dear

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Bus-ting Out The Plea-ts

Sorry for the unexpected blog break. I try to stay consistent, but sometimes life takes over. I absolutely had to clean my house. I mean had to. As in: set aside hours to get it holiday finished. Which is so mundane, but true. And then we went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market on Sunday (recap tomorrow). It was a busy and fun weekend. I hope you had a beautiful weekend and feel refreshed for this week! I know I do!

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Okay. I hope I am “busting out the pleats” and not “busting out of the pleats.” One word makes a huge difference.

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Thankfully this dress is very forgiving. In fact, I have decided this shall be my dress I wear any time I want to really make a meal out of a night.

Not on Thanksgiving. Surprisingly, I never really eat a lot on Thanksgiving. I like my turkey breast. Dry. Not dry, but devoid of gravy. A smidgen of mashed potatoes. Also devoid of gravy. And one roll.

That is it.

All that I eat on the biggest eating day of the year.

I was a very picky eater as a child and on this day of traditions I have never been able to break from the food rules I set in place as a three year old. I take traditions very seriously.

Oh. And one slice of chocolate pie. Hold the whipped cream.

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Maybe I am leaving out the bottle of wine.

It doesn’t count.

It’s liquid.

And my three year old self would not understand.

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So, this is my eating out for a nice dinner dress. I have never been an order a salad girl. I’ll take the baked potato, steak and the dessert please. And, no you may not have a bite. I didn’t wear this dress for nothin.

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The swing shape coupled with the pleats is as easy as it gets. I can see this dress looking good on a multitude of body types. You just have to embrace it for what it is.

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A swing dress.

It is supposed to swing.

Away from the body.

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I like the gold buttons on the back and the sleeves. It is a sweet little detail. I paired the dress with my Anthropologie Fanned Feather Necklace I purchased on Black Friday from Anthropologie during their sale (now sold out online, but similar earrings are still available).

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I really like black paired with brown and the gold on the necklace matches the gold on the buttons of the dress.

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I ordered my dress on Black Friday directly from the designer, Dear Creatures, for 40% off their price making it a fantastic price. Anthropologie also carries it and calls it Pleated Millie Dress. It is now sold out in black at Dear Creatures. However, I have seen it keep popping back at Anthropologie. I own it in baby blue, too, but it is just not as good. I definitely recommend the black version.

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I love this dress. As I have stated, the dress is forgiving.

I am not.

I am writing this in bed next to a snoring husband who fell asleep in the middle of the zombie movie we were watching together.

In the middle.

Of. a zombie. Movie.

In the middle.

Of. the. night.

He’ll be pleating for my forgiveness in the morning.

And you know what?

I might have room left in my heart. And in this dress… to give it to him.

Maybe.

In exchange for pie…

And I’m only craving humble.

P.S. Now closed: Please do not forget to enter My Giveaway. It ends at 9:00 p.m. PST tomorrow night. : ). Even if you do not enter, the comments have been making me happy cry all week. I love reading the comments. It has brought me indescribable amounts of joy this week. If you are feeling down or want to feel inspired, I recommend reading them. And thank you if you contributed to those comments this week. My heart overflows for you.

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Dear Children: Halfway

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Today you have to go back to school after your long winter break. I just want to wring my hands and cry. I am not ready for you to go back. I have enjoyed every single moment of you being at home with me. Please don’t tell anyone this. I am afraid they will kick me out of Lazy-Mothers-R-Us. Although I was always too lazy to go to those meetings anyway (Do they even have meetings? Does the imaginary club I invented in my head carry on secret meetings? Must find this out…someday).

Halfway.

How is this school year halfway over?

The other night we spoke of homeschooling. Not seriously. I am not equipped to take on such a task. First, my knowledge is not up to par with today’s standards. Second, because I fear that we would have one hour of studying and seven hours of recess. Because that is what I am good at. This is perhaps why both of you were so gung-ho with the idea.

I asked you both what subject I would be capable of teaching and you both replied, “cooking.”

Awwww… Yes. Who needs math or english or science?

Let’s just all major in mashed potatoes.

Do they give scholarships for that?

Is it paid in potatoes or butter?

Halfway.

We are halfway through. But it means so much more than that. It means that in six months I will officially have no children in elementary school. Both of your schools will have the word “high” in them. I cannot see why, as it makes me feel so low.

And old.

Halfway.

It means that in six months, you, my daughter, will only have three years left at home with us. Three years! How am I ever going to manage this? It makes me want to hide in bed and never leave. And on some days I do just that. The idea of you leaving me is as foreign as the languages I will never homeschool you in.

Last night we gathered together backpacks and binders. Old lunches were found buried in the bottom of bags. A pleasant reminder as to why I joined Lazy-Mothers-R-Us in the first place. Inventory was taken and it seems that of the 2,587,463 pencils I purchased you at the beginning of the year, we have two left. Two! It also seems that both of your folders have been gnawed on and chewed then spit back out and mauled again. How else to explain the full lunches in both of your bags and the decrepit state of your folders? Maybe I’m not qualified to teach you cooking after all.

Halfway.

That is the status of my heart right now. Frozen between breaking in your absence and rejoicing in your return. It is in a stasis period. It seems to be the only thing not moving. For Time certainly has not stopped.

June. I try not to curse on this blog, but there never was such a bad four letter word as that one. The end of the school year. I always think of it as the end of yet another year that you will be with us. But maybe I am viewing this all wrong. It is, basically, the very beginning of a whole summer spent at home with me.

Maybe June isn’t such a bad word. In fact, maybe halfway isn’t either. Maybe this school year is halfway full instead of halfway empty. Oh, never mind, that analogy is useless with anything other than a glass.

Halfway.

Well, we are here whichever it may be. And, I, for one, am not even halfway ready for it.

Is it too late to stay home and make mashed potatoes?

I heard they taste better than binders.

And tears.

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Dear Mommy: What Does The Mommy Say?

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Dear Mommy,

What does the fox say?

Your child

Dear Child,

We have been through this. Why is this a question? Or a song?

Love,

Mommy

Dear Mommy,

I cannot wait to leave this house! I am going to live on top ramen. I am going to eat it every night. I can’t wait!

Your child

Dear child,

Why didn’t you tell me before? That sounds fantastic. I cannot wait to come over. Next, you will be telling me you are going to be all fancy and eat off of paper plates and use plastic forks. What would I wear to such a fine establishment? I think we should try this immediately. I will start making you a separate batch of top ramen all to yourself. We will eat our home cooked meal that took me two hours to make. You will get your five minute meal instead.

I am nothing if not a dream maker.

I look forward to serving you. Maybe I will even lay out some of that fancy cutlery you like. I think I have some from the drive-thru laying around.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Mommy,

I can’t find my other shoe!

Your child

Dear Child,

It is 8:40. We and your two-feet-in-shoes were supposed to leave the house five minutes ago. I am so very thrilled to run around and look under every piece of furniture we own for your other shoe. Why, I aim to please.

Speaking of which, I bought you three pairs of shoes two months ago. Surely we have a set to one of those. No? Well, could you wear a mismatched pair? No? What’s that? We only have the right ones? Okay. Mommy is just going to lay here awhile. Maybe whatever took your left shoes will come back. For me.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Mommy,

I love you.

Your Child

Dear Child,

Awww. Okay. Okay. You can have top ramen AND the “real” dinner I made.

And I found all of your left shoes in the dog food bag, along with my favorite necklace. Which you can, of course, borrow tomorrow.

And for the record, the fox says, “I love you, too.”

Love,

Mommy

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* This post was a little extra one I just wrote for The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge.