Linkety Dinkety Doo: Big, fat Sunday edition

Today marks my last day of yoga. Bruce and I agree that I will definitely sign up for another ten-week session, because when mama ain't yoga-ing, ain't nobody happy. I love yoga because I work hard without sweating, I find some sense of peace while being active and I can release the horrific muscular tension I like to call Laptop Shoulder of Death.  While I do, by all means, crank up those shoulders at your own computer and check out these parent blogs that are my morning coffee. Namaste, my friends:

Foodmomiac -  fellow Chicagoan and very funny foodie with a taste for one of my faves - Dinkel's bakery. Mmmmmmm.

A Little Chaos - this papa's videos will make you laugh then make you tear up. He's one of the (very) good guys.

The Sarcastic Journalist - one hilarious, instrospective mama.

MetroDad - OK, so I'm a sucker for funny. I sometimes make my husband stop doing dishes or engaging with the small child and sit down at the computer to read one of MD's posts. That's how good this blog is.

Happy Weekend!

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Two years ago this week

It's winter coat cold and our radiators are cranking out heat while a draft mockingly floats in through our windows. It is quiet in our little apartment today. Bruce is at work and Lil E is bundled up in his crib for a much-needed nap. I am sitting at my cluttered desk, flipping through the last of of the pictures still living on my hard drive, on a quiet little journey back two winters. Here are a few of my favorite photos from that that time in November that seems very long ago and still, just like yesterday.

This self-portrait is one of my very favorite family shots. Lil E is wearing the Bears outfit Uncle Seth sent him and we are happy, happy, happy. You should hear the kid belt out "Bear Down, Chicago Bears" now.

Channeling Donald Trump (during Vanity Fair cover shoot).

Favorite hat. Bundled boy.

Photo credits: Jessica Ashley

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And you thought we only wore Chapstick and crystal deodorant

It is Friday. It is cold and raining like crazy. Lil E has croup. Our refrigerator is dying a miserable, slow death, I am late late late to post and I am exhausted.

Fortunately for me, I have yesterday to fall back on. Ahhhh, yesterday. When a grrrlfriend and I had a good old-fashioned IM about how taking care of your outside can make you feel good on the inside. When I had brainstormed with a friend over coffee, sharing ideas in short-hand that only former co-workers can about a new blogging venture she is helping launch. When I stopped off at Ulta (alone, alone) for some blissful (did I mention alone?) moments to pour over make-up and a small but significant budget to restock my dwindling cosmetic bag.  When a kind and enterprising sales associate (in striking, inspiring turquoise eye-shadow) slipped me a 20% coupon, allowing me to add one more item to my basket and still come in under budget.  When I sat on Lil E's sadly-unoccupied-as-of-late potty and gave my self a mani-pedi while he happily made bathwater soup in a tub full of lavendar-scented bubbles.

Ahhhh, yesterday.

Without dissecting the body politics and beauty myths of Extreme Makeover and similar, I do want to say that I think that self-care -- from what you eat to what you gloss over your luscious lips -- is not superficial. In fact, I think that the goodness we give to ourselves and our bodies can seep down to our depths, to the places where, as mamas, we often forget to nurture and love. With that (and a barky-seal cough coming from Lil E's crib to emphasize), I offer you these, all under the heading of Oh, Thank God For You, Little Doses of Much-Appreciated Luxury:

Thank you to The Fashionable Housewife for reminding me that I have a closet full of clothes that I love, clothes I feel good in, just hanging there in my closet, waiting for the yoga pants and Throw Like a Girl t-shit to finally make their way to the hamper. Thanks to CityMama for turning me on to this cheeky site that has inspired me to find my way from comfy-schlumpadinka back to my own comfy-sassy style this week, which has made a surprising difference in my days.

Thank you to Pratima Skincare for helping me continue on the path toward Ayurveda. Your Dosha Balancing Oil is so heavenly that I think about rationing it like there might one day be a shortage of cinnamon and essential oils, but then say to hell with it and slather it all over like the Queen of Sheba.

Thank you to Bare Escentuals, with your kooky-loo infomercial and your funky, insistent method you drill into the minds of the people bored or cosmetinerdy enough to watch your thirty minutes of "unscripted" awkwardness and make-up application.  I do love all your little pots of mineral powders and I do love to swirl-tap-brush your slightly-shimmery foundation on my face for a radiant rather than perfect complection.

Thank you to OPI in Edin Burgandy, which I pulled out from under my sink with a wee bit of delight. Dare I? Dare I paint my nails even though I wash my hands 42 times a day? Even though I will surely dig something out of a drain, sippy cup valve or nostril before the polish is completely dry? Should I be so bold as to give myself a manicure moments before I wrap a wet toddler in a hoody towel and carry him off to lather in lotion, clothes, a coat and hat?

I will! I will! I will be that rebel mama with the fancy fingers in the used-to-be-slightly-goth hue!

There is a lot going on this world and my little bubble of droopy cheese, lukewarm milk and a boy who wakes up every 74 minutes is hardly horrible or big news.

Until my landlord returns my twelve messages with a confirmation of a refrigerator delivery date and until the contagions have left Lil E enough to return to a life outside these clausterphobic walls, at least (at least) I will have a hella manicure, dewy shoulders and an outfit  planned for tomorrow. *

*At least in my head...OK, not so much an outfit as an article...OK, I have a necklace in mind. Still.

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