Soooooo you know how I get Botox to correct my eye asymmetry? And you know how Botox detractors say it leaves you unable to communicate emotion like a for-real human being?
Whoooooopsidaisy!
P.S. I think this is the funniest problem I have ever had in my entire life (and also entirely my fault, because I forgot the cardinal rule of injecting poison into one's face: thou shalt not permit thineself to be distracted, lest thou endest up unable to smize).
Renaissance Faire Downtown San Jose
Sometime around the end of 2015, I wrote a post in which I talked about just how much of a walking, talking, brain-free medical experiment you are in the months after you give birth, and my recent discovery that this situation unfortunately does not come to an end for...well, for a long time. I honestly have no idea how long it lasts, because I went straight from being a mess with one kid to being a mess with two kids, and I'm still a mess, and presumably I won't be at some point in the future, but for now?
Happened.
Pictured above is my grade-school friend Rachel at 9 years old, with Donald Trump's name written on her forehead. When this photo first popped up in my Facebook feed it gave me some serious pause, because I've known Rachel for a long time now, and I cannot imagine a universe in which this makes sense - even given the fact that this is a photo of her when she was in elementary school, and at the time Trump was only a real estate developer (if a polarizing one).
The story behind this photograph really needed to be shared, so I asked for Rachel's permission to share it here.
The first time I went to a minor league baseball game, I was ten million months pregnant, living in temporary housing in an unfamiliar city, and seeeeriously unexcited about spending a couple of hours parked on a hard bench watching other people drink beer (although I was very much excited about the garlic fries situation). Let's just say Kendrick had to do some convincing.
Flash forward two years, and I'm the one googling the San Jose Giants' schedule to make sure we get to a game or two every year, because let me tell you: minor league games are fun. They're all the good parts of major league games (hot dogs, beer in plastic cups, generalized camaraderie, possibly fireworks, et cetera et cetera) except hot dogs aren't eighteen dollars, the parking is across the street, not twenty miles and a shuttle bus away, and there are bouncy castles. With no lines, so your children can actually bounce on them. You just park, walk across the street, bounce a bunch, whack a few whiffleballs, grab some food, and go sit down wherever...because there is plenty of room.
Basically, going to a minor league baseball game feels like making a friend who really likes you and wants you to like them back, as opposed to trying to get to know that kid who's way popular and unattainable and such, and who you have to put a bunch of work into getting to know before you get to get to the part where you have fun.
FEELINGS.
I was prepared to be all "but my baybyyyyyyy!" about Goldie's second birthday - I've done this once or twice before, as you may recall - and so this time I came prepared with a mandate: I would remember to take a minute every once in awhile to stop being a hostess and just be with my kids. It's so easy, when you're the one throwing a party, to get caught up in cooking and serving drinks and answering the door and making sure you talk to everyone...and then boom: the whole thing is over and everyone is gone and the dishes need doing, and you realize that you just spent the past several hours running around like the proverbial chicken and completely forgot to notice what was happening.
You want the day back.
Hey there buddy.
OK sooooo this weekend was a bit of an emotional hailstorm, between my daughter's second birthday and my son's first day of school today. Not a "bad" hailstorm, per se...just, you know: feelings. Like, all of them. (Evidence is presently over on my Snapchat @ramshackleglam.)
So while I have bazillions of photos to show you and tons of things I want to write about, let's keep it light today. It's Monday. Nobody needs any more feelings on a Monday; they need OCTOPUS CAKE. (I'm going to officially call this the Under The Sea Cake, because that sounds prettier, but excuse me did you see that octopus? He's adorable, and I think he should probably make an appearance on every cake I make forever and always.)
I know she's a cartoon, but I totally covet her shoes.
Apropos of nothing except that I felt a chill in the air yesterday, which got me started thinking about changing seasons, which in turn got me thinking about end-of-season sales, I have some information for you.
Basically, there are a bunch of truly phenomenal sales going on right now - both for new fall fashions and for end-of-summer stuff (which you'll still totally be able to wear for awhile) - so in celebration of the fact that it's Friday and I'm positive you'd much rather be messing around on the Internet and planning what cocktail to order tonight than working, I thought I'd give you a rundown of what's out there.
(I still post embarrassing photos, but these days they're much better-lit.)
OK, so everybody has embarrassing moments in their past, right? What's fun about having been a blogger for nearly a decade now (! I can't even) is that all of my embarrassing moments are right here on this very website, where I can see them over and over and over again. And so can everyone else.
I've destroyed cakes. Burned stripes into my tongue by accidentally licking hot forks. Made red wine with Jell-O, and dragged enormous pieces of furniture off the street and into my apartment. And those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Oh wait: and I "designed" my own (off-the-shoulder, of course) t-shirt, based on...my own tattoo. (Proceeds benefit the ASPCA!)
9:23 AM, and on coffee number three.
Remember those puffy-eyed early-morning photos I wrote about yesterday? The ones I said were a kinda funny byproduct of having babies, and would one day become a thing of the past?
I take it back. Once you are a parent, you can never again lay down your head with the total confidence that you will, in fact, sleep.
Very cute. Very loud.
Q. Dear Jordan,
I was wondering if you ever wrote a post about how you and Kendrick dealt with getting your children to sleep through the night? My baby girl still wakes up multiple times a night, often winds up in our bed, and still needs to nurse to sleep. I don't think I can handle full-on "crying it out," but I just started working again full-time and I am EXHAUSTED.
