Boys Play

I realize that the holidays are still quite a few weeks off, but when it comes to dressing for occasions, its never too early to prepare. I was fortunate enough to receive a few samples of one of the most irresistible children's lines around, Tom & Drew. Though 2T is the smallest size, it wont be long before Tucker is rivaling his dad for best dressed (especially given he weighs nearly 20 pounds and is 2 weeks shy of 6 months old). The company also donates a portion of proceeds to bulldog rescue, how could you resist? (Take a peek at some looks on facebook, or shop the collection at Shopbelle.)

The grey gold button blazer will probably have to wait until the pureed foods have become a thing of the past (or risk the same fate as my ill destined silk theory shirt), but it will be worth the wait. In the meantime, holiday shopping for baby and and birthday browsing for daddy is underway (and since the latter will be bidding farewell to his 20's, the perfect present is a necessity). What to get the man that (since we began dating 5 years ago) has everything (and if he gets too much more, will be encroaching into my closet)?

photo credit to Tom and Drew's Facebook page

9-5 Grind, and then Some

A typical day was ahead- up by 5, drop Tucker at daycare, at work by 7:45, 2 meetings, pick Tucker up, wait for Hubs to return from work, head back to work for Board meeting, no dinner, home by 10. The evening addition to the usual menu required an extra touch of 'professional' to the otherwise business casual ensemble.

The walk-in closet was once my best friend. But like so many 20-something girlfriends find each other, it has become more of a frenemy. Its not size (I have resigned myself to the fact that the 0-petite pants won't fit comfortably again since nearly 9 pound Tucker made his debut, so I've purged and replaced them with the next size). Dry clean only seems impractical, 3 inch Prada pumps carry fear of falling with precious baby on hip, crisp white Thomas Pink shirt wrinkles under baby's weight on shoulder, black Theory pants collect lint from carpeting while sitting and playing on activity mat with aforementioned baby in the morning. What to do? After the 5 hours of sleep I managed the night before, patience are slightly short, and sounds from the nursery signal my time to decide on an outfit is near its end. The 80% closet purge I find necessary to go on is not in the cards this month, so I'm forced to work with what I have.

Grey merino boatneck with elbow sleeves and black sateen Ann Taylor pants it is. Jcrew statement necklace thrown in purse to be put on after daycare drop-off (ever seen a 5 month old baby and an expensive piece of not-so-expensively-made costume jewelry? Not good). Sounds getting louder, rushing required. Overly practical Enzo flats will have to do. 16 hours later I'll be home to change!

Wearing White

Wearing my white after labor day proudly (boyfriend cut jeans, rolled at the ankle) is a routine for me. So post baby, I wanted to adhere to my usual fall fashion habits as much as possible. Excited with my new discounted pair of Sevens (discounted because apparently, not everyone realizes you can in fact wear white jeans all year long) I found a great light weight cashmere top to pair them with.

I should mention that at 4 months old, Tucker now eats pureed veggies. It just so happens that every 'first veggie' is orange in color (sweet potatoes, carrots, squash). After a great day in my white jeans, I ran to pick the prince up from daycare and rushed home for dinner time. Organic carrots and flexible Skip Hop spoon in hand, we began our meal. Practicing his new skill of blowing bubbles with his saliva at every chance he gets, Tucker blew the contents of the spoon all over the table, and more sadly, my white jeans. Not even Tide to go could help my poor pants, for orange is an impossible color to remove from fabrics.

I think that perhaps first veggies should be a more appropriate hue, like beige. Can white potatoes make a comeback?

Grab Bag

A woman's purse is always a variable treasure trove of wonders, but on this day my bag was even more full than usual. With 4 month old baby on hip, bottles stowed in monogrammed infant lunch tote, prada makeup case tucked into outer pocket, phone safely away from water bottle in middle pouch, I was ready to go.

Daycare drop off was done in record time (which always includes at least 10 minutes where I stand smiling at Tucker and making faces while he squeals in delight in daycare worker's arms before I can rip myself away, and the mandatory taking off and putting back on of Michael Kors wedges). Next stop Starbucks for my one indulgence of the day (iced triple espresso with half and half- yes, half and half, and plenty of it). While reaching into my trusty Gucci extra large hobo for Louis Damier wallet, the first thing I retrieved was not the wallet at all, but rather dirty poop diaper packaged in a ziplock, ready to be dropped off at the doctor to test that little man is not allergic to newly introduced first foods (mmm rice cereal). The cashier did not miss the incident, as I stood there for at least 20 seconds holding the Pampers in my right hand. I smiled, tucked the diaper back into Gucci, and found sought after wallet. Adventures in parenting and working full time.

Washed Out

With all the hurricane fanfare, I decided I better at least go out and get a few things in case any of the weathermen in their slickers, yelling through gusts of wind in NC happen to be telling the truth. In the suburbs, hysteria travels faster than baby poop out of the diaper. At the local Stop and Shop, it appeared to be Armageddon. After fighting a middle aged housewife for one of the last few gallons of Poland Spring, I had had enough and returned home.

What does one really do to prepare for a hurricane when you don't live on the water, in a flood zone, or in a 100 year old building? A manicure and pedicure for sure, in case stores remain closed into next week. The baby sleeps through blaring fire alarms, uses all battery operated toys, and drinks 32 ounces of soy formula a day from pop-top, ready to feed bottles that don't require refrigeration. He's the household model of storm survival. Cabernet is best at room temperature anyway, and when that runs out, there's always the unused cases of Slimfast in the back of the pantry. I can read Elle and Harper's in the dark, and if we really need some light, we can always borrow a D battery from the Fisher Price swing and load up the old flash light.

Whatever you do to prepare, relax, have a drink, and dry your hair once last time for the weekend.

Bullseye

As colorful as a Fisher Price jungle gym, Missoni's pieces are fairly unmistakable (I own one such zigzag adorned tunic that I love to pull out each fall and pair with straight jeans, though I think I'll be waiting until solid food time to dare doing so this season). With a definite 70's vibe, the line's trademark patterns mesh a taste of the past with a nod toward the future (think head scarf meets cashmere).

What fabulous news to hear that on September 13th, Missoni's new wallet friendly line will be debuting at Target! I must admit, before Tucker, I had made only 2 visits ever to the world renowned giant (once to unsuccessfully score a piece from Zoc Posen's Target collection, the other in search of a beach chair during the peak of a summer season when every place under the sun was sold out). In my new life, however, Target has replaced the Loft in terms of quick impulse stops on the way home (yes, another tragedy of the suburbs). Now, in addition to cases upon cases of Similac Isomil formula, mom can stock up on a few other necessities on the next trip to the mega chain. Shopping for diapers just got a bit more fun!

The Good Fight

Its that time of year again, when stores announce friends and family deals to lure in shoppers who have grown tired of sleevless hot weather wear, and offer them a tantalizing taste of fall. On a now rare trip to Loft yesterday, I arrived armed with my coupon and spotted a jersey dress that fit all new motherhood criteria (machine washable, under $100, non-constricting yet fitted enough to show hard earned pre-pregnancy figure). As the sales girl rung the purchase, I happily turned over my coupon for an additional percentage off. As if I had just given her a task of manual labor, the girl took an exasperated breath and explained I could only receive the discount if I used my store credit card. (Store credit cards are devices designed to fool husbands, diffuse large Visa bills, and increase the already numerous amount of monthly bills, so I refrain from opening any). I doubted my ability to read fine print, and sheepishly took the paper back from the salesgirl and turned to leave with my tail between my legs.

I made it half way to the door when I began to think. Had motherhood made me soft? Since when was my willingness to fight for a deal suppressed? And since when was I ever wrong about a coupon code? I took one final glance at the size 4 print at the bottom of the coupon and strode back to the counter. I interrupted the cashier in her discussion about why salads made her bloated and stuck the coupon across the counter, informing her there was no mention of needing to use the store card to get the discount. Again appearing overly taxed, she began to explain the instructions she was given. I told her how little I cared about her instructions, and that my legal eye was perfectly capable of reading fine print. She appeared to weigh for a second the implication of being scolded by her manager against standing here and arguing with me another moment. Another exhausted sigh, and she scanned the coupon, gave me my 30% off and shoved the bag across the counter to me. I smiled and left as I'm sure the girl shared some expletives with her coworker. No worries, I'll be cleaning spit-up and washing bottles after an 8 hour day of work in style tomorrow.