House chores on a Sunday vs. FUN?
After four kids, let me give you some good advice: on a Sunday when you have time to spend with your family, DO IT! Forget about the stupid laundry and the endless house chores. Go and relax with your family instead! It's good for your mental health, and will make you a much better parent in both the short and long run. Trust me....I wish I knew better sooner, and stopped myself from focusing on stuff that doesn't bring happiness to me or my family. Quite honestly, this might be the best parenting advice you'll ever get.
It's no secret that I'm OCD, and freak out at even the slightest hint of household disarray. So, I'm not an advocate for just letting your house go to complete and utter shambles for the sake of quality parenting. What I am advocating for is YOU, and I want you to take back your life. I've been a mom for almost 17 years now, and I've spent more hours than I'd ever openly admit cleaning and fixing up the house instead of enjoying my life. I know exactly where I learned this type of behavior: my mom. My mom has spent the majority of her life cleaning the house and obsessing over the house. I yell at my mom all of the time, insisting that she stop obsessing over that stupid house and to get out and enjoy her life. Nobody cares how clean her darn house is. (Note: we both have cleaning help that comes each week to our homes, but we clean before the help comes so that they don't think we're not clean). Do your kids a favor and teach them that life has to more offer than a clean house, or you'll turn them into people who obsess over a clean home. Hopefully, I'm not teaching my kids the same obsessive traits that I learned from my mom, but I'm sure they're getting a fair does of it.
I've begun to ask myself this question when I start to obsesses over the house: "If I knew that today was my last day on earth, would I spend it cleaning?" (I think we all can unanimously agree on this one......heck NO!). If you say yes to this, call me and I'll teach you how to have some fun on your last day!
There's just no need to be an over achiever in areas that don't count or matter. Read that statement again slowly. Nobody is ever going to remember how clean or not clean your house is. If someone is judging you on that criteria, they need to get a life and get out of your home. Get rid of them and find dirtier friends. If it's a family member doing the judging, throw them a mop and dust cloth and then go outside and sit in the sun, or go get your nails done while they tidy up.
Let's do a little exercise this Sunday, ok? Put down the vacuum and duster right now, and go outside and play with your kids. Go and do something with your significant other, or for yourself that makes you feel good about you and your family. After all, you're amazing and don't you think you've earned it? You're family will thank you for putting them and yourself first over the house.
The house and the chores will be there when you get back. Pinky promise they will.
Happy Sunday,
D
Sunday, August 7, 2016
Monday, August 1, 2016
What Does Your Folded Laundry Say About You?
What does your folded laundry say about you?
Well, if you're anything like me, you obsess over the way every single item of your clothing is folded. Countless loads of my family's clothing washed and folded perfectly by me. Perfectly. Every single load. Every single piece. Every single time. Every single day.
What does that say about me? Well, it says that I'm insane. That's what I am, I'm insane. There, I said it. Only a crazy person micromanages and controls a laundry room the way that I do. My laundry says that I flew over the cuckoos nest and that I'm never coming back.
Why do I freak out over something so stupid as the way my laundry gets folded is the real, burning question that I need your help with? I have this part of me, this little voice that tells me to let it go, and to stop obsessing. That it doesn't matter how the laundry gets folded, as long as the laundry gets done, right? WRONG!
I take the time to fold every single article of clothing like my house is the GAP. The jeans have to have the perfect fold with no showing of denim coming up or out of the side of the fold. (Come on, you know what I mean by the perfect jean fold? Don't play coy with me!) The t-shirts folded like they were done on a folding board. (I've thought about buying one of those things, but stop myself because I think my hand folding is pretty on par. Just sayin') Underwear......folded up like origami. Wait, maybe I should become an "origami-ist"? I have some mad folding skills in my humble opinion.
Here's a scenario that might make me a seriously horrible, bad, awful, terrible person: My mother-in-law is sweet enough to do my laundry for me. She's a great woman, and I'm lucky to have her in my life. But here's the thing........I want to kill her when I see that she's washed and folded my laundry! When I see it all stacked up on the counter in my kitchen in those uneven, non-color sorted piles, I have to tie my arms down to my sides so that I don't throw it on the floor in front of her, smack her in the head, and then refold it all while cursing up a storm and screaming obscenities in front of her and the kids and yelling, "WHO THE HELL FOLDS CLOTHES LIKE THIS??? YOU SHOULD BE SENT TO JAIL FOR THINKING THAT THIS TYPE OF PITIFUL FOLDING IS ACCEPTABLE!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU"
(At this point, I remind myself to breathe deeply to avoid passing out, and I thank her profusely for folding my laundry and for her help, which I sincerely mean.)
Confession: Sorry, Mamma, if you're reading this. I'm crazy, but you already know that and thanks for loving me anyhow. Once she leaves the room, I secretly throw it all on the floor and refold every piece. After my mini-meltdown is over and I've refolded the mess, I stand back to look at all of my perfectly folded laundry piles sorted exactly the way that I like them. I applaud my good work in my head, and quietly take a bow. Then I remind myself that I almost just died a thousand deaths and this is why I need a glass of wine even though its only 4:38pm.
I can breathe again.
Anyone else out there suffering from my laundry disease? The first step its acceptance, my lovelies.
xo,
D
Well, if you're anything like me, you obsess over the way every single item of your clothing is folded. Countless loads of my family's clothing washed and folded perfectly by me. Perfectly. Every single load. Every single piece. Every single time. Every single day.
What does that say about me? Well, it says that I'm insane. That's what I am, I'm insane. There, I said it. Only a crazy person micromanages and controls a laundry room the way that I do. My laundry says that I flew over the cuckoos nest and that I'm never coming back.
Why do I freak out over something so stupid as the way my laundry gets folded is the real, burning question that I need your help with? I have this part of me, this little voice that tells me to let it go, and to stop obsessing. That it doesn't matter how the laundry gets folded, as long as the laundry gets done, right? WRONG!
I take the time to fold every single article of clothing like my house is the GAP. The jeans have to have the perfect fold with no showing of denim coming up or out of the side of the fold. (Come on, you know what I mean by the perfect jean fold? Don't play coy with me!) The t-shirts folded like they were done on a folding board. (I've thought about buying one of those things, but stop myself because I think my hand folding is pretty on par. Just sayin') Underwear......folded up like origami. Wait, maybe I should become an "origami-ist"? I have some mad folding skills in my humble opinion.
Here's a scenario that might make me a seriously horrible, bad, awful, terrible person: My mother-in-law is sweet enough to do my laundry for me. She's a great woman, and I'm lucky to have her in my life. But here's the thing........I want to kill her when I see that she's washed and folded my laundry! When I see it all stacked up on the counter in my kitchen in those uneven, non-color sorted piles, I have to tie my arms down to my sides so that I don't throw it on the floor in front of her, smack her in the head, and then refold it all while cursing up a storm and screaming obscenities in front of her and the kids and yelling, "WHO THE HELL FOLDS CLOTHES LIKE THIS??? YOU SHOULD BE SENT TO JAIL FOR THINKING THAT THIS TYPE OF PITIFUL FOLDING IS ACCEPTABLE!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU"
(At this point, I remind myself to breathe deeply to avoid passing out, and I thank her profusely for folding my laundry and for her help, which I sincerely mean.)
Confession: Sorry, Mamma, if you're reading this. I'm crazy, but you already know that and thanks for loving me anyhow. Once she leaves the room, I secretly throw it all on the floor and refold every piece. After my mini-meltdown is over and I've refolded the mess, I stand back to look at all of my perfectly folded laundry piles sorted exactly the way that I like them. I applaud my good work in my head, and quietly take a bow. Then I remind myself that I almost just died a thousand deaths and this is why I need a glass of wine even though its only 4:38pm.
I can breathe again.
Anyone else out there suffering from my laundry disease? The first step its acceptance, my lovelies.
xo,
D
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Chanel "Chaine Or" - The New Pastel for Spring
Gold is the new pastel for spring!
There's nothing like the color gold, especially in a shimmery Chanel nail polish. Chanel has always been the trend setter for polish shades, and their "Chaine Or" doesn't disappoint. It's shimmery gold color is the perfect compliment to any outfit, and it's my new color for spring. I'm officially replacing my go to spring pastels with gold!
Naturally, when I saw this gorgeous gold Chanel polish on the fingertips of my Saks Fifth Avenue Sales Clerk; I had to have it right at that second. No....seriously, she ran over to cosmetics and snatched one up for me speedy quick. I HAD to have it!
I have gold around my entire house in so many different rooms, in fact he walls and ceiling in my formal dining room are even gold. There's just something about it that makes everything it touches a perfect 10. A Rolex watch? Yep, I want the gold Presidential. Anything jewelry? Thanks, I'll take the gold piece.
Say goodbye to those spring pastels and hello, gold!
Monday, March 7, 2016
My Favorite Spring Shoe by Ferragamo
I can't say enough about the Bermuda Cutout Jelly Wedge Pump in Macaroon Gelato from the spring 2016 Ferragamo collection. I am seriously obsessed with this shoe and have worn it nearly everyday since I purchased the pair last week at Saks.
The shoe initially caught my eye as I was breezing through the shoe department about a week earlier on a work collaboration with Saks corporate. I thought it might be a bit rude of me to be late because I was trying on shoes, right? So, I made a quick trip back last week and finally bought them! With 4 kids and a full time job, I can't always find the time to get the items that I need. (Notice how I use the word need.)
With their signature golden logo buckle and 1" demi wedge heel, its the perfect shoe for almost any occasion. They're so comfortable and I'm able to wear them for hours at a time without any foot pain whatsoever. Ballet flats often hurt my feet soon after putting them on, and I haven't experienced anything like that with this shoe. I hate to compromise my style for comfort, so this shoe is like hitting the jackpot.
I've worn them with a white on white combo in the form of jeans and a sweater paired with a brown Hermes belt. I also wore them this past weekend with some distressed boyfriend jeans, a white t-shirt and a tan colored, cashmere scarf for a casual evening dinner. I love shoes that double as an outfit accessory, and these Ferragamo's accomplish that perfectly. I think I just might be buying another pair as a backup!
Price: $280
Find it At: Saks, Ferragamo.com, Neiman Marcus.
Color: Macaroon Gelato*
*Also comes in black with Gold bow
The shoe initially caught my eye as I was breezing through the shoe department about a week earlier on a work collaboration with Saks corporate. I thought it might be a bit rude of me to be late because I was trying on shoes, right? So, I made a quick trip back last week and finally bought them! With 4 kids and a full time job, I can't always find the time to get the items that I need. (Notice how I use the word need.)
With their signature golden logo buckle and 1" demi wedge heel, its the perfect shoe for almost any occasion. They're so comfortable and I'm able to wear them for hours at a time without any foot pain whatsoever. Ballet flats often hurt my feet soon after putting them on, and I haven't experienced anything like that with this shoe. I hate to compromise my style for comfort, so this shoe is like hitting the jackpot.
I've worn them with a white on white combo in the form of jeans and a sweater paired with a brown Hermes belt. I also wore them this past weekend with some distressed boyfriend jeans, a white t-shirt and a tan colored, cashmere scarf for a casual evening dinner. I love shoes that double as an outfit accessory, and these Ferragamo's accomplish that perfectly. I think I just might be buying another pair as a backup!
Price: $280
Find it At: Saks, Ferragamo.com, Neiman Marcus.
Color: Macaroon Gelato*
*Also comes in black with Gold bow
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Freshly Picked shoes for Baby
I couldn't say it better myself! A must, MUST have shoe for your little one. I have 4 kids and just bought my 4th child, a 9 month old boy, his first pair! Thank you, baby gizmo!
https://www.babygizmo.com/review-freshly-picked-moccasins/
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Birchbox vs. Ipsy: Which is Better?
I have to tell you all that I love getting my monthly Birchbox in the mail. I've been a subscriber now for nearly two years, and I've never once thought about canceling my subscription. The array of products that they give me I always seem to enjoy and use. The nominal fee that I pay for my monthly box, $10, is certainly worth the little box of treasures that surprise me in my mailbox each month. I think that my 3 girls get more excited than I do when they see that I received my box in the mail. We've enjoyed using everything together from face scrubs, chocolates, BB creams, masks, mascaras, eye liners, body wash and even teas. We're like kids in a candy store every month when we open it up, and it allows for some fun girl bonding time with my children!
This leads me into Ipsy, a similar company that offers a monthly box of goodies for the same price of $10/mo. My 12 year old daughter really wanted to receive her own monthly box, and suggested that I sign her up for an Ipsy box. Of course, she wasn't just going to get one for no good reason because we can't just give our kids everything that they want, right? So for Christmas this year I decided to surprise her with a one year subscription to Ipsy! When she opened the box with the confirmation she was over-the-moon excited and couldn't believe that I remembered that she had wanted it so badly. I ordered her subscription on December 24th and printed out the confirmation so that I could wrap it. At the time of order, the site told me that I'd be "wait listed", but I could avoid the wait list by posting about their company to Twitter or Facebook. I'm rather private about my social media and I didn't want to post about an item that I've never even received, touting it as though it was the next greatest thing. I was a little taken aback by that to say the least, so i went with the "wait list" option for the time being.
Today is January 28th and we're still wait listed over a month later. My poor, deprived little girl is without her Christmas gift and keeps asking when she'll get it. I mean, come on……she's 12 and she NEEDS her beauty products, damn it!!! Oh, the agony! So I finally received an email this morning that I can get off of the wait list if I share Ipsy on Facebook. (apparently, this is the only way I'm getting out of jail, so I decide to take the bait to save face with my tween and do it against my better judgement and morals.)
I now am asked to go through a 4 part series of posting to Facebook, sharing my Facebook contacts and friends list with them, and then subscribing to all of their You Tube channels. By blood is boiling by now, because I'm being backed into a corner over this darn box. I hit send and I'm free! I'm finally off of the blacklist……we're out of jail!
Ummmmm……IPSY…….
Let me tell you a little something……First, don't bully your customers by making them give you private information just to get your darn box. I've out smarted you by logging into an unused Facebook account with only 3 friends. I would never give a company free access to my private information, no matter my thousands of Facebook contacts. If it wasn't for me giving this as a gift to my daughter, I would've told you to take your silly box and shove it!
I'm sticking to Birchbox, who is glad to have me as a valued customer. So to answer which ones better? Well, I think that my post speaks for itself.
This leads me into Ipsy, a similar company that offers a monthly box of goodies for the same price of $10/mo. My 12 year old daughter really wanted to receive her own monthly box, and suggested that I sign her up for an Ipsy box. Of course, she wasn't just going to get one for no good reason because we can't just give our kids everything that they want, right? So for Christmas this year I decided to surprise her with a one year subscription to Ipsy! When she opened the box with the confirmation she was over-the-moon excited and couldn't believe that I remembered that she had wanted it so badly. I ordered her subscription on December 24th and printed out the confirmation so that I could wrap it. At the time of order, the site told me that I'd be "wait listed", but I could avoid the wait list by posting about their company to Twitter or Facebook. I'm rather private about my social media and I didn't want to post about an item that I've never even received, touting it as though it was the next greatest thing. I was a little taken aback by that to say the least, so i went with the "wait list" option for the time being.
Today is January 28th and we're still wait listed over a month later. My poor, deprived little girl is without her Christmas gift and keeps asking when she'll get it. I mean, come on……she's 12 and she NEEDS her beauty products, damn it!!! Oh, the agony! So I finally received an email this morning that I can get off of the wait list if I share Ipsy on Facebook. (apparently, this is the only way I'm getting out of jail, so I decide to take the bait to save face with my tween and do it against my better judgement and morals.)
I now am asked to go through a 4 part series of posting to Facebook, sharing my Facebook contacts and friends list with them, and then subscribing to all of their You Tube channels. By blood is boiling by now, because I'm being backed into a corner over this darn box. I hit send and I'm free! I'm finally off of the blacklist……we're out of jail!
Ummmmm……IPSY…….
Let me tell you a little something……First, don't bully your customers by making them give you private information just to get your darn box. I've out smarted you by logging into an unused Facebook account with only 3 friends. I would never give a company free access to my private information, no matter my thousands of Facebook contacts. If it wasn't for me giving this as a gift to my daughter, I would've told you to take your silly box and shove it!
I'm sticking to Birchbox, who is glad to have me as a valued customer. So to answer which ones better? Well, I think that my post speaks for itself.
Monday, September 15, 2014
How it Began - One Mother's Journey with Childhood Cancer
A mothers intuition is stronger than any force on the planet. It was just one of those things that I can't really describe any other way. The lump that had been on her neck since April 14, 2014 and wasn't going away was like a giant pink elephant living in my kitchen. Everybody saw it, but nobody acknowledged it or wanted to believe it was anything to worry about.
Every morning when she woke up I would ask my 11 year old daughter to see the lump, hoping and praying that it had gone down overnight. Sometimes I think I convinced myself that it was getting smaller. If she pulled her hair back you could really see it, so I began telling her to wear her down when we were in public so that people wouldn't ask her what it was. Out of sight, out of mind kinda thing. After all, our pediatrician told us we had nothing to worry about since her blood counts were good when they did her blood work. It was just an enlarged lymph node that was the lingering effect of a viral infection. we could biopsy it if I wanted to. Yep, that's definitely what it was. Just a swollen lymph. It would go down soon I kept telling myself. She's a healthy kid with tons of energy. There absolutely couldn't be anything wrong with her.
Fast forward over the entire summer to the end of August 2014 and she still had the lump. That damn lump! Why couldn't it just go away?!? Her blood work was good and so I had nothing to worry about, right? I took Alana back to her pediatrician on August 15, 2014 for some school shots, and I showed the pediatrician the lump again and expressed my concerns. This time she told us that she thought it was an abscess and gave us a referral to an Ears, Nose & Throat doctor. She thought that it might have to be drained. I called the ENT office immediately, but they didn't accept our insurance. It was late Friday afternoon, and I left a message for the pediatrician to call me first thing on Monday morning to help me find another one.
Two days later: Sunday, August 17, 2014:
I woke up and for some reason I decided that I was going to take her to the ER. My ex husband had changed the girls insurance back in May without my prior knowledge or consent to an HMO, and I was having a difficult time getting her seen by a specialist over the summer. I had hired an attorney and they were helping me to get a court date to hopefully change the girls to my instance plan, which would make it easier than an HMO. I wanted to biopsy the lump and explore further treatment to fully rule out the possibility of it being something more serious. I inherently knew that I wasn't satisfied with the pediatricians diagnosis. In fact, I do recall speaking briefly with the pediatrician about a biopsy on that first visit, but I was never able to follow through with it due to the insurance issue. Our pediatrician felt good about the blood work being normal. She just kept assuring me that it would go away in time. Bottom line: enough was enough with this lump. I was done waiting for it to shrink. I waited for Alana to wake up and then I told her my plan. We put on our yoga pants and sweatshirts despite the sweltering 98 degree Florida heat and made our way over to the hospital.
We walked into the emergency room and signed in. I wish that someone would've taken a picture of us at that check in desk, because it was the last time that life would ever be the same for us. We were about to enter into a different universe. The universe of being a family with childhood cancer. My single worst fear was about to come true.
Every morning when she woke up I would ask my 11 year old daughter to see the lump, hoping and praying that it had gone down overnight. Sometimes I think I convinced myself that it was getting smaller. If she pulled her hair back you could really see it, so I began telling her to wear her down when we were in public so that people wouldn't ask her what it was. Out of sight, out of mind kinda thing. After all, our pediatrician told us we had nothing to worry about since her blood counts were good when they did her blood work. It was just an enlarged lymph node that was the lingering effect of a viral infection. we could biopsy it if I wanted to. Yep, that's definitely what it was. Just a swollen lymph. It would go down soon I kept telling myself. She's a healthy kid with tons of energy. There absolutely couldn't be anything wrong with her.
Fast forward over the entire summer to the end of August 2014 and she still had the lump. That damn lump! Why couldn't it just go away?!? Her blood work was good and so I had nothing to worry about, right? I took Alana back to her pediatrician on August 15, 2014 for some school shots, and I showed the pediatrician the lump again and expressed my concerns. This time she told us that she thought it was an abscess and gave us a referral to an Ears, Nose & Throat doctor. She thought that it might have to be drained. I called the ENT office immediately, but they didn't accept our insurance. It was late Friday afternoon, and I left a message for the pediatrician to call me first thing on Monday morning to help me find another one.
Two days later: Sunday, August 17, 2014:
I woke up and for some reason I decided that I was going to take her to the ER. My ex husband had changed the girls insurance back in May without my prior knowledge or consent to an HMO, and I was having a difficult time getting her seen by a specialist over the summer. I had hired an attorney and they were helping me to get a court date to hopefully change the girls to my instance plan, which would make it easier than an HMO. I wanted to biopsy the lump and explore further treatment to fully rule out the possibility of it being something more serious. I inherently knew that I wasn't satisfied with the pediatricians diagnosis. In fact, I do recall speaking briefly with the pediatrician about a biopsy on that first visit, but I was never able to follow through with it due to the insurance issue. Our pediatrician felt good about the blood work being normal. She just kept assuring me that it would go away in time. Bottom line: enough was enough with this lump. I was done waiting for it to shrink. I waited for Alana to wake up and then I told her my plan. We put on our yoga pants and sweatshirts despite the sweltering 98 degree Florida heat and made our way over to the hospital.
We walked into the emergency room and signed in. I wish that someone would've taken a picture of us at that check in desk, because it was the last time that life would ever be the same for us. We were about to enter into a different universe. The universe of being a family with childhood cancer. My single worst fear was about to come true.
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