Terrible Choices In Footwear.

Robbie and I just got back from a 5-night trip to New York City. It was amazing and hilarious and he almost stepped on a rat in Times Square, but I’m going to save all of those stories for later. Right now I want to talk about my terrible choices in footwear.

Here are the shoes I brought with me.

Packing Light

Now, don’t hate. I don’t get out much, especially without children, and I love an excuse to dress up.

I’m one of those girls who does not wear tennis shoes unless she is also wearing workout wear.

It’s totally fine if you just eye rolled me. I get it.

My family thinks I’m crazy, but it’s just how I’ve always been and I’m not sure how to be any different. It’s like a compulsion. When I think about things from a logical standpoint, I know that it doesn’t make sense to choose discomfort over comfort simply because it looks better, but isn’t that the very same line of thinking that would require me to also stop wearing Spanx under my dresses?!? 

You know how sometimes a thought is so horrible that you have to actively choose to un-think it and never visit it again? That’s where I am with that. Because I REQUIRE Spanx.

So back to packing, I was feeling very smug about how smart and impressively pragmatic it was to bring tennis shoes with me for a days-long tour of a metropolitan area.

Look at how well I adult. Check out my skilled adulting. I am so adult-like that I packed my New Balance because that is the SENSIBLE thing to do. Adults make good choices. I am clearly making good choices. See my good choice?!


But then, we arrived in New York. And even though I had comfortable options, my new black booties called to me. I chose to answer the day we visited The American Museum of Natural History …

Which was followed by a walk through Central Park …

Which was followed by a lengthy trek through the subway system.

Bad choices in footwearI WAS IN SO MUCH PAIN. At the time that this photo was taken, I was begging Robbie to get us a cab so we could just stop walking.

He pretended not to hear. He calls that “tough love.”

I’ll let you imagine what I called it.

(If you liked this post, then you should follow me on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter!)

The Popcorn Shirt.

If you measure a holiday by gifts and flowers, then 2015 will go down as the okayest Valentine’s Day yet.

Robbie didn’t get me anything. No flowers, no card. I kind of pitched a fit at the end of the day and he managed to pull it together, but overall our day was really simple. This is fine with me — shhh, don’t tell my husband — because honestly I don’t recall last Valentine’s Day or any other ones before that. My life is essentially becoming one big blur.

However, I’ll remember this Valentine’s Day because it was the day that all 5 members of our household tried on the popcorn shirt and my husband let me take a picture of him in it to atone for his lack of romanticism on the Most Romantic Day of The Year.

What’s a popcorn shirt?

WELL. It’s a magical shirt that is elf-sized, but will stretch to fit almost anyone. My father-in-law won it in some kind of raffle and gave it to my mother-in-law, who in turn gave it to me. The extent of the shirt’s capabilities is impressive, and I’m not easily impressed.

So here’s how we spent the evening portion of our Valentine’s Day:




Popcorn shirt on a 20-month-old.


Popcorn shirt on a 3.5-year-old.


Popcorn shirt on a 6.5-year-old.


Popcorn shirt on an average-sized female.


Popcorn shirt on a big-and-tall male.

This shirt will literally fit ANYONE. I have decided that I need a whole slew of teensy, stretchy articles of clothing that I can cram into a “go bag.” Isn’t that what the con artists and CIA people call them? Except mine would just be packed for a super-last-minute girl’s trip, and I could share my clothes with all my friends and people on the street.

Because they would fit.

Is everyone else having sex right now?!


Always Original.

It has been FAR too long since I’ve done a “Things That Make Me Happy” post. Today’s the day to make that right.

I finally have a daughter to dress however I want, but because I’m always short on time (and money) she normally ends up wearing stuff from Target. Which is fine. But … you know. It’s not fab. So, when an old friend contacted me and asked if I would be interested in putting her clothes on Pepper, I said YES. PLEASE HELP US.

Elly Belly Style by Melissa is couture clothing for children. Note: I just looked up the definition of “couture” to make sure I was using it correctly, because this is unfamiliar territory. I’m a T.J. Maxx-er and a bargain hunter, and has always mistakenly assumed that “couture” was synonymous with “overpriced, frilly shit.” Now I am more educated and I know that it just means it’s the only one like it out there, and it doesn’t have to be overpriced or frilly. Who knew?! (Not me.)

Melissa asked me to take Pepper’s measurements, and it’s a shame no one has that footage on camera. Have you ever measured a wiggly 16-month-old? I don’t recommend it. It’s hard — way harder than dealing with tights or pigtails. I definitely broke a sweat and stress-ate a bag of M&M’s when we were done.

Based on the info I gave her, she created this adorable Halloween-themed dress and the panel (which is the part with the characters on it, I learned) was created exclusively for Elly Belly customers. The dress is made from organic, European fabrics, and don’t tell Melissa I said this, but when I opened the envelope and pulled out the dress it smelled so good I buried my face in it. Weird? Yes. I don’t get out much, you know.

Wanna see the dress?! Of course you do!

20141017_094116 20141017_094123 20141017_094223 20141017_094445 20141017_094446 20141017_094452 544924_10203299178420066_8006976742753994307_nYes, it says “LET IT GHOOOOOOOOOST!” That made me laugh. Pepper loves playing with the shiny ruffle around the bottom and got upset when I finally took the dress off her.

If you are interested in seeing more amazing creations from Melissa, you can find her on Facebook!


Pepper Remains Unimpressed.


“She’s so wrapped up in this book thing that’s going on or whatever the hell, that she didn’t even notice that she forced me to break two cardinal fashion rules. I’m wearing HIGH WATER PANTS and they are WHITE. It’s October 15, bitch.

Just get me the hell home and help me find my lovey.”

The Boutique.

All of the sudden I’ve realized through a series of events that I am completely out of style, out of touch, and wearing today’s version of the “mom jean.” I can’t even explain to you how much this has thrown me off my game.

I mistakenly assumed that by avoiding the style of high-waisted mom jeans with bad pocket placement that I picture in my head when I hear the phrase “mom jean,” that I was doing all right. That is not correct. I AM ACTUALLY A WALKING POSTER CHILD FOR THE MOM JEAN. I know this because I brought a stack of high-quality, too-large denim to several consignment places in town and no one would buy them from me. They all kindly said, “These labels are very old and out of style.

But they’re nice jeans,” I said. “The only reason I’m not keeping them is that they’re too big.


And then I knew. The pants that were in style 8 years ago? The ones I’ve worked so hard to fit back into? No one wears those anymore … except for out-of-touch moms like me. You see, I used to have a job. I used to buy nice clothes. Then I got pregnant and worked really hard to fit back into all of those nice clothes, which were by that point two years out of style. I then repeated that pattern two more times, and BOOM. I now have a closet full of outdated crap that I want to keep wearing because it is still in decent shape and it cost a lot of money ages ago when I bought it.

I now accept that it’s time to let go.

Yesterday my amazing mother-in-law came over to hang out with the kids so I could go do something fun. I went to this cute little store near my house that I’ve never been in before. I walked in and for the first time in my life I felt overwhelmed in a clothing store. Nothing was familiar — when did fringe become popular?! Is this a dress or a shirt?! The sweet sales girl could see it written all over my face: I needed help. I babbled on about how I am just now, right here in this store, having an identity crisis because I’m suddenly almost 35 years old and a mother of 3 and I have no idea what size I am or what even looks good on me anymore. And when she asked if I’d like for her to help me put together outfits to try on “just for fun,” I said YES! a little too loudly.


I didn’t buy anything (yet), and I don’t love the outfit pictured above, but I took a picture of it as proof that I finally decided to embrace the skinny jean. They come in every color! I now know what size I wear! I tried on leggings and tunics, long sweaters and maxi dresses, and lots and lots of interesting shirts. I loved it all. Each time I put on an outfit I emerged from the dressing room so the sales people could see, because I truly needed professionals to tell me if I was wearing something the correct way. This was also a first. But I am so grateful that they HELPED ME!

Here’s what I learned: today’s style is really perfect for moms. Everything is layered, easy, and loose, the pants are stretchy just like yoga pants. It’s time to step out of my American Eagle time warp and into real womanhood, where people shop at boutiques. I feel like I’ve been living in a blur of gestation and diapers, but now it’s time to move past that stage and into the next one … fashionably.