A Spooky Fit

I thought I looked cute when I got dressed this afternoon.

Then I asked Dave to snap a photo of me for Fall Fashion Week.

Hmmm.  That dress isn't nearly as flattering as I thought it was. 

Oh well.  At least it's comfortable.

Happy Halloween, Internet!

Tricky Treat

So, today is the "Fall Harvest Festival" at William's school.  It's called the "Fall Harvest Festival" because here in the Bible Belt we are terrified to say the word "Halloween" out loud.  

In addition to naming the celebration something OTHER than Halloween, William's school tends to make dressing in costume EXCEEDINGLY COMPLICATED.

Instead of just asking the children to come dressed in a non-scary costume, the school has decided that the "Fall Festival" must consist of costumes from STORYBOOK CHARACTERS.  And?  The child must bring a book to PROVE they're dressed as something that would appear in a book.

OMGAREYOUKIDDINGME??????????????????

And of course, OF COURSE, my kid wanted nothing more than to be a Mario from the Super Mario Brothers Nintendo game. 

And GUESS WHAT?  There are NO BOOKS containing Mario.  NONE!  Because he's in fact NOT a storybook character.  He's a VIDEO GAME character.

WELL PLAYED PUBLIC SCHOOL.  Well played.

Instead, I opted to send William to school with the INSTRUCTION MANUAL for his video game.

It's in the shape of a book, right?  Does that count?

I certainly hope so.


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And in order to (sort of) redeem myself, I'm posting my Fall "Fashion"... although, I'm not sure if it counts as fashion if you put your coat on OVER YOUR PAJAMAS to take your kid to school.

In my defense, I've been terribly sick this week.  So sick, in fact, that I had to call my husband yesterday and ask him to leave work to come home and take care of the children.

That was a first for me.

So, honestly, the fact that I left the house AT ALL today is a miracle.

The coat is an old London Fog.  I like it, but usually end up feeling a little bit like Inspector Gadget when I wear it.  The boots are Privo shearling-lined SLICES OF HEAVEN.  I may never take them off.  The hat is from Target.  And the black pajamas are - oh who cares, you don't want those ugly things.

And the deep purple bags under my eyes are courtesy of GERMS and FEVER.

The Gory Details

There will be no fashion post today.

Why?  Because I'm STILL SICK.  And therefore: STILL in my yoga pants.  And I haven't showered.  Since MONDAY.

Oh!  AND? The baby hasn't napped for TWO DAYS.  TWO DAYS, y'all!  She coughs so much she can't ever get to sleep.  And do you know what happens when a sick two year old doesn't nap for two days?  She gets a bit unreasonable.  A bit grumpy.  Surly, even!

Combine that with a sick momma, and you can imagine how things are going over here at my house.

Let's make a deal to talk tomorrow, shall we?  Because tomorrow just HAS to be a better than today, doesn't it?

*just nod your head*

In the mean time, did you know that you can purchase a pickled witches head? 

You sure can!  William and Paige received a package from their Gramma today containing pickled monster heads.

I don't think they've ever been more thrilled about a package. 

And, honestly, can you blame them?


ps. Why, yes, my son *is* wearing two different colored socks.  Today was Crazy Sock Day at school.  Wanna guess how long it took me to convince him is was perfectly OK to wear those socks like that?

Now I Know

I remember announcing to my parents that I was expecting my first child.  They were, as you might imagine, overjoyed.  My baby would be their first grandchild. 

I assumed the sparkle in their eyes had something to do with their own dreams about being grandparents.  About spoiling this new child with their time and love and devotion.

And I'm sure that was partly true.

But becoming a parent for the first time is like those Claratin commercials - the ones where folks are wandering around all out-of-focus in an allergy-induced fog, and then they take the magical pill and suddenly things come into focus.  Yeah, it's like that.   All of a sudden BAM(!) with Claratin-like focus, I'd be standing over the crib watching my newborn baby breathe and I'd think "My mother did this to me - she stood over me just like this - breathing in and out along with me just praying that I would live and love and grow just as she'd gotten to do". 

Becoming a parent makes you realize how much your parents loved you.

And at first, this brings you such joy, just knowing that people counted your every breath, rejoiced in your every step, and grieved in your every loss.

And then you recall all those times you lied, or copped and attitude, or wished a million wishes to get AWAY from these people and just GROW UP already.  You remember all those times you *hated* these people who - just a few years ago - were standing over your crib willing you to breathe.

So is *that* why they were so overjoyed when I announced my pregnancy?  Were they really just anticipating the day that I would know - really know - how much they loved *me*?  Because there really are NO words to properly describe it.  Oh, they've told me all my life how much they loved me.

It took me becoming a mother to *really* know what they meant.



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Ebola Trumps Fashion Every Time

The baby and I have contracted ANOTHER cold.  A nasty one.  The kind that makes you talk like a lifelong smoker and leaves your nose dripdripdripping all day.  I'm no doctor, but my money is on Ebola or something similar.

Gah!

And since we're both under the weather, Paige and I aren't feeling particularly fashionable today.  Sorry Emery readers.

Today is a sweatpants kind of day for me.

The same sweat pants I slept in (is that over sharing?). The kind with a drawstring. 

Mmmmm.  Comfy.

It's even a sweat pants day for baby Paige.

I'll be back tomorrow, just as soon as I locate my Robitussin and my will to live.

This is NOT What Nancy Reagan Had in Mind

It's "Red Ribbon Week" at William's elementary school.

Do they do this at your kids' school?  A week where they discuss the dangers of doing drugs with your wee little children?  I have mixed feelings about it.  Especially as it pertains to my kindergartner.  He seems so little to be hearing about drugs, after all.

When William climbed into the car this afternoon he was wearing a little red ribbon around his wrist.  I asked him about it. 

Me: Whatcha got there on your arm my buddy?

Him: A red ribbon (in a tone that clearly said "I'm stating the obvious here, dumbo")

Me: And *why* are you wearing a red ribbon?

Him: Um, I *think* it's something to do with Red Ribbon Week.

Me: And what *is* Red Ribbon Week?

Him: Um, I can't remember.

Me: Does it have something to do with drugs?

Him: Oh yeah!  We're not supposed to take drugs.

Me: Well, what kinds of drugs?  Like Tylenol or allergy medicine?

Him: No momma.  (Very serious tone/face) Different drugs.  Naughty ones.

Me: What are naughty drugs?

Him: Mooooom (exasperated) you *know*, like CANDY and stuff.

Me: Indeed.  I'd hate to think of you growing up and becoming all strung out on candy.  *That* would be a disaster.

I wonder if I should tell him that his momma is addicted to The Hard Stuff (Hershey's Kisses, Candy Corn).  They say admitting you have a problem is the first step, after all.  

**snicker**

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And now to change the subject completely, it's Fall Fashion Week over at Emery's blog, and I'm participating.  Why?  Because I love to torture myself every season by trying to come up with a week's worth of outfits that will be acceptable for The Internet.

Today I tried on clothes until I ran out of time.  Which means I ended up in my husband's old v-neck tee shirt and a cardigan from sometime in the late 90's.

 Clearly not my best work.

I *do* really love my necklace (found at a vintage store in the Oklahoma City Stockyards), and my Target boots are super comfy.

Come back tomorrow, faithful Emory readers, by then I'll have my act together SO HELP ME.

They're Here!

A couple of weeks ago I told you about my family portraits.  About how I'd spent more time on my outfits and my hairdo for those pictures than I had for my very own wedding.

Ridiculous.  Outrageous.  I know. No really, I KNOW!

Well, Friday was the moment of truth.  The photographer emailed a link to the proofs.

Is it weird that I want you to see them, Internet? 
http://www.artsyphartsyorders.com/flaunt/#/page/7c34/ortloff/

(The link will only be active until 10/29/10)

Oh my goodness, how will I ever decide?  This photographer is amazing.  Srsly.