Lewd Chocolate Dreams & Sparkly Pinky Neon Days

Bridget Jones’s Update of Clean Detox Day 25 or Day 11: BMI: 24.6 (-0.2) Halle-freakin’-lujah Go me! Activity Level: Planned to both strength train and yoga, but managed to just do the strength training. For a very good reason. (see below) Meditation: I spent 10 mins, lying in bed focusing on each body part. It works. Brief Observations: After chucking the coconut milk, I have yet to see any improvement. I’ll give more than one day. Then I’ll freak.

.

.

First off, I totally skipped Friday’s post.

Geez.

Oh well.

It just came to me as I was typing this one. I spent most of the day in the car, driving. I was picking up my daughter, The Toaster, from the grandparents house in RI. It still blows my mind that one, in an hour, can traverse a state or two here in the East Coast. Having grown up on the Southern California coast, it was like 6 hours before you it the closest border.  First time it happened, I fell asleep in the back of the team bus in MA and woke up 3 states over from MA. Totally freaked me out.

Let’s move on…

I am  also starting to have illicit dreams of chocolate and red wine.

Food dreams have been plaguing me. Some time it’s crusty french bread. All in all, tis is not good. I thought if blogged about it I’d get it out of my system. Sort of a riff  on “just wait 15 mins,” but mine is more “just blog for 15 mins and ,” except there is no “and.” So here we go…

Day 11. 10 days more to go.

My fantasies are very specific. It would seem, the longer I am on detox, the more specific the cravings. I can now watch a cupcake go by without a thought, but when it comes to pieces of good, dark chocolate… I may have put a restraining order on myself.

Specifically this kinds of dark chocolate:

Lake Champlain Organic Dark Spicy Aztec chocolate.

Spicy. Organic. Dark. Fabulous. Pair it with a strong, deep Cabernet Sauvignon and you understand why the Conquistadors raped and pillaged the New World, if the end result was this. Almost.

They sell these at Whole Foods. If you like heat, I highly recommend this little number. Red pepper, when paired with dark chocolate really melds well.

Now, I was definitely not having lewd foodie dreams of chocolate, when I was treated to an afternoon with The Toaster.

Six, going on 14, she’s my old soul. Wise and preternaturally gifted in all things social. Quietly observing all though lately she’s been sticking up for herself with her twin brother as he encroaches on her Wii time.

It’s rare that just she and I spend time together. So off we went on a planned afternoon…

We got our nails done. It’s always a fun adventure because I let her pick the color, the style, the whatever. Just no acrylics. And she doesn’t disappoint. Neon pink for her, which I have an inkling glows in the dark, though I have yet to test. The finished products were show stoppers: festooned with white, glittery hand-painted stars. Boy George, Bananarama and Duran Duran come to mind as the retro 80’s have come back to haunt me in the form of my beautiful 6 year old daughter.

We also got ice cream, or rather her. Again, surprising I didn’t even want ice cream. Really. It was like “Meh,” as it’s no Organic Dark Spicy Aztec Chocolate. Not even close.

We chatted. We laughed. A little bittersweet, as I fear the “Mom-is-awesome” days waning as she gets older. So I made note to tuck this day away for later.

For me, it’s mentally filed under “white sparkly-starred pinky neon kind of great day.”

Links to Items Featured on TheLiquidBetsy:

Coconuts and Boats (Minus Islands.)

Bridget Jones’s Update of Clean Detox Day 24 or Day 10: BMI: 24.8 (+/-0.0) Plateau plateau. Activity Level: Yoga! Bright and Early. Meditation: 8 mins at Yoga, started the day off right I have to say. Brief Observations: I am pretty convinced that I am allergic to coconut. acne, rash and my lower intestines have declared a blockade. I’m pretty much the fiber-queen of the east coast right now. Not pleased or pleasing.

.

.

If someone would tell me I’d be allergic to coconut I’d laugh. In their face.

I love all forms of coconut: Almond Joy, Mounds, Donuts to cakes. Pina Coladas and now Clean Detox Shakes. Now I’ve found that I am allergic. It’s brought back rashes gone on my ring finger (Again, to my GP “I am NOT allergic to platinum. Move On!,”) my rosacea flared up, and my lower intestines are, for all intensive purposes, flipping me the bird. TMI but true.

I’ve tried to cut back on the coconut milk, but have come the sucktastic conclusion that my and Coconut milk will have to part ways. I can have coconut water, but no coconut milk. Still not the same.

So today I chucked the coconut. Let’s see if the blockade, rashes and eruptions end.

As for the boat part of the blog, the fam and I managed to check out the New England Boat Show.

Hundreds of boats, thousands of people, and Scooby Doo.

We spent the afternoon, checking out the wares, stalking Scooby (for the kids) and trying on a few “4-Hour Workweek” fantasies of  ditching the house and living on the high seas (the kids can fend for themselves, they’re scrappy.)

With a few strategic Peanut M&M stops to keep the whining to a minimum we managed to cover what we wanted to see.

Few interesting observations of the affair:

- don’t underestimate the power of a person wearing a 6 foot fake fur dog suit. I thought Baby Lug was going pee in his pants (which he already does) AND throw panties at Scooby Doo a la Tom Jones. Whose panties? I don’t know.

- Peanut M&M’s are your best compadre when you have small kids. They get the chocolate fix, you get quiet and they’re mostly peanuts than candy.

- You wouldn’t know there was a bad economy. People were buying boats. Multiple boats. Hubby and I spent a good portion speculating whether they were recent lotto winners or self-made. We vow to buy more lotto tickets.

- Nothing gets your entrepreneurial juices flowing than visiting a show like this. For you it could be a car show, a home show, a vacation show (which was actually across the street.) It gets you to dream, to think and ponder your future. Nothing is written in stone, unless you have the chisel. I’d love to take the kids on a year-long trip on a boat. With satellite  Internet access, you’ve got broadband, and with that you can work pretty much anywhere: dock, boat or beach. Make you think. Homeschooling is my only mental hurdle, that and not owning a boat. Ahhh, minor issues to be resolved.

And because I know you’re thinking about it, SNL’s “I’m on a Boat”:

Links to Items Featured on TheLiquidBetsy:

Mom 2.0- Defining a Moment

The Hub sent this to me, it was posted on Guy Kawasaki’s Holy Kaw site.

It does a beautiful job on a beautful (and beautifully hard) job.

Motherhood.

I’m Back… and Bearing a Gift (“The Suburban Housewife” Rap)

Look The Betsy isn’t always about her blog.

Sometimes, she’s about her kids.

With the twins starting first grade and me being a working-housewife I totally rock the “just-in-time” Mommy routine. So the past 3 weeks have been spent getting them outfitted, prepped, ready, bussed (both by me and by my town’s Dept. of Education,) homeworked, routined, activitied (so far gymnastics, CCD, Drama, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and currently researching Learn-to-Skate-ultimately-prepping-for-the-kiddie-cult-known-as-Hockey.)

To top it all off,  I am currently rocking a super hot, sexy chest cold.

Call me Ms. Snuffleupagus.

So when My Friend Ouida sent me the “Suburban Housewife” video I had to post.

Call it a snapshot into the life of all minivan-driving, sexless baggy jean wearing Haus Fraus you see cruising around…

It’s a little gift. “I’m baaaaack in the saddle again” (also a freakin’ great song both by Areosmith and Gene Autry ) with the blog, and really I’m so sorry I’ve abandoned you, my readers.

Got it Mutha Fuckers?

Privacy, Internet & The Kids. Oh My!

Yesterday I posted about my eldest son. Deeply personal. Cathartic. Almost necessary. The words wrote themselves. After hitting “Publish” I told my husband about the latest LiquidBetsy.

And he gasped.

You see, I married a technologist. With a certain expertise in online security. As his wife, I’ve been completely scared straight on identity theft, online stalking, and cyber-pedophilia to name a few.

So, with respect to my children, I normally don’t:

• Post their real names. Hence, the twins have been dubbed “The Toaster”  & “Mr. Man,” and their younger sibling is  ”Baby Lug”- together I often refer to them as “The Wild Bunch.” But never by their Christian names.
• Make references about my home town or activities done around there.
• Mentioning my children on places like Twitter, or and I hardly ever make them the focus of posts.
• Use my married name, I go by my maiden name for business.
• Mix my social media and my family. I have a definite separation of Church and State for things for business (LinkedIn, Twitter, Friendfeed) and straight-up personal (Facebook), the latter where pictures of myself, my family are posted or can be posted by other members of the family, friends and past cohorts.

As my readers may have guessed I’m a pretty much an open-book. I don’t have the patience for being guarded (or the self-discipline really) but there are boundaries. My family is one of them. I tread cautiously, and although yesterday’s post followed the above guidelines for the most part, truth be told I was on the fence whether to post it.

Ethically speaking, was it the right thing to do? Or am I exposing his life, his personal private experiences for my benefit?

What my wise husband (really the man is my touchstone of restraint) pointed out that Mr. Man’s condition was private. Mr. Man’s private. And now that it was posted, tweeted and Facebook’d it was out there for all to double-click on. Even after I offered to delete it I was informed, “On the Internet Hon, there are no do-overs.”

Oh crap.

I re-read the piece. I agonized over what I did. Eventually I stood by the post. I celebrated my son’s amazing spirit , the resiliency of a child and further exposed the imperfect existence of being a parent. I felt like it focused less on his physical condition than exposing his metaphysical. I could live with that.

But of course dear readers, it made me ponder the delimma. What rights do a child have to privacy on the Internet? I am no lawyer. Nor profess to be in anyway knowledgeable about the law outside of a few classes on business law I survived in B-School and a few current experiences and best friends that practice. Which essentially means I know nothing. But I always thought children under the age of 18 were pretty much at the mercy of their parent’ss socio-political-economic bent as long as physically they were in no danger. Traipsing around Timbuktu? Sailing the Seven Seas? Home-schooled? Vegan dinners? Subjected to a commune? Catholic school? An Osmond? All fair game.

But are we but a few years away from a lawsuit in which a parent’s Internet post (“Oh… Baby Bobby naked on the bear rug!”) ruins little Bobby’s life? People do stupid things. On the Internet they last forever. So where Mom’s once whipped out humiliation pictures previously, she now posts them on Facebook. Or Gawd forbid Mom does a blog.

What is a child’s right to privacy on the Internet?

What should it be?

P.S. My husband emailed me later today. BTW he loved the post. Meant the world to me.

The Busy Persons Guide to Having it ALL….

Oprah: the definition of "having it all" (w/o kids)

I am overwhelmed.

You?

Mom, Wife, Start-up maven, Blogger, Foodie-on-Parole, Fashionista-ish, Executive Assistant & Social Dir. for Chatty Twins, a Charismatic Two year Old, and an Adopted Mommy to an Aggressively Affectionate Golden Retriever.

Me? Yes, I am.

The problem is I WANT it all: the doting mom, Wonderful Wife, Organic & locally-sourced Recreational Chef, Execu-babe, Athlete, Style and Design Aficionado, to name a choice few; and I WANT to do it all RIGHT. Not half-assed, not “just in time” but thoughtful, consistent and on point every time.

Well I can. Have it all. And I’m not insane.

Here’s the secret: You can have it all, just not all at the SAME TIME.

Seriously. And seriously lame. But the truth hurts.

One of my chicas, Cat, came up with the theory — you can have it all, just at different times in your life. She’s doctor that probably would be practicing emergency room medicine (she loves the high) but works part-time at a bucolic (that be rural folks) hospital in CT so she can be there for her children and husband. She eeks out time for the familuy, lives near some of the best ice cream in the world (cows out back,) but isn’t knee deep in the gun-shot wounds, punctured lungs and flatlines that make her swoon for all the right reasons. Nor is she taking the gourmet cooking classes or traveling to Skye with her fabulous travel compadre BETSY.

Now if you were a person of simple tastes, congrats you probably do have it all.

So, depending upon what you want out of life- you have to pick and choose your roles and hobbies. For example : young children and major careers, designer clothes, intricate Martha Stewart style dinner parties, and white carpeting just, I repeat, just do not mix. In fact it’s toxic. I can guaranteed from personal experience the express train to an overwhelmed freak-out.

So once I thought about scheduling “me” into slots into my life , rather than slots of time during the week I relaxed. So I deal. I’m a foodie-0n-parole. So my house will be fabulously decorated after my kids learn to use a napkin & stop ricocheting off the furniture. Scuba will be after the last child learns to swim and the nanny can travel. My career will be close to home and with flexible hours and limited travel so I can be there for most of my babies boo-boos, beach outings, girl scouts meetings, story hours, and movie nights.

As the babes get older (and as I do) I’ll add more, do more. Do less of others.

Look I am the first to admit I want it all, now. Patience is not an inherent virtue of mine. Though I am trying to learn. But with patience I can have the time to give all of me, all the facets of me, my due. I have to think of the present, what I can accomplish now. And that means prioritizing.

As I said the truth hurts, Priorities suck.

But they are just that… priorities.

And because it struck me as particularly perfect, a little Queen & Bowie:

Meet the Greatest ROI Shirt- The NEW #44 of The Betsy’s top 50 Faves

High ROI shirt- No Iron Pinpoint Shirt

I’ve got style.

I also have kids. And am cheap.

When I find something that is in the intersection of these three things I have to share. It’s compulsory. And this one has made The Betsy’s top 50, (see #44, )

First a confession.

My mom, Jeannine, is known as a sage among my oldest friends (which, of course, now you can see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.) She has a few rules that just keep coming back to haunt me. And my friends.

A few gems from Jeannine:

1. If it doesn’t add tingle to your life, GET IT OUT.

2. If you know you’re going to hate yourself for not buying it, no matter what… buy it. If you love it, buy one or two more (especially for shoes, especially if you’re a size 8 1/2 or up.)

3. All will be revealed, in due time. (This is actually from  Mabel, mother of Jeannine and Grandmother of The Betsy- works like a charm for gossip and office intrigue. Basically have patience.)

Of course Jeannine, being my mother, I am skeptical of any and all clothing gifts. Her style is sometimes not my own, and other times she is spot on. Go figure.  But it’s the thought that counts, and I am one to always try new things (go see #29) so when I received the following for Christmas I gave it the old college try.

Boy am I glad I did. Jeannine strikes again.

She gave me two classic button-up shirts- from Land’s End.  You heard me right. Land’s End.

Meet Land’s End No Iron Pinpoint Cotton Shirt. And it’s on sale.

Hello-oooo Gorgeous.

For a busy, stylish Mom (or college student, or young professional) these wonderful shirts are just fabulous. No iron (so no iron or dry cleaners) they look much more costly than they are. They are the ultimate High ROI shirt. They wash like a dream and they are classically stylish. I top mine with one of my big chunky necklaces and tuck up the collar, sometimes pairing it with a fab belt, dark-rinse sexy jeans or classic pencil skirt and a vintage Hermes scarf. Pure fashion YUM. Think like Diana Vreeland,  Katherine Hepburn and Coco Chanel chic. All, who while epitomes of style, were the first purveyors of high-low fashion mix. Tres, tres chic.

If you want the best bang for the buck. Great casual shirt or just a great shirt. Buy one of these shirts (hell, at these prices buy two or three.) They pack wonderfully and take a beating. Believe me I know what I talk of. As soon as the twins were born I shelved all my silk. Spit-up is like kryptonite to silk. A killer.  These Land’s End No Iron Pinpoint Shirts seem to be impervious to sticky finger and gooey, snotty hugs & kisses, catsup and chocolate pudding.

Did I mention they’re on sale? Like $19 bucks.

Again, Hello-oooo Gorgeous.

Note: I am totally not being sponsored by Land’s End, though I prolly should be. This Rec fits TheLiquidBetsy’s “if it’s good, it’s good” motto.

Fat-Ass Jeans- Think of it As Another Business Benchmark

These Could be My Fat-Ass Jeans

(Warning: this is about 10% business, the rest is self-indulgent.)

I’m wearing my Fat-Ass jeans. Again.

I think I’m on week 3. Week 2 of “The Diet” (enough said.) I can’t fit into anything else. Refuse to buy a bigger size. I am the walking fashion damned.

All women have them. These Fat-Ass Jeans. I think the male version is the elasticized  shorts or sweats. They’re the Maginot Line for your weight. The last line. The final stand. They are the warning of unacceptable hugeness on the horizon, and with Summer Bikini Season it’s time for action.

Oh, and God forbid we can’t fit in the Fat-Ass Jeans (for brevity will herein be known as F.A. Jeans.) Def-Con 5, Red Alert People. Desperate measures will have to be taken.

So chatting with my friend Suzy about my F.A. Jeans, (Day 27 of wearing them, I have two pairs I interchange so I am at least… clean) I found an amusing parallel between my predicament and business.

No, really. This is what I think about.

We all have limits. In business there are endless ways to quantify our position, cash-flow, balance sheet. Same goes for personal vanity. The F.A. Jeans is my personal limit (I could have it be BMI, weight, how much fast I can run a mile, but the F.A. Jean it is) just as ROI, P/E, Debt/Asset, EBITDA is to business. Unacceptably high (or low) and you’re in the Fat-Ass Jeans. Time to re-evaluate, re-commit, re-engineer, reorganize and get back on track to profitability and your skinny jeans.

How did I find myself in the F.A. Jeans? Not paying attention. Just as in business, an attitude of “Just this time” or “One time Only” and not paying mind to the game at hand. It is a slippery slope into the land of delusion and being in the red (F.A. Jeans.)

So, like with rehabbing a business I am rehabbing myself- one day at a time. Watching my cash-flow, In-flow and expenditures (boot camp helps at bit.) Lately I’ve been having a glass of wine and not running, time to re-commit again.

Think I’ll write a blog post about it.

Thomas the Tank is my Homeboy.

Thomas the Tank Engine

Thomas the Tank Engine is my homeboy and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

I’ll let you in on a working mom’s dirty little secret- TV is our friend.

Sometimes our best friend.

I know what you’re thinking, and I’d think it too. I also thought I’d make my baby’s organic food from scratch. Then I had twins. You can BUY organic baby food.

So here I am working at this awesome little Web 2.0 business referral networking start-up, Inquisix (really, you should check us out if you’re a small business owner, sales person or connector. Honest.)  I have a pretty great job but like with all things I wear a lot of hats. At a startup we all do.

"We connect businesses to MORE business"

In addition to being the head of Marketing I also happen to be chief concierge, triage nurse, umpire, chef, social secretary, health department, party planner, stylist, educator, trainer, chauffeur and head-supreme cuddler to three super-cute kiddos (one set of six-year old twins and one two-year old who thinks he’s six) and one Golden Retriever named Ginger-Girl. I love all four desperately but I’ve chosen to  also pursue outlets outside of my family to preserve my sanity, intellect and creativity (though some argue Shrinky Dinks are creative, I say no.)

I should also note that I am a glutton for punishment.

So it’s no great stretch to say my cup runneth over, which it does and often spills everywhere. I don’t plan it that way, it just happens. In fact, I pride myself on being super efficient. One doesn’t have multiples and not get inefficiency beaten out of them. The best laid plans get blown to hell when it’s a snow day.

So in a pinch, I just find ways to make it work. And if necessity is the mother of invention, this mamma invents. Quite a few phone meetings are done while feeding the baby cookie-after-cookie to keep him quiet, or creating syssiphisian tasks involving emptying and filling the same laundry baskets over and over, and art projects involving the almighty Froot Loops (keeps little mouths AND hands busy!)

But when I’m really desperate, I’ve turned to TV.  Though I’m not proud of it but if something absolutely had to get out the door, Thomas the Tank Engine got opened up. 

I heart them all-  Thomas, Henry, Percy, Gordon, Edward, James, Salty, Bertie, Emily, Molly, Harold the Helicopter, Sir Topham Hatt right down to the stinky Diesels and Troublesome Trucks. They have all saved my skin on a few choice occasions.

So, if any other working mom tells you they don’t use TV as even an emergency babysitter, they are flat-out lying. Or have full-time super-nanny style help. Even on my off days I throw on Word Girl (awesome show, the best intro song ever) while I’m making dinner for the entire trio. Most moms do that.

Word Girl and Captain Huggy Face

I do have standards. I pretty much stick to PBS Kids Go! and sometimes Noggin. Rarely Disney (excepts occasional Little Einsteins) and Cartoon Network (though I DVR Star Wars: Clone Wars for special “movie treats.”) Both seem either one giant commercial or they have a ton of commercials for crappy toys that leaves the kids whining, which defeats the purpose.  I learned the secret to using TV as babysitter from a friend years ago. She’d deny her kids TV except when she was going out, they were so excited to watch TV they forget to get all hysterical and teary.

The real trick is deny them until you really need it. That’s why it’s a DEFCON 4 or 5 in my book if I’m turning it on during the day.

If your not a parent and made it this far, I thank you. If you are one, you’re probably laughing and nodding in agreement. You start off a parent with the best of intentions, the best of plans, you read everybook, buy everything new, disinfect the cat… but  like the arrival of an unexpected snow day, you learn to adjust the plan. You have to.