kids from Kings of Leon look like idiots for trying to re-write a classic and say it was about venereal disease to throw everyone off. Oh, except the part where those clean-cut kids from the south didn't actually write any of their own music, they have this producer who 'found' them, much like the Jonas Brothers were 'found' and there are other questionable parts to their story, but I digress.

It's short, and right after that song is a real pick-me-upper song called The Ballad of Ira Hayes. About a Pima Indian who lost his farmland and then went to war as a Marine, surviving Iwo Jima to plant the American Flag on Japanese soil. Or something like that, I wasn't a history major.

So maybe, just maybe I am a little bit hormonal right now. Or maybe all the crackadoo BS of the last week (another boss fired abruptly on Tuesday) has gotten to me. Because we're motoring down the road, enjoying the tunes and the time together and I'm boo-hooing in the front seat over the poor guy, Ira Hayes.

There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill,
Two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again

And when the fight was over
And when Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it high
Was the Indian, Ira Hayes

Ira returned a hero
Celebrated through the land
He was wined and speeched and honored; Everybody shook his hand

But he was just a Pima Indian
No water, no crops, no chance
At home nobody cared what Ira'd done
And when did the Indians dance

I mean, have you ever heard anything more sad? Poor Ira. What's even sadder is how he became an alcoholic and Johnny Cash wrote a song about him and calls him drunken Ira Hayes all the time.

Hang on, I will stop weeping soon.

Usually when life starts weighing heavy and my shoulders hurt from carrying it around, I tell myself this too shall pass. This is especially helpful when my kids are being jerks or my husband is, or I am, or life is. Then today, Chris wrote this on Notes from the Trenches: This too shall pass. I say that a lot. It is supposed to be a comfort. A reassurance that things will not always be the way they are right now. But along with the challenging stuff, so passes the good.

And oh my God, she's right. The bad stuff almost always moves on, but these times when my kids are little and want to listen to Johnny Cash in the car with me, they'll move on too. There will come a day when they're sick and away at college and I can't keep them home from school with me, I can't give them Tylenol and rub their backs, and even if I could they wouldn't want me to.

I know, I promised the weeping would stop. I'm sure it will. Like all things, it'll pass.

- H

Fail

I can't keep up with NaBloMoPo or whatever it's called. Every day?! Are you kidding me? I only have one or two good thoughts a week, let alone a day.

I wish I was prolific enough to be able to wax poetic every day about all sorts of things. But most days the only thing I can think about it my latest tension headache (I never knew I could get a headache in my neck) and the cool new underwear I bought.

By the by, in case you are like me and have trouble finding underwear that doesn't ride up or show VPL, check out the offerings at Soma. It's the lingerie/loungewear counterpart to Chico's. I know, I'm a tad young for their demographic (Chico's, not Soma) but anyone who offers underwear with little rubber strips to keep them down where you want them and not halfway up my butt is a winner with me. They have a beautiful name...Vanishing Edge. Like they belong on the cover of a Harlequin romance.

Don't even try to convince me to wear thongs. I've had one too many graphic conversations with an OB-gyn during an unguarded moment in the O.R. lounge to ever go back to wearing thongs again. I could elaborate, but you might be grossed out. I will leave you with two words, and hope you can understand.

Dental floss.

There, I said it. So back to my new underwear, the ones that fully cover my bum and have rubber strips keeping them from riding up? I love them. Love love love. Worth every penny when you have a bad butt like mine that doesn't like to keep panties down. And you can't see the lines! Even in leggings and tights.

So. How great was that? See, I need to go back to posting every so often when I've got something really good to say. Like how I need green cowboy boots to go along with my pink ones, Santa. You hear that? Huh?

I wear a size 10.

- H

toes

Hubs and I had our first parent-teacher conference this evening for Cooper. His teacher, Miss Jenni, assured us he was right on track for his age. Except of course that he can't identify most letters or any numbers except for the lettes in his name. Umm, I will take responsibility for that. I am not one of those moms who is constantly pointing out the alphabet.

Or numbers.

Not that it's held him back any. He still writes plenty, despite the strings of letters not literally spelling anything. Ok, ok, I have my work cut out for me. Sign me up.

While we were sitting in the hallway across from the Star Room, waiting for Miss Jenni, we giggled at these two posters. A different classroom had made them. Aiden has the beginnings of a career in footwear ahead of him.

Poor Josh. Called out for being different. I like Ella's answer. Sister, you have no idea.
- H

I made a wadder

Eh. It's inevitable, really, that two out of three things I make will be a total fail. I started in on a long-sleeved knit version of the Hot Mess Mommy freestyle tunic dress from Prudent Baby.

Let's just say that Heather should probably stick with patterns and not try to design anything herself, kay?

It was hideous. All too long in the torso, not tight enough in the banding part, fabric too lightweight, et cetera. I had this piece of loverly dreamy dark blue and charcoal mini-stripe knit that I wanted to use on one of my Cover The Butt tops, so I chose that. While I was hassling with the fit and sweating out how to fix it, I held the top up at some point and GASP! There were these teeny tiny holes in the fabric, probably two or three on the front and a few on the back. Just enough to grow enormous after washing a few times. I bought it on the clearance table at Hancock's, of course. I like paying only $1.95 a yard for knits, but this is what you get for doing that.

So, in the garbage it went and out came the next project. I will soldier on. I'm trying to learn when to let go. And make that point a lot sooner than it used to be.

- H

Staggering information learned at hair salon

I got my hair cut yesterday, and learned of a very sneaky but ingenious plot to make us non-hair-salon-owners really dig the hair salon.

While under the shampoo wand, my hair stylist and musician extraordinaire, Steve, let me in on a little secret.

They have special water.

Seriously. They have a separate purifier and some sort of after-purater aerator or something that makes the water super duper different than the water at your house thus making it nearly impossible for you to replicate the results of your salon visit once you leave the premises!

Gasp!

Can you believe that? The lengths some people will go to to dupe the public.

It's just like the Kardashians with all of their mascara. As if they're taunting me, just daring me to pick up a wand and try to get my eyes to look like theirs. Knowing full well that it's a trick, and not only would I look a fool, but it would be impossible to replicate without an airbrush sprayer, a Sharpie marker and some shellac.

- H

I need to teach my minions to do laundry

I am seriously irritated with the fact that I am the sole do-er of the laundry in this house. I am also currently the sole adult working outside of the home, and the sole person travelling for said work. If it weren't for me, entire children would be lost in the heaps of dirty laundry. Other children would resort to wearing Halloween costumes from years gone past to school in the morning.

And do one of these ungrateful males step up to help out with the piles?! NO. I wish I had the backbone to go on strike. That would totally rock, other than me not having any clean underwear but then of course I could go buy more so that would be ok.

Oh but hey, on another note I made a shirt tonight! I know, I know, I have a lot of laundry to do but instead I spent an hour with my serger (blasted thing of dangerous cutting knife that it is) and whipped up a knock-off to a Splendid top I bought this year that just doesn't fit me right.

The prototype didn't turn out so great. It was super tight in the belly area - MINUS - and the cowl neck thingy kind of stuck out from me, causing a big gaping hole-type thing in the front which is also just not a good look for me. But! I had a good idea for a second prototype by working on that one, so I'll scrap it and try again tomorrow night.

For now, there's laundry to fold.

- H

Shackers! Posting every day is hard.

Oops, so sorry that I fell down on my promise of daily posting a la NaBloMoPo or whatever the hell it's called. Yesterday, I simply did not write anything. Which is hard to believe, considering I thought of a lot of things.

Now on to today's frivolity. Such drama! I wore my favorite pink cowboy boots! I bought fabric!

That's right, you heard that right. I'm so irritated with the clothes that are available in stores right now that I've taken it upon myself to break my I'm-not-going-to-sew-anymore-for-myself-dammit pledge and I'm going to sew for myself again. You know why?

My butt does not need to see the light of day.

It's that simple. I want to wear leggings so I can wear my cute pink cowboy boots. But I can't find shirts that just COVER MY BUTT. Is that so much to ask? A cute shirt with cute details in a knit or otherwise fabric that is forgiving and also such that extends past my glorious glutes so that nobody has to actually look at them?

So. I'm taking it upon myself to make some. I stopped by Hancock's on my way to pick up the kids this afternoon, and whoa nelly. Their bargain fabrics in the back? The ones that have been discontinued? They are totally way better than the crap they sell up front. I bought way too much but at $1.95 it was almost like a travesty not to buy it, you know? Because I'll regret it when I want it and then it's gone.

Oh, and by the way patterns are on sale, too, so of course I bought six or nine of them. I couldn't help it!

Anyway, I've made a pledge to finish at least a few of these projects by Thanksgiving. I'm taking a week off work that week and with little else to fill my time like kids or work or a house to take care of, I should totally be able to sew eight or nine hours a day.

I can hardly wait for tomorrow's excitement.

- H

The longest day ever

When I was younger, without children, I used to love Fall Back. For those heathens in Indiana who are reading, that's when we in time zones who can't seem to leave well enough alone participate in daylight savings time and we change our clocks. Last night we rolled them back an hour, so instead of waking up at 7 in the morning, surprise! You wake up at 6.

When you're young and unencumbered, you just sleep more. It's lovely. When you're not? It totally sucks. My kid wanted to get up at 6:30, the sun was up and being obnoxious in the windows, all around it was tough. Although the upside was no line in the drive through at Dunkin Donuts, so that's cool.

Now it's only 4:30 and it feels like it must be bedtime already, right? Why won't these little people just fall asleep already! I've given up, and I'm hiding inside on the couch while they play outside. Now if I could only find a bottle of chilled wine, this would be an awesome moment.

- H

I made a cream sauce

I made my first white sauce tonight for dinner.

I'm not a great cook, I have to admit it. It's not that I have no skill, it's just that I have very little interest in it. Usually once a week I'll get a bug up my butt to cook my family a nice nutritious meal.

Then the part about it being nutritious kind of goes by the wayside and tonight I made a white sauce for our cheese tortellini. Homemade. Can you believe that?

So here's my recipe, and it was delicious if I do say so myself.

I took one of those small cartons of heavy whipping cream and a few tablespoons of butter and heated it on med-low (gas range) until it was just kind of warm. Then I took a few tablespoons of the cream out of the pot, mixed it with two teaspoons of corn starch, and added it back to the pot.

Added a lot of pepper, a little salt, and about three or four cloves of garlic, minced. Then I just let it simmer and thicken and simmer and thicken and by the time the rest of the food was ready the sauce was perfect.

I usually buy fresh pasta, ever since the time I bought fresh pasta and realized HOLY SHIT IT IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN DRIED PASTA. This time I bought the fresh pasta cheese tortellinis and they are awesome. Sooooo tasty. Tasty is a funny word.

I breaded some chicken and after cooking it in olive oil, I wrap it in tinfoil and bake it for 20 or 30 minutes.

Oh, and there was broccoli served, too, although my hubs and I were the only two who ate it.

The kids loved the tortellinis. And I ate so much I may take up jogging tomorrow.

- H

Aging has aged me

I met my husband for lunch today, kind of a pep talk lunch if you will, and caught my reflection in the reflection of the window. Holy crap I've aged. I should wear make-up every day.

I had a little flashback. I was in college, finishing my degree with one class over the summer. So I was at least a year or two older than I should have been and older than everyone else in the class. Maybe I was 22? Anyhoodle, I remember sitting in shorts in class one day (back in those days shorts were pretty short), and noticed that my legs had lost tone and gained cellulite and I actually had the nerve to think to myself "I'm falling apart and I'm not even 24 years old yet!" What a total shit I was.

Now I look at my reflection in the mirror and wonder if there's a surgery for that. Not that I'd do anything drastic like plastic surgery. Well, maybe. I'd really like a tummy tuck. The real problem there is I don't want to spend the money on a tummy tuck when I also need bunion surgery and then who's going to lift my kids for six weeks? They still like to be carried.

I stopped by Crewcuts this morning to return a sweater for Cooper, and I had an ah-hah moment. My uptight son who has an opinion on everything and usually is crying because he isn't getting his way? He could care less what he wears. I could dress him in polka dots and pink flowers and he wouldn't notice or care. But my little guy, the easy going child who is always happy and when he isn't he's just pretending not to be, he has an opinion about what he wears. For him, I have to either distract him while we're dressing or make sure he's wearing something with a race car on it or he won't wear it. He will literally remove clothing that doesn't meet with his satisfaction if he's paying attention.

Oh, well. By the way, Bismarck now has four gates at the airport. That's called progress.

- H