I don’t love it because it is a cheap or forced excuse to celebrate love; I just don’t understand not liking it. If you love someone, then tell them every day. Including on Valentine’s Day. It can be any old day. It can be a day of special treats. It can be celebrated in June. In a year when I am embracing the holidays, it was nice to wake up yesterday morning and linger in bed with both of my kids.

Yesterday I did so many lovely things, most of which I did not capture on film; I got to hug and kiss many people who mean a lot to me; I gave my daughter a “big girl” present of an assortment of free perfume samples and I watched her beam; I celebrated the birthday of a friend who has become family; I heard secrets and smiled; I watched as my husband won not one but two toys from the Claw Machine at the bowling alley; I dipped macadamia nut brownies into chocolate fondue and then drew a chocolate mustache on my face in a fancy restaurant; I squeezed into a photo booth with people I love and took silly pics; I danced at a concert where people were half my age, wearing a Kate Moss t-shirt and expensive shoes; I caught snowflakes on my tongue; I loved.

We dance partied to Grease;

We got mommy daughter manicures; her nails were sparkly pink and mine looked like metallic conversation hearts;

           We came home to a Valentine’s Day surprise for my daughter from a beau;

Peeps sent me some love;

I watched as my daughter was made to feel special;

We ate candy;

My Mommom gave me a pack of Hanky Panky underwear;

More Peeps from more of my peeps!!;

I won a contest from Rochelle at Rodan + Fields and I wore bright red lipstick, something that I never do;

I got to be silly with friends;

I ran down the streets of the city in the cold and wind and snow, but I felt warm;

I had a wonderful day.

I hope that you did too.

And if you haven’t been wished it yet, Happy Valentine’s Day. Not because I have to say it, or not because someone invented a holiday to commercialize love, but because you deserve to be told.

So paint some chocolate on your face or eat a piece of candy or catch a snowflake on your tongue

and let yourself feel

just a little bit

warm

and a lotta bit

loved.

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Except, I wasn’t quite ready to get up, nor was I feeling my best, so I decided that while we were “up” we could snuggle on the couch watching music videos for a good hour before starting our real day.

I will share with you our playlist, but I have to say, it is going to seem painfully unoriginal, as I have recently written about most of these songs, but that’s how things work in our house (and, presumably in the house of anyone who has children; a song gets stuck and is everything until the next song comes and takes it’s place. There was a six month David Bowie streak during my pregnancy with my son–my daughter was obsessed–which means that I can no longer listen to “Starman” without feeling queasy).

So, our morning soundtrack sounded a little bit like this:

Uptown Funk, our go-to dance party song of the moment,

which led us, by way of Mark Ronson, to “Valerie” as it is a song I sing with my band, both acoustic and electric,

which took us to “Summer Nights”,

followed by “You’re the One that I Want”, both from Grease, which is still in her top two favorite musicals of the week;

I asked her if we could listen to “Somebody to Love” as it a) now has a special meaning to me and b) is an amazing song;

She was allowed to choose next, and picked this song, something she listens to with her dad on the way to school;

Then it was Elvis Costello’s “Oliver’s Army”, which I am shocked that I have not previously written about; I almost can’t believe it to the point that I am skeptical of the accuracy of my search function on this site. “Oliver’s Army” defined my family vacation car rides with my parents and sister. We both thought it was called “Oligazombie”.

Then, for my son, his favorite song (I’ll let you figure out the one about which I am referring; he is decidedly less fickle than my daughter. He finds a song and sticks to it).

And watching my kids dance, and watching them experience music, something that is so important to me, was the perfect way to start the day.

May your day be filled with a lot of funk, somebody to love, a minimal amount of lumps, no zombies and, of course, that bass.

By the way, the featured image for this post is a photo from about 25 years ago, when I first got into “Oligazombie”, Queen and Musical Theatre; Since it’s #tbt and all, I figured I’d go with it.

The post A Musical Morning. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I have had dizziness before, but holy moly, this is something else.

I woke up on Friday morning and everything was spinning (or I was spinning, or both) and it has been relentless.

In any case, this has taken me out of commission this weekend (which leaves me feeling very guilty. I feel so bad that I am not there to play with my kids and help my husband, but it is out of my control. This is something that I am working on).

I have spent 85% of my time since Friday morning in bed, if not more.

Yesterday, while my husband and daughter were out together at the salon getting haircuts (I know, super cute) I went into the bathroom to put my hair in a ponytail. The motion of flipping my head back was a huge mistake, triggering a feeling like I cannot even describe; it took me many minutes to be able to crawl from the bathroom into my bedroom, completely dizzy and disoriented, in order to call my parents for help.

This morning, for the first time, I ventured downstairs. It felt nice to be human again, albeit briefly. And even though I could not take part, the highlight of my weekend was most certainly watching my three most favorite people taking part in one of our family’s very favorite activities.

So I can enjoy watching my family and Taylor Swift “Shake it Off”,

while keeping my head completely,

perfectly

still.

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1. I am not at all in touch with today’s current music scene. I know about Sia’s “Chandelier” because of an SNL skit sent to me by a friend, I have heard of only about half of the mainstream artists and know very little of their songs. I am exposed to some new music by being in the band, but that is primarily because some of my band members have elementary-school aged kids who are really into singers like Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. I could not identify Iggy Azalea in a lineup. Judge as you will.

2. I am a firm believer in dancing it out.

Yesterday, we were all feeling a little blah, and I suggested a dance party to help the mood.

Dance parties are our thing.

My husband was not enthused. He actually said that he didn’t feel like it. So I obliged…

for about 45 seconds.

And then I grabbed the remote control to our big living room TV, the XBox1 controller and told my system to “Go to Music”.

Let me back up a few weeks. At Our New Year’s Eve party, one of our friends told me about his favorite new song, “Uptown Funk” by Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars. He said that it was so fun that he listened to it on repeat 10 times while getting ready for the night out. He brought me into the Living Room to play it for me. And then, a few hours later, he and I did a choreographed dance to the song, trying to mimic the music video. I’m sure we were amazing.

In any case, since that night, it has become a really popular song in our house and in our circle. One of our best friends sent out a group text the next week, admitting to his obsession with the song. My husband has been playing it in his car. It’s just a catchy, fun, feel good song and Bruno Mars is so talented. His dancing! I think he performed the dance slightly better than we did, but I may just being hard on myself.

In any case, yesterday my husband was mopey and the kids were like this, so instead of leaning into the funk that everyone was in, I decided to, instead, go “Uptown Funk”.

You just kind of can’t not dance when this is on.

So my husband held my son in his arms and I swung my daughter around in mine, and we had a family dance party.

We danced it out.

And you know what?

It worked.

Because dance parties work.

And, ‘Cause Uptown Funk gon’ give it to you.

Hallelujah, indeed.

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By the way, you must remember, I am the girl who has only had one set of business cards in her entire life…

and they were Betty Boop business cards I had personalized for me at FAO Schwartz that read, “Star of Stage and Screen”.

The fact that I have a whole team is extremely exciting and entirely humbling, to say the least.

I have spent the past four and a half years writing about nursing a toddler and nursing colds,

meeting milestones and making mischief and making mistakes–

and this next step–this leap of faith–has been huge.

In any case, we were discussing Mommy, Ever After and the new site and some real businessy things that are too businessy for me to even try to explain,

and then we ended the conversation with her saying, “Your voice is different in this “new” MEA. I can’t really put my finger on how, but it reads differently.”

And I think I get what she is saying. The fact is, Mommy, Ever After has evolved and morphed and shifted in ways I could have never predicted when I started writing. It used to be more of a daily diary, with tidbits about my goings-on and the chronicles of new parenthood.

It was my baby book.

Once I started developing an audience, I wrote more in depth posts, serializing stories like how my husband and I met, how we got engaged, my birth story, etc.

I talked about tutus and dance parties and sparkly shoes. I talked about some more poignant things, like my lost loved ones and how that has given me my thing for feathers. But, one thing that hasn’t changed is that I have always been really honest. I have called myself out for being crazy, I have talked about my weaknesses and fears, I have asked for help.

Because I have always wanted to help. I wanted people, women or men, parents or teens or grandparents, to be able to read a post and say, “I am not alone.”

That was when Mommy, Ever After was “A Happy Story”.

And then my life took an unexpected turn. “A Hard Story”.

And as I slowly climb back up, step by step, day by day, sometimes minute by minute, I do feel like I am living “A Hopeful Story”. Because I refuse to give up.

In any case, the conversation with my manager inspired me to tell you a little bit about what you can expect, in just the coming week, as we all get acclimated to our new home here.

(By the way, I hope you like our new digs. If you get the chance and have not already, check it out from a computer. There is so much more to see in a less condensed way.)

So this week I will be:

Giving a tour of the site, so that you can see all of the new features I have to offer. I will guide you to the best places that will meet your needs and you will learn how to use all of the new buttons and categories and columns most effectively.

Posting the sequel to my old post about music; because since I published that post years ago, I have been lucky enough to become the lead singer of an amazing band, Fox & the Hounds. It has changed my life for the better (and for good).

Sharing a behind-the-scenes look at an amazing skincare line, as you learn everything you have ever wanted to know about how to reveal your most beautiful self. And not just outer beauty; these ladies are all about supporting one another, encouraging true teamwork and being positive cheerleaders for friends, colleagues and life.

Exploring the world of anxiety, which is an affliction that so many people face, but so few actually verbalize.

Reflecting on my recent Hanukkah experience and all of it’s firsts.

Telling the stories of our fun holiday happenings with The Tribe.

And just being the Me(a) that I have always been; forever candid, sometimes cray cray, occasionally humorous and ever so grateful.

So settle in, find a cozy spot and stick around.

The best is yet to be.

The post What is in store? Ever so much more. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I am endlessly grateful that it has just been some lingering respiratory things and maybe a touch of the stomach flu,

as it is almost the one year anniversary of our week in the hospital with a sick 2 month old with RSV. That was also the worst time in my entire life.

So while this week has been less than desirable, I can’t even call it bad.

There were playdates that had to be cancelled and there was food that couldn’t be eaten and I was up a lot of the past two nights listening to my daughter cough and cough.

But her spirits have been great, and I savored the days of cuddling.

I spent the entirety of Sunday in my pajamas. We played with baby dolls and a doctor’s kit and magnatiles and her hair and I even got her to sit with me for five minutes of this past week’s Grey’s Anatomy that I still have not been able to catch up on. (Don’t judge!)

But the highlight of the weekend was most definitely the music. We used the XBox 1 app that is attached to our big living room TV to play both XBox radio and YouTube videos, and got to go through a great array of music, from spooky to hip hop to holiday.

And then, we stumbled upon the holy grail: Idina Menzel and Michael Buble singing “Baby it’s Cold Outside”, as child actors mouth the words and dance along in a twenties style extravaganza. My daughter was hooked in three seconds.

This was awesome for so many reasons, not the least of which being that I now finally have someone with whom I can sing the duet. She makes me be the boy, but whatever.

We must have watched this adorable music video 15 times over the past two days. We hummed around the house. She even sat in the bathroom as I took a shower so that she could get the benefits from the steam and we practiced the duet from over the glass shower door.

So despite the frigid temps and the horrid cough, we were still able to muster up the strength for an ottoman stage performance, in our pjs, and it was the bright spot in an otherwise dreary week.

Things right now may be slightly less than ideal–and I struggle with keeping my glass half full–but I got to spend a few minutes on a freezing Sunday night in November with my two kids in my arms, dancing to holiday music.

This time last year, that would have been an impossibility.

For this, I am grateful; I am warm.

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This was sent to me yesterday by a dear friend. I needed it.

I then sent it to another dear friend. She needed it.

Every day, we all carry things with us; hopes, fears, ideas, identities…

Some of these things lift us up. Some of my labels I wear proudly:

Wife, mother, friend, daughter, grand-daughter, teacher, twin, writer, confidant, sister,

dance partier, loud laugher, decorator, front-woman for a rock band…

Yet there are some layers of myself that I wish to shed.

I will probably always be on the slightly anxious end of the anxiety spectrum.

But I would love to no longer be a sufferer. A worrier. A scaredy-cat.

Those things weigh me down. They are the labels that can make minutes feel like hours, make days feel dark and make my stomach feel like it has a led weight inside of it.

I want to be lighter.

So I am making a conscious effort to take off the things that I no longer wish to wear.

I have written many times over the past year about the shift in my friendships; that through the trauma of postpartum depression and it’s after effects, my friends have become my family. We talk every single day. They humor me when I send out 15 emails about our holiday cookie Pollyanna party, because they know how important it is for me to embrace this holiday season. They are just my people.

Then there are the new friends I have made. They have changed my life. The ones who spent last year sitting on the floor with me, as I opened up about my depression. The ones who have been so selfless. The one whom I’ve followed on the internet for years, and turned out to be even more beautiful and amazing and spectacular in person. The one who understands every one of my faults and loves me because of them, not in spite of them. The one who sees a pair of Fox leggings in the store and buys them for me, because…obviously. These friends have been a gift. I carry them with me, now.

And as far as everyone and everything else,

all the drama and the ghosts and the pain that try to cloud my mind and cause me anxiety, I am trying to let it go.

Like Elsa.

Just letting it go.

I don’t want to carry them with me anymore.

And so I won’t.

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