Calorie Counting for Moms

Now that my baby is almost 11 months old, I'm getting medieval on these last 10 pounds. I just saw a photo of Heidi Klum six weeks after giving birth, and it made me simultaneously curse my genes and decide to fight them tooth and nail. So I started in the most obvious place: calorie counting. I went online and started looking up calorie counts for some of the things I'm eating on a regular basis. Which is how I came to the realization that us moms need a calorie counting chart all our own. I mean, when was the last time you consumed a lunch of "grilled chicken and salad"? Or "salmon on a bed of cous cous"? So here. I've done the research. And it's come to this: the (first-ever?) guide to calorie counting for moms.


Crusts of PB&J sandwich: 100 calories (+/- 20 cal. depending on just how much of the good stuff is oozing into them)

Two (very large) spoonfuls of mac and cheese lunch just "to taste": 50 calories

String cheese that I put in my bag for the kids but got hungry and ate: 80 calories

3-4 waffle bites left on the breakfast plate (with butter and syrup): 35 calories

1 slice of mozzarella quesadilla on whole wheat tortilla, because it's "too big" to serve: 125 calories

Hot dogs: 15 calories per "slice" if I cut the hot dog into 10 slices

Evil, evil Pirate's Booty: 50 calories a handful (I can get a lot in my hand)

Handful of almonds (probably my most regular lunch): 400 (!!!) calories

Wine, wine, and more wine once they go to bed: 125 calories a glass


So here's how it's going to go. More grilled chicken rather than in its nugget state, less cheese, less almonds as a meal replacement, more steering clear of peanut butter, and, as much as it kills me, less glasses of wine.

Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go eat a slab of cheese with peanut butter and down it with a half bottle of chardonnay.

Walmart and Family Frump

Oh, my fellow unfrumpers, how long it's been. I'm starting to think my to-do list is rivaling Santa's. There's so much frump in the world to discuss, and so little time to do it. So, while I work on christmas shopping/card buying/house decorating/child rearing/unfrumping/nailing a giant work assignment, allow me to turn you on to a few sites I've been loving lately. As you'll see, they dovetail quite nicely into my general theme.

This almost makes me want to shop at Walmart, just for the people watching. ALMOST, I said.
www.peopleofwalmart.com

Especially appropriate this time of year—the horrifying family photo. Now I just need to find an entire blog dedicated to hair-raising Christmas letters. (Note: I especially recommend "LOL Cats" and "The Skivvies")
www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com

Enjoy!

Soccer Practice Frump

At my daughter's soccer practice recently (or whatever you call it when they're three), I found myself intrigued by a couple of outfit choices made by parents.

Case #1: Mismatched mom frump

At first glance, this woman doesn't look so terribly frumpy. But oh, please do look again. On top she's wearing flannel, which I hear is making a comeback. My personal feelings about flannel aside, so far so good. Now let's take a look at her pants. You might need to click on the picture to see this, but those are brown pinstripe work pants. Anne Taylor pants. Talbot's pants. Dress Barn pants. Is this perplexing to anyone else? You're taking your kid to soccer at the park and you toss on your SLACKS? There's nothing easy or comfortable or park-like about pinstripe pants. I figure it's the result of one of two scenarios: She's going to work after soccer and has the matching brown pinstripe blazer in the car, or she pulled on whatever pants were on the floor from the day before. Either way, perplexing.



Case #2: Overzealous dad frump

Did I make myself clear that this soccer class is for three year olds? If not, allow me to describe some of the "drills". Child dribbles soccer ball and pretends to "send a package" through two cones (the ball), whereupon parent says, "Oh look! You sent me an elephant (or whatever silly thing you want to say)!" Child dribbles ball to flag and pretends to "blow out the candles on a birthday cake". Fun, yes. Requiring the services of an entire professional-level soccer uniform? Hardly.

Halloween How-to

My friend Katherine sent me a message on Facebook with this request:

Can you weigh in on when/where/how/under what circumstances suburba-mom should also dress up for Halloween?

Oh boy do I love me a request! So, without any further delay, let's explore this suburban minefield.

Rule #1 (because I couldn't agree more, Katherine):
Catwoman suits should be reserved only for women who look like Michele Pfeiffer and Halle Berry. And you know who looks like Michele Pfeiffer and Halle Berry? Michele Pfeiffer and Halle Berry. Know who doesn't? Khloe Kardashian.



Rule #2
Please do not use this occasion as an excuse to explore your inner sex worker. If you really must, there are street fairs for that in San Francisco that are far more appropriate for cleavage and ass cheeks than suburban sidewalks.



Rule #3
Don't wear anything that could injure others at the school parade.



Rule #4
Think about your natural shape before you decide to dress up as, say, a pumpkin or a sumo wrestler.

Rule #5
Scary costumes can be good, but keep in mind that I'll still be thinking about you dressed as a zombie eating brains next time I see you at playgroup.

Rule #6
Too much costume and too little costume are equally undesirable. I learned this the hard way when, in a total rookie mom maneuver, I showed up to work in my daughter's classroom on Friday and wasn't dressed up. She was, but I kind of didn't realize I should. The other moms were in cute, festive costumes and I felt like a loser party pooper. Oh wait... maybe that was my costume. I was dressed up as a loser party pooper.

Rule #7
It can be cute to coordinate with your child (I've seen some cute ideas like chicken and egg, lion and lion tamer, etc.) but please please please don't match. By the way, this is true ALWAYS.

So, let's recap. By all means, dress up. But try not to make it too sexy, too crazy, too baggy or too freaky. Don't try too hard and don't try too little. Remember that you have to do functional things in your costume, like walk, talk and pee. And have fun! (Actually doesn't sound too different from any day of dressing to be a mom, does it?)

Things that go poop in the night

On this SPOOKY Halloween evening, I thought I'd share a horror story happening right here at home, nightly. My little 9 month old goblin wakes up every night at 4 am, pretty much without fail, with a diaper full of BOO. Seriously? I mean, I'm all for regularity, but what's with the timing? That Bob Seger song "Night Moves" has now taken on a whole new meaning to me. So, when I'm out with the little ones trick or treating, I just want to be on the record that NO, I am not dressed as a heavyweight boxer or Madeline Albright, those are real, actual bags under my eyes. Happy Halloween!

Things that make me go HMMM....

Why, if you may be carrying a few (or fifty) too many pounds around your midsection, would you wear a tight t-shirt with the phrase "Roll with it" emblazoned all over it?

Why, if you happen to be a 6 foot 5 inch man with a beer belly, would you rock a mullet down to the middle of your back and wear fleece pajama pants with the "Family Guy" baby and the word "Evil" on them as daywear?

WHY WHY WHY OH GOD WHY do so many moms wear sandals with socks?



These are just a few things that are hurting my brain (and eyeballs) today.

Unexpected Discovery: Men's Facial Products

The other day, my sweet husband came home with some Kiehl's self-tanner for me, since he knows I swear by it. Apparently, he was also given some samples—as I found a tiny little tub of something from Kiehl's called "Facial Fuel" in our medicine cabinet. I love the name of this stuff—it's so clearly aimed at men. Us women will buy things called "Superpeptide Vitamin Collagen Anti-Aging Enhancer" thinking that all those fancy words will somehow translate into "no wrinkles". But men? No. They just need it to say, "Good stuff for your face" and they're pretty much sold. Throw in a reference to something flammable and it's a slam dunk.

So I dab a little bit of this stuff on my cheeks and... HELLO! GOOD MORNING! GUTENTAG! HOT DOG! It was a like a little caffeine rush to my face. There's something in this stuff that makes it feel like you've just stepped out into a frigid morning breeze from the neck up. Suffice to say, it's a darn good way to start the day, especially when you've spent half the night lulling children into various states of rest. See, skin care professionals assume (rightly) that they have about 3.5 seconds to grab a man's attention or else they're never going to stick to a skin care regime. Women, on the other hand, will loyally and diligently slog through day after day and night after night of a routine because someone promised us that we "may see results after six weeks".

So here's my hypothesis—MEN'S FACIAL PRODUCTS KICK ASS. Their typical lack of attention span and general disinterest in self-beautification means that any product geared towards them is going to have to work hard, and work fast. As an exhausted, time-starved mom, this is exactly what I want out of my skin care. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am!

Of course, now I want to try other men's skin stuff and see if it blows all my stuff out of the water. I'll either make more great new discoveries, or I'll grow a beard. Either way, of course I'll tell you about it.

Today I Mowed the Lawn in Skinny Jeans

You heard me. I did. Why? Because the lawn needed mowing and that's what I was wearing. See, here's the problem about being a mom. There is simply not one good outfit to cover all the things you need to do in one day. Today, my day consisted of a doctor appointment for my baby, school drop off and pick up for my preschooler, a couple of errands and, as it happens, a lawn mow. I mean, what is the perfect outfit for all of that? Technically, I suppose it would be overalls and a gardening hat. But I don't own either of those (thank god in heaven). So I picked jeans over yoga pants as a sign of respect for the doctor, a cute sweater to make up for the fact that I barely had on any makeup and hadn't done my hair, and topped it all off with my omnipresent big sunglasses. So if that's what I ended up mowing the lawn in, so be it. I'm sure my neighbors got a chuckle out of it.

Gray Matter

The other day, I was standing in line behind a mom at Starbucks. She was pushing a stroller and had on a cute workout outfit. All good. But then I got a gander at her hair. It was brown, except for where it was gray. Gray, gray, gray, having a field day on top of her head. I cannot stress enough that nothing ages a woman more than gray hair. And yet, it's pretty much inevitable. BELIEVE ME I know it's hard to keep up with hair maintenance -- whether it's coloring it or styling it or removing it from unsightly places. But there are aisles and aisles of products at the drugstore that can help you in this matter—quickly, and cheaply.

For those of you who are DIY-haircolor virgins, I know what you're thinking. What if it looks bad? Well, I suppose you are taking that risk, but it's not like having the top of your head look like an aged chinchilla is any better. And if you pick a shade that's close to your haircolor, it's pretty much bulletproof. I mean, they don't get Sarah Jessica Parker and Eva Longoria to pimp this stuff for nothing.

Back with a Bang (or should I say, a Bird)

Many heartfelt apologies for my prolonged absence... not quite sure where all that time went. I have much to report on, but let me begin with something I saw today that made the blogger in me sing with glee. It was an abundantly pregnant mom walking across the street with three children of various ages. She wore skin-tight, acid-wash, capri-length jeans (I think just one of those would have been bad enough, the combo of all, on such a very pregnant woman, was mind boggling, as you can imagine) as well as a tank top that left nothing to the imagination. (Trust me, I tried. Hard.) As she crossed the street, a car made a turn in front of her and her kids. It was a really, really stupid maneuver on the part of the driver. I would have been pretty livid myself had it happened to me. But I'm not quite sure I would have handled it as she did, which was to rear back all god-knows-how-many-pounds-of -her, scream until she was red in the face (with a child holding onto each hand and one in tow) and then unceremoniously drop the hand of one child and unfurl the middle finger right in the middle of the crosswalk. Have you ever seen a 12-month pregnant woman in acid wash jeans with three other children fly the bird in public? It's kind of a religious experience.