AFFORDABLE FASHION: BACK TO SCHOOL SHOPPING WITH SEARS!

I am a member of the Collective Bias® Social Fabric® Community. This shop has been compensated as part of a social shopper insights study for Collective Bias and their client. #ThisisStyle  for #backtoschool #cbias

Gulp. My son is going to be a kindergartener. A full-fledged kindergartener! This year, shopping for back to school apparel and items is more poignant and important than ever. Though my son spent last year in Transitional Kindergarten (thank goodness for “red shirting”), this year really counts as “The Year.” It’s go time, for reals, and there’s no turning back. (Sigh). But, lucky for me, I’ve teamed up with Collective Bias and SearsStyle to find the most affordable fashion for my son and even another child in need.

Like most 5-year old boys, my son is growing like a weed. It sees like every few weeks, he needs a new pair of shoes, a new pair of pants, new underpants and always, always, ALWAYS, new socks. (Honestly, when we moved to our new home, they should have told me that there was an evil sock monster that stole socks and made them smaller). Because he’s an active boy (let’s hope he masters the art of “sitting still” in Kindergarten!) I generally look for clothing that is comfortable and durable, but still has an edge and is stylish. Plus, we’re working really hard on encouraging independence…. From bathroom time to getting dressed, it’s important he can do a lot of things on his own. So clothing that he can easily get off and on, but that he feels proud of is equally important. Finally, to me, there is nothing cuter and more functional than a kid in jeans. Durable and easy to clean, I love putting J in jeans but because he grows so fast, it seems like I’m always in need of a pair for him. (My closet… that’s a different story. Can you say #obsessed?)

From the moment I got to Sears though, it was truly a “Jean Scene.” I loved their signage for this campaign and it was evident in the children’s apparel department that they had the denim selection to back up this campaign. There was so much to choose from!  I ended up getting my son two different pairs of Levis because the straight, relaxed fit is hard to find in those washes (My son’s not quite the “skinny jeans” kind of kid.) In an effort to teach him to read and do things on his own, I have labeled his drawers and on school days, I tell him what he needs (“It’s cold! You’ll need long sleeves and pants). He helped me put his clothes away and was quick to remind me how many things he’s outgrown and “are like, kind of baby.”

Trough out the children’s department, there were several “Tee Stop” displays. Almost every super hero imaginable was represented in the beautifully organized piles and mounds of screened tees. For $7.98, they’re really high quality and with graphics I know my son would love (and again, feel totally cool about . These things are talking points with his little buddies after all!) I picked out a cute Batman tee for him and an Iron Man tee to donate. The piece de resistance(s) were the tees for $9.98 that came with a toy. At 5, he’s not going to see “Man of Steel,” but he can certainly wear a Man of Steel tee! Great deal and he was super excited.

In addition to the jeans and tees, I found a few great items like khaki cargo pants with an elastic waist - perfect for hot, back to school months, (annnnnd for the child that never wants to go to the bathroom at school because he’s in a rush to go play with his friends), a striped tee (for “fancy” days”) and an adorable short-sleeve, plaid button down, that came with a coordinating tee shirt. It’s a 2 for the price of one look and it screams first day of school!

I loved seeing his enthusiasm over the super hero/character backpacks that comes with a lunch box. He instantly threw it over his shoulders to see what he’d look like rocking it on our walk to school. It’s big enough for carrying his favorite basketball and bright enough to locate in the cubby round up!

The best part, however, was talking about how there are so many children that don’t get brand new clothes or backpacks to go to school. In fact, his school partners with a school where many families live below the poverty line. Several times through the year, our school donates whatever is left in the lost and found as well a few book drives to help raise money for their school. But Jonah and I wanted to do something different- something special. We contacted the school and asked if we could give a new backpack and tee (a Spiderman Backpack and Iron Man tee to be specific!) to another little boy, just like Jonah, starting Kindergarten. “He’ll feel special because it’s new and he should feel good on his first day of school like me.”

Here’s to making back to school a success!

To get your affordable and style back to school gear, follow searsStyle on Twitter  and Facebook, and be sure to check out all the photos from my shopping experience on my Google Plus album!

DIY HOME DECOR USING YOUR KID'S ART

Last year, I tried to volunteer at school as much as I could. Spending time in Jonah's class -cutting paper, cleaning up, passing out goodies on special occasions, etc.- opened my eyes not only to the world of Transitional Kindergarten and public school, but also to the differences between boys and girls... At an early age, it's clear that there is an inherent difference in attention to detail... Generally, the boys scribble fast, while the girls keep the colors (coordinated) and in between the lines. This basically results in Jonah coming home with a lot of projects that, well... look like... someone just wanted to get outside and play zombies vs. Darth Vader. (Or whatever it is that 5 year old boys do.

If I actually housed or stored every single gem that my future "volcano science geologist laboratory doctor" brought home, our house would like like an episode of Hoarders. Therefore, I came up with an artistic solution of my own that showcases the "best part" of my guy's art only. Check it out!

LEARNING STROKES

For those of you that have been following, you might recall that 2 summers ago, I made the worst parenting decision of my life. I signed up Jonah for a swim boot camp… A week -long intensive taught by a “I swear-by-him… he’s a miracle worker… it’s so worth the money” guy in Los Angeles. Known for his controversial, sort of,“get in the pool and swim, kid” methodology, I wasn’t 100% convinced that this was the right thing for Jonah. HOWEVER, everyone I knew flocked to him and I was guaranteed that by the end of the week, Jonah would be swimming.

And he did.

For the rest of the summer he swam. Not confidently, but enough to where I did think, (despite the fact that he cried for 1 hour straight/ 5 days in a row), that it was worth it and that least he was “water safe.”

Cut to last summer.

The very first moment that it was hot enough to swim and I so much as uttered the word “pool,” Jonah flipped out. He wanted nothing to do with water or swimming; Even though I promised him he did not need to take lessons, and I’d never force him to do something that he wasn’t comfortable or ready for (again. Gulp), Jonah cried, “Please mommy, don’t send me to (insert guy’s name that will make him need therapy)!!!”

So as you can well imagine, last summer was spent with me, P, and any/ all willing adults holding Jonah in the pool… reminding him (every 7 seconds) that we wouldn’t let him go, and that he was okay and that although he DID/DOES know how to swim, we will hold on to him as long as he needed….

Then… Welcome, Summer 2013.  At the first mention of school out, summer, and swim time, you probably can guess what he asked nervously. I assured him (again), I would never ever send him there for lessons, but that this summer, I think in some way, it would be great to try… to learn… to somehow swim… Maybe… Please?? With like, lots of new cool Lego sets and games on my iPad, and milkshakes on Thursdays, would you consider a little, kinda, sorta like a swim class at the golf club… Because, also, remember, all of your friends are swimming. Freely.

I hardly wanted to shame him…. But with the awareness that camp was starting and they would swim everyday, I felt like it was time to light a little fire again. Gently. And with a flame that won’t cause post-traumatic stress.

Guess what? I didn’t even need to get the match. (Wow, I’m cheesy). At camp, there’s a big pool and a little pool. In order to go into the big pool (with a deep end), the children must take a swim test. Though he was scared, he took the test (and proved he wasn’t ready for the big pool). Relieved, he went into the smaller pool. For two days, I think he doggy paddled and waded his way through it. BUT something else happened, the kids that COULD swim- his buddies- also opted for the pee infested, sunscreen-drenched, Pacific Ocean, dirty looking, small pool too. AND one day, (day 5, I think,) Jonah decided he could swim.

Of course, because he’s a boy (and I’m discovering certain inherent male traits really DO start young), he didn’t tell me about this victory that first week. (That first week, I really only heard about the fact that he touched a Piranha shark, NO a leopard shark! at the aquarium and that I need to stop sending cucumbers because HE. DOESN’T. LIKE. CUCUMBERS).

But I digress…

Cut to this past weekend. Swim time with the family. P and I suit up ready for the clutch/don’t worry fest. Before we could even get in the water though, Jonah was all the way in and said, “Watch what I can do.”

And he swam. ACROSS THE POOL. Head in the water. Feet kicking. SWAM.

He even threw in some arm strokes.

Our mouths dropped….

We screamed. We cheered. I even cried.

He just decided to do it, he said.

“I just… I taught myself.”

For the next two hours, I watched my fish of a boy ENJOYsomething that he hated and feared for almost half his life…. With each and every jump, kick, and plunge, I finally forgave myself for something that I thought could not be undone.

He just taught himself.

“Sweetheart,” I said, “I still have you signed up for lessons at the club. You obviously know how to swim, but I still think---“

“I know, Mommy. I’m very good OF swimming. But I need to get better with my arms. Like the, um, stokes. I mean, strokes. I’m not good OF that yet. She can just show me that.”

Yes, she can.

CONVERSATIONS OF MAY...

6am.  A tap on my shoulder...

Jonah: Mommy...

Me: Yes...?

J: I'm up.

Me: I see.

J: Mommy?

Me: Yes...?

J: I had a very bad dream.

Me: I'm so sorry to hear that.

J: Mommy?

Me: Yes...?

J: Please don't be mad at me... but in my dream... I punched (my cousin).

Me: Wow, that does sound like a bad dream.

J: Are you mad at me?

Me: No, honey. It was just a dream.

J:... Because you know I'd never punch my cousin, right?

Me: I know you'd never punch anyone.

A few days later... 6am again... (I mean, seriously). Michelle Obama in a PSA on PBS.

Me: Do you know who that is?

J: No, who?

Me: That's The First Lady of the United States. That's President Obama's wife. They call her "The First Lady."

J: She was the first lady... EVER?!!!

Me: Not exactly...

I love May. 

ON A DARK DAY

“Hi, Jonah’s Mommy,” they whispered as I entered the classroom. 

“Hi, everyone,” I said quietly with a little wink directed at Jonah.

When I dropped him off at school in the morning, I asked his teacher Mrs. S if she needed any volunteers later in the day. I have volunteered a few times… and though it almost inevitably means my son will misbehave more than usual (I suspect because he’s 5, and is excited that I’m there and therefore, “showing off”), I had an urge to be there… Even if it meant watching Jonah squirm when he should be listening, or me witnessing a flaw in the school and “the system.”

While the children finished story time, my assignment was to cut paper and put together packets for Earth Day. How appropriate…  They will draw their world in the circle I cut out…

It was hard for me not to see this as a metaphor. After watching the coverage from the Boston Bombings, I had a fleeting thought… A thought that shocked me and unnerved me for even having it escape my conscious:

Why are these heinous acts of violence happening (again) and why would I ever want to bring another child into this universe?

My eyes popped the second I thought it. Me?? Not bring another child on to this earth? I have always wanted more than one child… Two, three, heck, even four. I love children. I want a family. A BIG family. I love being a mother and nothing, not war, or natural disasters, or even the tragedies on 9/11 or the deranged and unthinkable acts in Newtown, has EVER made me question whether it was fair or not to bring a child into the world…

But last night, there I was. Flooded with the darkest and most dismal thought I think I’ve ever (consciously) had.

“Jonah’s mommy, um, my mommy has a friend who’s name is also Jennifer,” one little girl said tapping my shoulder.

“It’s a pretty cool, name, huh?” I said… only to be interrupted with:

“Um, Jonah’s mommy, does Jonah want to go trick o’ treating with me again on Halloween?” said another little girls (I’m not gonna lie, the little girls looooove them some Jonah.)

“That sounds like a plan,” I said, stacking the Earth packets in a pile.

It was time for “Reading Buddies.” Every week, a 2^nd grade class comes to read to their class. Jonah’s

buddy was a girl with a bob haircut and a face full of freckles. Some of the buddies seemed totally into the assignment … carefully explaining each word and speaking with animation and exaggeration. Not Jonah’s buddy. She stopped periodically to go chat with friends at another station. But he sat there anyway. Listening closely to her words… even when they trailed off.

Our home earth… I love…

It sat with me. These words. These children.  The boys and their eagerness to play basketball at recess... The girls and their barrettes... falling out of their hair and their mismatched leggings and tee shirts… The row of lunch boxes filled with meals carefully crafted and packed by a tired adult that morning… The calendar and clock on the board with clear-cut letters, numbers and pictures of seasons so they learn to tell time and why, someday, it will matter.  These things, being there, it made me happy and hopeful.

My fleeting thought has since left my body and I’m back to wanting to have another child pronto (Oy, I can totally hear P’s heart racing as he reads this. LOL). As cliche as it sounds, Monday’s event was sadly another reminder for me, though, that during a dark time, to turn to something bright for a reminder of the future. 

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: LOVE GOES 'ROUND

SPRING TRAINING... MINUS THE TRAINING.

Ah, it's March and that means Spring is in the air... Actually, here in Los Angeles, Spring was in the air in December and pretty much all through January...  and I'm pretty sure I spotted Summer one weekend in February.... So forget the air part. It's just March. And that means a lot of things...

For starters, for the past couple of years, every March I seem to make it my mission to cleanse. I want to clean house. To clean body. To clean mind. Without fail though, having just spent the two months prior to March making excuses, mentally, as to why postponing all my "cleansing" resolutions is probably better in the long run, the LONG RUN actually catches up with me and I find myself high tailing it into "time to get your sh*t together" mode come March 1st.

So here we are. And hey, so far, so good.

Here's the current state of affairs:

1. Body

I did actually cleanse. Kind of. 

Thanks to an extremely popular juice company that offers individual juices, or 3 or 5 day kits, I signed up for a 5 day cleanse. By the end of day two though, I must admit, I was beyond ravenous and couldn't stop thinking about hummus. Go figure, hummus, of all things. Not one to talk myself off ledges, I caved in and cut up a cucumber (how bad can a cucumber be), and dipped it (okay, COVERED IT) in hummus. Craving satisfied.... Next day, however, I had to be on set for a project I was working on with Lifetime Moms and realized I had only taken two juices (out of 6) with me for an entire day. One of the models on set suggested I just drink lemon and hot water for the rest of the day and/or see if the caterer could just blend my food... so it would be kind of like juice/fluids. Um.... I'm gonna let you sit with that one and give you the opportunity to imagine how much that did NOT happen and how much I was seen grazing at the craft services table for the rest of the day.

2. Mind

It turns out, "poop talk" can help with literacy.

A month or two ago, I was in sort of a disciplinary standoff situation with Jonah. He was constantly silly, constantly using bathroom language, and even talking back. I had to figure out a way to get back to the consequence basics and figure out what I could take away that was his Kryptonite. (Turns out, not much phases him).

However, one day, I got a report from his teacher that he had been talking back. Apparently, he remarked that what they were going to be doing was "stupid." I died. Read the whole story here. 

Things have calmed down since then and his behavior has shaped up. Not sure if it's my new-found resolve, or a miraculous maturity development for him,  OR the fact that he had been begging to get hot lunches at school and I told him that if I get a week straight of a perfect report, I'd let him get it. So... The good news: We're in the 2nd week of hot lunch land and therefore, mornings are now a breeze for me. The bad news: They serve f**king ice cream. I'm telling myself the organic part makes it better. But I digress...

He was recently given a few books from the Captain Underpants series and when I first read one to him, and he nearly choked laughing so hard, I thought.... Hmm. Maybe not the right book for a kid that has a hard time holding back the fart, poop, pee talk. At dinner. 

But... last night, he begged me to do a mad libs type section of one of the books and I thought of an idea. 1) If he takes this silly talk outside of this dedicated silly talk time, he loses UNO (our favorite family activity), electronics, TV, and all of these books. At the same time. For one week. 2) He needs to sound out the words and try to read to ME.

Turns out POOP is a wonderful word to teach early language development and reading skills. He nailed it.

3.  House

I stopped caring about having an organized closet.  I blame this on the long episodes of Downton Abbey. There's more important things to focus on...

It's hard to believe that exactly 2 years ago, I met Robin Saperstein of High Heel in a Haystack, she helped me with a Wardrobe Overhaul, then sent me on my way with a ton of outfit options (from my own closet!)  Since then, I've updated my wardrobe cautiously and done my best to keep my closet tidy. But hey, life gets busy and Matthew Crowley and Lady Mary get married and the whole thing goes to poop. (See #2). So, it was time to call on my girl and have her come over and remind me why certain jeans should be left in 2011.

In about 3.5 hours, I had a completely new and organized closet, and could see what I was workin' with. (Before and after pic above).  According to Robin, I'm actually all set for Spring ... AND we even shopped my closet and reinvented some clothing. Why say goodbye to my very first and favorite JBrand jeans with the big gaping holes in the knees, which I've already had patched to create a semi distressed look, when I can have them repatched and destressed AGAIN?! Additionally, Robin recommended I take a cute purple dress from JCrew and have the it shortened, and the trim brought up to give it a fresh and current look. Not bad for a total of $36 bucks right? ("Before" pics taken at the Tailor's. Dress pinned. Forgive the "selfies.").

All in all, Spring is off to a good start. I'm heading to Seattle this weekend with P on behalf of the 2 Days in Seattle Campaign (SO excited) and next week, the story featuring that mysterious trip I took in November will be featured in Ladies Home Journal. Did I mention Tina Fey is on the cover? Feeling pretty lucky right now. Forget New Year's resolutions. I love March.

THANKS, 2012.

It's going fast.... this train. But I am definitely on board. It's hard to believe that during this "don't blink for a second" year, so much has happened. Not stuff, but moments. Memories. Changes. My LIFE.

Let's see... In 2012, in no particular order...

1) I learned to surf.

2) I moved myself, my son, (and everything but the couch) in with my boyfriend to a new home. (His couch was much, much better than ours). 

3) I traveled to the most impoverished country in the Western Hemisphere and held the hands of extremely sick children. (Will be able to fully discuss this life altering adventure in a few more months).

4) I saw Bruce Springsteen in concert for the first time.

5) I heard a trauma surgeon tell me that my son's life was saved because of his car seat.

6) I paid off a lot of debt. 

7) I became fully aware and almost understanding of how all things Star Wars and Transformers will one day just shift into all things Sunday and Red Zone (See #2).

8) I volunteered in my son's Kindergarten class. Kinder.Garten.

9) I was featured on Elizabeth Street. Kinda cool. 

10) I found myself. My calling. My love. And my strength. 

It's been a good year. And I'm certain 2013 will be even better.

Happy New Year. Be safe, be happy, and be grateful. We are blessed. 

NOTHING HAS CHANGED, BUT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO

This is hardly the first post about what happened last Friday… Hardly the first post, by a “mom blogger” about frustration and fear…. Hardly the first post about a citizen of this country feeling stuck and helpless, yet restless and eager for change IMMEDIATELY… And it’s hardly the first anything that can change the fact that 6 brave adults aren't alive to build a better future and that 20 beautiful babies are no longer playing on a yard at recess, or learning to read and write, or creating art that would have ultimately ended up on an already cluttered fridge, or becoming the “when I grow up” people they dreamt of being…

What I write, I realize, will have no profound impact on anyone… and certainly not on policy. Or change. Or the parents who’s eulogies made me weep as if these children were family members…

But I have to say something. If I don’t, it’ll just sit with me. So here goes…

I do not believe we are in anyway more violent than we were we in 1791. We’re more imaginative with access to creating and manufacturing stories and images electronically and digitally, perhaps. But, more violent? I don’t think so.

We’ve all spent enough time in early American History classes and museums to know how the West was won. We have read books and seen photos of how the South fought the North. We have watched the very last veterans of WW2 return to Normandy to tell the story of how we fought the Nazis. We have witnessed young men return from Vietnam with missing limbs and no place to go. And we have most certainly seen live footage of Baghdad… and Afghanistan… lit up with explosion.

Nothing but machinery has changed. War is war and violence is violence. 

I also do not believe that we are anymore mentally unstable than we were in 1791. Mental illness has existed since before “mental illness” even had a definition. Those “afflicted” with the disease either suffered alone and undiagnosed, died young (as did most people since the average life span was 37 years), or were sent to an asylum-like prison to undergo barbaric procedures. They were never “fit for society.” We know chemical imbalances, mood disorders, anxiety and depression, and even Autism and Asperger’s existed then. Doctors just didn’t have a name other than “lunacy” for it.

Nothing but science has changed. Crazy is crazy and genetics are genetics.

Look, I’m the first person to close my eyes and squeeze my boyfriend’s arm to the point of puncture wound during a violent or scary movie scene. And, admittedly, I’m the first person to agree that television programs and movies that are advertised towards my young son (which he happily devours) are probably too graphic and too disturbing for his 5 year-old brain.  Do I worry the memories of these images are what keeps him up at night? Yes. Do I worry that after being in a car accident this summer, (that could have killed him), that loud noises and violent explosions (even of the superhero, web-slinging kind), could unnerve him and increase post-traumatic stress? YES, of course. Do I worry that even the horribly acted and written scenes of Power Rangers or even a Light saber toting Luke Skywalker of the Legos Star Wars video game could have a negative affect on his brain waves? YES! Because it does! Science has proven that these games and images DO affect certain areas of the brain, which are associated with self-control and concentration. SO YES. I worry. Because, I know. It. HAS. A. PROFOUND. AFFECT. ON. HIS. BRAIN. DEVELOPMENT.

EVERYTHING DOES… The good. The bad. The ugly. And most certainly, those terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad GMO’s. Right??? Right.

BUT, despite this constant state of imperfection and parental insecurity, (which is the creative force behind what I write and how I think… so for that inner conflict, I am grateful), there is actually one thing I don’t concern myself with. One truth that I know:

NONE of these images and NONE of these games and NONE of my lazy “Well... I guess it’s a McDonald’s kind of dinner” will make my son BE violent. Darth Vader and Optimus Prime don’t deserve that much credit. Nor do the decades of anxiety or depression that have, at times, gripped various family members… 

I can’t blame these things for a violent culture and neither should you. (They do get the same movies and the same bouts of depression in Canada and Switzerland too, you know...)

My point is, is someone’s child dying because of a drunk driver or an over-dose on drugs any less heinous, less sad, or less violent than a massive gun shooting???? NO. Murder is murder and death of a child is death OF A CHILD.

It’s horrific. It’s disturbing. And it’s unfair.

The difference is control of said weapon(s). The difference is access. The difference is our officials DO try to stop this. They do have strict regulations. They do have patrol and jurisdiction. They even DO have education and conversations with youngsters to raise awareness… Awareness that isn’t in the form of a fucking “crisis drill.” Or in the form of a child having to walk through a metal detector to go to 1st Grade. Or in the form of a school principal walking around a play yard with a loaded weapon.

That’s not a DIFFERENCE. That’s a band-aid. And that’s a life of living in fear.

The difference has nothing to do with mental illness or violence…. And it most certainly does NOT have to do with the removal of God in schools or in our hearts.

The difference is strict laws and a societal acknowledgement of RIGHT AND WRONG. I just hope we get it right… soon. And I sure as hell hope we take the ACCESS TO WRONG off of our nation's "moral grid" and OUT of our neighborhoods. For good. Forever. For our children.