Ever since “mother” was added to the list of words and phrases following the comma after my name, I fell into a sartorial lull.  Everything easy, all the time, everyday.  No color, nothing inspired, just boring.  Boring as hell.  Pretty soon, I found myself facing the same dissatisfaction I experienced back when I started the blog back in 2008: I was tired of dressing like a 12-year-old boy, but here I was – long sleeved tees, jeans, and chucks.  Day in and day out.

Ashamedly, I’m wearing that right now.  As I’m typing.  Fight me.

I knew that I needed a boost if I was to retain any sort of cred on these here internets, but I was confronted with the extremes that I believe plague everyone’s closet at some point or other: either fall back into the same patterns because it’s so easy to do or completely upheave my entire routine and force myself to do better.  Neither sounded that great, so I figured I would meet in between the two:

“Why don’t you do one extra thing while getting ready every morning?“

photo via thefashionbomb

It could be a bit of eyeliner, a wink of mascara, a bit of blush, or scented spritz.  A prettier pair of underwear (ESCANDALO!) or something with a higher heel.  Admittedly, I haven’t read it, but I’m sure Victoria Beckham was on to something when she titled her book “That Extra Half an Inch.”  It really does make a difference.  Maybe only a 1% and therefore possibly undetectable difference, but a difference all the same.

Right now, I’m making a point of never leaving the house without this on my cheeks.  It’s the perfect color for keeping me looking alive and awake with minimal time invested in application.  Great combo for the mothers of 5-month-olds who like to scream…all the time…for everything…

So tell me…what do you do to keep yourself on your toes?  Stylistically speaking?

Go ahead and pretend that rhymed for me.

I know I don’t post much about the kid on this blog (that’s what tumblr is for), but if you’d like to read on how I deal with people asking me THE QUESTION, head on over to the Ms. Mary Mack blog.

It’s been a long time since I’ve connected with a lot of people in my life.  I’m not much on the phone, and I rarely get past 10 miles from my house for non-work purposes.  This is nothing new.  My homebody-ness has only increased in the past few years (this is the part where I blame 93% of this on the kid and the other 7% on getting settled in my…increasing… age).

In an effort to change this, I issued myself a challenge – not only just to make an effort to reach out to someone through a means not completely electronic, but to go further and do something slightly uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you let someone know how you really feel about them?”

vintage rotary phone from the Melrose Trading Post.  You can get similar ones here or on ebay!

It seems as if we are so disconnected from our emotions and each other these days.  And why not?  Most of us are completely sucked in by a screen of some sort for hours upon hours each day.  Wake up, work, check email/twitter/blog reader, go home, check email/twitter/blog reader, sleep, rinse, repeat.  It’s easy to forget real life when you live most of it online – and I’m very aware of the irony of this coming from a blogger.

I am a part of the problem.  I know…I know…

In the wake of the deaths of loved ones, those of friends, celebrations for the promise of new life, of new life itself (did you hear Jay-Z’s song for his daughter?  I MEAN!!), and just plain ol’ appreciation for people, I’m going to get on the phone, go on a play-date, or make some time to let folks know what they mean to me…because it’s nice to hear.

How about you?  Anyone you need to reach out to?  Tell me.  Let’s live in our feelings for a moment.

I really can’t remember anything else.  Funny how that happens.

Here’s to a prosperous and eventful 2012…and to hopes that the world doesn’t end…amiright?!

I’m headed back to work after 11 weeks of baby-rearing in my sweats.  I have no idea how to dress for the outside world anymore.

BUT!!!  But, but!!!

It’s finally getting cold here…which means I can throw on a ton of random shit and get away with it.  Spectacular.

HOORAY FOR FALL!

I seem to have terrible luck with cars (I’m sure I’ve documented my woes on this here blog way back when…I don’t feel like searching, so you’ll have to just trust me on this).  As such, I’m forced to throw some of my most beloved (and most unused) items up for sale.

My heart is breaking…but I need auto-mobility…and here we are.  Now if you all will kindly excuse me, I’m going to have a Reh Dogg moment.

My favorite and my best are on Ebay.  Get into it.

This is the face of a tired woman.  My body hates me so much right now.

I finally decided to jump on the nude polish bandwagon a few seasons late…eh whatever.  Not sure how I feel about it yet.  On one hand, my stubby fingers look a tad longer (it’s an ILLUUUUUUUUUSION!!!), but on the other, it’s just weird for everything to be the same color.

It’s kind of sad that this update is about my adventures in nail polish.  Oh yeah, it’s because THE KID WON’T COME OUT.

*screams*

I’ve always believed her to be the Billie Holiday of our generation.

RIP.

Image via Refinery 29

So last night, we had a small “oh god, I think the house is on fire” scare and (once everything had been resolved) I spent the last few moments of my waking hours wondering what the hell I would do if that actually happened.

*knocks on wood*

As a result, I’m in purge mode again…tons of wrist baubles and items I never got around to listing in the etsy store are forthcoming…maybe some other thangs…because I can’t bear to think that I’d be standing on the third floor of a 105-year-old wood framed house with a fully stocked and serviced bar on one end, my iMac in another, and all of the shit that keeps me decent in the daytime in another, wondering how fast I would need to run to grab my birth cert and insurance papers and then double back to save my most treasured pairs of shoes.

Priorities.  I haz them.

In all honesty, I’m still chasing that ever-elusive dream of having a wardrobe full of workhorses with a couple of wildcards sprinkled here and there.  It’s a work in progress.  A perpetual work in progress.

I want her hair.