Mommy Ever After » home goods

Pinterest.

Rebecca Fox Starr — Fri, 13 Mar 2015 13:47:20 +0000

There is this thing on the internet that all of my friends use;

And by friends, I mean everyone.

It’s called Pinterest.

J has been trying to get me to join for years and I finally just took the plunge. I have 1 board, 3 pins and 0 followers. It actually took me 10 minutes to figure out how to follow Jordan.

I actually don’t even know how to find my own Pinterest page. Hold on, let me try.

Okay, I found it. Mommy, Ever After on Pinterest. It is currently the worst Pinterest account ever, but I will work on it. I promise.

I was a late to join Instagram as well, and now I love it. In fact, I think it was J who was also behind that leap towards the future.

So yesterday I posted a picture (that is filtered horribly, might I add) from my favorite store.

J just texted me about this picture, in fact:

So, once again, J to the rescue. They are holding the fox for me.

(I called up and said “Hi, I am looking for an item that I should have purchased yesterday but didn’t, and it’s on the left hand side of the store and it may be in a section of silver things and it is a fox, but kind of a swirly fox.”)

But J is right, I really do have to get it.

Anyway, so now I almost up to date with all of the cool kids, and will be adding to my Pinterest page regularly if you want to follow me (if that’s how it works).

The next and final step is happening in 28 days; Emojis. I don’t have Emojis.

I said I was going to wait until I turn 30.

So for now, my friends have to get texts from me that look like this: :-*

Slowly but surely, as they say. Or, I am sure there is a much more eloquent way to express that sentiment.

I bet I can find it on Pinterest.

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With my two hands.

mommyeverafter — Mon, 21 Apr 2014 19:30:15 +0000

Today was an unusual day.
I got a call from my husband when he went to drop our daughter at school and he told me that school was closed for Passover.
I raced to the car and met them, and picked up my daughter and he went off to work. He was a bit annoyed. Not at me, just at the situation.
So I had to cancel a call I had planned to help a friend with a business proposal,
and headed off, with both kids to my favorite store. We had to make three trips to the kid’s section to make sure that there were not, in fact, any good dress up dresses, but we did OK.
And then we went grocery shopping. I got everything on my list.
I fed my kids; for my daughter, it was the lunch I had packed for her school day, and I watched her eat the entire thing, which is a feat in itself.
I gave the baby pieces of my fresh mango. He loved it.
While my sister ran the Boston marathon (in 3:17:13!!!), I strolled both kids in the double wide to the pharmacy to pick up photos that I’d had developed and made a return.
I took the long way home, stopping to take care of my parents’ dogs.
I walked in the sunshine and blasted Brett Dennen and my daughter heard the first measure of “Comeback Kid” and was like
“Mommy! Brett Dennen” and I swelled. And I sang along. I sang out loud.
And during my walk my family was all texting in a big chain about my sister’s marathon performance and everyone was so excited.
And then we came home and played and I fed my son some more as my daughter kept herself busy upstairs.
She used her stool to find a pair of shorts in a high drawer and changed into a new outfit.
And when I came upstairs I told her I was proud of her.
“Mommy,” she said. “You make me feel whole.”
I write all this because my daughter reminded me of something that a friend, who is going through her own tough time, told me recently:
She wrote a beautiful metaphor to me about holding things in two hands. She can hold her pain in one hand, but still be excited for her friends’ joys and mourn their sorrows in the other. It isn’t all or nothing.
So today, I had these really nice moments. I celebrated my sister. I felt grateful for my kids.
And I still felt pain.
But I was able to keep it in one hand. I was able to get stuff done, and I was even able to enjoy things and feel proud of myself.
My struggles are still acute; I don’t know if they are still categorized as Postpartum, or if I am just now dealing with issues of anxiety, but I know that it is a daily battle.
However, today, I flexed the muscles in my other hand more than I have in a very long time.
And it may not be a marathon,
but I feel strong.

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“MOMMY!”

mommyeverafter — Thu, 03 Apr 2014 18:18:44 +0000

my daughter exclaimed, after I picked her up from school, headed out to my favorite store.
“I have a horrible story to tell you,” she continued.
“So many things are making me in a grumpy mood. My brother lied to me. He really DID spit up on my sock. And I went on the blog and they did NOT have an Elsa backpack.”
And then, somehow, the conversation, all 20 minutes of it, turned to my C-Sections, with questions ranging from,
“Do we have zippers?”
to
“Was your therapist there?”
So, it was certainly an interesting car ride. Try explaining a C-Section to an anxiety ridden, sensitive almost four year old who remembers everything.
And in a who is in a
grumpy mood.

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The Quiet Game.

mommyeverafter — Mon, 24 Mar 2014 22:49:55 +0000

Today, on our way home from Home Goods, after the 80th question from my daughter
(“Does pool water taste salty?”)
My mom decided to try to implement a technique they used with me when I was a child: The Quiet Game. They would challenge me to see how long I could go without speaking. Apple. Tree. You know.)
After 5 seconds, this is what ensued (and I wrote it down, feverishly, as to not miss a word.)
Daughter: I do not like not talking. I do not like trying not to speak. I do not like quiet game.
Mom and I laughed to ourselves.
Daughter: And I do not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not like climbing trees. Or mountains.
My mom: Did you ever climb a mountain?
Daughter: Yes and I keeped slipping off it.
My mom: Really?
Daughter: Of course not.
My mom: I’m having deja vu.
Daughter: I’m having meshugenah
Me: Mom, you realize your encouraging this
Daughter: I’m NOT encouraging this. What is encouraging mean?
So my mom explained. She got it.
Daughter: I encourage you to tell my mommy not to hit me in the face.
And then we died laughing.
Scene.

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