I Want Smooth Skin, Mommy

Last night, as I was putting the finishing touches on a refinished dresser, my oldest daughter, Eden, slipped into my room and sat on my bed without me noticing. I was intently focused on my straight paint lines and wasn't paying much attention to the Project Runway episode in the background, but I did notice when Eden commented on a commercial.

"I want smooth skin, mommy!" A tiny voice says while its owner peaked out from beneath the covers.

Suddenly, I became aware of my surroundings and realized that a commercial for L'Oreal's Collagen Moisture Filler was just ending. At Eden's prompting, I heard the words "smooth skin" and "younger looking" as the ad faded to black.

"Eden, you have the most perfect, beautiful skin I've ever seen," I reply, thinking that would be the end of the conversation.

"But my skin isn't smooth like hers," she continues.

Ut-oh...here we go. Eden is only FIVE, yet she is made to feel inadequate by the marketing "geniuses" behind this powerhouse beauty brand. I know L'Oreal is not alone. They all survive on making us (women...and apparently young girls) feel like they must measure up to the image on the screen or in the magazine. As a mother and woman in her early 30s, I AM SICK OF IT. The saddest part is, while I am torn apart by my daughter's words, I feel like there are ad executives in 3-piece suits jumping for joy because they see yet another young girl hooked.

"Eden, that woman is nowhere near as beautiful as you." I respond, sitting down next to her on the bed. "And, it really doesn't matter if you have smooth skin. There are alot of great people in this world who don't have smooth skin, but they are still beautiful."

Not good enough.

"But, mom, that lady has the nicest smooth skin and mine just isn't as good," she says above the sound of my breaking heart.

I was hoping this uphill battle against the mighty beauty industry would wait a few years, at least until she is, I don't know, seven maybe. But, no. It's here and I'm ill prepared. Is it a futile battle? I'm praying that it's not...that somehow I can arm her with the self-confidence and courage to stand up to the constant barrage of belittling messages. It sounds so cliché to say that beauty is on the inside. I probably would have scoffed at this statement as a young girl (certainly as a teenager) but I guess as a parent, it takes on a whole new meaning.

The Hunt for Mini-Furniture

We spent the weekend moving into our new house in Washington Park. It's a early 1900s brick bungalow and I love it. However, it's TINY. None of our furniture fit so we've had to sell it all (thank you, craigslist). Now the hunt begins for teeny-tiny, mini-furniture. We've been scouring the vintage stores on Broadway in Denver and found a gem of a store called Lee Alex Decor. Theo and Dave have been tremendous in helping us furnish what seems to be a dollhouse. They have the most unique and interesting pieces, it's almost like a art gallery for lovers of interior design.
Their light fixtures and colorful bar ware are reason enough to visit. I fell in love with an insanely impractical bright yellow sofa (above) from the 1950s and it now sits in my (teeny-tiny) living room. My husband looks like a giant on it, but it fits the room perfectly and is a one-of-a-kind find. While I sat down and lightly caressed the beautiful velvet upholstery, Dave informed me that this couch was soon to be famous. 5280 Magazine used it in a photo shoot for their Christmas issue. So, when visitors question why in the world I would buy a teeny-tiny bright yellow velvet couch, I will proudly point them to the magazine spread, explaining, "This is a famous couch!"

My husband wonders if mid-century Americans were just smaller, or if they men were just ok with looking like Sasquatch while watching the baseball game perched on the edge of a micro-sofa. The fact that we are even cognizant of the shrinking size of our living quarters make me wonder why excess has become the norm. Given our current situation, we have no choice but to embrace simplicity and, right now, it's actually liberating.

I Want to Hang a Deer Head on my Wall

My last post brought me down just a little bit, so I started "dream decorating" the living room in our new house. This room is relatively small but features a really cool fireplace and a beautiful picture-window facing the covered front porch.

The house we just sold was decorated very traditionally with lots of wood, heavy furniture and a yellow/brown/blue color scheme. I am swinging the pendulum the other direction this time around, picking pieces that reflect our fondness of clean lines, crisp colors and quirky accents.

How's this for a quirky accent? I found this really unique, resin (no, it's not real!) deer head at Etsy.com, which is a great source for funky products from all over the world. I envision this majestic beast right over my mantle. I know people will either love it or hate it, but it's a great conversation piece, right?

I also adore this Owl on a Tree wall graphic, which is perfect for our foyer/reading nook, and this precious Sophisticated Autumn Rose full apron. I want to run and make an apple pie right now!

Finally, check out this Shakti lidded vessel. It is amazing and would be perfect as an accent in a bookshelf or on a dresser.

My Response to The New Mom Economy

An interesting question was recently posed at WeKnowMomBlog.com, asking readers how the economy has affected them. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, as my perspective is both as a mother and as the owner of a small business that offers what many consider to be a “luxury” service.

Either way you look at it, this economy is a train wreck. As a mom and household manager, it becomes increasingly difficult to provide for my family and cut expenses at the same time. I think twice about signing my children up for activities like soccer, camp or dance. I've convinced myself that they are too young to really enjoy organized activities and would much rather spend the day collecting leaves or rolling down hills with their budget-conscious mama. Chances are, I'm completely fooling myself. I truly make a conscious effort to simulate the brain/body stimulation they would enjoy while playing soccer with their friends, but I must admit I sometimes fall short. No matter how hard I try, I cannot duplicate the energy, competitiveness or giggle-worthy antics of a four year old.

The strain of the economy is also evident in our (lack of) travel plans. Having no family around is probably the single most difficult aspect of living in Colorado. Otherwise, I love it here. But, I'd like to think that, in a better economy, traveling with a family of five (and a dog, whose ticket is usually twice as expensive) wouldn't seem so ridiculously impossible. Don't even mention the "v" word (whisper: vacation). We continue to dream about a family reunion at the beach or a honeymoon in wine country (yes, we've been married for seven years but have yet to honeymoon), but the expense of such a trip would mean not eating for at least a month.

On the other hand, my husband and I own a massage therapy studio. We've seen our business roll up and down, spiking and plummeting, seemingly blowing with the carefree wind. Our income is anything but consistent and we've filed countless cancellation notices from our clients due to "economic hardship". Oddly, as small business owners, we FUEL this economy. There can be no turn-around unless small business starts rebounding. The single mothers, students and grandparents on our payroll cannot put bread on the table unless clients walk through our doors. We carry this responsibility every day and do the best we can to make sure their schedules are full.

But, alas, addressing stress or chronic pain takes a back seat to paying the mortgage, health insurance or grocery bill. I don't get my nails done or my hair colored anymore, so I understand. We are smack-dab in the middle of the vicious economic cycle, caught in the maelstrom of failing markets, impending crises and shrinking budgets. The bright side, our generation has experienced the consequences of excessive consumption, careless spending and frivolity. As a mother, I know there is no better teacher than consequences and this is an economic lesson none of us will soon forget, including our children.

My husband's first blog!

So...a funny thing happened when I came home tonight. I opened up my new blog, put the computer in front of my husband and asked him to read it. He casually glanced at the screen but I could tell he had no clue what he was seeing. It took him about ten minutes to read two posts. I sat beside him, a bit perplexed, giving him his space and allowing him time to digest the profound words in front of him.

It wasn't until he scrolled all the way to the bottom of the page and saw our family picture that became interested. "What is this?" He asked. Enthusiastically, I responded, "It's my new blog! Isn't it great?" I expected an equally enthusiastic reply, but I'm pretty sure I heard crickets. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Nothing.

"This is a blog?" he said.

"Um...yes. It's a blog. It's my blog. What's wrong with it?" I whispered. I was starting to get concerned. Did I do it wrong? It is hideous? Great. If my own husband doesn't like it, nobody is going to read it!

"Oh. I've never seen a blog before," he said slowly. Whew! Ok, that makes sense. While my husband is fantastic in a million ways, he has managed to completely avoid the world of cyber-networking. Aside from the occasional email, he's not much for computers. Bottom line, I'm happy to say that I have officially introduced my husband to his very first blog....MY blog!

I recently re-connected with a friend from college, Crystal Patriarche. She is a very talented writer and even more incredible person. Crystal and I connected from the get-go and I am so happy to have her back after a long hiatus. One of the many hats she wears is as the editor of http://www.realmomsguide.com/. Recently, she graciously posted an article of mine about moving from the suburbs to the city. The actual move takes place three days from now! Read about it here: Mom in the City: Leaving the Suburbs.

The art of consolodation

I am a writer. It's what I do. I write when I'm overstimulated, tired, inspired, bored, confused, motivated, stressed and exuberant. If I'm not sleeping, eating, riding a horse or reading, I am most likely...you guessed it, writing. Oddly, I am not one to keep a diary. I've started a half-dozen in my lifetime, but it seems the novelty quickly wears off when said diary goes missing and/or forgotton for months at a time. Thinking about all of the beautiful nuggets of truths I've missed capturing over the years brings a tinge of regret and a touch of frustration. I've tried to contain my musings in other, less successful, ways. Turns out, a napkin doesn't hold much truth and scrap paper is just that, no matter how brilliant the words emblazoned upon it. Alas, I've been pursuaded by an insanely talented and technically-savvy group of writers to join the blogosphere (that's the right word, isn't it?) and let all who desire into my little world. As an added bonus, all of my scattered clips will be contained in one neatly-wrapped package. Love that.

Truthfully, I am feeling a bit vunerable right now. But, so be it. A long time ago, in reponse to my question, "How do I become a writer?" a wise teacher told me, "Just write." And write, I shall...