Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Date Night: Toddler style

While my best friend was having her most amazingly beautiful little girl...

Stop. What's that noise? I think it was my uterus bursting! Thank you Felix for waking up every night are the most handsome birth control.

We got the pleasure of hosting our first friend sleepover...with their incredibly well-mannered, intelligent, gorgeous oldest child, S. She's one of the closest things I have to a daughter, and she fills the world with such joy and curiosity (and fills the little bits of me that long for playing dolls and "teacher"). Even though the D Family are only a whopping 5 days into the whole family of 4 thing, and S is finally the "big girl" on the block, she'll always hold a special place in my heart as that first "baby" girl. It's kind of how I feel about Miles. You don't love any subsequent children any less, TRUST me, but both Miles and S's births were incredibly moving and hold meaning in my life that is really hard to explain.

Time is ticking, and before long, the willingness to allow a menage a trios bath, and inviting a girl to wear my son's pajama top and sleep on the floor next to him will abate. But for a spell, this could be wild fun.

Toddler Tub Time was a gas. The kids are still too little to care about each other's tiddly bits (or lack thereof), and nipples are on the same longitude, so it was just a lot of uninhibited naked splashing and laughter. I have over 100 photos from the weekend, but I've saved those for us parents to exploit for future partners and potential wedding video fodder.

Trouble 2:

Trouble 3:

Trouble 3 and a half: It's their ages...get it?

Don't think we slack on dental hygiene when guests come around. We've had enough oral drama in this house. (Although, I could take some lessons from all 3 kids on flossing...). I think this could be one of my most favorite pictures.

S made herself at home and did some light reading before she asked to move the mattress on the floor next to Miles's make-shift bed. NOTE TO DADDY FRANK--YOUR DAUGHTER IS THE ALPHA FEMALE AND PURSUED MY SON. Just makin' sure we're clear...

We ended the night with a reading of The Lorax, or as Miles calls it, "Mole Rats." I am not sure if I am going to let Miles see the movie (contemplating if it should be his first movie experience in a theater), but I did splurge on 2 plush organic Seuss toys from Target--a Lorax and a Cat in the Hat. I cannot find a link to them, but they are really cute, and with Dr Seuss week at school, Show and Tell is covered! And then like a hot poker in my soul, the very next day I got this from one of my favorite organizations , Campaing for a Commerical-Free Childhood. Dr Linn would be ashamed, oh so ashamed of me! ( May I mention that I e-mailed a scathing letter to Seventh Generation a few weeks back expressing my disappointment with them plastering the Lorax on my child's diapers. One of the selling factors for me with Seventh Gen diapers is their "paper bag chic" look. I like that they use NO cartoons or silly pictures on the waste disappearing truck wheels when urinated faux jeans (really? Diapers need to look like jeans?). I love the look like you took an old Stop n Shop paper bag and cut it into a diaper (with a little more cushioning). What can I say--I like earth tones.

But then I go on my lunch break and impulsively buy the characters, swayed by my child's love of the story, and the fact that they are organic (awful reasoning I fall prey to quite a bit. Organic oreos? Have to be good for you.). And maybe I'm hoping to establish more nurturing boys since they aren't huge stuffed animal boys and I was the type to stick my Popple under my shirt to pretend I was pregnant...or sit with Rainbow Brite in the afternoons as I pretended she ran away from home and I was her new mom. I never just buy toys to buy toys...until now. (Or when I bribed Miles to be quiet in Michaels by getting him a plastic microphone.)

I blame Parkour
And hot air balloons
And primary colors
And charming versions of "Alouette"

Not sure if there is something subliminal going on, but I'm like a carrot to a donkey when that Target Ad comes on

Miles and S slept on the floor with a big body pillow between them, but both of them ended up in totally random spots on the floor--completely separate from each other. They also spent a good deal of time talking the dark about things like "Disney" and I think Miles was singing "Twinkle Twinkle" while S was passed out around 9pm. I remarked to is this what it is like to have to go in and tell children to be quiet at a sleepover? (Okay---I think some of us may have run around my kitchen sans pants as a dare at 3 in the morning during a sleepover. And I wonder why my boys are allergic to pants...let's not forget massages and the Ouji board, and "Girl Talk". And chocolate chip pancakes at Bec's house.)

The next day we celebrated S's 3rd birthday at Gymboree, and my introverted boys, true to form, didn't warm up until parachute time.  Actually, Felix isn't introverted, he was just interested in doing his own parkour on this one gymnastic element instead of doing any of the organized games.

Raise the roof if you are 3!

What better way to end the party than with Sesame Street cupcakes...and snuggles from Daddy...

Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

(Periodically I am going to "analyze" my text using the I write like site I mentioned last post and see what pops up! Today, I write like: Cory Doctorow. Whateves.)

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

"I write like..."

My bro sent me a cool site called I Write Like where they claim:

Check which famous writer you write like with this statistical analysis tool, which analyzes your word choice and writing style and compares them with those of the famous writers.

As a formal English major, this totally tickles my fancy. Although, my degree in public health does drum up questions like, "how are they calculating this? What kind of stats are they talking about?" Hmmm...I wonder if SPSS is used. Public health peeps, holla!

So, I pasted in one of my blog gems. I wanted a good one with lots of drama and histrionics.

I submitted...and...

I write like JAMES JOYCE

Really? Jimmy Janx? (I never got through Finnegan's Wake)

A Portrait of the Artist...

I'm right back in high school and undergrad.

He DID "perfect" the stream of consciousness technique...according to Wikipedia.

I'll take it.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Thumb too dirty I wanna ride a birdie

I've made note a few times previously that I've resurrected the old hand games of my youth with Miles. I have *not* introduced him to a secret favorite:
"Miss Susie had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell...DING DING!
Miss Susie went to heaven, the steamboat went to...
HELLo operator, please give me #9. And if you disconnect me, I'll chop off your...
BEHIND the 'fridgerator, there was a piece of glass. Miss Susie sat upon it and it went right up her...
ASSk me no more questions, tell me no more lies. The boys are in the girls' room, zipping down their...
FLIES are in the meadows, the bees are in the park. Miss Susie and her boyfriend are kissing in the
D-A-R-K, D-A-R-K, D-A-R-K, DARK DARK DARK is like a movie..." et cetera et cetera.

Potty humor is not just for boys. And I'm calling out Rebecca who I know sang this with me on a # of occassions on the bus.

I do sing the one about Miss Susie having a baby who tries to eat the bathtub...and then there is a few other ones that I'll try to get on tape.

The song d'jour is "ABC just as easy as 1,2,3." Miles has been singing it for a few months, and I had to video it while his speech is still questionable (ie, cute until we go to speech therapy in a few months)

Knowing you all don't speak Milese, here is a translation. It's silly. It's fun, and along with finding all of the planets on my Google Sky map phone app (including Saturnen and Jewvenus as he calls them at times), it is my favorite part of bed time.

A-B-C just as easy as 1-2-3
My Mama takes care of me!
Baby you and me
Ooo..Ahh I wanna piece of bread
Bread too sweat I wanna piece of meat
Meat too tough I wanna ride a bus
Bus too full I wanna ride a boat
Boat too black I want my MONEY back
Money back too green I wanna jelly bean
Jelly Bean not cooked I wanna read a book
Book not read I wanna go to bed
Bed not made I want some LEMONADE
Lemonade too sour I wanna take a shower
Shower too cool I wanna be a fool
Fool too dumb I wanna suck my thumb
Thumb too dirty I wanna ride a birdie
Birdie too slow that's ALL.I.KNOW!

Friday, February 17, 2012

More curiousity

Just a few more gems from the Curious George books we are borrowing from the library this week...

Lots of pipe smoking going on back in the 40s. And apparently Monkeys smile while they vomit sea life. 

I think we've exhausted all of the George books at the library...even duplicate copies. Here's hoping Miles decides to exhibit an affinity to a new series soon.

(In the meantime, I previously wanted to direct you to a great blog my friend JE introduced me to, Waking Brain Cells, where a librarian from Appleton, WI maintains a great blog of book reviews for both children's and teen books. I've added a ton of books after reading her blog to both our library list and our to buy list.)

Tuesday, February 14, 2012


Love bug Valentine idea and free download by dandee.  Materials: recycled cut cardboard, downloaded bug jar, glue, dollar store bag of 20 flies, double sided tape, Sharpie, and an ink pad. Failed toddler finger print heart idea from Pinterest. Tape and gluing courtesy of Miles.

11th hour-last minute attempt to make cards for 2 wildly out of control, bawling toddlers...junior varsity version of lullaby lubbock's idea. (Curses for the dollar store not coming through with toy dinosaurs! And curses to my printer running low on ink so I couldn't do the printable.) Dinosaur selection and placement courtesy of Felix.

Materials: foam craft sheets, foam dino stickers, and sharpie.

1 out of 2 ain't bad.

Go indulge in some love today.


Dedicated to "Grandma" Ruth and a Valentine's due date. (Ah, who am I kidding. I would have delivered that baby way back in January. Humor is how I am getting through today. And lots of extra hugs with my boys. Love abounds...)

Monday, February 13, 2012

Toddler Book Club: Par-taay of 2

In the last post I wrote on and on about Eric and my raging book club. And by raging, I mean, the two of us juggling a handful of books and discussing one chapter by chapter in between yawns and hypotheses about the appendix.

I've talked a lot about how much the boys love reading, which is exaggerated by my obsession with collecting hard cover children's books. But that gets expensive. Even with Amazon. So for the past year, we've been better at going to the library. One huge advantage is that when the boys find a book that they absolutely love, and it turns into you reading it 11 million times in a day, YOU HAVE TO RETURN IT and don't have to hide it in the closet so they cannot find it. Not that I have ever done that. A lot.

But here is the problem: our library has multiple copies of some books. So, wouldn't you believe it, 2 weekends ago the boys returned 2 of "those" books that we were thrilled to see them shove in the "returns" slot...but somehow their superhero Dr Seuss and H.A. Rey radar found additional copies in the children's section.

Guess what books ended up back in our bag along with Mom and Dad's choices that seem to never get read?

Listen, I love me some Dr Seuss, but Miles is starting to read those really long obscure stories:

Specifically, he wanted to read the 2nd and 3rd stories (King Looie Katz and The Glunk That Got Thunk). Oh, and we have far surpassed that "why" stage...we are on to 21 questions after every sentence. Some times, I actually have to just ignore the questions and keep reading or it would be 10pm before lights were turned off (and then don't get me started about the requests to cuddle and talk about Saturn and Jupiter each night. We have more stalls than the Kentucky Derby.)

"Why is the last cat not have he tail held?"
"Why is there so many cats?"
"Why him walking along that way?"
"Why them in a line?"

And so on and so on. One of my friends wrote about how cute it is when your kid says things incorrectly and how you miss it when they all of a sudden lose it (I love how Miles used to say "on your mark, DEN set, go!" And still love how he says binoculars...), but his misuse of personal pronouns is killing me, people!

And while I'm kind of happy to have moved on from board books and most of the Boynton/Carle books, Felix is not quite ready for 60 pages of mostly text, so he just uses story time to jump on the chair, throw stuffed animals, and pull other books off the shelf.

But we are good about getting more age appropriate books for him, and he is sure to let you know his favorites. Speaking of obscure Dr Seuss we've read 20 gagillion times, here is Felix's favorite library book:

It's actually a really cool book, and it's not that Felix even needs to read it over and over, he's just obsessed with ONE page. So after we read it, he needs you to turn back to the wolf page.


Kinda creepy and violent, no? We couldn't understand his fascination, but between this and the dinosaur page, I was thinking he might be seeing some sort of subliminal message.

Cue creeptastic music...AND THEN I REALIZED HE WAS!

Okay, follow me here. I was sitting patiently while Felix obsessed over this page and was like, at least make this educational, Mom. So I asked him what does a wolf say?
"Good! Now where is the wolf's eye?"
"Right there!" (pointing to the inside of the mouth)
"No, right here. Where is the wolf's nose?"
"Right there!" (pointing to the inside of the mouth)
"No, right here. Where is the wolf's mouth?"
Right there!" (pointing to the inside of the mouth)

...and then I realized what my child was obsessed with looking at and pointing to:

HELLO CREEPY FACE IN THE MOUTH OF THE WOLF!!! Just to confirm, I asked Felix about all of the facial features again, and sure enough, he pointed to the creepy eyes when I asked about the eyes, the creepy nose when I asked about the nose, and creepy mouth when I asked about the mouth. I mean...whoa. How this kid does not have nightmares.

I love that my kids are curious and imaginative, but this took it to a new level.

Speaking of curious, another author we've grown to both love and hate in our house is H.A. Rey. Curious George anyone? I love a cute, curious monkey, but
  1. The books are LONG
  2. They have some pretty dated messages and concerning subject matter for someone with an advanced degree in public health.
I mean, Dr Wiseman forcing the monkey to be the first living creature in space and asking him to risk his life because the space shuttle is too small for humans? Hello Project X! (Poor Virgil...). And then there are these gems:

(Miles is all "Look! He's flying!")

(Cordial glasses and Cuban cigars???)

What I didn't (illegally) post a picture of was our newest George book where the monkey is actually smoking a pipe. I know the 40's were a different time, but I'm just not ready to have discussions about lung cancer, hallucinogenic substances, and animal abuse.

Okay, okay. I know I'm a little extreme in my reflections, but intentionally so. The truth is, we really do pause at some of the old books and content more in astonishment and have great commentary on what was kosher at the time, but I'm happy to read them to the boys.

Preferably no more than 3 times a day.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

What would the cleaner think...

Book Club Party of 2

I *think* I've mentioned before that I have a book club, party of 2, with my husband. I'm a lurker in an online book club, but outside of the 2 books I've already read on the group's list, I haven't really been an active member (and I guess already having read 2 of the books isn't being active at all, huh?)

Reading is such an integral part of our household, and I think my husband has a slight obsession with books. Not kindle books, like real, live, tangible objects you turn pages with your fingers...not a swipe. Although, we realized how we are not quite eccentric or well read enough to be considered bibliophiles when we mosied on into Atlanta Vintage Books on our wife and hubby date last weekend. Holy cats. Like real live cats everywhere. Holy hundreds of dollars first run signed copy of Catcher in the Rye. Holy 70,000 books. And holy wickedly well red husband and wife owners.

The problem is, nighttime, when we have any chance of adult reading, we are slammed with things to do; Eric is always working on lesson plans, cross country/track plans, or adult coaching business. Always. And rumor has it he's been doing lots of work on applying for a PhD program (so far so good!). And then there is Ali's work. Let's.just.not.go.there. But then there is, say, the housework: laundry (poopy underwear lots of times), cleaning up dishes, putting clothes away, et cetera et cetera. This is nothing novel for millions of us, and not sure why I even used blogging real estate to discuss.

Point is, at night, we are pooped, and not in our intellectual prime. Most nights I'm concerned that instead of reaching for the Tom's, I'll hit up Eric's zit cream instead, and bathe my pearly off-whites in acne medication. Rumor has it that someone in my family, let's call him Bricholas, mistakenly used some, uh, let's just say geriatric cream as his toothpaste at my grandparents' house one time by accident. See? I'm genetically primed to make this mistake!

But Eric and I are committed to having our own book club.

We've tried the arrangement of: you read a book, I read the book...discuss.


So now it's: you read a chapter, I read a chapter...discuss.

And believe it or not, it's working pretty well. The only problem is that we both have a bunch of books going on at the same time, and only one in our book club. Throw in Words with Friends (rather, words with my husband), knitting, and Eric trolling and, and we aren't getting very far.

The other night I was looking at our room thinking, "what would the cleaner say about MY stack of books?"

Actually, first I was thinking, "we need to get a door on our bathroom. I think Miles is finally old enough to understand the word privacy, and I'd love a great private pee."

Let me interrupt myself and say, every time I mention having a cleaner, I chuckle. It's like I'm an adult or something. And like an adult who has disposable income to spend on such a luxury. Unfortunately, neither is true. Maybe by the calendar and government I'm considered an adult, but I still have moments of wanting my Mommy and many days wondering when this idyllic game of house will be interrupted by the call that it's time to do my homework. But as full time working parents, we decided at some point that we would sacrifice some savings for both a house cleaner and a monthly yard guy.

Life. Changing.

Currently, I'm working on 5 books--6 if you count my knitting book. But as I was looking at the stack, I was just thinking that someone would probably scratch her head and think, "this girl is intense. She needs some trashy fiction."

Little does that phantom person know I have a weekly subscription to US Weekly that I got for like 20 some odd bucks for the year.

Our official book club book is The Wildlife of our Bodies. Predators, Parasites, and Partners That Shape Who we Are Today. Eric and I are really enjoying it. I LOVED Survival of the Sickest: The Surprising Connection Between Disease and Longevity, and this seemed to fall into that same kind of genre. Both Eric and I agreed that it isn't quite as compelling, but very well written and makes you really think about your body, germs, microbes, and gut bacteria.

Thrilling. I know. But this is what get our juices bubbling.

I'm also flipping through (and loving each of them):
I am totally devouring this book. Easy to read, scientific, and practical advice for parents. Plus, the baby on the cover was so stinkin' cute. 
This is one of Eric's course books for his history of happiness class next year at Marist, and I am trying to read all of the books so I can help him navigate his first year teaching this course.
Huh? You've got anxiety? Elephant in the room here. 'Nother time, 'nother post. But I'm totally that girl who wants to be a good "meditator", yogi, Buddhist, and regular acupuncture patient. This book has really allowed me to re-frame how I think about life's struggles and anxiety-provoking events. I mean, not that I have had ANY in the past (insert a thick blanket of sarcasm.)
This is a second time read for me, but I liked it that much the first time. Heralding from a family of educators, and being married to one who teaches at a grades-driven school, one would think that we are proponents of formalized education as soon as possible. But the truth is, all of the experiences of my family and husband have led us to realize that the longer our children have the opportunity for free play and imagination, the better. Eric's first question at every single PreK we visited: "how much free play do they get?" This would be asked immediately after Mr and Mrs Jones asked their umpteenth question about if they teach simple adding, writing words, etc. Of course, we are still battling bowel control, so writing one's name is the least of my concerns. Play is a dying art, and there are consequences to eliminating the opportunity for kids to explore, play, and imagine.
Insert ellipses indicating we are heading into the epilogue:

I think it's kind of funny that I'm worried what the cleaner thinks about my stack of books when one of those books is trying to get me to be less driven by external validation, and more in tune with personal acceptance.

Plus, I'm pretty sure the fact that we still don't have a door on our bathroom, and that our house is a safe haven for heavily reproducing dust bunnies, hair piles, and drops of oatmeal crusties all over this joint...she's got enough to think about and work on.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


I am not a great gift receiver, but instead focus on my shortcomings of being a mediocre gift giver. But I wanted to take a moment to mention 3 really wonderful gifts I got.

  1. A gift certificate for new underwear. Ladies, I don't need to expound, but there is nothing like getting tons of over priced cotton undies. And after what seemed like 32 years of nursing and pumping, I needed to get some new hardware for the northern hemisphere, too. Luckily, those quintuplet As don't sell out so fast, so I was able to get some good deals. Things better stop shrinking. I mean, is there a negative alphabet? (You think those new Georgia obesity public health ads are controversial, how about we charge less for smaller sizes of bras and panties? Less fabric, right? Jo-king. Just my boobs' insecurity speaking.)
  2. Anthropologie robe. I saw this uh-mazing sherpa-y lined robe while shopping with some friends, and it magically arrived! (Okay, I got it from one of those friends). It's like wrapping yourself in the softest blanket. Plus, it's really cute, not too long, and I *may* have worn it every night since getting it. Eric has his house shoes...I have my house robe.
  3. Swingy Skirt. I've been holding out for a big post about my friend's amazing skirt creations (see here) because, as I told her, I was going to try and be her unpaid, over zealous PR agent from afar. But I think she may have carpal tunnel syndrome from the bazillion sewing projects she did for everyone else (including for my sister-in-law's birthday!), and girl wants to sew for herself and her cute baby girl. Don't blame her. :) I attempted to take pictures of the skirt so you can see how amazing it is. I think I'm going to live in a bathrobe and swingy skirt from now on.
I CANNOT take pictures of myself.
I DO NOT have any good place to take a picture in what feels like our 400 square foot brick home.
I CANNOT trust a 3 and 2 year old with a highly expensive camera to help...although the thought did cross my mind.
I CANNOT help the wrinkled nature of the skirt. I don't iron and I wore the skirt already for almost 12 hours. But may I just say that when I put it on this morning, Miles said to me, "why are you a princess?" Be still my heart. One step closer to becoming Kate Middleton.
I WILL NOT wait for my husband to get home late at night to take pictures. And let's be honest, his pictures aren't that great.

I can say that because he doesn't read my blog. 

Anyway, enjoy the pics as much as I enjoyed wearing the skirt. Love me some Amy crafts...and if and when she does open for business, I already have a line of friends who want to throw some cash her way. (She is rolling her eyes at me right now.)

 My assistant...

 Sitting...still looks good.
 Don't tell Eric I am standing on his coveted chair.
 Fabric close-ups

 Trying to get just the front. A kingdom for a backdrop...
 One last look! Thanks Amy!

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

It's not so Simple

If you know anything about me, you probably know that I have a slight obsession with shoes.

Not my shoes. I mean, I *may* have just worn a pair of worn out Franco Sarto boots I bought on this "new" site called Zappos circa 2002.

I'm obsessed with my boys' shoes. Mommies of girls get to bathe in ruffle bottoms, cable knit tights, cute bows, mary janes, and smocking. Not to say I'm a real "girly-girl," but a hard part of having boys (right after potty training, learning to preemptively quell diaper squirts in the eye, and handing off awkward conversations about teenage body parts and nighttime experiences to Dad), is that the clothes situation bites.

First, for both boys and girls I find the gender stereotyping of clothing egregious. My opinion. Take it or leave it. And I've been given flak on Facebook about it when I commented about how awful JC Penny's selections for children's clothing were. And it's not just JC Penny--it's everywhere from Target to Carter's. I don't have a problem with making a distinction between feminine and masculine, but I do have a problem with drenching babies in really harmful gender stereotypes.

And something about our children being walking advertisements...

Okay, I'm stepping away from the soapbox now...this rant could get dangerous, and I just had a flashback to women's studies. I could easily go all postmodern/post-structural feminist on you.

Listen, I have our fair bit of shirts with trucks, cars, and robots on them, but if you know me, I'd prefer a nice striped waffle shirt or cotton button down. I think I drive my mother-in-law crazy with my very specific preferences for the boy's clothing. (Funny example of how it's quite obvious my preference for boys' clothing: another mom at school told me that her son said "I look like Miles" when they put him in a button down for Christmas.)

Time out. Slight explanation. First, I buy 99.9% of my children's clothing at consignment. And yes, I do tend to buy very adult looking clothing. But in reference to the button downs, I've got 2 kids with noggins that are in the 75-90th percentile. Button downs are far easier. And at $2 a pop--DONE!

Okay, it is true that my son can read a few words, one of which is "GAP", as it adorns many of his clothes. And along with his developing drawings of "head-footers," it's something I get slight pride in--word recognition. In truth, I'd prefer the clothes just not say anything, but it happens that GAP tends to have the most plain Jane (John?), classic clothing. They just have to stick on that darn bear and the word "GAP" as marketing.

I'm not perfect. And as you will soon see, I'm probably a writing contradiction.

Wait--where were we? Something about shoes?

Ah yes. I'm obsessed with my boys' shoes. I find that attractive, functional boys' shoes are also hard to find, so when a few years back I found out that Simpe Shoes made baby and toddler versions, I went nuts. Eco-certified, WASHABLE, cute, durable...I was in heaven. At first I was appalled at the close to $40 price tag, and then I looked at Stride Rite, See Kai Run, Pedoodles, etc, and noticed this alarming trend: children's shoes cost a fortune. Luckily, over the years, I've strategically found places that have sales on Simple shoes. Currently, we are rotating quite a few (seen below), and I have 3 other pairs that both boys have grown out of. The 2 green-ish pairs are way too big for the boys (Miles is barely in a size 7 and Felix barely in a 6), but I got some devastating news recently: SIMPLE SHOES ARE CEASING DISTRIBUTION AND GOING ON A CREATIVE REENERGIZING VACATION. What that means to me is that I cannot fuel my obsession.

Maybe this is a healthy way of detoxing?

So I panicked, scoured the net for deals on toddler shoes, and bought the 2 green pairs (size 8 and 10) at the REI outlet along with some for my niece. And I might be ordering some more from Eric and I both have a pair and are in love, and again, I might have to order some more. Like, I'm totally in love with these boots, which aren't a great replacement for my worn Franco's, but I can convince myself easily after a glass of TJ's 2 buck chuck tonight.
 It's like the scarcity principle in full effect--I'm terrified of them disappearing, and then my children will have to wear ugly orthotic shoes...and we know that sometime soon they'll both be in glasses, probably braces or at least head gear, Felix still has that damn tort collar (version 2.0, toddler style), and let's not count out the possibility of early onset puberty and acne due to some hormone they've probably been ingesting (or maybe something related to the copious amounts of lady bugs Felix has probably eaten this month). You see where this is going. First Simple shoes disappear, and next my children need to be home schooled and "therapized" for life.

Oh, along with OCD and anxiety, I have a penchant for catastrophizing.
Hold on! Appendix A!!! For Felix's birthday, he was gifted from one of my besties a pair of TOMS shoes. I couldn't believe it!
First, I love the company, the philosophy...and I've been drooling over a pair of wedges and flats for myself.  My totally rad and cool Uncle Bob and Aunt Denise have a few pairs, and I found out my cousin (their daughter) has 9 pairs! (insert envy). My dream clothing stylist (who happens to be my friend LVW at work) has an amazing pair of wedges and black sparkly flats, and I my work day gets infinitely better when I see her wearing them.

Here's the skinny: for every pair purchased, they give a pair to a child in need. I recommend checking out the site.

(See the rainbow above? That is God singing the praises for a new pair of cute boy shoes for our house.)

Size wise, I was thinking they would be perfect for Felix to wear in the spring. Low and behold, even though they are a little big, Felix is IN LOVE with them and asks to wear his "TOMS" shoes every day. I mean, he is over Simple like they are ceasing distribution or something. Wait...they are. (wah-wah).

This morning he threw his Simples at me (yup, he's 2. More on that in another post), and crawled to the shoe caddy area and snatched the TOMS and attempted to put them on in quite an aggressive manner. Boy knows what he wants!

It's hard because Felix is a little rough and tumble, so the canvas is wearing on the toe area (part of why I loved Simples--that darn toe rubber!), but he has used and abused them so much that I think I've found a good alternative to Simples for the time being.

I know in a world where we are trying to keep up with Newt's # of affairs and exposing how horrible Mitt the moderate Masshole is (this is no commentary on my political leanings, though if you haven't "left" here for too long, they are pretty obvious...just like that clue in the last sentence...this is just a reflection on how tired the whole circus of primaries are. I'd say the same thing if it were all Democrats.), it seems silly for me to dedicate a post to shoes, but I really mourned the loss of Simple.

No, really. I think for 2 nights straight I mentioned to Eric how sad I was.

I get attached easily. And I have slight obsessive tendencies (rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat). And maybe it's because I never had a dog growing up, or because I wasn't crowned prom queen.

Whatever the reason, I'll be hunting the last of the Simple shoes until the supply runs dry. Any leads are appreciated. (I will say for adult shoes,   has amazing prices. Far better than Zappos)

Luckily, we have entered the world of TOMS thanks to AS, and counseling is not in order.

At least for this sitch-ee-a-shun.