a blog for kate and gracie and friends
Last night Molly was being a total butthead about going to sleep. The final incident involved her coughing loudly and seemingly seriously. So, I went into her room and glared at her.
I said, ‘WTF?!’
Jk. I said, ‘Are you ok?’ And she said, ‘My throat hurts.’ I suggested she drink some water. She gasped, ‘I can’t!’ She then, whispering-yelling, told me that she could hardly talk and was in dire straits. I said, ‘Molly, you are the biggest drama queen.’
She said, ‘No Mommy, I’m not. Babies are.’
So, on Day 19 we fell a bit off of our Monster 30-day plan to be our best, calm selves and get our lives in order. This Administration and, well, life proved too much for us. Instead we said screw it to the mess in the house and the House and everywhere, had some nighttime cocktails and binge-watched some telly. It was cathartic in its own right.
And now, ten plus days later, the house is still a mess, the chaos in Washington is bigger than before and I’m dealing with a flood of emotions at having just celebrated Mollybear’s fifth birthday. With every one of these birthdays – or any milestone really (like, for example, she’s taken to saying, “Oh. My God,” which has to be a rite of passage) – I seem to die a bit on the inside. As cliched as it is to say, this parenting business is not for the weak of heart. And weak of heart I am.
On that note, I give you this article, which I thought was written by me at first. What tipped me off wasn’t the name of the author (I thought that perhaps I had submitted under a nom de plume), but that I drink coffee, Coke Zero and icy cold water in the morning. And then it struck me that the voice seems to be somewhat younger than I. And I don’t have one of those fancy towels she speaks of. And she showers more frequently than I do. And she’s funnier. And a better writer. Look, I didn’t write it. I get that. But still. For just a moment, I thought, “Wait. Did I submit an article to Slate?!”
This morning I sent a trash bag stuffed full of dust bunny-laced shoes to the bin. Many were bought in Richmond when I had access to a Nordstrom, but at least one pair predates that. Some are newer, but I don’t wear them, so they got the boot. Ha. Anyway, I vacuumed out the closet (ew) and I feel better already.
I also tried on a lot of clothes I ordered from Boden and I nearly fainted on the floor. I jest. But I do think I’ve found some great staples and some fun pieces and I’m feeling good about getting dressed going into Week 3 of Project Trying to Keep My Sanity 2017.
How’re you guys coping? Oh, my exercise plan was derailed by both me and my self-diagnosed bronchitis, but the alcohol-free zone remains intact. For now.
So, today is Day 9, but this arrived on Day 8 and I pretty much went to town.
I read from professional closet-cleaner-outters (yes, that’s a thing) that you should put all of your clothes on your bed and then sort the clothes into three piles: love; on-the-fence; and donate. In the past, I’ve always just taken the “to donate” out of my closet and left the rest. I can assure you, Dear Reader, that dumping all of your clothes on the bed makes a world of difference. Oy vey.
My piles fared a little differently, though. They went more like this: will continue to wear; meh; holy bananas how is this still in here (including socks from college); and this is going in that pretty polka dot bag. ThredUP doesn’t want any of my collegiate socks, nor does it want any of my pilled sweaters or ragged leggings. But do they want my pleated skirt from Banana from 7 years ago? They say not, but let’s test them. It’s cute, I say! I filled that bag to the brim, tossed bras and socks and leggings, made a pile to donate to St. Vinny’s (someone will surely want those Gap sweaters that wouldn’t fit in the bag, won’t they? Maybe?), and I was left with …
Well, not a lot. Mostly tank tops. More than I probably need, but they don’t take up much space. Two pairs of regular jeans and a summer pair. A pair of velvet-y pants, and two pairs of black pants. A few skirts. A couple of tops. Some summer dresses, but a couple that will work in winter. Tights. Cardigans. Really, it’s fine. And I ordered some new clothes to – I hope – fill in the gaps. When I woke up this morning, it really felt good. Like there was space.
Next up? I’m tacking the shoes.
So today is Day 5 of the 30-day plan to a New Me (just kidding, it’s just a 30-day plan to try to stave off insanity) and I’d say it’s going moderately well. No drinking, two short workouts and lots of sleep have been the hallmarks of the work-week.
Of note, I have received and returned all of the items in the MM LaFleur “bento box.” The items were nice, well-constructed and simple, but in addition to not really fitting, they just weren’t for me. They were what I would describe as clothes for people who have watched a movie about people in an office and want to dress like that. I don’t really know anyone who wears things in the box that I received. At least not on a daily basis. Could be because I live in Madison, WI, and not in D.C., or it could be because I surround myself with frumps. I don’t want to get into it, really. It just wasn’t for me. With the exception of one sweater, which was ridiculously amazing and ridiculously expensive and so I sent it back. Actually, I may have spent that amount of money on it – because oy was it gorgeous-feeling – but I decided I wanted to clean my closet out first (clean slate and all), before I start replenishing. KonMari, y’all. Or something like that.
So, to that end, I signed up to get a bag from ThredUp in order to try to make some pennies on yesterday’s wear. Usually I just donate my clothes, but this always leaves me with the feeling that they are really just going into a landfill somewhere, so I thought that if I could try to consign them – and use a huge website with mass appeal – maybe they would actually get some use again. Of course, there are environmental costs to this, too (what with the shipping and whatnot), but let’s see how this goes before we start running the numbers. After two hours of sending away for the bag, and even though it was 10 p.m., I could not help but check the mailbox to see if it had arrived. Spoiler alert: it had not. But, when it does and how this process goes, I’ll be sure to let you know.
Anyone done this before? Or something similar? I’ve consigned Bear’s clothes locally and a few things of my own on Craigslist (and once on EBay), but this is pretty much brand-new territory for me. And I am psyched. Is that bag here yet?!
life and puppies 