Mackey, Always Mackey...Unless It's Calvin

Sigh. Picture if you will all the kindergarteners running excitedly to see their moms after a long day at school. Not Mackey. Not today. He has the dejected look of a boy who got in trouble at school. Which makes me sad. So I hug him and reassure him that things can't be that bad while we wait to talk with his teacher (yeah, this is really me talking about one of my kids...spooky, isn't it?). In the course of waiting, it becomes evident that Mackey accidentally (that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it) used an inappropriate word in class. (How red am I?) Mid-choke, Mrs. Cole is ready for me.

So as not to embarrass the poor fella (which is code for 'not embarrassing me'), we walk off to speak in private. It goes a little something like this:

Mrs. C: "Did he tell you what happened?"

Me: "Uh...yeah. He did. And, frankly, I'm a little surprised. We don't use that phrase. I mean, well, maybe the word, you know, in, like, a Biblical sense."

Mrs. C: "I can see that. This wasn't Biblical. But I don't think he knew what he was saying when he said (wait for it...wait for it...) 'What the hell?' to a friend."

Let me tell, that is NOT a proud parenting moment. I know, I know. A lot of you were nominating me for MOTY anyway, but this might be a deal-breaker. And you know what's so lame? I don't even say that. Ever. But I have my suspects as to who does.

Please note that this is coming off the tails of a 'shirtless' fiasco at the end of primary yesterday. Sweet. He storms the primary room where I'm finishing up with JUST HIS SWEATER VEST ON holding his button-down in his hands. After putting my eyeballs back in my head, I tell him to go put his shirt back on RIGHT NOW. To which he responds, "...but mom, I was hot." Smiles (very proud of himself) and walks off.

That kid.

Charlie Brown's Mardi Gras

I was a bit under the gun for deadline this time...for no other reason than procrastination. So, this is the stuff of very little sleep and about 2 and a half hours punctuated with 'mom, can I...?' or 'mom, Lucy did...' or 'honey, does...?'

This week, we need not rely on my style musings. Alas, there have been inquiries about accessories. Most notably, these: “How about accessories? What is going overboard and looking like Mardi Gras?” and “I'm unsure about how much to wear, matching vs. coordinating, and being afraid I look like Charlie Brown's Christmas tree.”
Well inquired, ladies. First, let’s define accessories: jewelry, hair adornments, belts, purses, small dogs, etc. In the interest of space, let’s chat jewelry. Thanks to home jewelry parties and rap videos, people over-accessorize. Please don’t. There’s a better way. One need only consider two things about jewelry: placement and scale.
Think of jewelry as belonging in three distinct places: ears, neck, and wrists. Not ankles. Not toes. And certainly not belly buttons (no matter how great your abs are). As in rock, paper, scissors over stinky diapers, I usually apply the ‘two out of three rule’ for jewelry. (Though, pierced ears should always wear earrings.) Go for all three if the pieces are understated. And then we have fingers. Like children on a playground, rings should take turns and not go on all at once.
Jewelry should compliment an outfit not steal the show. Too many big pieces don’t make a statement – they make a billboard. Especially with earrings and necklaces in such close proximity. And big pieces will age you. Something my wrinkles are doing a great job of without any help. Remember that opposites attract: large in one place will be complimented by small in another. Big earrings, simple necklace. Chunky necklace, delicate earrings.
Generally speaking, my jewelry is simple. I have trays of fun jewelry – a la Target and even Sam Moon – but I don’t wear it often. Tops on my list of “must have” basics are: little hoops, humongo hoops, and biggish, round diamond (-ish) stud earrings. For the neck: a short gold or silver seed chain with modest-sized pendant – no dollar signs or clocks, please – but I love the Sundance catalog and local artisan, DromDesigns for necklaces. Clinking on the wrist: a few bangles or stretchy bracelets. Fingers: out here in the ‘burbs, likely a wedding ring and possibly a simple band for the right hand.
So, avoid looking like Charlie Brown’s Christmas Tree at Mardi Gras, and wear this, not that.

Wear This, Not That Inaugural Post

So...I did it! I posted a style article on our local paper's website. Which, if you could see what I'm wearing right now, is pretty ironic. The editor seems to like it and will submit for hard copy. The link is high-lighted if you want to get the whole local paper experience, but I also pasted the content. See below. Now, if I can just figure out how to get PAID for shooting my mouth off...

Wear These Jeans, Not Those Jeans
The inaugural post. No pressure, right? But at the end of the day, all of us bloggers are exhibitionists and/or voyeurs. I’ll post mine if you post yours. So, here I post…
Well, since I’ve had sick kids, I haven’t been able to go out to take pictures of what not to wear and practice using little black bars to protect privacy. Ok. No. I PROBABLY wouldn’t really do that. Though I’ve had a good laugh thinking about it. But do we really want to find out? Nod, nod, wink, wink… Because I have indeed been buried up to my eyeballs in Kleenex, Advil, and cough medicine with Hydrocodone in it (don’t be jealous), I’m gonna take on a light-weight style subject: jeans.
Although finding the perfect pair can SEEM as allusive as finding the perfect swimsuit – one exists, the other does not – it’s really kind of simple. Not easy, but simple. For the sake of argument, let’s break down jeans into five basic categories: bootleg, flare, trouser, skinny, and please don’t. With those styles come ‘rises’…which refers to how high up on your belly the waistline hits. I’m a mom; I no longer refer to my midsection as ‘abs’ or ‘stomach’…just belly. ANYWAY…I digress. Which I do. There’s 3 essential rises in my oh-so-humble opinion: varying shades of ‘low’ rise (beware the backside and dunlap), ‘mid’ rise (most flattering), and ‘please don’t’ (high-waisted) which is trying to be trendy right now. Ew.
So! If you don’t have a passion for fashion and don’t feel like reading the rest of this, do one thing: buy bootleg jeans. They’re the best thing to happen for the female form since the bra. Anybody can wear them, and everyone should own a pair. Puh-lease, please get a mid rise. They can be fitted or relaxed from hip to knee with a gradually wider shape from knee to hem. They balance out hips as well as add shape to the less shapely. Like I said…a denim miracle. The flare is the trendier BFF to the bootleg. Imagine a bootleg with…wait for it…wait for it…more flare. Not for the overly curvaceous…too much flare can make you look like a reflection in a circus mirror.
For those of you still reading… The trouser leg, maneuvering well from casual (with flip flops) to a little more dressy with the right accruements, is also very flattering. The front pockets are slanted and the leg is easy and slightly wide. Avoid going too wide if you aren’t very tall or if you aren’t built like Heidi Klum.
The skinny leg. It is as it says: it’s fitted and skinny. And, don’t hate me for saying it, they’re also for people reflecting their namesake. Nuff said. You know who you are.
Lastly, the ‘please don’t’ aka ‘mom jeans’. Perhaps I should have led with this. Put simply…these are the jeans that are too high in the rise – I prefer 2-3 fingers below my navel, and frankly speaking, your navel, too – and create a kangaroo pouch no matter how much you weigh. They do this other thing: taper. The only things that should taper are song lyrics and candles. I can’t differentiate between sausage links and tapered jeans. Even my mom, style icon at the ripe ol’ age of she won’t let me tell you, has a pair of old tapered jeans that she wears in the garden. She, weighing all of ‘not much’ even soaking wet, puts on 10 lbs when she busts out those relics.
So, if you’ve got a pair of sausage pants, burn them (Mom, are you reading?). And, hey, it’s better that you know.