Ain't No Mom Jeans

Overwhelmed With Gratitude

Mamas.  I cannot tell you how much your words of love and support have meant to both Mike and me.  We are simply overwhelmed with gratitude.  

It's funny, once I published the article, I felt the weight of the last two weeks lift a bit.  And as we read through your thoughts - supportive, funny, tearful - the strangest thing happened:  I started to cry.  For the first time in two weeks I felt unburdened enough to cry.  Sometimes when you get into fight mode, you don't let your guard down, you know?  So thank you all for taking the time to lift me up so that I could break down.  I needed it.

This feeling of...connectedness is, without a doubt, my favorite part of blogging.  Reader Surina said it so eloquently in one of the comments:  

As you move through this experience now, all I can hope is that our comments here, though small in gesture, in some tiny way, let you know that you are not alone, and that you are cared for and matter so much to us all.

Throwing huge hugs, strength, love, and courage out into the universe to fill the spaces between us.

 

We are not alone, are we?  None of us are.  So right back at you, Mamas:  Love and hope and gratitude...filling the spaces between us.

So much love,

S

 

 

I Don't Know How To Talk About This

There are some people who really have their shit together.  They are never late, they create budgets and track finances, their kids' hair is brushed, their clothes unwrinkled.  

I am not one of these people.  

But every once in a while, I do something really, really smart.  In 1998, my answer was yes to a mathematician wearing glasses.  In 2007 I said yes again - to his repeated pleas to have kids. And last month, I called to get a lump checked out.  A lump that I was certain - CERTAIN - was directly related to weaning, nothing more.  

There's no easy way to say this, Mamas.  That lump was cancerous.  And two weeks ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I got the call while driving Raines to his first swimming lesson.  I pulled over, listened to the doctor, asked a few questions, then thanked him for his time and hung up.  I called Mike, and asked him to call my mom.  Then I drove to swimming lessons.  Because...what else does one do?  Is there a protocol for this kind of thing?  I had none, and no idea what to do with myself, so on we went.  I sat there in the bleachers, trying to keep Pax amused, while all of the other moms and kids and dads and nannies and grandparents and teachers went about their business.  Their lives, unaffected, by this...event.  This thing, this...cancer, this news that threatened to swallow me whole.  I felt like I should've been wearing a sign:  WARNING: Breasts Gone Bad.  I was a Peanuts cartoon character of myself:  everything else was just mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mahm.

The last two weeks have been tough.  

The good news is that they caught it early.  (No shit, I wanted to say.  I am only thirty-freaking-seven, it better be early.)  But yes:  early is good.  The type of cancer they found is called DCIS.  DCIS is very early, Stage 0 breast cancer that is incapable of spreading.  It is non-invasive.   The fear, however, is that it will turn into invasive breast cancer eventually.  No one is quite sure on the how, or the why, or even if it will in fact become invasive cancer....but my mom was diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer at age 48, so the docs are all in violent agreement:  The boobs have gotta go.

Also, I have a lot of it.  DCIS, that is. 

So in the next month or so, I will be undergoing a double mastectomy, followed by reconstructive surgery.  Once they remove both breasts, they'll do a full biopsy of the removed tissue.  If the tissue is clear, or "just" contains more DCIS, I'm done.  Case closed.  If, however, they do find some invasive cancer, then at that point we'll start talking about chemotherapy.

I really, really, really don't want to talk about chemotherapy.  I am hoping - as hard as I possibly can - that they only find more DCIS.  I just...I can't even go there.  Not yet.  One thing at a time...this is my new mantra.  Deal with one thing at a time.

Of course, they sent me for genetic testing, to see if I have the BRCA 1 or 2 gene mutation.  If I do...at some point we'll have to deal with my ovaries.  I won't have that result back for a couple of weeks yet.  One thing at a time.

But please know that I am going to be fine.  I AM.  And this isn't the desperate plea of the damned - all of my (very capable) doctors have assured me of this fact several times.  To quote my breast surgeon:  "Yes, you'll be FINE.....and you'll look good, too."

Well.  There's that.  I will admit that I stood in the mirror the other day and lifted my boobs up an inch.  Turning to Mike I asked, "Here?  Wouldn't here...just up an inch be nice?"

The poor man.  He smiles, and is supportive, and managed some enthusiasm (for my sake) at the plastic surgeon's office...but this is a lot.  For all of us.  We're looking at a seriously big surgery in a matter of weeks, with follow-on surgeries for life.  It's crazy, this shit.  I often feel as though I'm talking about someone else.  That poor dear.  Only 37 and has breast cancer!  Can you imagine?  And to think - she nursed for a total of 5 years! 

 My poor breasts are confused as well.  They've been nursing for so long and only retired in February.  So I'd call to make yet another appointment and would get the eerie feeling of milk let-down. Or someone would call with condolences, and after I hung up, my breasts would be full.  Pax would freak out about something, and as I hugged him, he'd reach down my shirt to comfort himself (something he hasn't quite grown out of yet), reminding me of just how recently he was a tiny baby, nursing.  And part of me wants to scream THIS IS BULLSHIT!  BULLSHIT!!  And part of me just doesn't believe this is my diagnosis, and I'm waiting for the joke sign to come out and OK GUYS, IT WAS FUNNY....YOU CAN LET ME OFF THE HOOK NOW....

Yeah.  Still waiting for that joke sign.  

Mike took me and the boys to Cape May this weekend.  It was just what we needed.  Each morning we'd take turns running on the beach.  I haven't really run since high school, but I tend to find my running stride again when I'm stressed.  Running barefoot down the beach, I just pounded it out.  Pounded out my anxiety, my fear, my stress.  And it occurred to me that the last time I saw one of my favorite teachers, Madame Amo, she was running.  Madame always had this youthful energy and was ga-ga over her spirited toddler (in high school we referred to him as "Le Petite Brat" like the assholes that we were) but mostly we all just loved her.  Madam had battled breast cancer for years.  Sadly, the cancer had since returned and the prognosis wasn't good.  So we stopped for a hug and a chat, and I told her that I had heard the sad news and she smiled a tired smile and we held hands.  "You're still running" I said.  "As long as I can, Cherie.  As long as I can."  Then she patted my cheek and told me not to worry and continued on her run, one foot in front of the other.  One thing at a time.  Pounding it out. That was the last time I saw her.  

Now as I pounded out my own fears on the sand, one foot in front of the other, I thought about Madame.  About the hard truths and harsh reality she faced, and how my own situation pales in comparison.  "I have my life," I drummed out.  "I will live, I will live, I will live."  On that beach, I pounded down the fear, pounded down the sadness, and pounded down the anger.  Or some of it, anyway.  And as I came down that final stretch of beach, I could see my three guys playing in the water.  Pax caught sight of me, and with a gleeful "MOMMYYYYYY!!" he flung his chubby arms in the air and came running to greet me.  The sun shimmered on the water, their blonde hair - all unbrushed crazy - glinted in the sun, and ecstatic smiles stretched over their faces, simply because I had returned.  Mum's come home.  (From a 20 minute run, for pete's sake.)  But that's the thing:  They need me.  Our kids need us.  Sometimes, Mamas, the most important thing is just to show up.  And aren't we lucky to have that option?

Meagan Francis started this focus on self-care for Mamas, and with good reason: she's having her hysterectomy on Tuesday.  I can't echo her sentiment enough:  Self-care is more than just bubble baths and pedicures.   We need to take the time.  We need to be healthy.  We need to be here.  

So please, Mamas.  I know summer is upon us, but please make the time for those annoying appointments.

And as for me?  I will be fine.  My summer plans are all screwed up, but Mike and I are both slowing down, refocusing on what's really important.  I do plan to keep blogging - it's been a nice distraction these last two weeks, and I'll keep you guys informed if anything major changes.   Just go get your shiz checked out.  Then we can all relax and enjoy the sun.

xoxo,

S

 

 

Thoughts From America's MILF (Snort)

So it's a weird thing, seeing yourself splashed all over Google.  Especially when the headlines accompanying your pictures are so condemning:  "MILF-Themed Ad Sparks Anger" appears next to a favorite picture of my boys and me.  "Please, think of the Children" snarks above a picture of Pax and me sharing a sweet moment.  Or my favorite:  "MILF Campaign Has Many a Panty in a Bunch".  At least that headline took some creative thought.  Wherever I looked, there we were: Huffington Post, Uk Daily Mail, ABC News, Yahoo, Jezebel and on and on and on.  It was...dizzying.  As the story broke, Mike and I watched it spread throughout the internet in amazement.  "Whoa, Babe" Mike said.  "You're like...America's MILF."

Then we cracked up at the ridiculousness of it all.

A few weeks ago, True & Co asked if I wanted to participate in their upcoming Mother's Day Campaign.  This campaign was aimed at moms and would encourage them to get a proper bra fitting.  The campaign would use the MILF acronym.  In this case, MILF stood for "Mom I'd Like to Fit".  True & Co had sent along mock-ups of how the campaign would look, asked if I'd submit a photo or two and do a short interview.  I thought it was great.  I know firsthand what a difference a well-fitting bra can make, and I found the twist on the MILF acronym funny. (Any longtime reader of Ain't No Mom Jeans will know that we never take ourselves too seriously.)  At no point did I ever imagine that this lighthearted campaign would come under fire.

So imagine my surprise on Wednesday morning when I found myself in the middle of a controversy.  It was surreal, to say the least.  Especially over something so obviously silly.  It's the MILF acronym, for crying out loud!  How can anyone take it seriously?  Its origins were from the movie AMERICAN PIE.  But as the scorn and condemnation spread, I started to wonder.  Did I miss something here?  Was this a bad choice? 

So I thought about it.  And here's the thing...or rather, here's MY thing:  I'm totally OK with the MILF acronym.  Both True & Co's new one, obviously, but also the original MILF acronym.  Yes, it is vulgar, but at the end of the day, it's just a crass way to say that someone is attractive.  Wait - not someone, but a mom.  It's a crass way of saying that a mom is attractive.  And so...who cares?  I don't get all bent out of shape if I hear someone described as a "hot babe", and frankly, I'm no stranger to the F-word myself, so MILF really doesn't faze me. 

But there was something about the backlash that I found very, very troubling.  Many of the negative comments focused on the fact that children were involved.  Some commenters called our MILF-stamped pictures "creepy" while The Ethical Admin stated outright: "I just find that including their kids in the picture is kind of icky."

Ummm...why?  

Any sane person realizes that the MILF acronym is not related to the child, OBVIOUSLY, so what exactly is "icky" about a mom being seen as a sexual object?  Are we not allowed?  Once we have children - BAM - we are relegated to being sexless frumps?  Is that it?  Or maybe Moms can have sex, but only for procreation-related purposes and then we had better NOT enjoy it, dammit.  STAY IN THE BACK OF THE CAVE, WOMAN!  THE BACK!

Adweek cleared up my confusion: "Even if you are sex positive and proud of your smoking-hot MILF status, you probably don't want to involve the kids."  Oh, I see.  Moms are allowed to be "sex-positive" - thank you for that, Adweek - but not when we're actually being moms.  Because there is nothing sexy about our lame, everyday mom-lives.  The only way to be sexy, in this culture, is to put on our f*ck-me shoes and short skirts and go tripping around a pole.  And no mother in her right mind would want her children exposed to that.  "Think of the children!" Adweek cries.  

It's sad that our sexual stereotypes are so narrow that people are uncomfortable with a women being sexy and being a mom at the same time.  Especially since sexiness is more than just physical attractiveness.  

I can't help but wonder...how would a DILF campaign go down?  If, for example, some pant retailer decided to do a "Dad I'd Love to Fit" campaign and asked everyone to submit photos of Dads in time for Father's Day...what then?  Would there be some huge backlash calling the campaign "naughty" or "shameful"?  Would people complain that it was "icky" to see attractive guys pictured with their kids?  

Yeah.  I'd hit that.

Probs not.  As I recall, the Guy-Pushing-Stroller-To-Pickup-Chicks routine is pretty standard in movies and sitcoms. 

Regardless of what the media claims, I don't find True & Co's campaign to be shameful or disrespectful.  It's this idea that moms can't be - or shouldn't be - sexual beings that is the real crying shame. 

xo,

S

This Mama's Earth Day Resolutions

There's a feeling of continuity, when you have kids, that wasn't there before.  Once I looked into Raines' face for the first time, everything changed.  I realized that I would never be able to look at anyone again without - at some level - acknowledging that they too came from someone.  They have a mother, and a father and a grandmother and a great-grandfather and we are, ultimately, connected to all of our ancestors and to each other. Once upon a time, we all opened our eyes and stared at the world with wonder. 

So it's hard, I think, not to care about the environment once you have children.  Once your kids have spent their tummy time staring intently at a blade of grass, or cooing happily at the wind blowing through the trees, or eating their fair share of sand, mud and - ugh - lake water....these things suddenly become so much more precious than they ever were before.  

The whole concept of "saving" the environment is a tough one.  Each time I take one of those quizzes to calculate my environmental footprint, I'm often discouraged by the fact that the low-ish use of my car is offset by all of the flying we do.  Or my recycling isn't enough once you consider the length of my showers.  And I'd love to compost, but I can't seem to figure it out.  (Although, my mother-in-law just throws all food scraps outside of her door.  No fancy equipment, no turning things over, no reading endless blogs about it, just BAM.  Out the door, in a pile.)

But I do believe in doing something.  Something beats nothing every time.  And a big part of my something is simply making sure that my kids grow up loving the outdoors.  Richard Louv, author of Last Child in the Woods, talks about how the most passionate environmentalists are simply the ones who've spent lots of happy time outdoors.  (Hunters are high on this list, by the way.)  

So in honor of Earth Day, I've come up with a few resolutions for the year that will help me to celebrate, honor, and hopefully preserve this amazing world we live in.

Friday Fun and Weekend Inspiration

Any big plans for the weekend, Mamas?  I'm already craving Tired Hands Brewery's house-made pickles and candied bacon.  Yup - you heard correctly:  bacon candied, served with maple syrup for dipping.  Also?  Everything is locally sourced.  It's our go-to spot for Happy Hour, and low-key enough to bring the kids.  Yesssssss.

Earth Day is coming up, and John Master's Organics giving 25% off of everything with code earth13.  They have the best shampoo and conditioner, and offer it in bulk sizes...which become much more affordable at and additional 25% off.  I'm stocking up.  I've been using them for years, and did a full review of their products a while back. 

Shopbop is also having a sale - 20% off of everything with code WEAREFAMILY13 - but the last day is Friday.  So many things to love...but I'm totally blown away by this t-shirt dress, think that this swimsuit cover-up is insanely sexy (in the most subtle way), and that this chic maxi would be perfect for pooch-hiding.  I also have my eye on this simple maxi and would wear it exactly as reader Desiree described earlier this week: 

My favorite combo is a black maxi dress, brown leather sandals, wooden jewelry and a nice canvas bag - so easy.

Perfect, no?

I was inspired by this Dad's article about spending one-on-one time with his kids.  He terms it "Parenting a Boy, Not the Herd."  He writes:

I realized I’d not only slowly reduced parenting to herding, but I’d turned conversation with my kids into not much more than relaying information: giving orders, teaching lessons, reinforcing the positive, correcting the negative. But, away from the herd, alone with Gresham, I found myself cracking jokes, retelling stories from my own childhood, asking better questions.

Yes.  That. I hate when I fall into 'boring old parent mode' and just drone on at my boys about wiping their spills, getting their shoes on, not licking the furniture, etc.  Sigh.  Not only do they not get the best of me when I'm in this mode...but they get someone who doesn't feel like ME at all.  You know?

On an uplifting note, my dear friend Megan sent me the gorgeous video below.  It speaks volumes about how we see ourselves, and how ridiculously hard we are on ourselves.  Get out the tissues, Mamas. 

 

 

xoxo,

S

 

Let's Talk Boobs For a Sec. I mean BRAS. (and fit issues)

Mamas, the end is near.  I have been either nursing or pregnant since 2007.  (Actually, that should be our new slogan here at ANMJ: "NURSING OR PREGNANT SINCE 2007!")

But Pax is now over two.  And while he's not weaned juuuust yet...the reality is that his nursing is pretty sporadic.  I recognize the signs, Mamas.  They've been here for a while.  I'll be lucky if I can stretch it out for a few more weeks at this point.

Therefore, it's time to take care of bidniss.  Specifically, my bra situation.  I have a few once-great nursing bras (most featured here), that are now stretched beyond all recognition.  So on a Friday night a couple of months ago, I wandered into Victoria's Secret.  (And by wandered, I mean that I tricked my husband into meeting me at the mall, then left him and the kids there next to 5 Guys.)

I didn't want to spend a ton of money - especially since 'the girls' will be in a state of flux as Pax tapers off.  Once I stop nursing, I...I can't even talk about it.  It's like my life's purpose will be gone.  (cue tragic music)

Ok.  Back to Victoria's Secret:  Basically I walked in and they pounced.  They started by asking what my 'needs' were (I tried to stick to the general topic of 'bras' and not immediately launch into a detailed list starting with "Poop ALONE")...and then quickly whipped out the measuring tape and wrapped it around my general chest area.  "Uh, um.." I stammered.  "I'm wearing three tops and this sweater is kind of chunk-"  Nobody cared.  They pronounced me a D.  Maybe a C.  And "probably, like, a 34".  And suggested that I would "really, really love" their push-up bras.  Hunh.

Hello, Friday. We're (Barely) Surviving The Chill.

Mamas, I apologize for the light week.  I had intended to post the promised hair article, but man.  I'm wiped out.  Mike has been gone (since Sun!!) on a business trip, and in his absence, I've broken one coffee cup and two plates, lost the car keys six times, left Pax's winter coat somewhere in Easton, PA (Crayola "Experience" - LAME), and have had to deal with snotty noses and freezing weather ALL WEEK.  Ugh.  (To make matters worse, Mike's trip took him to freakin' HAWAII, so my week has been peppered with super annoying texts like, "Aloha Baby!" and pictures of the big waves on the North Shore.  Awesome, but GAH!!!)

During weeks like these, our Kiwi Crates (full review here) are worth their weight in gold.  If you haven't checked them out in a while...they currently have a charming limited edition crate for Valentine's Day.  It comes with enough (pop-up!) Valentine's for an entire class and is nicely gender-neutral.  But be warned:  unless your little one is pretty dexterous, gluing on the pop-ups is a challenge.  R did exactly one, loved it, and then went about just making his own (non-pop-up) cards.  (Kiwi Crate, if you see this, we'd love more regular cards next year.  And more gem stickers.)  I ended up supplementing with plain folded cards (aka cut-up paper, LOL), and am planning to pick up a few sheets of gem stickers to continue the fun.  

I've been perusing through Laura Barr's list of Games That Make Children (and their parents) Smarter.  Raines is just starting to get into games (the old-school board game kind) and if this cold front keeps up, I may be making a large Amazon game purchase.  (R keeps asking for a chess set after playing a bit at the Art Museum.  How awesome is that??)

Also?  I'm feeling fat and old.  Fat, because my body is no longer making all of those holiday goodies magically disappear (GET WITH THE PROGRAM, aging metabolism!!) and old, because next week is my thirty*cough*somehighnumber*cough* birthday.  WOO. HOO.  To invigorate said metabolism, I signed up for Barre3's 28-to-great program...however, I have only managed to work out THREE times since the beginning of Jan.  Therefore, in order to complete my "goal", I must workout 25 more times before Feb 1.  Right.  Shouldn't be a problem.  

And thank you to Refinery 29 for these tips on how to eat healthy in the dead of winter.  Soup, here I come.

In the midst of one of my (many) pity parties this week, I bought myself a cute, cozy sweater.  (With hearts on it.  For $30.)  It's now sold out, but SheInside is my new favorite place for cute & cheap.  This might be my next purchase.  Of course, their things sell out in roughly 10 minutes, so.....

I also can't stop thinking about these Keds snow boots.  They have a super cool 70's vibe, and would be a fun change-up for anyone sick of their serious snowboots.  Did I mention they are on sale for $30?

Lastly, the highlight of our week was Martin Luther King Jr. Day.  If any of you follow me on instagram (@shanachristine) you'll know that I brought the boys to the art museum to see EB Lewis read from his latest book, Each Kindness.  Well.  Add this one to the List of Books That Make Me Cry.  In this very amazing book, the main character frequently rebuffs the attempts of the "new girl" to be friends.  In the end, the new girl moves away, and the main character realizes too late how she had not chosen the path of kindness.  The book ends with, "I watched the water ripple as the sun set through the maples and the chance of a kindness with Maya became more and more forever gone."  Heavy, right?  But I think it was good for Raines to hear that sometimes, when you make bad choices, you can't always fix it. Since then, we've been talking a lot about kindness, what it means to be kind, and how very small acts of kindness, when added together, really can change the world.  During Mr. Lewis' reading, he mentioned that the concept of kindness is so important that he wished we focused on it for longer than just a day.  I couldn't agree more.  So.  I've decided to act like the time between Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Valentine's Day is Kindness Month.  (I know it's not really a month, but still.)  I've been brainstorming ideas with the boys, and we're trying to do something kind everyday.  I'd love for you to join in - it's always so nice to get inspiration from others.  I'll be posting what we do to Instagram and Twitter with the hashtag #kindnesscounts.  

Happy Weekend, Mamas!!  I can't wait for the love of my life to get back home...and I know he picked up some dried mango at the ABC store.  Yay!

xoxo

S

 

 

 

It's Official: Moms Are Cool (And The So-Called "Mommy Wars"? Please Tell Me They're OVER)

Mamas, have you seen Free People's latest catalog?  It's overflowing with gorgeous.  The theme is Girls on Bikes, and one of the shots is of this lovely lady:  a cool mom with a backpack full of flowers and a bald little bub on the front.  

Last May J. Crew featured Arizona Muse and her son Nikko in their May catalog, and now we have Free People giving moms a little love.  Not to mention the incredible styling of the folks at Hatch, and the fact that there are enough inspirational mom fashion bloggers to spend all of your hours online....it seems, dear Mamas, that being a mom is, well...kinda cool these days. 

Not that it really matters, necessarily.  I think the title of "cool mom" applies to any mom who simply does her best and loves the shit outta her kids.  But doesn't it feel good that this anti-mom culture we live in (the one that brought us both mom jeans and mommy wars) is starting to recognize that we are, in fact, awesome?

When I was first pregnant with Raines (over 5 years ago now), I was scared to death of becoming a mom.   I wasn't scared by the act of mothering, which, when you think about it, should be daunting:  no sleep, poop filled diapers, tantrums and oh I don't know the fact that a tiny human being is totally and completely dependent on you.  Instead, I was terrified that I was going to turn into one of "those moms", the sexless mom who spends her time in mom jeans and bad shoes, being overly competitive with her friends and ranting on internet forums.  I know you know her, at least in theory.  She's our symbol of modern motherhood.

But here's the funny thing:  I've never actually met her.

In Denver, after Raines was born, I started a mom's group with one of my friends.  It grew pretty large, and we had the opportunity to meet a ton of moms.  There were stay-at-home moms, moms who worked part-time, full-time, and moms who worked insane amounts of hours and only showed up to the occasional girl's night out.  I found many moms who shared my parenting style, and other moms who thought I was nuts (and sometimes the feeling was mutual).  But here's the thing:  none of these moms were judgemental.  If I had a dollar every time I heard someone say, "It's so hard...everyone is so different!"  Most of the angst aired was directed inward:  we were all so much harder, it seemed, on ourselves.

I'll acknowledge that this is only one tiny data point.  And I've also had moms give me dirty looks, make snide remarks, and shock me by their judgemental responses in internet forums.  But in most cases, those instances were usually due to one of the following:

1.  I was being overly-sensitive and misconstrued an otherwise innocent comment (or look).

2.  A good mom was having a bad day (and probably misconstrued something I said or did).

3. They are assholes.

But here's the thing:  the mean/snide/judgemental comments weren't always coming from MOMS, these comments were coming from ASSHOLES who happen to be moms.

That's a big difference.  Why do we, as moms, have to sustain the damage caused by the "mommy war" label, when the simple truth is that assholes are everywhere?  In all walks of life?  It's not motherhood that makes people hateful.  It's hate that makes people hateful.  (Haters gotta hate amiright?)

Motherhood has been, in every way, trying.  I suffered through two years without sleep after Raines was born, and did it all over again with Pax.  I spent many nights in tears - either because nursing wasn't working, or feeding wasn't working, or sleeping wasn't working, or time-outs weren't working or positive discipline wasn't working, or I because knew that I had been at my worst that day.  I searched to find new outlets for my sense of self: one where my self-esteem wasn't directly tied to the height of my heels or the flatness of my stomach.  I have been forced, through the mirror that is our children, to confront, head-on, the worst parts of my personality.  On a daily basis.  Sometimes minute-by-minute.  Motherhood is humbling to say the least.    

But here's the thing about being humbled:  You learn so much from it.  And there is no doubt that I am a much better person because I am a mother.  With each kid, I feel like I've gotten wiser, and have come closer to finding my center.  (Not that I don't have a Dynasty-worthy rager now and again, or that my husband has never come home to find me sobbing, "I'm so alooooone" on the bathroom floor.  That's life, right?)

But having kids, in general, makes us better people.  Whenever I meet a mother of four (or more!!) I'm often left in awe of her genius.  These mamas have reached an enlightened buddha state that I can only dream of.  

So whether or not you throw on your designer sunglasses, and pedal your gorgeously dressed baby around some cobble-stoned street...if you are a mom, trying your best, learning all that you can, and loving your kids to pieces....I'll bet that you are also pretty. darn. cool.  And if our culture is finally waking up to the fact that moms rock?  Bring it, baby.  Cause we can all use a little dose of mom-friendly inspiration now and again.

(That Free People sweater-jacket looks perfect for throwing over a spit-up stained tee, doesn't it?  More like this, Free People.  MORE LIKE THIS.)

xo,

S

 

Friday.

Mamas, I'm still reeling from Friday's horrific news. I literally spent the weekend snuggled in with my boys, sometimes reading about Friday's tragedy, and then turning it all off when I couldn't bear it any longer. The stories of the brave teachers (and students) are truly amazing, but they don't take away my...anger? Confusion? Choking, bewildered, pain? All of it, I guess. As a mom, this hits such a raw nerve - the weight of the despair literally brings me to my knees when I think of the reality that so many are now living...they were our babies! And, as Lane said here, those mothers affected are our sisters. Lane's words resonated hard with me. They didn't bring me peace, necessarily, other than the peace that comes with the understanding that we are not alone. Not alone in our thoughts, in our confusion, in our despair.

To those affected by Friday's events, to those all over the world who are dealing with the tragic loss of a child...my thoughts and prayers are with you.

Friday Thoughts....

Never have I seen so much rain, Mamas.  With inexplicably 80+ degree temps.  We're all...uh...steaming?  Is that the right cooking method?

Anyway, the best part about the Philly mainline is that the kiddos are free to play in the (relatively) clean street gutters.  Cause this would ne-eh-eh-ever happened downtown Denver:

 

I know you are wondering about the helmet.  (Or no one is, but I'll tell you anyway.)  P insists, basically.  If big brother is wearing a helmet (to bike, obvi), then P wears one.  Regardless of activity.

 

In any case, there are a few fun things I wanted to share....

Did you catch the article about the Dad who started wearing skirts as a show of solidarity to his son?  Nothing but awesome.  Made my whole day.  

This drool-worthy new maternity line has the most unexpected yet chic accessory:  beaded cuffs

Street Style photag Vanessa Jackman caught this little cutie in a big boy outfit, complete with striped socks and sandals.  Gotta love that.

I may actually buy a pair of Crocs for my guys.  Maybe.  This pair only.  (In black.)

Have you heard about that UnbabyMe app for Facebook?  The one that will delete all baby pictures from your Facebook feed?  It struck me as totally annoying and, well, mean.  Then I read MODG's response and laughed and laughed and laughed....love her.

Lastly, we've been busy blogging over at Mom.me.  M shows how to transition your summer dresses into Fall, I put together five Fall outfits that will do double-duty (work then playdate, for example) and highlighted 8 pieces that will help you hide a first trimester bump at the office. 

Enjoy your weekend!  Our last before Raines starts preschool. (sob!)

xo,

S

ps.  We have some giveaway winners to announce!  Congrats to Tamara of GlowingColor for winning the $50 J.Crew gift card!

And our Common Thread winner never materialized....so our new winner is  Alice McGuin!

Mamas, email us: aintnomomjeans@gmail.com so we can hook you up with your loot!