Pretty Baby - Gift Ideas for Newborns

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of a baby shower invitation feels biologically compelled to purchase one of two gifts: (a) the teensiest, tiniest, most questionably practical onesie you ever did see or (b) a plush blanket that could keep Antarctica itself safe from chill.

There's a reason these are perennial favorites - newborns admittedly do go through a lot of clothes and blankets - and I confess I often find myself powerless over them. Over our last festivity-stuffed week I handed out no less than three of 'em.

However, if you're looking for something a bit outside the norm, or perhaps something more practical than Arctic freeze-level coverlets for the babe born here in deathhellheat summertime Texas (*ahem*), might I suggest my following favorites, many of which we received as gifts when Master P was but a wee colicky thing.

If I were on my A Game - a big *if* nowdays - I'd pair one of these with a gift for the new mom and present it in that fantastic "I Like Naps" tote below (with thanks to my girl Forever 29 for finding that one).

Special Frugalista Note: I kept all of these gifts below $50 - if you, like me, find yourself afloat on the happy Sea of Second-Born Babies, these gifts can really add up.

Tote / Burp Cloths (my favorite brand) / DVD (without which neither MP nor I would have survived his infancy) / Diapers (ask mama whether she's doing cloth or disposable) / Aden + Anais swaddling blankets (lightweight & useful for a billion other things too) / book (with apologies to Jane for hijacking her opening line above) / sleeper / drying rack (doubles as superb wine glass drying rack) / birth announcement prints

Newborn Gift Guide by legallyblondemel featuring canvas tote bags

Any other baby favorites you'd add?

Reader Request: Why Being a Lawyer is Like the Worst Date Ever (Sort of)

Alternate Title: "Why Being a Lawyer Generally Sucked and Isn't Nearly as Exciting nor Populated with Good Looking People as Hollywood Would Lead You to Believe - Not that I'm Bitter About It."

Not to worry: we'll get back to the non-legal business of being Pretty tomorrow. Pinky swear.

***
You know when you have a crush on someone from afar, someone so supernaturally beautiful, so funny, so entirely perfect it's almost painful? Your stomach churns at the mere thought of 'em.

And then, at long last, you actually talk with him or her. It may even get as far as a first date. And . . . crickets.

Whether it's the way he doesn't pause to breathe between endless stories about himself or that spinach stuck in his (otherwise flawless) teeth, you know one thing for certain - this is not the one for you.

How could two people who on paper seemed so perfect together have such a total lack of chemistry? How could NBC's Olympics coverage be so alternatively drippy and disrespectful? These, friends, are questions for the ages.

But I digress - thanks to some super-duper reader requests, today I'm droning on endlessly about what I didn't like about the practice of law, what I did like - yes, there are a few bits - and whether I regret having been to law school in the first place. Consider this a part two to my Law School Questionnaire - lucky you!

Please enjoy my PowerPoint skills - apparently I learned something from all those years chained to my computer!

What I Hated About It

I hate to admit this, but you already think I'm shallow if you've spent any amount of time here, so . . . like for so many people, what drew me to the law was all the image, and none of the reality, of the practice.

From a young age, I'd glamorized the legal profession as one stuffed with smart people in gorgeous suits fighting for justice and making impassioned courtroom speeches. To be blunt, I imagined big paychecks and the admiration of my friends and family. I love/d reading, writing, arguing, my Poli Sci major, and fancy suits, so what could be better than getting paid to do all of the above?

Mind you, I'd spent zero time with an actual attorney, so I had no idea that the vast majority of most lawyers' lives are spent outside of the courtroom, and that to get to the coutroom one had to do a crushing amount of (to me) mind-numbing research and writing. Or pore over equally thrilling piles of discovery. Or deal with intentionally antagonistic opposing counsel, not to mention the clients. In short, it was a business devoted to getting lost in the trees when I was a big-picture forest type.

About that "I love to argue" thing . . . it's one thing to enjoy highbrow undergrad debates over coffee Coors Light about Big Ideas, and quite another to be sending endless nastygrams back and forth with opposing counsel, who is doing everything in their power to make your & your client's life a living Hell. The practice of law beat that argue impulse straight out of me.

It turns out I do love to read, write, and give impassioned speeches, but only when I'm actually interested in the subject matter. I wasn't good at faking interest in non-disclosure agreements, or what zoning regulation would allow my client to sue the contractor for simply doing his job, or . . . much of it, to be honest. I was a macro girl stuck in a micro world.

I found the competitive atmosphere amongst attorneys - I reluctantly note that some of the older female attorneys I worked with were the worst about this - draining. There was a macho, sink-or-swim mindset to the profession. Had I been interested in the subject matter, this may have motivated me, but instead it just further discouraged me, particularly in the beginning when I was eager to find mentors.

I intentionally don't moan about that other lawyer un-favorite, the hours, here, though those merit a mention for anyone considering the profession. Again, had I found the job itself interesting, working long hours (pre-child, at least) would not have been nearly as big of a factor. So called "BigLaw" and I mutually had no interest in one another, however, so my time in small firms, clerking, and as GC was incredibly reasonable by comparison - and my salary was commensurately much lower as a result. There isn't really a 9-to-5 job in law - it's a service profession in the end - but my experience was as close to that as you get.

What I Liked About It

My last, longest lasting job as an attorney, as a GC to a private group of companies, was my favorite, and I absolutely enjoyed many aspects of that job.

First and foremost, playing the role of counselor - as in, "attorney and counselor" - came naturally to this student government bossypants type, particularly when I could focus on my one "client". I loved boiling down an issue to its important parts and translating that into layman's speak for my boss. As my son's favorite Thomas the Train would say - yes, I'm quoting a cartoon character - I liked feeling really useful.

I also enjoyed quarterbacking outside counsel in my role as GC, which played to my macro preferences of getting the "big picture" business goal accomplished without having to draft the micro specifics of an agreement.

Also, yes, I enjoyed the trappings of the job, mostly the respect my job title seemed to garner. In my heart, I felt like a secret failure since I knew it wasn't the profession for me, but the external pats on the back helped me stumble along.

There's also the number of practical, real-life benefits of having been to law school that I use in everyday life. Just the ability to draft a coherent email is a surprisingly valuable (and rare) life skill. Which leads me to .  . .

Do I Regret Having Been to Law School or Having Practiced Law?

It's like Sinatra crooned. Regrets, I have a few - some moments are not teachable ones but simply awful  - but I'm not sure I can say law school was one of them.

What price meeting many of your best friends and, through one of them, your eventual (laywer) husband? Spending perhaps the best summer of your life studying - ahem, "studying" - abroad in Italy?  Completing something so difficult you were certain you'd never finish?

About that last bit - I was very, very close to dropping out of law school after my first semester. I recall sitting outside of my apartment, bawling into my cell phone (which was probably the size of Michael Phelps' mug back in those dinosaur days) to one of my best friends, devastated that I'd invested no small amount of time and money into something that just wasn't quite right. The classes were incredibly dull, my grades were abysmal, it was . . . not at all the challenging yet glamorous future I'd envisioned.

The trouble was, I had a long, inglorious history of quitting things I wasn't immediately great at, and I grew determined to not let law school & ultimately the practice be yet another challenge I gave up on too early. I summoned whatever WASP "suck it up"- age I had left and proceeded on, resolving to finish school and give the practice at least five years before giving up on it entirely.

I ended up lasting seven and, at the risk of sounding boastful, I'm proud. I may not have enjoyed a lot of it, I don't intend to practice in the future, but again  . . . what price helping a family business I enjoyed and respected (and still do) achieve some of their goals? Helping build the savings that now allow me the privilege of staying home with Master P? Learning, at long last, the pride in sticking something out?

If I had it to do over again, would I take a year or two off before going to law school? Spend more time upping my LSAT score and less at the little "b" bar? Spend some time with actual lawyers before pulling that law school trigger? Taken the teaching master's route I'd also considered instead of the J.D. one? Quit law earlier to pursue that teaching (high school English) plan B?

Duh. But then, like a bad date, at least I got a story or two out of the wrong answer, didn't I?

***

I've had some excellent questions about quitting current professions in favor of something you actually want to do, or re-entering the workforce after having stayed at home with kids . . . and I feel wholly, 100% unqualified to answer those.

If there's interest, though, I'll happily try to scare up some guest posters on these topics - what do you think?

Any attorneys in the audience want to chime in extra thoughts on this one?

Smug Mummy Olympic Style

There's quite the party about to kick off this weekend at Pretty HQ - not only do we have Olympics* to watch, we have a certain Anonymous Husband's birthday to celebrate too.

*By "Olympics" it's understood I mean "hoping for Princess Shinylocks, Prince Harry, and David Beckham sightings in between men's swim events", right? Right. Thanks for your cooperation.

Inspired by today's opening ceremonies to come, this Anglophile threw together a little Mother & Son outfit inspiration - any excuse on behalf of my favorite city on the globe . . .

shirt / print / bracelet / tote (I have this & looove) / flats / polish / shoes / messenger bag (via The Little Style File)

Smug Mummy Olympic Style: Hail Brittania by legallyblondemel featuring ballet flats

Lest you think I've forgotten my country of origin, here's what I'm wearing today - a little more Nantucket than Notting Hill even if entirely by accident, don't you think?

Wherever you are on the globe, happy Ryan Lochte watching weekend to you.

Reader Request: The Great Sleep Training Debate

"How can we bear the excitement?!?" I can just hear you wondering. "First a lengthy law school diatribe, and now something about babies sleeping? Can one person withstand this much joy?"

I must feel like living dangerously this week, because if there are two things people seem to get worked up about, it's lawyers and babies. Oy.

Because one of you Pretties asked, though, and because I've found this sort of post helpful myself in raising Master P, I'm talking about how I went about sleep training him. (Note to the Cheerfully Child-Free: did you know many babies have to be taught how to fall asleep and then sleep through the night on their own? True, truly tedious story.)

Let's get one thing straight here first . . .  I am not taking sides here or claiming there is One Magical Right Way to Go About This. NOT NOT NOT, you can't make me! I'm entirely agnostic about this, firm in my belief that each child presents his or her own sets of both abilities and challenges, and that there's a different right answer for every family.

As long as what you're doing is safe and pediatrician approved, have at sleep whichever way it works. I will judge what shoes your wearing, but I only care that we all find what works for us individually here.

Also, I do not proclaim to be an expert on this, or even remotely qualified. To the extent I can take credit, I've only sleep trained my one child - one who is staging a nap strike at this very moment, with all the indignant rage of an Occupy Wall Street protestor - so this is only me recounting my one & only experience.

To summarize: he started sleeping through the night at 6.5 months and took a couple of months beyond that to fall asleep on his own comfortably. He continues to need less naps and shorter ones than the average kid for his age - I suspect he'll drop them entirely before the norm too - but he remains an excellent nighttime sleeper, usually clocking in a 7:30 pm / 8:00 pm to 8:00 / 8:30 am snooze.

All of that being said, here are three steps that worked for us:

Baby Books are a Good Starting Point, But Trust What You See More (i.e., Books are Lying Liars)

Before Master P made his arrival into the world, I read what I was told by parent friends as the Holy Trinity of sleep training books - "Babywise", Ferber, and Weissbluth - under the "start as we mean to go on" mentality of establishing healthy sleep habits.

And then my fussy, willful, actual child arrived, the one who would only sleep when held and bawled the remainder of the time. We had nursing problems, we had sleeping problems, it was . . . it was something, I'll tell you that much.

The "before" photo - please enjoy my multiple chins!

I should note also that, due to our breastfeeding issues and the, um, delicate personality of my child, I intentionally waited on the heavy sleep training stuff until the six month mark, which is when I fully switched him to formula. I just wasn't comfortable expecting him to sleep without that further indication that he was getting enough to eat.

I could whine for hours here about what this article so perfectly called my Post-Colic Stress Disorder, but suffice to say - my child wanted to sleep less often than any old book said he should, and that was that. No amount of carefully planned "Babywise" nap schedules were going to cut it - he would not be scheduled to their specifications, and when I tried much crying and unhappiness ensued (mine and his).

It took me more than six months to let go and really pay attention to what Master P had been trying to tell me all along, but I finally allowed him to drop to less naps (2 per day) than the Magic Books and all the other experts ahem, grandparents said he should be getting.

And lo, the heavens parted - not only did he start napping on more of a schedule then, but he started sleeping through the night too. You'll hate me for this, but he actually started sleeping through the night on his own, on the very night I'd intended to Stand Firm and Let Him Cry Damn It.

Once I got over my Type A Minus scheduling tendencies, I figured that lesson might apply elsewhere (duh). I then got serious about his falling asleep on his own, which by far was our greater challenge.

Routine, Routine, My Kingdom for a Bedtime Routine

One of the biggest mistakes I made was not getting a set pre-nap and bedtime routine down (and the same routine for both) early to help with the falling asleep on his own bit.

My baby just wasn't a good soother - no thumb-sucking, pacifier, or calming vibration chair would do for the wee CEO. Pre-sleep training he fell asleep on his own a grand total of twice, meaning I had to do beg, plead, dance, and cry to get him there the other times.

Picture an Usher video minus the rhythm and sex appeal - that was the level of choreography involved in coaxing my bundle of crying joy to sweet slumber. Yeah.

I tried various stories and songs, in different orders, but it took me until the six month mark to realize I needed to do the exact same songs and stories, in the same order every single time, to create the soothing routine he couldn't pull together for himself.

At first, I tried it only at bedtime, which just created confusion and further frustration. At long last, I got it - duh - we needed the same routine at both naptime and bedtime, adding only a bath at the latter.

When I tell you I did - and do - the exact same routine, every single time, I mean it. You could set your watch to the military precision of my actions. Oh, how I was tired of those same songs and Sandra Boyntons - we even said "bye bye" to the living room in the same way each time - but slowly, slowly, I could see the calming effect it had. Some of that had to be a factor of his getting older, but I believe the ritual helped too.

The "after" - now he sleeps like a champ but with strange objects, never the adorable, photo-worthy lovies I promise are in there too. Of course.

Think of a Catholic or Episcopal church service - stand up, sit down, say this the same way, forever and ever, amen. For many of us - self included - there is comfort in ritual, and so it was with my child and sleep.

There was one other piece to the sleep puzzle - that is, the dreaded "C" word . . .

Some Kids May Need to Cry, and Mine Was - and Sometimes Still Is - One of Them

Please skip this step if it's not for you. Believe me, I didn't want it either.

Once I let Master P drop a nap and got a good routine in place, he was doing better but still not falling asleep on his own easily. I'd try to rock him through his fussing, though as he got older my interventions only seemed to make him even more upset.

On the advice of a friend - a friend with one of those easy sparkle babies that slept on command and was irritatingly cute and nice, just like her - I started gradually putting him down awake around the six month mark, just barely initially. At the first sign of a cry, however, I'd swoop him up again. When that didn't work, I tried the Ferber "go in, soothe, leave" routine. Rinse, lather, repeat.

Seeing that none of those was working, I reluctantly braced myself to truly let him cry on his own until he fell asleep. One night I set him down in his crib, he wailed with abandon (though not to the point of being sick or harming himself, I hasten to add) for a healthy while - and then promptly fell asleep.

And so it went, not for the three days as promised by Mr. Ferber, et al. but for weeks. WEEKS of my sprinting to the wine bottle immediately after setting poor Master P down, of staring down the video monitor feeling like a terrible excuse for a mother.

A funny thing happened as I watched the monitor - he seemed to be comforting himself through the fussing,  which would hit a crescendo and then gradually ease off until he finally, happily fell asleep.

And so slowly, though - sensing a pattern here? - ever so slowly, the crying grew less intense, and there was less of it. As he got older, he showed interest in reading himself a book or playing with toys to calm himself to sleep instead. For a long while now he has happily played in his crib until he falls asleep, with the occasional fuss fest if he's overtired, sick, or traveling.

***

I'd love to hear from other parents - what magic combination worked for you? Still trying to sort it out? Especially since there is no one right answer here, I'd love to give some newbie parents some different points of view . . .

The Truth About Two: The Upside

We've all heard the two-year-old horror stories, if we haven't had the great good fortune of experiencing them as a parent.

It's that arched back and crazed stare, as if your formerly sweet babe were possessed by Satan himself, while your wee CEO teaches a master class on tantrums in the most public place possible.

It's that "NOOOOOOO!!!!", that seemingly endless refrain, that he learned far too quickly after the too-sweet-for-words "Mama".

It's that nap strike - we're currently on Day 3 here, holla! - wreaking havoc with that one remaining island of quiet peace in your day, not to mention guaranteeing the foul mood of Two.

What we don't hear much about, however, are the truly amazing bits of parenting Two - and, yes, if you suspect I'm going to get all Sunshine and Puppies and Babies today, in part to erase the memory of yesterday's Law Schoolpalooza, your instincts serve you well.

The face Master P now makes, cheerfully shouting "CHEESE!" (which I never taught him??), when I get the camera out.

Sometimes parenting is all about the beauty in contrasts. Samma's great post about the unanticipated upside of parenting a fussy baby - Master P, I'm looking squarely at your first six months of life here - got me thinking how those low moments can be the very things that make us appreciate the highs more.

And so it goes with age two, where the good seems very, very good indeed and the lows, well . . . you've seen us hurry out of the restaurant with the screeching toddler flailing his arms because we cruelly wouldn't let him play with the steak knife.

Not to gloss over the often trying realities of Two, but here are a few favorites of Master P at just over age 2 (25 months), both of his and mine. My blog buddy Up North Preppy technically requested this one, but let's not kid ourselves about my taking any opportunity to brag about my gifted & talented child:

Favorite New Words: Master P's include "trash truck", "dump truck", "mail truck" . . . anyone sensing a theme here?

Mine is unequivocally, 100%, after months of my prodding, "please" (or "PEEZ!" in Master P parlance. Now if I can just get him opening doors for ladies, my work will largely be done, right?

Speaking of words, something to give any parents of nearly Twos hope - I've found the number of daily tantrums decreasing as the wee CEO is better able to communicate. On that topic:

Favorite Funny Tantrum Behavior: (mine & Master P's) "The Limp Noodle", in which he suddenly goes limp and droops to the ground, as if in slow motion, yet a motion somehow fast enough to wiggle out of my grasp.

Favorite Embrace of Golden Rule: (his) When I let him watch "Sesame Street" ; (mine) how he plays nicely with other kids, to the extent a two year old can do that. He's a mellow fellow when it comes to sharing (for the most part) (so far) (insert other qualifiers here) (parentheses).

And in case anyone is looking for two-year-old boy gift ideas . . .

Favorite Toy: this changes by the week amongst a variety of (a) means of transportation and (b) sports equipment, but here's the current winner:

Barking orders from his chariot - with a parasol and a cold beverage, no less.

Behold the Radio Flyer All-Terrain Wagon. We got ours off of Craigslist, but I'd heartily recommend this one anyways; Master P gets a big ol' kick of instructing his driver to and fro. Which is exactly what "driver" here feels like doing in 95 degree heat.

His other perennial favorite is this train table, which can't be beat for the price and the fixed tracks (which equal less mess for you to clean and more ease of play for young fingers not yet adept with wooden tracks - Master P only started playing with those).

Favorite Book: "Drive" by Nathan Clement. Zen-like in its very simple story and modern graphics, this one is a surefire hit with the boy-obsessed-with-trucks crowd. We have it on loan from the library, but Master P likes it so much I'm going to buy our own copy.

I'm still partial to "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom", however; thankfully that remains in heavy wee CEO rotation as well. You should hear him softly chirping his ABC's at the end (which goes more like "A-D, A-D, A-D . . .", but no matter).

While I wouldn't wish the Terribleness of Twos on anyone, the good bits sure are pretty good, aren't they?

Any other caretakers of Twos have some favorites to share?

Reader Request: "Should I Go To Law School?"

ABANDON ALL HOPE, ALL YE NON LAWYER TYPES WHO ENTER HERE!

Source: webweaver.nu via Judi on Pinterest

Today I'm tackling reader questions about the decision to go to law school. Apparently I have a number of lady lawyer types reading here, whether you are aspiring, currently practicing, or cheerfully dancing on the grave of your legally blonde past like me.

If this isn't your thing - and understandably so - please stop reading immediately and know that I will talk about something more up our champagne bubble of fluff alley next time. Pinky swear

***

If you ever want to hear an exquisite symphony of suffering, a veritable funeral dirge of moaning misery, ask a lawyer whether you should go to law school.

Rather than skip directly to our usual answer - "No!" - let me give you a more lawyerly one, "It depends, but probably not." After all, even former lawyers like to hear themselves talk at length, right?

There are so many factors that go into this decision that I'm going to do my best to break it up into more easily digestible bullet points. Anyone want to draw me a flowchart and save me time here? Anyone?

My legally blonde background, or why I'm more qualified to talk about this than that Penelope T*ree crazypants blogger to whom I refuse to link because of said crazypants: I went straight from undergrad to law school, graduating in 2003 (from the University of San Diego - go Toreros! *whatever those are*) and later that year passed the California Bar, hoping to get hired in criminal prosecution.

To be blunt, I couldn't - turns out a lot of people with better grades than I had wanted that same thing. I ended up bouncing around a couple of jobs in commercial and residential real estate (awful) & a federal clerkship (not at all awful), before moving to Texas, passing the Bar here, and hitting my stride as general counsel for a group of family-owned businesses (note: not my family), which I did for just shy of five years before retiring to stay home with Master P.

Four Questions You Should Ask Yourself if You're Considering Law School:

Why Are You Going?: Take it from someone who went to law school as a smartypants (or so I thought) Poli Sci major who didn't know what else to do after college - the why matters.

Have you talked to any lawyers, future or former, about the experience? Shadowed one of them to see what an actual day looks like vs. the Hollywood version? If not, do not pass go, and do not give your $200 (more like $100,000 in some cases) to a law school.

Let's take swift aim at the general myth that a J.D. is a good degree for whatever career you end up in. A J.D. is preparation for being a lawyer, and iffy prep at that . . . and that's it.

Still interested? Read on . . .

Who's Paying?: I'm actually not one of those who thinks money should entirely define your decision here. I just think it should comprise the vast majority of it. Consider:

If you have a scholarship or savings to send yourself to school, God speed - feel free to obtain what one financially set, non-practicing friend calls his "gentleman's law degree".

If, however, you're considering student loans - something I had to take out to cover most of my tuition, though I was fortunate enough to have some scholarship and family funds to cover the balance - some facts:

Unless you're already hiding in a Con Law textbook somewhere, you can't avoid the fact that law school is a less attractive financial investment than it once was. For starters, law school tuition has outpaced salaries for a long while now.

Yes, some people - the vast minority - will come out making salaries of $160,000 (with apologies to my late grandparents for talking about m-o-n-e-y here) or more.

Statistically speaking, you will not be one of them. I certainly wasn't. The vast majority come out making far, far less than that. As in, less than half of that.

I can't emphasize enough the emotional drain that is having large sums of debt hanging over your head, although - yes, absolutely - professional school debt is a privileged, first world sort of problem to have. It's tough to state this firmly enough - 22-year-old me certainly didn't appreciate it as I signed those loan documents - but try to imagine what that monthly obligation will feel like.

Bottom line: the less prestigious the school (more on that below), the less I'd advise going unless you're able to pay out of pocket. Ooh, which reminds me . . .

Where Are You Going to School?: At the risk of sounding egotistical, you, like me, have probably always done well in school and figure you'll continue to be the top of the class in law school, regardless of what you've heard. Now imagine a room full of you - except, in many cases, a smarter, harder working you.

Here's the subtext no law school brochure or firm will tell you - the practice of law is stuffed with risk-averse, traditional sorts who care about the prestige of the schools you've attended, your grades, your age (to a certain extent) and . . . not much else, really.

If you decide to go to law school, go to the best school you get into (when I say "best" I mean those infernal-yet-revered "US News and World Report" rankings)*. Again, the higher up the prestige chain, the more any sort of loans make sense.

*Edited to add: be sure to check out the excellent comments to this post, many of which take me to task for this overly broad (fancy lawyer phrase!) "best school you get into" assertion - and rightly so, in certain circumstances. There's an amorphous calculus that goes into figuring this all out case-by-case, and I wouldn't dream of attempting to say what exactly that is, though certainly finances needs to factor in highly here (see question 2 above).

I absolutely agree that there are some situations in which a local and/or less prestigious school makes sense. If you're tied to a geographic location by family or by preference, for example, or 100% certain you want to practice in an area where the Lawyer Snob factor is less pervasive (family law and/or sole practitioner gigs come to mind). Certain regions of the country are dominated by state schools with strong alumni networking associations, and that should factor in as well.

Here's why I'm hesitant to back off that "best school" advice entirely - for any of you who are in the same twentysomething boat I once was, not committed to any one field of practice or location, maximizing your prospects becomes more important. It's tough to argue that good grades from a nationally recognized school won't widen your field of post-graduation options as compared to a similar or lesser performance (or even a better one, in some cases) at a less prestigious one, generally speaking.

And this may prove unpopular, but - forget about padding your resume once you get to school with save the world extracurriculars and do the best you can in class and, if you can, on Law Review. Save the world once you've done well in school and are an attractive hire to a place where you can do that.

This is anecdotal, but about that age thing since I was asked about it specifically: absolutely go to school if the right match/ finances align, but know if you're interested in the law firm route that many firms - particularly the BigLaw firms - are notorious for being ageist. After all, who better than impressionable twentysomething to bark orders at and generally be unreasonable towards?

Bottom line: it's tough to advise someone to attend anything other than a "top-tier" school in this job market. I can't in good conscience advise fourth-tier or internet schools in any market unless you intend from the get-go to set up your own shop or not practice.

Consider too: the farther down the line your school is prestige-wise, the more regionally limited your hiring options will generally be. Which leads me to . . .

What Do You Think Life Will Look Like When You Graduate?: Start here with Anne-Marie Slaughter's excellent piece on the impact of a professional woman's career choices on her family & her career trajectory.

Next step, talk to actual lawyers about what their workday looks like and what job prospects are looking like. I feel like the world is lousy with lawyers for this, but if you're struggling to find some - start with hassling your parents, your friends, and your undergrad's career services or alumni development office. (Or, you know, an overly chatty blogger. Ahem.)

Get your questions, especially any work/life balance ones, out of the way now, because you certainly can't ask them when you're interviewing for law jobs (see culture of competitive Type As).

I'll say this too about the culture of the profession, and this is somewhat true whether you're a small-town GC as I was or playing in the BigLaw big leagues - the law is a "time macho" profession, as Ms. Slaughter so wonderfully coined the phrase. For example, "part time" often means 40 hours a week plus take home work for nights & weekends - if you can get a firm to agree to part-time, that is.

In the end, a lawyer is a well-educated and well-paid (sometimes) servant. Your schedule is not your own, to a large extent, and that's something to try and wrap your head around before setting down the law school path.

***

For extra credit reading on this, check out the blog of my girlcrush and shiny new attorney Legally Fabulous.

I'll do a part 2 post about whether I regret going to law school, including the intangibles I ran out of time for here, and what I specifically disliked / liked about the practice. Not before I do a lot of palate cleansing "OOH, look at that pretty outfit!" sort of posts first, though. Oy.

Any other questions? Comments? Complaints? Advice from lawyers in the audience?

Smug Mummy Style: Colorblocked

I was inspired to throw together a little colorblocking for church yesterday - as in, a house of worship, and not one of handbags. Yes, we think about other things here on very rare occasion.

In any event, I based this ensemble - which I like to call "Blues for Jesus" - around this new Target Merona maxi tie-waist dress, an inexpensive way to get in on the trend:

Smug Mummy Style: Colorblocked by legallyblondemel featuring pave jewelry

Here's another situation where the blazer + maxi works well - after church, I just subtracted my slouchy jacket (ancient Banana Republic eyelet version of above), added those sunglasses, and voila - was ready for lunch & lazy Sunday with the family.

For anyone intimidated by the BRIGHT COLORS OMG of colorblocking, there are different, less eye-searing ways to approach this. I think of this pairing here, where the colors are next to one another on the color wheel and around the same level of intensity (i.e., brights with brights, vs. bright and pastel), as the easiest way to do this look. The white blazer and the neutral shoes, watch & sunglasses give the eye a break from all of the color color color.

Once upon a dinosaur, the Invisible Rule was that you didn't wear blues with greens like this - too bruise-like, I suppose. I say in 2012 that's ridiculous, and we should throw together any ol' colors we think Prettiest.

Whaddaya think?

(With thanks to my Invisible Internet Friend Sea and Tea, whose Twitter pic of the same frock reminded me to play around with this.)

Why Being a Lawyer Then Makes Me a Better Parent Now

Speaking of questions we stay-at-home-moms get asked, this particular mom fields many along the lines of "Are you glad you went to law school?".

It's a good one, if one I need a few more days and a lot more tequila before I can fully address. In the meantime, what I will say is how surprised I am about how useful some lawyering skills are in my daily life, especially now as Master P enters toddlerdom.

No, for real. I'm being serious. Mostly.

I'll even break it down for you in lawyerly bullet points - be nice, or else I'll put it in outline form with Roman numerals and subheadings too. In any event, I find that I . . .

- can negotiate with unreasonable (and often short) people like it's my job;

- never ask a question to which I don't either (a) know the answer or (b) want to know the answer;

- cleverly disguise orders as two options, luring opposing counsel / toddler into false sense of power (granted, nowadays both options tend to be lead to happy things like "wearing pants", but . . . ); 

At the dawn of my legal career, inspired by the pursuit of justice and unusually large collars (apologies for awful photo quality, etc.)

- can read the same thing over and over (AND OVER - hello there, Sandra Boynton) again;

- have a high threshold for boredom (see point #2); not that staying at home is dull, but there are some loooong moments and the occasional day week;

- enjoy running my own department of one, from scheduling to budget (ok, I'm significantly less good at the latter, but I'm learning);

- can endure. If I can pass two - count 'em, TWO - Bar exams, thankyouverymuch, and serve seven years in a profession I cheerfully despised, I sure as Hell can outlast a tantrum, though there are days when those seem longer and infinitely more tedious than drafting yet another confidentiality agreement.

How about you - can you pinpoint something about your job, then or now, that helps how you parent?

The Attempt at Pretty, or Why I Bother

A reader asked - as a few real-life acquaintances have, so here goes - how long it takes me to get ready in the mornings. That's an innocent enough question - or would be, but there's often a follow-up, usually via raised brow or subtext, about why I bother trying to pull myself together in the first place. Why worry about it when comfortable yoga pants are entirely sufficient in my Post-Child ("PC"), stay-at-home-mom life?

First, a warning - any moms reading this with babies who are not sleeping through the night and/or are still nursing, stop reading immediately and go relax already. Underline! I remember that time all too well, and minutes spent pulling yourself together (assuming you can - nursing-friendly outfits are a whole 'nuther ball of wax) are precious moments you could be spending asleep or catching up on "The Economist" ("Real Housewives of When Did These Women Get So Unbearable?")

For those of us beyond those sleep-free, will-to-live-free (kidding) (sort of) newborn days:

Short Answer: it usually takes me 20-30 minutes to get ready in the mornings, depending on what I'm up to that day, and I generally look at it & throwing an outfit together as a pleasure. Most days I get up before the wee CEO to do so, though if I don't, it doesn't take me longer to quickly throw on my "Mom-o-Flage" than it would my gym clothes.

Concessions to PC reality include hair-washing & styling every other day (admittedly, despite some dry shampoo experimentation, day 2 is generally Ponytail of Defeat time) and a shortened, 5-minutes-max makeup routine. I'm also in sensible flats now instead of my lawyer-ly heels. Machine washable clothing is generally a much higher priority now.

That doesn't mean I'm any more together / fancier / a better mother / wife / friend / watcher-of-Bravo TV than anyone in Lululemon.

That doesn't mean my choice to dress up a bit is somehow a better one than Lululemon - if that's your style, great. It's just the better choice *for me*.

That doesn't mean I'm sitting in secret judgment next to you at the playground on the days when I've managed to throw on my favorite maxi dress and you're in yoga pants.

today's mom-o-flage

Not not not. Been there, yoga pant'd that myself. Let me explain:

Long Answer: The (privileged first) world is, to wildly overgeneralize, divided into two sorts of people:

- those who see food as fuel versus those who see it as a thing to be enjoyed;

- those who read because it's a class or job requirement vs. those who can't imagine life without it;

- those who dress because society demands they cover the relevant bits vs. those who find the beauty in putting together the outfit.

(I imagine there are also kinds like "those who like camping because they actually enjoy being uncomfortable outdoors", but since I don't happen to fit in that category we're skipping it here.)

I fall into the latter category for the first three, clearly. And so when it comes to getting thrown together, I take a joy in it that is personal - yes, I still do post-baby - for a few reasons.

When a baby comes along, the joy is all-encompassing. I use that phrase intentionally, because for a time it very much takes over the whole of your being, physically and emotionally.

There comes a time, however, when it's nice to remember the You you once were and continue to be, separate and apart from baby. At long last, Baby sleeps a little more at night, and you begin to remember that you once had dreams and interests outside of Baby too.

This is an area in which my parenting Venn Diagram overlaps with that French parenting book, I suppose. If you'll excuse the fuzzy Oprah-style moment here, I like that as much as me is happily enveloped in my wee CEO, there is some of me that is for the pure joy of ME too.

And it is for me, truly, as opposed to my husband or friends here. First, the Anonymous Husband seems to evaluate my wardrobe inquiries based on the following highly scientific, entirely chivalrous, and not-at-all-crass method: "How does this make her ass look?" It doesn't really lend itself to the sort of noodling over which sailor shirt to wear to wear process I enjoy. Ahem.

As for my friends here in aggressively casual Austin, they're such an easygoing lot (hello!), but I suspect I'd get much further here with the prevailing "REI had a one night stand with American Apparel" look than what actually suits me.

In my limited free time, should I be curing cancer or solving Spain's debt crisis instead of poring over style blogs? Sure, though I fear neither the Spaniards nor medical science would benefit from my dubious math skills.

That being said, I think the pursuit of Pretty for its own sake - please see title of this blog - can be a good and healthy thing. Call it my style, call it my naptime brain candy - it is part of me, and it is no more of a burden for me than is picking up a good book.

In my stay-at-home-mom day, often the opposite of glamorous, what harm is my feeling pulled together appearance wise? In a day when so much is devoted to keeping my Master P loved and safe, is it ok to take those few moments just for me?

To answer the question you didn't quite ask: it may be selfish, it may be a waste of time, but . . . well, not to me, it isn't. And so I'll continue to wake up those 30 minutes early sometimes, but not always, and throw on what I hope is a presentable outfit, not out of a feeling of competition but . . . because. For. Me.

How about you? Do you enjoy the process too, or is it yet another thing on the to-do list?

Open Forum - Ask Me (Almost) Anything

It has been years since I've opened up the floor here for you readers - all three of you - to ask me questions. Because of course you sit around all day asking nothing but, "I wonder what Melissa thinks about ___?"

So, ask away - anything you would like to see me post about? Any questions you've simply been dying - DYING! - to ask? Today is your day to put it in the comments.

If you're wondering what form this should take, here are some sample questions:

Question: "Have you always been so shallow / self-absorbed / awful / dorky?"
Answer: "Yes."

Question: "What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"
Answer: "Tough to pick just one, but regaling a room full of nuns, my boss, and in-laws with what a good time the AH is in the sack springs to mind."*

(*Note to dearly departed Grandmother: no, I did not just admit to ever having had s-e-x. Nevermind the husband and child thing. The thought never crossed my mind.)

Question: "Why isn't Master P potty trained yet?"
Answer: "I'm certain he will be once you're through teaching him - here!" *hands over child*

Easy, right?

You there, grumbling in the back about how this is a total cop-out and a waste of a post - yes. I mean, what sort of blogger asks *you* to provide the material? Not a good one, of course. Thank you for noticing, and bless your heart.

In my defense - I've got a toddler to watch, a terrific book to read, and better things coming your way . . . tomorrow? Hopefully?

Until then, have at it in the comments. Tips for newborns? Talking you out of law school plans? Outfit ideas? I'm all yours - that is, unless you're unkind, in which case I remind you of this blog's enthusiastic censorship policy, which is on par with your average third world dictatorship. Thank you for understanding.

What Not to Ask the Parent of a Two-Year-Old

Yes, we know you're just trying to make conversation.

Yes, these aren't at all nasty questions in & of themselves.

Yes, amongst ourselves we Parents of Twos sometimes talk of little else.

Nevertheless, unless you want an earful or my patented Icy Glare of Judgment - or worse, the earful/ICJ combo - best to tread carefully around the following sensitive subjects unless Parent of Two asks you for advice or you're in the toddler trenches too:

(Mildly Relevant Sidebar: I'm using "he" here for sake of simplicity and also because I'm parent to a "he"-type, though of course this includes girls too. "I'm Every Woman" and all that, etc.)


- Isn't he potty trained yet? 


- Oh, I see he isn't talking much yet - shouldn't he be doing that soon?


- Oh, I see he isn't talking Spanish / Mandarin / etc. yet - shouldn't he be doing that soon?


- You know what worked for me when my kids threw embarrassing public tantrums . . . 


- (If he's still sleeping in his crib) Is he still sleeping in his crib? Huh.


- (If he's not still sleeping in his crib) Why isn't he still sleeping in his crib?


- You know what worked for me when my kids wouldn't eat anything . . . 


- Has he been admitted to Harvard Nursery School for Unusually Gifted Toddlers yet?

For the record: (1) not even a little potty trained; (2) talking, mostly about trucks; (3) crib; (4) happy. The end.

It's like when someone insults your mother - they could be right, dear ol' Mom may totally have it coming, but unless you're actually family you don't go there. (This analogy would work better if moms also threw embarrassing public tantrums in the cereal aisle, so let's sub in "frosty, passive-aggressive silence" if that helps.)

Have I missed anything here, Parents of Twos? What's the best/worst thing you've been asked?

Reader Request: How to Dress for Family Photos

From time to time I'm going to answer reader styling requests here, brazenly pretending I know how; if you'd like me to track down an item or look for you, please leave me a comment or email a love note to ipickpretty AT gmail, etc. 

***

The Reader: mother of two darling daughters (aged two and three months) and adorable corporate attorney Emily, who resides in Raleigh, NC.

The Mission: find an outfit suitable for an outdoors family photo session next week, one that works with the (insanely adorable) nautically inspired outfits Emily has chosen for her wee ones as well as the North Carolina deathhellheat.

Dude. DUDE. Are your ovaries ready for this?! Hold on tight, ladies. I'm serious. Here are the daughter outfits we're planning around:

both from Janie & Jack, both EEEK please bring me a baby girl right this very second darling.

Given my penchant for (some would say "problem with") dressing all-nautical, all-the-time, I was only too eager to take on this challenge. Conveniently, I'm also friends with Austin wedding & family photographer extraordinaire, Ziem, so I pestered her at our toddler swim class with questions about how to dress for a family photo shoot. She's going to do a post with more specifics about that on her blog, but in the meantime, here are a few insights:

Some general tips about dressing for family photos:
- complementary outfits, like the (SO CUTE) girls' ones here, without being matchy-matchy identical is ideal
- patterns and accessories add interest
- avoid all-white tops and bottoms for parents; which tends to look vaguely ghost-like when holding children
- if going the jeans route, go darker for a more timeless look

For this mama's outfit specifically, she recommends:
- potential color combinations: pink + navy; emerald + navy; navy + red + white; navy + red + grey
- maxi dress with sport coat

I took the idea of the maxi dress with a coat (or cardigan) and ran with it, loving that idea for a few reasons:
(1) maxi dresses give that feminine "dressy" look while providing enough coverage for you to comfortably bend over and fetch your two-year-old (as I learned in a tunic for this shoot, ahem):
(2) maxi + sport coat = ideal for a new mom, who might not be comfortably fitting back into skimpier sundresses yet, let alone have the time for things like shaving or self-tanner (or sleep) yet; 
(3) maxi is cool enough for an outdoor summer shoot.

Emily didn't give me any budget specifics, so I divided the first two looks between the more affordable dresses and the spendier ones, mixing in some high / low accessory ideas (not all to be worn at once, of course) with each:

(Apologies for not linking to each item individually under the outfits, but that takes ONE BAZILLION YEARS TO DO OMG; you can simply click on the image or the link below to access each item via Polyvore. In the interest of getting this to Emily before her shoot / the next century, we're going simple.)

The Family Photo: Budget Maxi Dresses by legallyblondemel featuring gold shoes

A note about nautical: much as I kid about dressing like I'm en route to captain the America's Cup, I like doing this look without being too head-to-toe about it. One or two pieces in that vein is enough without screaming, "I AM NAUTICAL, HEAR ME JIBE HO!" or whatever.

The Family Photo: Splurge Maxi Dresses by legallyblondemel featuring a fitted blazer

And in case Emily isn't a maxi girl - it can be tricky to get the right maxi fit, particularly for you petite Pretties - I picked out some of my favorite shorter daytime dresses:

The Family Photo: Summer Sailor Dresses by legallyblondemel featuring tea party dresses

How did I do, Emily? Anyone else have something they'd like me to track down?

May you set sail into a terrific weekend, or some other hacky, inexcusable play on nautical terminology. I'm off to try and talk my ladybits off the little nautical girl outfits plank . . .

Reader Request: The Perfect, Budget-Friendly Summer Jeans

My client (and by "client" I mean "kindly reader who happened to ask about a pair of jeans"; please work with my attempting to sound all official-like here): darling reader and blogger Clemson Girl.

My mission: to find the perfect pair of (1) white jeans, (2) mid-rise and (3) bootcut, for (4) under $50. Something to wear with that summery, nautical look I posted about yesterday (and here, and here, forever and ever, amen).

It wasn't easy wading through the Sea of Skinnies, but I unearthed a few budget bootcuts (sidebar: I'm always hesitant to say "budget", because one person's "budget" is another's "bankrupting horror of extreme spendytude" - so let's just stick with "under $50") in various widths:

from left to right: one / two / three / four (with bonus prepster belt!)

A hint about white jeans, which can be challenging to those of us with any sort of hips going on *raises hand*: try having the front pockets removed and sewn shut for a more streamlined look. It also avoids that phantom pocket outline that thinner (i.e., summer weight) white jeans tend to get.

What do you think?

Anyone else have an outfit or clothing item you'd like me to track down? Feel free to leave it in the comments or drop me an email at ipickpretty AT gmail, etc.

(Not that I know what I'm doing here, of course, but I'm extremely skilled at *acting* like I think what I know what I'm doing.) (Law school taught me that, if little else.) (Parentheses.)

Smug Mummy Style: In the Navy

Disclosure: I'm happy to announce I'm going to be doing some blogging and reviewing for monogram mavens Marley Lilly, though their clutch used in the outfit set below is in no way a solicited or sponsored placement. I just like monograms, yo, but if you sense me becoming some big ol' sellout, drop me a line and bless your heart (did I deploy that one correctly, Southerners?).

***

Once upon a playgroup, a friend of mine (who reads this blog - hi, friend!) smirked and noted how my wee CEO "always looks ready to set sail on a boat."

I knew she was poking fun at me, so I laughed and said - "Why not?" I mean, one never knows when a seafaring emergency is going to present itself in . . . Austin, Texas . . . right? Right.

Geographic realities notwithstanding, I'm always looking to add nautical classics to my (and my child's, apparently) wardrobe. When this lightweight Anthropologie sweater came along, complete with Naval-inspired gold button detail along its boatneck, it struck me as the perfect solution to the frigid AC / boiling outdoors clothing challenge that we Texas residents face. Leave your home without layers at your peril, since you're sure to face either a frigid or deathhellheat fate, likely both.

Also, yes - I admittedly have a sailor tee addiction. Stop me before I stripe again. Yes, this is yet another iteration of my nautically-inspired Mom-o-flage uniform, but *cue addict's justification* it is also something I can dress down for daytime and up for evening, like so  . . .

bangles / studs / sweater / earrings (sold out; I also adore these) / ring / clutch / jeans / wedges / sandals / keychain / bag / shorts 

how I wore it today

One note about the sweater: those whitish-looking stripes are actually more cream in person; I think they can work with the obvious white jeans, but I'll pair them with my off-white bootcut pants for a night out.

Now if you'll excuse me, the wee CEO and I have to run off and ready our ship. After all, we should "be prepared" - isn't that how that old Navy (Boy Scouts? Scientology?) saying goes?

The Flip Side of the Parental Photobomb

Hello, all ye who come here seeking the Modalu "Emerald" Pippa - review up here!

***

"It's so great, this Facebook age," our friend, a fellow parent visiting from out of town, enthused over dinner the other night. "I feel like I've known Master P as he's grown up through the photos you post."

Photo credit: amazing Austin wedding & family photographer Z

"Sort of," I thought to myself, "But that isn't the whole story . . ."

(And, yes - I realize my friend's statement may have been code for "DUDE, lay off the constant kid photos already!" Duly noted. However, this particular friend posts just as many kid photos, so pot = kettle. Hmmph.)

As one who logs onto things like Facebook to see two things - (1) photos of my friends and their respective matchings & hatchings; and (2) reassurance that my exes are indeed more rotund / balding than they once were - I myself adore these sorts of photos, and no, not just mine.

I wonder, though, if something is getting lost through this social media sense of closeness. In this constant sharing of the external - those seemingly perfect families grinning smugly at the camera - are we sometimes missing the back story, the actual child behind the perfectly coordinated (and miraculously clean) BabyGap?

Photos tell an important part of the story, but isn't there more to knowing someone than that? Not that other people find us or our children nearly as fascinating as we do, but still. Still . . .

For example, that darling of snap of Master P you see up there - it's a gorgeous shot, full stop, but did you know he was trying to run into the lake just off camera for the whole of that shoot?

You can't see the way when he's playing cars (approximately 95% of his waking hours) he bellows "VROOOM!"and grips an imaginary steering wheel so tightly he appears to be commandeering a bowel movement an actual 18-wheeler.

You can't feel the sweetness of when, out of nowhere, he runs up to me and gives me a gentle hug, resting his head on my shoulder for a too-brief moment before running back to the game du jour.

You can't hear the way he whispers "miaow" when he sees a cat (does your cat whisper? apparently ours does) or proudly shouts "TED!" when something r-e-d rolls by.

In a good photo, like the (professional) ones here, you do see a glimpse of that, but it's that - a glimpse. As wonderful as this social media stuff can be sometimes, keeping us connected across a distance, sometimes there's just no substitute for the original, is there?

photo credit: ziem photography

Those of us who like to create - photographers and bloggers alike - can only hope to capture that glimpse. Here's to the pursuit of both the ideal and the real, as well as more dinners with good friends.

Review: Modalu "Pippa" Grab in Emerald

***This review is sponsored by no one aside from the Anonymous Husband, who generously gave me this bag - and by "gave" I mean I ordered it for myself while he was on a long European work trip, thus sparing him the trouble of finding me a gift. I'm nothing if not a considerate wife, after all. 

Also, I post this sort of review not to show off fancypants gifts from myself husband, but rather to help anyone else who is interested in purchasing one too (a bag, that is, not a husband). So there. Nanny nanny boo boo.***

Here at the First Church of Materialism, Not-So-Reformed, I often look back at these Middleton-y inspired style posts and wonder just what crazy juice I've been drinking.

No, really - occasionally we have time for introspection here - in between shopping trips, that is.

I mean, what is an American / thirty-something / stay-at-home-mother / retired lawyer / and general smartass doing copy-catting the future Queen of England and her relatives? Surely this sort of behavior merits therapy, or at least a therapeutic trip to Nordstrom (which, it should be noted, now carries the Middleton-favorite LK Bennett line)? (Ahem.)

After much thought, I've come to the conclusion of . . . whatever. In the case of this Modalu "Pippa" Grab in Emerald - my second, having purchased it in "shark" last year - it's just a damned good bag for the price, aspiring royal connections or otherwise:

Yes, Pretties - I took advantage of a Modalu sale and splurged again. I've been looking for a jewel tone bag to play off the brights in my summer wardrobe, and I just haven't been able to find anything else in that same cost/quality range Coach used to do so well.

So when Modalu recently announced the release of the "Pippa" in both fuschia and emerald, both in nubuck leather, the only questions I had were (1) which one I'd pick, (2) would the nubuck leather look too heavy for summer, and (3) how would it stack up to my original bag:

I'm thrilled to report that, though there have been some tweaks to the Pippa, I'm very happy with the emerald Grab, which is just as vibrant a green and summery as it's coming across here:

Original Pippa in "shark" to left, new "emerald" to right

The newer Pippas do not have the shoulder strap seen on my shark above; I confirmed with Modalu that the shoulder straps on these new Pippas have been lengthened to allow carrying over the shoulder instead. The emerald Pippa comfortably fits over my shoulder, and I personally like the feel of it better than carrying it with the separate strap, where it tends to shift around when I'm carrying Master P on my other hip.

Here are a couple of other minor tweaks:

Note the pointier feet on the new bag to the left; it looks like it will provide a bit more space between floor and bag, though I've been happy with how my original Pippa "sits" too.

The rear pocket now has a cover over the zipper, whereas my "shark" doesn't; I can't discern any functional difference between the two.

In all other regards, this new Pippa appears to be the same wonder my original one is. Again, I'm impressed with just how much I can fit in the thing without it looking like a Big Ol' Bag:

Love the contrast piping on the pockets; this side comfortably fits my keys and "Pippa" wallet in that larger zippered pocket with room to spare, and my iPhone in the nearer one to the right.

Dedicated middle wee CEO pocket - plenty of room for spare diaper, wipes, and snacks

The "rear" main pocket with plenty of space for sunglasses & cosmetics case

And with that I'll hold off on the Middletonia for a while. At least for the weekend. I mean, it's not like I think I'm one of them or something. Not usually.

Happy handbags - and weekend - to you all . . .

Obligatory 4th of July Photo Post

I just adore the Fourth - not only for the usual reasons like love of country and such, but also because it's a day when we get decked out like we wouldn't any other day. Kind of like Halloween without the slutty pumpkins.

(No offense to pumpkins, of course - who doesn't like a promiscuous gourd? - and, uh-oh . . . where was I going with this again?)

Oh, right - Independence Day. The day the people of my Austin 'hood pledge our allegiance and put on a parade, pretending it isn't far too hot to leave our houses for any reason whatsoever, let alone while festooned in our red, white, and blue finest:

The preppy patriot

This isn't the Pretty Pug - he doesn't do temperatures above 80 degrees - but rather the neighborhood "celebrity Pug", as we were informed. 

Cruising with his best girl - thanks for joining us, Z!

Touring the fire truck that led the parade a.k.a. boy heaven

Wondering why I bothered to shower & do my 'do pre-parade. Patriotism does not equal good hair, friends.

Now go hug a member of our armed forces or, absent that, a friendly pumpkin. Merry Independence Day.