Friday Shoe Haiku

The Shoe 'Ku is back!
You know the drill....
These are Uggs "Rime" skimmer flats. Bought 'em a few months ago. Have not worn even one time. C'mon cooler weather! C'mon!


Sassy, woolly black flats.
Like rubbing my toes on sheep.
Cuddly comfort. Ahhhhh.

Jewelry, Part 2

I'm feeling nice today, so I'm going to let you in on a little secret. OK, ready? I'm going to tell you how to get the chicest, cheapest, custom earrings ever.

Go to Krisybird's Etsy.com shop. She makes these Swarovski crystal stud earrings that are to die for. Just $3.50, you can get pretty much any color. At that price, you can afford to buy every color.

I have a brilliant blue and a pale opal blue (plus a black diamond and pale red on the way). Whenever I wear them, people comment on them. The crystals sparkle like a TV soap opera star's teeth and are big enough to be noticed but not so big they're overpowering.

Buy a pair. You will love them.

Jewelry, Part 1

When it comes to jewelry, the blingier, the better.

This has been The Year of the Rhinestone, based on my jewelry-buying over the past few months. Which makes me wonder, how many fake crystal bracelets and necklaces should one person have?

So, this low-key tan with gunmetal studs bracelet is most unlike me. An understated neutral? I don't go for them. But this bracelet just seemed right.

When my search for something studded started, I thought I'd go for the Linea Pelle purple leather studded bracelet. But when I was scrolling through Swayandcake.com, this little number stood out. Tan AND gunmetal, so it would go with browns and blacks. AND it would look smashing with these unbelievably cheap chain bracelets purchased on super-sale from Urban Outfitters. They play together nicely, don't you think?

The bracelet's edgy but still feminine, thanks to the thin leather strap. The tan is a really flattering mocha shade.

It's a great wear-everyday piece.

Coming tomorrow: cheap, gorgeous earrings.

Bad Jeans

My jeans are making me fat.

Well, maybe I can't blame it all on them. But, at the very least, they're lulling me into a terrible sense of complacency. You see, I've been living in boyfriend jeans (not this exact Current/Elliott pair, but I own four pairs of a similar slouchy style. Yup, I'm a hoarder.)

Anyway, I pull them on and they immediately slide down. Hmmm, I'll think, perhaps those two cupcakes yesterday didn't do as much damage as I thought. As the day goes on, the drawers get droopier. Huh, maybe I should have a full-fat caramel macchiato, I'll think to myself.

To make matters worse, I've found an end-run around the horror of skinny jeans — an elastic waist. This pair from Forever XXI (a mere $20) is unbelievable. First of all, not only does the stretchy waist, although maternity clothing-like, make wearing such a style infinitely more comfortable, but the stretchy denim is strong enough to cinch in bulges and lumps. AND, I bought a size 26! I am so not a 26. But pair vanity sizing with easy-to-wear jeans and I'm your customer for life. One day, I will use my walker to toddle into Forever XXI. That will be the day that they change the sign — You're Not Really 21. Stop Kidding Yourself.

Until that time, I've got some darn good options for Thanksgiving pants.

Tales From the Bad Parenting Files

And this time, I'm not the bad parent! I'm the victim. Well, one of them, anyway.

OK, so I promise to get back to frivolous fashion tomorrow, but this is a story that begs to be told. Needs to be heard. For those of us out there who doubt our parenting abilities on a daily basis, who regret things we may have shouted in grumpy, crazed fits or just need some validation that we really, truly aren't doing that bad of a job....This one's for you -- proof that there are already clear winners for Lame Parents of the Year.

So, today Youngest Child celebrated his upcoming Fifth Birthday (yikes!) with his three best buds at a golf/amusement park. Now one of the invitees is a perfectly nice kid but has parents I really just don't care for. They're pleasant, but complete flibbertygibbits. Once, they sent their kids to school with a bag of pistachios -- for breakfast. That's bad.

Yeah, it's a nut-free daycare. Worse.

Still, I want my little boy to be happy, so this kid got an invite. As usual, didn't hear from them, didn't hear from them. Youngest Child had really worked himself into a lather, worried his friend couldn't come. Finally I needed to call on another matter and I got my RSVP.

Today, husband is getting ready to head to the birthday spot (I'm already there, setting up), and the phone rings. Mrs. Flibbertygibbet can't believe how the time got away from her and her husband took the car, could Joe please come get her son?

Kinda rude, but Joe is nice. He did it.

The boys all arrive, and Son of Flibbertygibbet isn't looking so good.

"Are you tired?" I ask.

He nods. Says he stayed up late.

He pokes at his pizza and just seems out of it. I mention this to my husband. "Yeah, he's kinda sick. His mom said he has explosive diarrhea, and she gave me this bag full of stuff in case we need to clean him up."

As the hip kids would say, OMG.

Poor kid continues to look miserable, he's moving funny. I ask if he needs to go the bathroom. No, no, he insists. Joe kneels down and talks to him, tells him he knows he's not feeling well and it's OK if we need to go get him a new Pull-Up. Kid just says he wants to go home.

Joe does. It's an hour round-trip. He misses critical parts of the party, i.e., the ones in which I want to pull my hair out because I'm chasing after three 5-year-old boys, an overly-excitable 7-year-old and one 9-year-old drama queen who can barely hold it together after her go-cart craps out in the middle of the track.

After we get back home, I pump Joe for details. Were they apologetic? Act chagrined?

Nope and nope.

I'm just stunned. I want my kids to be happy, too, and no kid ever wants to miss a party. Still, you're a parent first and foremost. Your child's health and welfare come first. Aside from that, to be willing to palm off a diahrreal-kid and send him along with a package of diapers, just in case, like we're hired help (Oh, and I should mention that these people have also asked the lovely, accommodating daycare folks to meet them in the parking lot with their kids because they're in a hurry)....

Well, the karma in the story is that Son of the Flibbertygibbet went home packin' a load. Poo-etic justice? I think so.

Bad to the Binge

I'm not bad; I just shop that way.

It's not even noon and already I've been on a jewelry bender at Nordstrom.com and I may need this B. Makowsky leather purse from Endless.com.

Think of it as retail retaliation.

And what am I retaliating against? Oh, let me see... feeling unloved, unappreciated, unimportant and incredibly tired after a late night in which husband and at least one oversized puppy snored; cricket — strategically placed somewhere behind my head — chirped ALL NIGHT; Middle Child kept screaming about eyeballs in her sleep.

Aye.

AND husband was mad/worried because he forgot I was two cities and two hours away last night for an event, hence my 11:30 p.m. arrival, hours past my bedtime. This a.m., I had to follow sweet, but oh-so-challenging Middle Child around the house, barking orders like a drill sergeant. Same thing I do every day, all day. Then Youngest Child complained about the lunch I lovingly packed for him.

Once again, I'm persona mom grata.

Oh, and I lost the back of the automatic door lock for my keys, so I act like I'm living in the 20th century, unlocking doors by hand. Ugh.

See? I needed some shopping.

Keeping Cold Cooties At Bay

My husband is sick.

This means a few things: 1, he's a pill to be around and 2, it's only a matter of time before I get it. Bad.

AND the other night, he rolled over and EXHALED right into my face. My cold clock is now ticking.

It's bad when the daddy is sick, don't get me wrong, but it's positively catastrophic when the mommy gets sick because I'm the one who feeds and runs the household and most importantly, chauffeurs everyone everywhere. Not only would I still have to do this if I'm sick but I'd be a complete bitch at the same time. So when I felt that familiar tickle in my throat last night, I broke out with the Airborne.

Everyone has a cold remedy to rely on. Old-fashioned types swear by chicken soup. My husband downs the Cold-Eeze like no one's business. Me, I go for the Airborne. It really, truly does seem to lessen the severity and length of the average cold. Problem is, the stuff is nasty. I tried "zesty orange" and "pink grapefruit." Blech. Then, I bought Target's generic version because it was even cheaper. It tastes worse — like Tang that spoiled on the moon light years ago. So today at Target, I ponied up for the actual Airborne and was intrigued to see there's now a Very Berry flavor.

It's probably the best cold medicine I've ever tasted. Really. Makes me think back to my childhood days when I thought that the thick, pink antibiotic I'd been given for an ear infection was as delicious as candy. This flavor Airborne tastes kind of like Kool-Aid, and while I'd never make it my first choice for dessert, it will definitely make the battle against this cold much more pleasant.

Wish me luck.