Don’t Lick the Dog

When Dee was born, one of the trainers Scott works with gave us this genius book –

Given her Daddy’s line of work, we knew lady George would be exposed to a high volume of Pups (and boy is she ever – we’re lucky this girl doesn’t think she’s a puppy!) so Don’t Lick the Dog was one of the first books we started reading her on the regular.  If you’ve got a puppy loving toddler, I’d recommend you get yourself a copy of this beautifully illustrated tome stat. 

(Written and Illustrated by Wendy Wahman.)

 

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Park Ettiquette and Picking Up Mom Friends

It’s one of those things there should be a book about.  In the hospital, they show you how to get a good latch and change a diaper, but they don’t say boo about the challenges you’ll be met with as you and your little one venture out to the local park.

First off there are the basic questions.  Are you a dirty hippie if you let your kid take their shoes off in the sandbox?  What about discarded sand toys?  If you forget your bucket, are they fair game to let your little play with?

But moving on…your kid starts chasing another around the swing set, and BOOM – you’ve got a new parent to chat up.  But when the kiddos click, what is your obligation to reach out for a play date?  Do you have one?  Are you psychotic if you do it?   Will you look like a loon if you offer up a phone number or email address so that you kids can continue to connect?  What about a Mom you click with?  Or a Dad?  How do you take that park meeting to the next level?  And should you?

To be clear, I have no answers here.  I’m kind of hoping you guys can enlighten me.  It’s happened a few times now where Dee and I will meet a lovely Mama daughter duo at the park and I feel my palms start to sweat like I’ve been cornered by my Jr. High crush.

To date, I’ve exchanged names with a couple of Moms, but never taken it further – hoping that perhaps we’ll bump into each other again.  No such luck.  But I’m a WAHM with limited childcare (thank moses for Grandmas!).  My kid has NO FRIENDS.  Okay she has two friends, who we are eternally grateful for, but beyond that, I feel like I’m failing her big time.  {I know, I know…it’s time for some Mommy and Me. We do do a music class, so she’s not a complete recluse.}

So yesterday, Dee and I are at the park and she finally gets up the nerve to approach “that purple gril” who she’s been eying across the park.  And turns out the little girl’s Mom is lovely, we were chatting easily by the time Dee climbed up into the swing next to her new friend.

…And then she says it:  “So, do you guys live around here?”  We do, and the conversation turns to other parks in the area, and which ones we frequent.  We exchange names.  And I’m still on my Alt Summit high where it’s totally normal to slip someone your business card, so OMG I did just that.  “Well, let me give you my email if you ever want to meet up at XXX park.”  She seemed receptive, but I couldn’t help feeling like a total dingus as I handed over a card with my social media addictions scrawled all over it.  I mean…the damn thing heralds my twitter handle and says “wordsmith / gal friday” on it.  W.T.F.?

So am I a freak?  Do you think she’ll call?  Do you think she would have called but then she got curious and came to my blog and saw this post and now she definitely won’t? 

I think I need a drink.

 

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You Know You’re Addicted to Instagram When…

You go to Utah and you don’t even bring a proper camera.

Or you come home to this, and can’t bother to switch out the lens on your SLR…

{Wanna follow me on Instagram?}

 

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I Had to Take a T-Shirt Break (#altsummit)

{The stunning ALT welcome box.}

Utah in January is becoming a bit of a thing for us.  Well…last year and this year, but still – two visits to the same town with the same friends in a year? IT’S A THING.

{Those are Cariann’s shoes, but I might steal them.}

Anyway – As I write this, I’m sitting alone in the beautiful Grand America Hotel in Salt Lake City, missing out on a session on how not to look like an asshole while blogging, which I could probably use, but instead I’m sitting in my hotel room in my favorite T-Shirt, with a bottle of nail polish (OPI Glitzerland) and a Starbucks, enjoying the most luxurious activity of all…having time to sit and write in silence.

There are 500 women in this hotel…all of them gorgeous.  All of them stylish.  All of them smart, and talented, and just…well…enviable.  And then there’s me with my leaky eye corners and my unwaxed eyebrows.  {But red lipstick makes me feel saucy even if my attempt at a smokey eye leaves me looking like a hungover tranny, so I’m doing pretty good.}  It’s actually not as intimidating as it sounds, because everyone is also incredibly interested in meeting one another, and loving on each others blogs and books and brands and whatnots and there’s an incredible feeling of all boats rising together here.

{The coolest look book ever, via Epiphanie Bags}

One of my favorite parts of ALT are the non-bloggers who make their way to the Grand America to meet and collaborate with those of us who spill our minds out through our fingertips on the daily.  Here with me?  Paul and Cariann of Cargoh who are two of my favorite people on this planet, and Jamie from BO.LT – creator of my fastest growing internet addiction.

{Uh, also: The Grand America houses one of the most insane toy stores I’ve ever seen.}

If you’re on Instagram, hopefully you saw the amazing loot my Cargoh buddies gave out to all the attendees at lunch today, because it was a labor of love and just freaking awesome of them – and their sellers -  to do, and also awesome to see everyone admiring the hard work of the little marketplace that could.

Ahhh…and I miss my baby Dee so badly.  Being away for four days is an emotional horror show, but always a much needed break.  And ALT is like a super-powered recharge for my creative-ness before diving in to a new year.  And then there’s the 24 hours we’ll spend at The Sundance Film Festival, which we swore never to do again after last years cluster-cuss, but alas, I was born a screenwriter and I love movies, so even my own memory of frozen toes and nearly having to cut a bitch for a spot in line can’t keep me away.

Anyway friends and lurkers, I hope you’re having an awesome week.  Scott and I are more relaxed than we’ve been since…oh…september?  So, thank you, Utah, for that.

Oh, and lastly: Cool or Crazy?

{Shirt and vest by Leyendecker Los Angeles}

 

 

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Oh, Internet. I just want to talk about Dee’s first trip to Disneyland.

Sunday morning Delilah woke us up saying “I want to see Mickey and Pluto and Minnie and Goofy and talk to them.  And Donald Duck.”

Dee George is really super in to talking right now.  She’s pretty sure she knows all the words and she is just amped up to use them.  She forgoes shy-ness on most occasions in favor of just rattling off all the words she knows to anyone who will listen…which really freaks people out because she’s also still miniature and has very little hair.

So anyway – we took her to Disneyland and she didn’t cry or recoil from her “friends” (what she calls the characters) for a second.  She did however, barely utter a word to anyone BUT Mickey and the gang the entire day while she stared in awe trying to take in all of the sights and sounds and friends the Magic Kingdom had to offer.

[pretty much how Dee looked the whole day, above, seeing Mickey dance about 10 feet in front of her with her big cousin Eves...POV below]

On the drive down, I was gripped with the realization that I was going to Dland as a parent for the first time.  As we pulled in on the monorail (which was AWESOME, by the way – parking in downtown disney and catching the monorail into Tomorrowland gave Dee an incredible view of the insanity before we hit the ground running) my mouth was dry — I think a sense memory from looking down on the dumpsters we congregated at on Grad Night — the most depraved activity the happiest place on earth plays host to (they open the park to about 1000 High School seniors over night.)  And all the while with my toddler on my lap.  And my formerly punk-rock teenaged boyfriend had somehow morphed into this full-blown-man-husband-feather-person sitting next to me.

I mean…It was the best day.  Being a parent at Disneyland turned out to be WAY MORE AWESOME than being a kid at Disneyland.  We strolled through the park with our girl, watching her tiny mind be blown at every turn, and then when we tucked her into bed that night, we got to listen as she finally opened her mouth and let the excitement turn into a flow of abrupt shouts that included “I see Mickey and talk to him and hug him!” and “I show Pooh my kitty!”  (Oh, c’mon you perverts — we let her pick out a stuffed animal and she chose Marie from the Aristocats.)  She’s still shouting about new memories every few minutes.

 

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