Made With Care

If the words "locally produced" and "sustainable" conjure up images of a granola-snacking survivalist for you, then it's time to drop the Ikea catalog and contemplate vintage with me. Because mass consumerism is an ecological and environmental disaster. And, really, nothing compares with having something made with care.

These goods were handpicked by me especially for you:


This is a jar of pickles I got...from Texas! They're crunchy {code word: fresh}, homemade, and possess the perfect degree of pickleness.

I had them with a sandwhich on a recent visit out west and promptly ordered four jars to be delivered to Brooklyn straight away.

They're going to make great I'm-coming-over-for-dinner-with-a-yummy-jar-of-pickles-for-you gifts.







These Scollars are sophisticated, chic, made-to-order, unisex, soft and warm. What more can you ask of the fashion hybrid?

I found a colorful collection of these in one of Boston's trendy neighborhoods--the adorable vintage-inspired, sewn-in label will tell you which one--and had a newfound appreciation for hardworking knitters everywhere. Each Scollar is designed one- of-a-kind, so this is a gift that'll really make a loved one feel special.

Both of the featured products are handmade with care by someone's mother. If you care to get in on the gifting potential of these fine goods, email me for the details and information.

Memories, Milestones and Forgettable Moments

Here’s a throwback: Think back to when your little bundle was pure joy, not the scattered mess that he can be at times now. Do you remember how odd you found people who couldn’t recall their precious child’s milestones in specific detail? Like how exactly they transitioned their baby from purèes to solids. Or which month of what year their baby said her first word clearly. Afterall, they’re not called milestones for nothing. They are significant and basic to human development and should therefore be instantly recalled when asked. Right? Well…

Here’s a story: When Hayes started school, the three days a week we signed up for was simply not enough. Though it was a major transition from spending every waking second together for days on end, it was not enough time for me to really get busy not actively being mom. So when he upgraded to going to school full time, my life became nothing short of hectic. All of a sudden I had a thousand things to do in addition to being mom.

Here’s the point: Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend—a four-day, program-free stretch with a toddler who I had forgotten was still dependent on me to actively be mom at every moment. {Four-and-a-half days if you include Wednesday’s early dismissal from school}. Well, I had fallen out of the habit. I have changed with my maturing child and forgotten what it was like to spend ninety-six fully engaged hours together. It’s the bittersweet experience that parenting is. We live in the moment of wherever our child is on the developmental path. And in doing so, milestones get lost in all of the transitions.

Here’s the lesson: When I was new to Babyland, I can remember thinking parents were the weirdest people in the world for not remembering everything about their children’s lives. But now that I’ve settled into parenthood, I'm constantly reminded of how it all passes by so quickly.

Mmmm...Have a Slice!

Champion career advisor Tory Johnson recently gave me a tip: Blog every day, multiple times a day. Take a big idea, slice it up and dish it out to your readers in morsels. Brilliant. Wait…Are we talking about cake?

It’s a recipe that works well when quantity matters. But insert your most vivid memory of cafeteria food here and you can see how the quantity over quality game is played out everyday in cyber world.

Now, back to our cake. I tested the recipe with a sweet idea. I sliced, but ended up posting only once—over a three-day period. And I must say, I’m sooooo satisfied. So, if starving a reader with one post a week is virtual suicide in cyber world, then how can a blogger keep her public satiated?

I choose to change the game; I only post when I have something relevant to say. Quality over quantity ain’t no piece of cake, but it sure goes down well. And for that, I’ll gladly pass on any compromise.

Because in today’s race to fill up the web, the ultimate goal should not be to satisfy a reader with fillers. No, no, no. In today’s game, the real goal should be answered with this question: When a reader reads a blog, does the blog return the favor?

Thanks for reading.

All I Want for Christmas: A Practical Revelation

In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost Christmas time. And Christmas time means gift getting. So after “hours of uninterrupted sleep” and “a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep,” I suggest adding something a bit more realistic to your wish list this year.

Here is the first of a long list of things to get addicted to and people to hit up for a happy, healthy 2008.

SHARP SHOOTER
Tell a grandparent you need this {preferably your childs' grandparent}:


The Canon PowerShot SD750 digital camera allows you to capture the world--and that maniac kid who can't stand still for a three second photo--and share it all with friends and family. {Find all the details, including info on this camera's cool face recognition feature, at Staples}.

SECURITY!
Ask your boss for a raise to go with your holiday bonus and buy this:


Paranoia is the new normal and well adjusted. A shredder like this may help you cope with the thought of pesky identity thieves. This one from Staples eats everything from paper junk mail to paper clips and compact disks. And it provides good, clean, orderly adult amusement for seconds at a time. {Yippeeee}!

Be sure to check back here for more premium goods all day, every day. Ok, every other day. I promise.

Always Love Your Mother

Call me a sap if you must but I’m a sucker for a guy who loves his mama. Maybe that’s why when I heard the news of Donda West’s passing I felt deeply for Kanye’s loss.

For all the controversy he tries hard to stir up, Kanye had that adorable John-John thing with his mom—that unabashed I-love-my-mother-and-I-don’t-care-what-you-have-to-say-about-it thing that doesn’t always translate well among the girlfriend set, or even among some of the fellas for that matter, but ultimately gets respect from everyone.

I mean, how can you not like a guy who shows up at red carpet events with his mom on his arm, who writes, produces and sings a song about the woman who gave birth to him, and always celebrates his success with her with a big smile on his face? Well, for all the things to not like Kanye for, you can’t not like him for that.

Afterall, Kanye knows how to keep the mommies happy. And when mommy’s happy, everyone’s happy.

Take note, young men. Really, take some notes.

Total Babes

Ever wonder what the world of child modeling is like? Well, my child is no model (even though he totally thinks he is), so there's no real information about manikin tykes here. But this shoot for Babesta (66 West Broadway in Tribeca) was quite the scene--six toddlers and a whole gang of grown ups trying to control them. Oh!...And did I mention that my son totally thinks he's a model?

How I live

One of those shows featuring celebrities and some of the things they just can’t live without recently caught my attention. You know, the kind where the rich and famous run down a list of expensive, inaccessible, and borderline ridiculous items they’ve grown accustomed to on their rise to the top? Think 1500 thread count, 100% Egyptian cotton bed linens…all stark white.

Sure, all of our dreams would be sweeter with some added little luxuries. But watching someone enjoy them who need not worry about keeping linens bright or long lasting is slightly painful. And on a more pertinent note, why should celebrities have all the shine?

Here are a few things I just can’t live without (in no precise order):




Reusable bottles that are safe and not plastic are good for my health and the environment. I carry the sexy, black one filled with water. Hayes prefers the sippy cup version.



Homemade bread and a pat of butter is the quintessential cold weather comforter. This recipe for pumpkin muffins is fast, easy, and tastes great as is. But feel free to get fancy with it and add whatever you like. Hayes takes his star-shaped with raisin smiley faces.

1 ½ c sugar, 1 ¾ c flour, 1tsp baking soda, 1tsp allspice (can be substituted for ½ tsp nutmeg and ½ tsp cardamom), 1 tsp cinnamon, ½ tsp salt, 2 large eggs or egg substitute, ¼ c oil, ¼ c water, 1 c canned pumpkin.
Preheat oven at 350 degrees, spray/butter pan, combine all dry ingredients and mix, combine all liquid ingredients and mix, combine dry and liquid ingredients and mix well, pour into pan, bake for 25 minutes, check with toothpick. Makes 12 muffins.





…Perfect for cold, windy mornings. A little slather goes a long way on Hayes’s cheeks and hands.
…Perfect for everyday pampering. Yes, I said every day (as in of the week).





The book I carry everywhere I go and consult the most, a gift from my mom—a true lady. Maybe I’ll pass it on to Hayes’s future partner. On second thought, hopefully I won’t have to.





My Colby 1GB MP3 clip player is tiny and holds up to 17 hours of music—enough Joan Jett on the train for me and The Laurie Berkner Band on long walks in the stroller for Hayes.



…And speaking of keeping Hayes occupied and technologically astute, Noggin's website is a plethora of smart, interactive toddler play. Hayes grasped the simpler activities in no time, leaving more time for me to...well, do me.

Hayes-ey Who?

A funny thing happened while I was dreamily shopping for clothes, a school and activities for my little lovely, not at all preoccupied with what he wants: He started telling me what he likes and doesn’t. You know, in that public, high-pitched, temper tantrum, two-year old sort of way that is impossible to ignore.

A girl can dream, right? Well, I’m one of the best. And if I had my way, Hayes would turn out something like this guy:



Now, let’s be clear, I don’t know the first about who Pharrell really is but he sure seems to be smart and business savvy, talented, successful, cute, youthful, have great style in clothes, sneakers and ladies, and can take care of his momma, if she happens to need taken care of.

But what if the man I’m raising, rearing, molding turns out to be this guy?



What if my son turns out like me—like most of us, in fact—not exactly who our parents thought we would be? I’d like to say I would accept Hayes for whoever he intrinsically is because I just can’t imagine not. However, in all fairness, right now I can’t imagine a tomorrow beyond what Hayes will eat for breakfast, what his daily school report will say, what his first hobby will be, when I’ll set his next doctor’s appointment, and what hat he will wear this winter.

With so many parents genuinely disappointed by who their children have become, it is one of life’s most common tragedies. And everyone has the same childhood story to tell about how they weren’t accepted or recognized for who they really are.

It makes me wonder whether acceptance is an adjustment parents just don’t get around to thinking about making before their children are grown and making their own decisions. Or is it that children have a way of coming up the most unexpected ways of expressing themselves, unintentionally disappointing their folks?

Not sure, but the thought jumped into my head almost immediately after Hayes began declaring war on a few things I think are just perfect for him. But I guess I should start making some adjustments right away.

Update

So, remember that birthday party I was stressing over? The one where I just knew Hayes was going to throw a fit about not being able to eat the cake since he's vegan? Really, I should know by now to give my little monster more credit for being an easy going little monster because everything worked out just fine, as it usually does. Yes, he was excited about the candles on the cookie cake. And yes, he watched wide-eyed as everyone around him grabbed a great big chocolate chip slice. But when I whipped out a banana and the perfectly soft semi-homemade vegan chocolate chip cookies I packed especially for what I thought would be a meltdown, he smiled and ate 'em up. Thank God. ...And Bob's Red Mill Gluten Free, Wheat Free, Dairy Free Chocolate Chip Cookie Mix. Mmmm...yummy! Here's a picture and the ridiculously easy recipe:



1 bag cookie mix
1/2 c soy butter (cold but mixed until soft)
1 egg replacement

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease cookie sheet. Combine soft butter and egg replacement, mix well. Add cookie mix. Blend well. Press and shape dough into balls for baking. Bake for 10 minutes. Cool, serve and feel good that no animals were harmed in the making.

What?...No takers?

Gully! Gorgeous!

I had a crush on Kimora Lee Simmons before she got her own reality TV show. She was unapologetically ghetto fabulous way before it was ok to say it to someone’s face. And when it comes to being fabu, she doesn’t mess around. She works her booty off as the head of her own fashion empire, designing, modeling, and doing everything in between, and she’s also a mom. So, as far as I’m concerned, she deserves that exorbitant Louis V collection.

OK, enough with all the admiration. Here are a few solid reasons why you might also find Ms. Lee fascinating:

-Kimora actually uses “fabulosity” as a word…in, like, sentences…at board meetings.

-It’s refreshing to see someone on a reality show actually working—and just as hard as everyday folk.

-Kimora’s marketing guy, James, is hilarious!

-If you think you know what a diva is…

-Kimora loves that she’s a mom, and lives it—which is important since celeb-types often forget what that really means.

Check out my newest TV obsession “Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane” so we can live vicariously and discuss.

TGI-freaking F!

Hmmm… Who can I blame for it being Friday?

All I know is that if I were the one in control of the cosmos, I wouldn’t waste a second rewinding the week to give myself one more day to get it together. By ‘it’ I’m referring to an upcoming birthday party Hayes has been invited to. What’s worse than feeling like I’m totally behind—I mean, I haven’t even begun to shop for a gift and the party is tomorrow—is my anxiety about how the whole cutting-the-cake-and-eating-it-thing will play out with Hayes. And what’s worst of all is that I’ve managed to work myself into a small-scale frenzy over a toddler party I’m not even responsible for. In fact, I don’t even know the kid.

So what of my sudden and probably totally unwarranted worry? Well, there will be cake…with candles. And Hayes loves cake. Hayes loves cakes with candles. But Hayes is vegan. And until now, he has only been to parties of close friends who have been happy to accommodate our diet of choice. And since I don’t know this birthday boy or his family, and they don’t know us, I’m nervous. Because vegan-by-choice doesn’t always go over so well with people who don’t love you and/or who aren’t also vegan.

Maybe I’m making more out of this whole thing than is necessary. At least I hope that’s the case. But I’m actually considering baking vegan chocolate chip cookies to help alleviate the I-can’t-eat-the-dairy-laden-cake-awkwardness I’m trying to avoid. But what’s the etiquette here? Do I show up with enough cookies for Hayes to share with his friends? {I just can’t see a bunch of three year olds will be going crazy over brick-hard vegan treats}. Yikes! I’m just now realizing that I’ve never made a vegan cookie in my life…! What if Hayes won’t even eat them? Omigod! Just wake me when this whole thing is over because, really, being a baker and a mom is much too much for me.

Funny, all of this angst and Hayes, living in his protective little bubble of oblivion called childhood, has not a clue how big a day tomorrow will be…for the both of us.

Check back for the update.

Hey with a Z

Walking through the neighborhood the other day, I called out to Hayes who had spontaneously bolted in the opposite direction of where I was headed. I continued to shout his name until his motor-feet slowed to a stop.

An elderly woman walking on the other side of the street, crossed over clutching her cane firmly in one hand. She came directly up to me and said, “If you keep calling him 'hey!' he’ll never learn to listen to you.”

“Excuse me?” I asked genuinely confused.

“Call him by his proper name if you don’t want him to ignore you,” she made her point clearer this time.

“His name is Hayes,” I replied.

I couldn't help but take a tone with the whole scenario.

Yeah, maybe I should have added a thank you since she was only sharing her expert advice with me on how to be a good mom. But for that reason exactly, I decided on a fake smile and a 'mind your own business' under my breath instead.

My Monkey

...And speaking of, Hayes is completely obsessed with Curious George. As if watching multiple episodes a day isn't satisfying enough, Hayes has perfected falling silent to tap me on the shoulder, point his finger into the air and then suddenly begin yapping like a monkey to get my attention--all at totally random moments throughout the day. And it always takes me a minute to catch on because in the moments that he's not busy mimicking a curious monkey, he's my mile-a-minute-loud-mouthed little monster-child. Uh oh! Why does this sound like creepy adolescence foreshadowing? God help me.

Random Thought #461,895,146

I don't want to presume anything but I think it's likely The Man with the Yellow Hat has a thing for Professor Wiseman...Or is it just me? I mean, he buys her gifts, visits her at the office and writes speeches in honor of her genius. {Maybe that last one doesn't count since she really is a genius}. And really, on a practical level, what woman could resist a guy who can manage to be so organized with a monkey around the house?

Actually, I was told by a very reliable source that she heard they once dated.

Alpha Who, Alpha What?

Perusing a magazine the other day, I came across an article about the “new breed of do-it-all moms,” the alpha mom. According to the article, these moms are tuned in and on-the-go because they follow trends and know what’s hot in parenting. The article mentioned that these moms lead the pack, are incredibly influential, and blah, blah, blah… Oh! And the so-called alpha mom also has her own cable TV channel appropriately named Alpha Mom TV.

Now, I wasn’t in a snotty-mean-girl kind of mood to begin with. But the measure of animosity I felt by the time I reached the bottom of the page turned me into that girl.

Why the hateration, you ask? Well, because people who refer to “mom” as an identity are annoying. Being a mom is a role just as much as being an activist, an artist or a father is a role. It is part, not the whole, of who you are. So activists are allowed to advocate for noble causes and go against the grain if they feel so led. Artists are allowed to believe in the freedom of expression and wear short skirts if they feel like doing so. And fathers are allowed to rear children and be total flirts if they so choose. However, a woman who is also a mother finds difficulty truly being anything but a mom. When was the last time you heard about a mommy aggressively challenging anything, baring her mid-thigh on purpose or telling a man she doesn’t know very well that she finds him handsome. And what would you think of her if you did? Both men and women in our society are allowed to be what they choose, the way the choose—except for moms... and maybe some religious fanatics {but that's a topic for someone else's blog}. And what’s worse is that moms get chastised for not being at all times exactly what we all think a mom should be.

Someone asked me once why I blog. I mention in my “about me” that I like being a mom but hate being identified as one—and I mean it. While I’m not a militant, a flirt, and don’t wear mini skirts on ordinary days, the truth is that I don’t like playdates just because I have a two year old. I don’t look like a mom just because someone calls me one. And I don’t care about what’s hot in parenting because I just don’t. So you can’t call me an alpha mom {…and you better not} but I am no less a mom. And besides that, I am so much more—just like everyone else.

Aaagh!

Here’s the thing about being called mom: Somehow you become the one person responsible for keeping it all together while making it look natural. And on the off day when you don’t meet every expectation, the guilt forever haunts you.

I learned this lesson painfully.

Hayes “played mass” for the first time at carnival this year. For weeks, we looked forward to the costume, the parade and dancing across the stage at the Brooklyn Museum where the festivities culminate. On the day, Hayes’s grandfather showed up at 6am to deliver the costume that he had stayed up into the wee hours perfecting. And we were out the door by 8:30 to join the other masqueraders for the parade. Hayes resembled a West Indian genie in his super-cute costume. And I was a good mom prepared for the occasion. I had a smart lunch packed, a loaded camera in my bag and cash for Italian ices—and we ran through it all. But nothing beat Hayes winding and waving across the stage in front of the hundreds of party people. And I, a.k.a. good mommy, was in the front row taking pictures non-stop. I couldn’t wait to call friends and family who could stand to hear me gloat about my amazing son. And I did. We all looked forward to finally seeing the photos. I ran to the one-hour photo shop. I couldn’t possibly wait an entire day to see my little genie immortalized on photo paper.

When I returned for the pictures, I got bad news: The film was blank. The entire roll of Hayes in his costume parading down the street and dancing across the stage as if he were born to entertain the masses was blank. I have no record of the occasion except for my own memory, which will one day fade, and this one, lonely photo taken by a friend on her camera phone.



Cute. Sad. Painful.

Yes-Yes, Ya'll!

My girl Dona D does it again! Hustlenomics makes it's 4th go round on September 7th. Be there! It's fresh and it's free...and there may be a Hayes sighting. {'Cause he gets down for the get downs}.

Hollywood

Anyone who knows me well knows there's one thing I've always wanted to be. No, not a mom...a rockstar! Well, a surfboarding rocker chic who really digs hip hop music to be exact. I've already got the hairstyle to get me well on my way. {A friend swears my new bangs make me look like Jem, star of the 80's animated series. Whatever. That's not exactly the look I was going for}. So my newest reality tv obsession comes as no surprise to all of my nearest and dearest...



I read a recent interview with Kat Von D, the tattoo artist-entrepreneur-star-of-the-show, in which she mentioned that she loves children but that they just aren't for her. While it's completely and totally understandable to love 'em but not want 'em, doesn't she realize a babe at the crib makes you twice as fly when you're already fresh to death?



Put your babe to bed early and live vicariously through Miss D and her almost all-girl cast...and let's discuss.

Calling All Babe-Stas!

Now everyone can look just like Pharrell. {...And don't pretend you're already too cool to know what I'm talking about}. So gather your yen and go to bapekids.jp for something fresher for your mini-me. The Bape X DC Comics collection is what's next!

The Pre-Hustle Hustle

Oh!...We are soooooooo there! {With pockets full of money and a mouth full of lumpia}.