A Serious Post for Serious Times . . .

OK, so mostly this blog is just for me to rattle on about frivolous things like smocking and shopping. But, the economic events of this week have dimmed my shopping mood a bit (don't worry, it didn't stop me from picking up these wickedly cute little numbers for Miss Priss and Master P from Mini Boden, or a black cashmere sweater for myself).

For Miss Priss:
For Master P (who has an inexplicable penguin obsession):

So, all shopping aside, in the spirit of the seriousness of this week, here are some serious thoughts from me (somewhat unrelated to the US financial crisis, but not entirely):

I am a part-time working mother - I'm an attorney for a university. I love my job, and the people I work with. I love the financial freedom it gives me to buy fun handbags and spend more than I should on my children's clothes. That said, I worry that I am becoming the mother that is so busy managing the big picture that I am missing out on the little things. Case in point: Each week, Master P has to take three pictures from magazines, newspapers, etc., to pre-kindergarten that begin with the Letter of the Week. It's supposed to be an opportunity to sit down with your child, go through periodicals, etc., and find the items. You know what I've done the past two weeks? Just sat down myself on Monday night, pulled out the pictures, and handed them to Master P. Isn't that awful? It makes me cringe. I was just too worn out and too swamped to take the time to work with him. I know as he gets older, it will only get more challenging, and I don't want to be a "hands-off" parent, or one that simply does my children's work for them. The delicate balancing act that I have perfected over the past five years is starting to come crashing down, and I'm going to have to do something about it soon. It seems like Miss Priss and Master P are watching more and more dvds these days, and spending less time with Mommy, because Mommy is too busy just trying to keep our household running. I shouldn't complain, because DH is great about pitching in, and we have a wonderful lady who comes and cleans our house. It's just the management of our lives that seems to be taking more time as the children get older. I suppose that I shouldn't be blogging if I'm already short on free time, but oh, well!

I know I'm not alone in this, because I've had a few other moms in the same position make the same comment to me lately. Short of getting up at 4:30 am every day (which would bring its own set of issues - eek), I'm not sure how to confront this issue, but I've got to come up with something . . .

It's the Mooooost Wonderful Tiiiiiime of the Yeeeaaar . . .

Being the good Southern girl that I am, I like to buy a lot of Miss Priss and Master P's clothes from trunk shows (well, not so much Master P anymore - He's getting a little old for appliqued elephants). The bad part of buying from trunk shows is that I have to order everything in February (for the spring/summer) and July (for the fall/winter). It's also bad because the credit card bills for those months are usually on the scary side, and I often (sometimes justifiably) get the evil eye from DH. The GOOD part of ordering from trunk shows (aside from the precious clothes) happens about now, because all those clothes I selected and paid for several months ago start showing up on my doorstep. Hooray!!! For example, yesterday, this cute little number arrived from Just Ducky (I did Miss Priss's full monogram on my order):

A few weeks ago, this Wizard of Oz bishop arrived from another one of my favorites, Orient Expressed:
It has a darling little sweater to match, and I actually found "ruby slippers" at Target to complete the look (I don't usually go for sparkly shoes for non-costume wear, but I figured I'd make an exception for the Wizard of Oz bishop).

I also got this darling Ladybug pants set - love the polka dot pants:

And this pumpkin bishop for the pumpkin patch trip and Thanksgiving:

From another favorite company, Kelly's Kids, I picked up one of these name shirts and the polka dot pants:

Of course, the best deliveries are yet to come - My custom orders (these are the BEST trunk shows - you pick the style of outfit, you pick the fabric, you pick the applique/smocking, etc.)! My favorites are Beaux et Belles and Hannah Kate, but there are others I like, too. I'm trying out Three Mommas for the first time this season - We've got the little apple outfit coming (I liked the sample so much that I didn't change a thing!):

So fun! I wish I had Miss Priss's closet.

Darling Edward

If you haven't read the Twilight books by Stephenie Meyer, you are missing out. They are the perfect escapist books . . . kind of a mix of Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Pride and Prejudice . . . three of my favorite things, by the way (I know, an odd mix).

Yes, yes, these books started out being marketed as teenage fiction, but boy, have they moved beyond that demographic. After the last Harry Potter book came out last year, I never thought I would experience that feeling of breathless excitement for the next book in a saga again, but the Twilight series brought that back for me. I took the first book in the series to the beach with me this summer, and finished it in a day. I seriously contemplated driving around NC's southern Outer Banks in search of a Target so that I could find the next book. Instead, I ended up re-reading the first one three times that week. I finished the final three books within the next week, leading DH to comment that "ever since you started reading those books, you don't talk to me anymore. You just read." Oops. Sorry about that, sweetie.

Little did DH know that I was having a literary fling with one of the two main characters of the books. Sigh. Darling Edward. Edward Cullen is (DON'T LAUGH) a 100+ year-old vampire who falls head over heels in love with a human high school girl, Bella (and she with him). How could she not? He has the manners of Mr. Darcy combined with the face of an angel and the always intriguing danger element (since Bella is, on a basic level, lunch). Their love story is just my style - Necessarily chaste (the standard issue romance novels just make me blush) but completely fiery under the surface.

So you think you are immune to the siren song of Edward Cullen? Let's just say that after following my recommendation to get Twilight, a friend of mine ended up reading it at stoplights and stalking the delivery of volumes 3 and 4 on the online UPS site. She has sterling taste in everything, so clearly it's a worthwhile read . . .

The Change

My mom is coming to visit this weekend, and I am going to take advantage of her presence to accomplish one of my least favorite tasks of each season: The Great Closet Change. Basically, this involves me going to Target and buying four giant rubbermaid bins, and then spending several hours wading through Miss Priss and Master P's closets, pulling out the out of season items, and arranging the new season's clothes. For many people, this is probably an easy thing to accomplish. At our house, it is an all-day affair (or at least, it feels that way). DH would (and will) no doubt comment that this headache could be alleviated by purchasing fewer clothes. Silly boy! Miss Priss and Master P have a reputation to uphold! So, for the love of all things smocked and monogrammed, I continue to face this painful task twice a year.

It gets more complicated as they get older, because I cannot simply put everything away. For one thing, the clothes have gotten too big to keep them all (it's not like those tiny newborn bubbles). In addition, some of them might actually fit next year, so I don't want them hidden down in the basement storage room, where I might forget about them (On second thought, if I "forget" about them it means I get to go buy them more new stuff next year . . . hmmm).

I have to examine each piece, to determine whether it goes in the "donate-without-a-hint-of-sadness" pile (those are mostly the playclothes), the "probably-will-donate-someday-when-they-are-in-college-and-I-can finally-part-with-it" pile, the "could-not-bear-to-part-with-under-any circumstances" pile. My problem is that most of their clothes fall into category three for me, hence the giant mountain of Rubbermaid containers that reaches almost to the ceiling of our basement storage room. Eeek.

And so, off to Target I go, where I'm sure I will pick up $100 or so of other decorative items that we "must have" in addition to my Rubbermaid bins. I do love Target.

The Bigger the Bow, the Closer to God

Just by way of background, I have always been a Bow Girl. My wedding cake had a big white fondant bow on the top. In college, I had a collection of over 70 different hair ribbons - one to match virtually any outfit combination. My sweet ZTA sorority sisters at UNC used to tease me, because at night I would change my hair ribbon to match my pajamas. (Lord knows, you can't have a red hair ribbon and pink pajama pants. Because THAT would just be silly. Ahem).

So, when my precious little baby boy "Master P" was born, I was at a loss. He was always dressed to the nines in smocking and appliques, but despite DH's laments that I "dressed him like a girl," I obviously wasn't going to be putting any bows on my sweet boy. It was a dark period for the Bow Girl.

Then, 2 and a half years later, "Miss Priss" was born, and the Bow Girl in me rejoiced. At last, a girl to dress in bows! Then, sadly, I remembered that my babies are mostly bald. Miss Priss was no different than her brother before her. Blonde peach fuzz is not conducive to bows. I would have to wait a little longer.

By the time Miss Priss had arguably enough hair to be seen from a few feet away, she was also regrettably old enough to have an opinion about Mommy putting strange objects in her hair. And so began "Bow Training."

I have often had friends ask how I am able to get Miss Priss to keep bows in her hair. Bow Training was the secret. It requires three things: (1) a baby; (2) a bow; and (3) a burning desire to succeed. Think of it like potty training - Eventually, if you persevere, you will prevail. Bow Training consisted of sticking the bow in Miss Priss's "hair" (if you can call it that - she still did not have much), and putting it back in immediately each and every time she pulled it out. We did this for a full weekend, over and over again. Finally, I think she just got tired of me chasing her around and relented. Victory was mine!!!! Now, Miss Priss's bows are limited only by her (still questionable) amount of hair. I suppose that when she has a collection of 70 hair ribbons someday, I'll have only myself to blame.

Just for fun

So my good friend CM of Moores of the Blue House talked me into starting a blog. Because clearly, I needed something else to do. Too fun! Now when my sweet DH gets tired of listening to me talk about children's clothes, I can just come and prattle away in cyberspace instead.