Stretching in the sunrise before entering the madness.
I have never in my life been to a rave.
I think there was a period of time around age 25 when I really wanted to go to one, but for whatever reason (probably that I panic when it gets too late and my bed is still far away from me) it never happened.
In the years before we moved to the West Coast, I became thoroughly disenchanted with New York City. It was too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter. It was too hard to get around the subway system with a stroller, and too expensive to take taxis everywhere. The restaurants were great, but after we moved to Westchester (despite our insistence that "Oh, we'll still come into the city all the time!"), we never went to them.
Not like we knew the good places to go anymore, anyway.
Last week I took a trip to New York that was technically a business trip but that I extended by a couple of days so that Indy and I could spend extra time with my parents, and ended up roaming the streets for hours at a time, stopping into places I remembered and places that only just sprung up in the months since I left.
What can I say? She's committed to her craft.
I mean, you kind of have to respect the sheer volume of effort my daughter put into this. She didn't just slap that diaper cream on; she applied it. Thoroughly.
So after I laughed at the sight of my marshmallow-child - because really, when things like this happen there is nothing else you can do (besides, of course, take a photograph to show your husband so that he believes you when you tell him exactly how bad your day was) - I started the extremely long process of figuring out what the hell to do when your one-year-old paints herself from head to toe with a product that is specifically formulated to repel moisture.
I have wanted to do this for fifteen years. Did it. (They're these in mustard.)
Apparently vodka can taste like something other than lighter fluid. Good to know. (3 Simple Recipes For Making Vodka Taste Good, via Bustle.)
Who doesn't want a necklace inspired by Shia LeBouef's ponytail? NOBODY, that's who.
We're going to have to talk more extensively about this sweatshirt later, because it's that good, but in the meantime: here you go. (I bought it in a size large, FYI.)
My friend Erin just finished an epic 10-day journey across the US with her six-month-old, and wrote about what she learned about parenting from the three mothers who she stayed with (myself included). This post had me in tears.
You can't ever have too many of these.
