Parenting

DIARY

No Going Back (Or: Why My Ex-Husband And I Got Matching Tattoos For Christmas)

Us (and a panda) at Universal Studios yesterday.

Over the past few months, plenty of people have asked me what I'm going to do about the "K" on my foot. I'm sure plenty more have asked Kendrick what he's going to do about the massive heart on his forearm that has the word "JORDAN" sitting smack in the middle of it.

We used to have a joke that if we ever split up, I'd make my K into a flower, and he'd just throw a 23 onto his (Michael Jordan, hahaha) and call it a day. But it would never cross my mind that he'd actually do that - first, because it's not that funny, really, and also because he just...wouldn't cover that up. For the same reason I'd never cover up mine.

Crafts for the Uncrafty

DIY Jojoba Oil Solid Perfume

When I was in elementary school, I was always setting up little stands in our building's lobby to sell homemade lip balms, customized friendship bracelets and such - and I was one of only maybe six kids in the entire building, so I actually made out like quite the bandit during these entrepreneurial ventures. (My "lip balms" were made by mixing Fuzzy Peach-scented Body Shop bath oil capsules into my mom's leftover Vaseline and throwing in some food coloring, so mayyyyybe not...oh, I don't know, especially safe to put on your mouth. But I was seven, so I assume liability was less of an issue than it might be nowadays.)

Apparently the desire to make giftable crafts stuck around, because I had wayyy too much fun making these solid perfumes - and they're a really cute last-minute gift idea for kids to make for friends and relatives (so long as you help them with the stove-inclusive part; let's please not burn any tiny fingers in the process of giftable craft-making). They're also 100% free of Fuzzy Peach-smelling chemical pods, hooray!

Note: You can choose whatever essential oils you want, and can combine them as you will to customize your scent - just make sure that the number of drops you use ends up totaling 30. (I was thinking about Tocca Bianca when I made this, so I went for a combo of lavender and lemon, leaning more heavily on the lavender.)

DIARY

The Rides We Choose

I have this acquaintance who recently got divorced; let's call her "S." S and her husband were together for five years, and have a three-year-old daughter. They had their various problems, of course, as any marriage does, but one thing that always stood out to me about their situation was just how little S's husband seemed to participate in - or want to participate in - their life.

S made the plans. She made the friends. She picked the rugs, booked the vacations, shaped their days and months and future. Something else that always stood out to me: It didn't seem like S's husband particularly liked the things she planned for them; even as little as I knew him, her choices just seemed so clearly the opposite of what he would have chosen himself. Beer instead of champagne, et cetera.

It's not something I'm not sure she ever noticed herself; it was one of those parts of a marriage that you can only see when you're standing outside it.

DIARY

The Purgatory Problem

This is not me. 

The other day, I tried an aerial dance class at a studio near my house. I've been doing things like this lately - signing up for classes (dance, pottery, crochet) just because they sound fun. Because I want to, and because sometimes the kids are with their dad, and so I can. It was only me and one other woman in the class, and the other student had been dancing for a year, so I was a little embarrassed at just how bad I was clearly going to be. The first time I tried to kick my legs up I failed - obviously - and felt all graceless and vaguely elephantine, but even as I flailed there on the ring with my limbs sticking out in every direction, the other student and the instructor were standing there cheering for me. Actually cheering.

You're doing SO GREAT! You've got this! 

Lifestyle

Freezy Freakies Are Back…And Now Available In Kids’ Sizes

Last year, right around this time, I was walking downtown on my way to visit her mom at her office, and wandered by a little pop-up holiday shop. I hadn't really been planning on browsing, but then I saw what one of the booths was selling, and instantly screeched to a full stop like a Bugs Bunny cartoon (or, if we’re being generationally thematic, a Tiny Toon Adventures character).

If you did not grow up in the Northeast during the 1980s, there is a decent chance you have no idea what Freezy Freakies are. But if you did, you are PUMPED right now. I have so many feelings about these things. We’re talking intense, visceral sense memories, wherein I can actually physically revisit the joyful experience of watching the invisible unicorn appear out of thin air. (Freezy Freakies are made using thermochromic ink, which is translucent when warm, and turns bright colors when cold. But we can pretend it’s just straight-up magic; that’s more fun.) But your memories are also likely filled with intense longing and angst - even rage - because your parents probably thought they were expensive and wouldn't buy you a new pair when you left one in the park, except Cynthia had TWO pairs and it WASN'T FAIR.

Guess what?


powered by chloédigital