Friday, August 31, 2007

And So It Ends

Labor Day weekend. Whew.

Sorry for the lack o' post yesterday. The kids and I spent all day at the Maryland Science Center, playing and learning and touching and experiencing. It was fab. A wonderful way to round out the summer--we had a great time and didn't get home until the bath/dinner/bed/ cleanup rush. My poor computer felt so neglected! ;)

School starts Tuesday. We have a jam-packed weekend planned. Should be a fun one!

Hope all of you enjoy the official end of summer. I'll admit, as much as we're all ready for school to start, I'm going to miss my little boogers around the house. It's gonna be quiet in here! DS's new teacher called last night to see if we had any questions. Very sweet. And DD's teacher came to the house on Wednesday and spent about a half-hour with her. The kids are pumped. We're looking forward to a great school year.

We're having one more swim playdate with friends today. Then the whirlwind weekend, and then the bell rings.

Have a great weekend, gang! Happy fall!

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Proof of Miracles

I bought an external hard drive, hooked it up, downloaded the software for system backups from Microsoft, enacted said software, and backed up my entire system, and it all worked the first time.

Did you hear that? The. First. Time. The exact way the directions said it would.

I mean sure, downloading the backup utility for some reason zapped Internet Explorer right off my computer, but that was relatively easy to fix. And not really the new drive's fault, right?

A new computer device worked the first time. Don't ever tell me there aren't paranormal events.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Close to Home

My neighbors put their dog down yesterday. She was a sweet oldish golden retriever. Saturday night, she collapsed. The emergency vet found cancer everywhere, and the family spent Sunday saying goodbye before having the vet come to their house yesterday and help her move on to whatever comes next.

It hit a little close, honestly. Their dog and the WDCL were the same age and I always thought she was way healthier than my beast. Hearing that she had to go and that it was just that fast rocked my world a bit. My heart broke for their family...I left a card for them, not knowing what else to do, and sent good thoughts down that way.

My kids took it pretty hard. DD burst into tears several times over the course of the day saying, "I don't want the doggie to die!" And DS drew several pictures of her, in his introverted, thoughtful way, and asked questions about putting dogs down (he saw the vet arrive at their house and quickly put the situation together) and if his friends were sad and if dogs go to heaven just like people.

I'm going to miss her. Honestly, I'm more of a dog person than a people person and she's been on the block for 7+ years. She's been at every party and happy hour I can remember and was the sweetest thing ever.

I'll tell you something else: WDCL can't figure out what happened, but she's been spoiled absolutely rotten since we heard the news around 6 yesterday morning. Even when she puked on my beige rug at 4:30 this morning. Hugs and kisses and cuddles and green beans (she loves green beans) and nuzzles and lots and lots of tummy rubbins.

If you have a good thought to spare, send it to my neighbors, would you? They're dog people like me, and their world is pretty empty this morning.

I'm off to the Lab Rescue website. Maybe we'll get that second dog after all.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Same As My Preschooler

Dear Michael Vick

Don't say you're sorry. The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught.


Sunday, August 26, 2007

Vacation Wrap-Up

Seven days at the lake. Holy cow.

  • Got the living room and dining room painted. Including their massively high vaulted ceilings--we had to rent an industrial ladder. NOT fun.
  • DH almost fell to his death (I'm kidding, but it was kind of freaky for a minute there) when his folding ladder collapsed under him. The ladder went in the Dumpster. Life's too short for faulty equipment.
  • Saw "Daddy Day Camp." Poor Cuba Gooding. I swear...from an Oscar to a fart/burpfest with kids in the woods. Sorry, dude. Really.
  • Boated. A lot.
  • Ate way WAY too much. Detox starts tomorrow.
  • Ran through the area corn maze and then, because it was slow, got a private guided tour of the dairy farm from the farmer--a terrific Mennonite lady named Alice. The kids milked a cow. We pet baby cows and baby lambs and horses and giggled at a renegade pygmy goat who rules the joint. Such fun!
  • Saw wild deer and groundhogs and skunks and chipmunks and, on our last day, a real live baby black bear. Thrilling for us city folk!
  • Got the chimney cleaned. Didn't get the cable internet fixed. Ah well. Wished, for the billionth time, for Comcast's demise.
  • Bought a sweatshirt for me, a T-shirt for DH, and a few little toys for the kids, who were SUPER good while we painted and it rained for two days straight.
  • Enjoyed my new camera once I got the pics off the old one. Let me tell you, the difference in quality between my old 5 mp and my new 7.1 mp cameras is amazing. Upgrade!!
  • Scored a new Coach bag off ebay this morning. (**insert evil grin here**) My one yearly indulgence is a nice new handbag in the fall. I can't wait to get this one!
  • Came home to NO CATASTROPHES!! HOORAY!! Major achievement for us, folks. Every trip, we seem to return home to disaster, from dead fish in the pond to a dead fridge full of food to a basement flood to you name it. Nothing this year! Huzzah!
  • Put the kids to bed last night and curled up with my new Michel Richard book and read recipes and drooled all night long. Happy, happy me.

I've caught up on all the blogs but haven't had time to comment. I'm with ya, my peeps! :)

Thursday, August 23, 2007

My Hands Are All Cramped Up, But...

So here's a lesson...

When your husband insists on holding your beloved Canon Powershot in the pocket of his life jacket, insist...insist...that you buckle the buckle yourself.

And when you head into the dock and you hear a plop followed by a stream of obscenities, don't even look. Because your PowerShot and all of your photos just hit the lake and it's going to take every ounce of lip-biting you have not to burst into tears right there at the pier with the kids and all your neighbors watching.

Later, when His Jackassedness has apologized a thousand times, fished your camera out of the drink, and you've called Canon on the phone and they've told you it's just shot, cross your fingers. Be nice. Tell him it's not the end of the world, even though your heart is breaking because you took some gorgeous shots of your kids on the water that morning and some great ones last week, and they're probably all gone. Don't curse at him like you want to. Don't kick him in the crotch because you never liked boats anyway and this just sucks. SUCKS DO YOU HEAR ME?

And then quietly nod when he offers to take you to Wal Mart right now. Don't jump up and down when you find a fantastic model for a way-impossibly-cheap price, and don't totally flip with joy when you find out it has no--NO--shutter lag. Just buy it, quietly thank him, and move on.

When you get home several hours later, after mini golf and dinner and ice cream, and you finally get up the guts to put the memory card from the drowned camera (which is still deader than Princess Diana) and it very slowly reads, try to just hold your breath without anyone knowing.

But when all but one of your photos pops up on the screen and you type like lightening to get them on your hard drive and save them as fast as you possibly can before the fluke ends and it zaps out again, and it works?

You can sigh and thank God out loud and clap your hands and be ecstatic...and enjoy the new way-nicer camera...and promise yourself that you will never ever EVER again let 300 shots pile up on your memory card without saving them to CD. Ever, do you hear me??!! And then quietly put the new camera in not one, but two Ziploc bags, and silently remind yourself to hold on to your own stuff on the stupid godforsaken boat no matter how nicely he offers or how bumpy the ride is. It's always safer in your own hands.

And uncross your fingers. It worked. My some miracle, it worked.

It's Called a Calendar

This is why I could never live up here, in a small town in the mountains.

Three weeks ago, I called a chimney sweep to schedule a cleaning. Fine, yep, can do Thursday, first thing in the morning. Great.

Three days ago, I got a message. "Mrs. F? This is the chimney guy. I have you down for today and I just wanted to see if that was still OK?"

Um. Today--at the time, at least--is Tuesday. We scheduled for Thursday. That's important--Tuesday, we were painting the room with the fireplace. Fresh wet paint + chimney cleaning = very bad idea. I called him back. Oh...Thursday. Good. No problem. Done.

Yesterday, I got another message. "We'll see you Thursday afternoon!"

Well, no. Morning. First thing. See, that's why I called you weeks ago and in the off-season. Cuz I really want first thing in the morning. So I'm not stuck here with two cooped-up kids on a gorgeous day. Mor. Ning.

Oh. Well. See, the guy who was supposed to clean your chimney has to be out that morning. You can't do afternoon?

(this is me being silent)

Um. I could call someone else in, I guess. Do you want me to?

That'd be great. Thanks for all your help.

So here I sit. Thursday morning. DH and DS are out on the boat, and DD is stuck here with me, waiting. With about 50 percent confidence this is actually going to happen.

The joys of homeownership.

DH called me a bit ago from the boat. "Is the chimney guy there?"


"Yeah, well. He'll probably come over next Thursday. Just like you told him."

Har dee har har. Plbthth.

Sunday, August 19, 2007


Only because some of you have asked...and then I'm going to shut up about it.

Citronelle was absolutely, without question, the best dinner experience I've had in my life. Bar none. Better than the inaugural ball, better than private clubs, better than anything I can imagine.

If you're a foodie, you must--must--figure out a way to eat there. The whole dining room faces a massive glass wall, behind which is the kitchen. And the kitchen was like the most elaborate ballet I've ever seen. At least two dozen chefs, all in impeccable white uniforms, moving at top speed with impossible precision.

At a huge wooden table in the front of the room sat the man--Michel Richard. All in black, in contrast to his staff. Watching. Motioning this person or that over to inspect a plate, and engaging in animated conversation after. Sending out samples of new dishes to see the reaction of his diners. Meandering through the dining room to shake hands and laugh.

I had his famous faux eggs. Incredible. I'm telling you, I'm ruined for regular food. Every bite was like fireworks in my mouth. Food combinations you'd never'd never put together in a thousand years...but perfect, like a symphony on a plate. Even DH, who giggles at me and the Food Network, was completely entranced by what was going on around us.

We sat for three hours. Ate and ate and ate, drank marvelous wine the chef recommended, and soaked up the amazing atmosphere. The service was perfect--absolutely perfect--and it was a night I can't wait to repeat someday when I'm wealthy.

I found out yesterday that Richard is offering a series of small, intimate cooking classes this fall. I am SO there. Even DH, who would have pooh-poohed the idea a week ago, is excited for it and encouraging me to sign up despite the cost. I absolutely cannot wait.

If you love food, go. If you just enjoy it, go. Worth every last dime, I promise. I am completely, totally in love with the place. I can't wait to finish up my new book (DH gave me an autographed copy for my birthday) next week!

Friday, August 17, 2007

The Dress...

The Bag Game

Mama T. played the bag game earlier this week...the one where you dump out the contents of your purse and show the world whatcha got in there. Her bag is way cooler than mine (man, if I could find a bag like hers with a shoulder strap, I'd be a delighted chicka), but for your amusement...

Inside are...

  1. My very big, very loud wallet. Which I love b/c I never have to search for it.
  2. Two lip glosses. Same color.
  3. Crystal Lite water bottle flavor packet
  4. Mints.
  5. Pocketknife.
  6. Baggie o' wipes.
  7. Check waiting for its trip to the bank.
  8. Cell phone
  9. Tissues
  10. Little tube of sunscreen.
  11. Ticket stub from recent puppet show.
  12. Handful of change.
  13. Notebook.
  14. Pen.
  15. Stack of receipts.
  16. B&N gift card.
  17. Stack of business cards.
  18. Baggie of Band Aids, Tide to Go, and other assorted necessities.

Who wants to play??

Thursday, August 16, 2007

The Perfect Dress

My birthday is coming up. DH, in a rare moment (you have no idea), somehow managed to secure reservations for us at one of the nicest restaurants in town--I've been a closet groupie of its famous chef for years. Certainly a highlight of the year for me.

But what to wear?

This is a tie-and-jacket-required restaurant. Rumor has it (at least, according to the Washington Post's food critic), it's the only one in town. So fancy is required.

I'm a stay-at-home mom. The fanciest I generally get is khakis and a clean sweater, or maybe a denim skirt and blouse. Occasionally. And the clothes I wore in my pre-kid life just don't fit anymore despite losing all the baby weight. Bodies change.

I have a dress I wore to DH's parents' fiftieth anniversary party two summers ago. It's nice. And it still fits (proving, once again, that there is a god). But it doesn't ring any bells for me. The colors aren't really my style, I don't have shoes that go with it very well, and it just is kind of blah. Fine for a party with relatives; not so much fine for a dinner I'll likely remember forever (I'm a foodie, what can I say?).

Yesterday, I dragged the kids all over the mall. Macy's. Nordstrom ( that's realistic), Ann Taylor, Sears. If they sell dresses, I was there. Saw lots of pretty ones. But they were either sewn for women without hips or cut down to *there*. Which is fine on most people. Not my style, you know?

I bought a very nice skirt and top at Ann Taylor with a bit of disappointment. They fit. They're nice. They were on sale. They're just not what I wanted. But whatever.

We didn't have much planned today. I turned in an article this morning and had planned to sit outside and watch the kids run through the sprinkler, but it started pouring down rain. This is a good thing--I don't think we've had a soaking rain since the beginning of June. And I really tried to get the kids to accept it as a natural sprinkler, but no dice.

So in a fit of last-ditch desparation, I drove 25 minutes to J.C. Penney. I've done a bit of online shopping there this summer and they seem to get me. Classic clothes that fit me well at decent prices.

You know what?

I found it.

The perfect little black dress. Thirty percent off! I mean perfect. It hugs my curves where they should be hugged and drapes gently where they're not so much flattering. It's classic--I can easily see a young Kate or Audrey Hepburn in it. Not matronly. Shows a bit of cleavage and a little bit of collarbone, but not too much. It's comfortable and a little bit swishy around the skirt and I am so completely in love with it I could scream. Assuming I don't change too much size-wise, it's a lifetime dress.

I have black heels to go with it. I have a great necklace for it. I'm set.

Those who know me know I'm not a fashion maven. I'm such a jeans-and-T-shirt girl it's almost amusing to think of wearing this out (I wore a skirt one day in college for a job interview, and a friend of mine yelled across the parking lot 'HOLY SHIT--KIM HAS LEGS!!'). But this was made for me.

The Ann Taylor stuff is going back tomorrow. I have to admit, this one tiny find has really boosted my mood. Nothing like a little retail therapy in the right place!

Wednesday, August 15, 2007


Two more Polly Pocket sets, back to China from whence they came.


Whoda thunk that toys would become such a hot topic? Even something as basic as Thomas--wood trains, no batteries, good wholesome fun--turns out to be toxic. Literally. Forget Baby's the active-participation stuff that's going to kill our kids.

My frustration led me to seach for US-made toys last night. And the good news is that I found many more domestic toys than I anticipated. Some of the sites I particularly liked:

I'm not panicking over it. I'm annoyed. And I'd like to start supporting some of these companies. Maybe if we do that, more American businesses will take back part of the market and we can all breathe just a bit easier, huh?

Monday, August 13, 2007

Just A Thought...

If you don't fight fires, you probably shouldn't start a conversation with "Why would you ever do X in a burning building?"

If you don't dig ditches, it's probably not kind to start with "Why the hell would a ditch digger...?"

And if you're sitting at a table with me and you don't have children, please don't leap into a perfectly pleasant chat with "Why on earth would you ever let your child...?" And end with something innocuous. That I've done. And that millions of other moms have done. For perfectly good reasons and with perfectly fine results. Like, say, let your child watch a Baby Einstein video for 30 minutes while you SHOWERED.

It pisses me off. And then I have to roll my eyes at you towards the person across the table and think about what an idiot you're going to realize you sound like when you do have kids. And I have to interpret that as a slam against my mothering style, and, like hate you and stuff. And ponder whether my kid-book stash--the one I've been accumulating for you for the past two years for the day you do have a child--is really worthy of such a putz, or whether it'd be better off at the public library.

Seriously. Too much mental energy. Don't do it.

Turbo My Computer...Please

So my computer's slow.

It was slow doing everything. And I messed around with it and it's back to its normal pretty-fast speed. But it takes *forever* to start up. We're talking between five and 10 minutes.

I've tried all I can think of...

  1. Ran AdAware
  2. Ran CCleaner (best freeware EVER), both for junk and for conflicts. That helped a little.
  3. Ran McAfee
  4. Uninstalled McAfee and installed AVG. Again, that helped a little.
  5. Defragged and checked my hard drive for effors.
  6. Uninstalled loads of software I don't use.

So I'm stuck between really wanting that fixed and really not wanting to pay a trillion dollars to have Geeks on Call come out and do something I could probably do myself if someone could just tell me how.

Any ideas??

Thursday, August 9, 2007

I Think I'm Insulted

My mom came over yesterday to watch my kids for an hour so I could have a crown put on (officially know as The End of the Godforsaken Four-Month, Million-Dollar Tooth Saga). She comes in, I go out. I pick up lunch on the way home. Give the kids their lunch, do a little work, sit down to eat with her.

She looks around like she's never seen this place before (And just to note, I don't *think* my house is outrageously messy. In fact, I usually think it looks darn nice for having two kids and a chocolate lab living in its 1,300 paltry feet), wrinkles up her nose, and says to me...

Do you still have your cleaning lady?



Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Dear "Researchers:"

Stop it.

Stop releasing your so-called findings just to make headlines. Stop conducting studies that are flawed from the get-go. Stop making us all fret and feel guilty over nothing.

I saw your Baby Einstein study this morning--the one that says kids who watched the popular videos ended up with language delays. Yuh huh. You failed to mention whether the kids in your study also watched television more than the one hour of Baby Einstein a day you required. Or whether they were in group care settings, at home with a parent or sitter, in underprivileged neighborhoods, or anything else.

Here's the thing: A child who is left in front of a television (or radio or computer or cardboard box) is probably going to have language delays if (and only if) that watching comes at the expense of interactive time with a caregiver. If the child would either be doing that OR participating in games or book-reading or other verbal exchanges with an adult, then yes. I can see where there'd be a delay.

Most babies I know watched Baby Einstein while Mom got a shower. Way to make us all feel guilty about that, you know? Yay you! You got your names in the newspaper, you cool scientists! You wacky Ph.D.s! Aren't you smart??

I suspect you've teamed up with the evil "What to Expect" authors. You did, didn't you? Spreaders of misery and perpetrators of random guilt and fear among young parents.

By leaving out extenuating circumstances, you skewed the study. I suspect that had you studied kids who watched some Baby Einstein and were otherwise being held and talked to and read to and sung to during their waking hours, you would have found no difference between them and their no-TV counterparts (a.k.a. "freaks").

Until you can present all the relevant information and give us the results from a 100 percent fair study, do us all a favor. Shut up. We have enough guilt without you.


Kim (whose kids both watched Baby E. during infancy while she --gasp--showered, and whose kids both talked by 9 months old despite it...)

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

I'm Rocking To...

The video isn't the best, but I love this song!

Monday, August 6, 2007

So This Is Motherhood...

I just spend two hours at the shoe store. Two hours and $119. One one pair of shoes.

Before we go getting all excited, they're black lace-up Stride Rites. For the six-year-old. For school. My feet are clad in the same $19 LL Bean flip-flops that have housed them all summer. And the $119 wiped out my J.Jill jeans fund for the fall (shut up, they fit me really well).

The boy wears orthotics, you see. To keep his feet straight and his knees from physically banging into each other when he walks. We got a pair about a month ago for the first time, and I can't tell you what a difference it's made in his ability to keep up with other kids his age. His self-esteem has skyrocketed. It's been good.

But he can't wear his tennis shoes to school. He has to wear black or brown dress shoes. And he wears an XW to begin with--finding a pair that'll house his elephant feet and plastic orthotics is a bit of a challenge, to put it mildly.

So the two hours was because the only person who can do this is Ed, who owns the shoe store. But this is common knowledge. And everyone in the general D.C. area whose kid has funny feet goes to Ed...which means a very long wait, especially four weeks before school starts. Thankfully, the shoe store has a train table and the wait was bearable.

But when Ed said, "You know, he can just move the orthotics from one shoe to another," I shook my head. I remember all too well what it was like to be picked on in grade school because something--anything--was different. Kids are just mean, and I don't care what school they attend, they tease. Mercilessly. The thought of all of the other first graders bouncing around in their tennis shoes waiting for gym class to start while my kid sits on the floor struggling to move plastic devices from one shoe to another was enough to make me almost cry right there in the shoe store. Nope. He's getting two pairs of orthotics--one for each pair of shoes. No delay, no big whoop, and I hope, no teasing.

So that's the $119. Shoes + a second pair of orthotics.

And no jeans for me this year. Which, really, I'm OK with. Given the circumstances. :)

Thursday, August 2, 2007

All The Stuff I Was Going to Say

I was going to rant and rave at you all today.

I was going to bitch and moan about the latest mass toy recall from the China Poison Train, as it's being called. I was going to vent about being sick and tired of feeling like I need to use one of those lead test swabs from Home Depot on every damned thing in my house, from the windowsills (they're fine) to our lunchboxes (they weren't) to our toys (I'm scared to check, quite honestly. I fear a future with sticks and rocks from the backyard filling our toybox.).

And then I was going to yell a bit about cheap toys vs. safe toys and say that given the opportunity to choose, most parents in this country would opt for the latter, even if it means the eighth Dora toy in the house costs $1 more for a big ole' MADE IN THE USA sticker. Course, from there, I'd start in about how people in this country are too high and mighty to work on assembly lines making Elmo drums and Diego houses...which then leads to a discussion of why we have such an immigrant "problem" around here (Have you heard Mencia do his bit about Mexican factory workers and their zeal for doing so-called menial jobs? The man is a genius.), and why I doubt we could get plastic figurines and painted trains from anywhere but China even if we wanted to. And this would lead to a discussion about this article from the Washington Post this morning (I was going to link it but now it's vanished, which makes me remember how much I hate the stupid new design of, but that's a whole 'nother rant for another day), that said most teenagers in our area are saving up for $300 purses and $200 sunglasses for school this year, and our general sense of entitlement and I-need-it-yesterday-ism, and how that's all being fostered at home to overcome some sort of parenting guilt that's become pervasive since we stopped disciplining our children and taking responsibility for our own actions without blaming previous generations or inadequate healthcare or the fact that we don't WANT to make our own damn toys for $7 an hour and we'd rather collect "assistance" and sit on our arses watching the Redskins lose on somebody else's dime.

I was going to talk about the ridiculousness of having to worry that my kids might be poisoned by the very things I hope will entertain them, and how I feel like a moron locking up my dish detergent so they can't get to that when the fact is that Thomas and Dora are frying their brains with their mere presence in our house. And I was going to finish up by saying that somebody needs to start a severe letter writing campaign to the CEOs of these companies and demand that they start upping their product safety testing before this shit hits the shelf at Target and that we really truly will pay more if it means we can end this recall nonsense sometime in the near future. And the other thought was that somebody else should start a series of class-action lawsuits against these companies and hold them accountable for the crap they're selling us instead of letting them just blindly buy whatever's easiest to sell and ship it here without a second thought.

That's what I was going to talk about today. But I decided you'd probably blow me off as a raving lunatic and fascist, and stop reading my little blog, and that would break my literary heart right in two.

So instead, I'm going to tell you how totally thrilling it was to budget my whole morning to spend in line at the MVA renewing my drivers license only to find that the whole entire process took 10 minutes.

And then I'm going to go drown my anger and pent-up rage at this whole toy situation in an ice cream sandwich. Which means that in about three weeks, I'll be ranting that my stupid dresses don't fit.

You've been warned.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Why Parents Should Make Children's Products

Dear Costume Manufacturers:

Halloween, if you haven't noticed, is on October 31. The last day of October. The day before it's November. That time of year sorta kinda between fall and winter when, in most parts of the country, it's getting downright cold, especially at night.

I've lucked out the past few years. My kids have chosen Halloween costumes that are plush and warm and cozy--dinosaurs and cats and things like that. Costumes that are meant to be worn overtop of regular clothes.

This year, though, my four-year-old wants to be Tinkerbell. And do you remember what you offer as a Tinkerbell costume?


Very cute. Especially with the wig--nice touch.


It's just *this side* of a summer nightgown. Bare arms. Deep V-neck. Short little very poufy skirt. I'll give you that tights look lovely with it, but do you see what I'm seeing?

Completely. Totally. Inappropriate for wandering the neighborhood for several hours at night the day before November. Freezing cold and virus-welcoming and way tear-inducing. And not at all conducive to wearing something long-sleeved underneath.

I hate to be harsh. But are you completely stupid? Do you not know that children are outside on Halloween night? For hours? And that they hate doctoring store-bought costumes with long sleeves or pants or anything else that someone might see? Are you trying to make my life hell?

I've been to every costume site I can think of. Paged through what feels like thousands of catalogues. I've had an Ebay search running literally for months. And this is as good as it gets. So here I sit, totally devoid of any talent or inclination in the sewing and fabric department, pondering exactly how I'm going to make a Tinkerbell costume that will both thrill my little princess-in-waiting and keep her somewhat reasonably warm while she flaunts through the neighborhood ringing doorbells and begging for candy.

Do me a favor. Hire a mom. Hire a mom to peruse your costume offerings about a year ahead of time and show you where things are lacking. It's not that big a deal to put sleeves on a dress, is it? Ditch the CEO for this one little thing and please, for the love of all that's holy, hire someone with small children.

I'm begging you.


A Mom