The Runaways

These are the only two candid photographs--cell phone snapshots--from the night that Kadin and I eloped. Of course, there are these fancy ones and these, too, which I love, but this pair of pictures honestly captures how seriously but deliriously hopeful and happy we were--don't we look like we mean business in the first image? Running away and sealing our fate together was simply and perfectly romantic, private and drama-free. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Keep It Short

The fall season's best short boots--from Bloomingdale's--for under $200.

H&M Fall

You guys, can you believe that you still cannot shop H&M online? For the lady on a budget with children who act like small terrorists in public, this is criminal.

H&M promises they will have their e-shop together next year (2012), which feels like ages away when you're craving yummy and affordable fall pieces right now. But today, beginning at 9:00 a.m. PST and noon EST, Elle.com will host between 15 to 20 select products from the H&M fall lookbook.

And in case you didn't click over fast enough (since I'm posting this just as items go on sale), the pieces you missed will be available in stores on September 1.

Images and info via Refinery29

Leaving and Being Left

I've only left Sabine with someone other than Kadin a handful of times. And when I have left her with one of my sisters or her grandmother, I'm gone under two hours or she's asleep.

Everyone thinks I'm crazy. They say I need a break or that it's good for her, too. If Sabine is safely tucked into her bed for the night, I'm okay. Otherwise, I have to drink lots of wine in order to prevent myself from running home to be with her and see that she's okay with my own two eyeballs.

I'm sure my Sabine micromanagement tendencies make our family and friends feel like I think they're incompetent or like I don't trust them. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It's not them, it's me. I'm a freak. I couldn't put my finger on why, but on Saturday night I lay awake thinking about it for hours.

It has to do with my mother's death. She was perfectly healthy one day, and the next, she had stomach cancer that had spread to her liver and was so far gone the doctors said she wouldn't live another year. I didn't believe them. I didn't know a world without her in it and I'd seen too many movies where sick people make heroic turnarounds. I thought that if anyone deserved a miracle, it was her. She believed in a god that I've never been able to feel. Couldn't and wouldn't that god spare someone who was so faithful, so good, so generous and still so loved and needed by her family? Unlike myself, who is somewhat resigned, my mother actually made the world a better place.

My time with her was cut short. She never met my husband or her granddaughter. I remember sitting at a San Francisco restaurant with her half way through her illness--my whole family was there--and she was more silent than she'd ever been. She kept looking around the table at each of our faces with tears streaming down her face. When she finally spoke, she said, "I can't leave you. I don't want to leave. I want to hold your babies."

This is why I cannot leave my little Sabine: I have no idea how much time I have with her. My mother's death taught me that anything--even the worst sort of thing--can happen to bad and wonderful people alike. Life is short. It flies like lightening and before you know it, you're moving on despite your will to remain with the people you love. 

I'm constantly and painfully aware of each and every single one of my moments with Sabine, before she goes to school, before she falls in love or finds a best friend, before she gets married and travels the world, before she's a mother--or before one of our lives ends. Nobody has told me exactly how many of these moments we have together--cuddling, laughing, exploring, crying, falling, feeling frustrated--so I'm taking all of them, good and bad. I'm soaking in and drinking up as many as I possibly can before they're gone. Because that day, just like every other day, is going to come.

Food Becomes Her

Lately, I'm a cobb salad. Or soft tacos--with a splash of iced tea lemonade. For dessert, I become a popsicle. And at snack time, I'm a handful of wasabi-flavored almonds. What are you?

Image via Observando

Horrified x 3

In this case, three's definitely not a charm:

One: I walked out of the grocery store on Friday--after a 45 minute shopping trip--and could not, for the life of me, figure out why so many people had been staring (I was a sure the looks were more I-can't-tell-if-she's-the-mother-or-if-she-adopted-that-darker-skinned-baby looks). As I pushed my cart toward the car, I looked down and saw that my shirt was unbuttoned to just above my navel.

Two: I had two hours on Saturday to myself. I took my time in getting dressed and was feeling much foxier than I normally do. I jumped in my car, rolled down all of the windows and blasted Bon Iver (again, feeling very of the moment). I stopped at the dry cleaners, where I was sure a twentysomething guy was checking me out as I got out of the car and headed into the building. When I walked back to my auto after picking up my clothes, the spring in my step fell away because I realized the following: a)my car had a two-inch layer of dirt stuck to it; b)there was a not-to-be-missed clunky child's car seat and a rusty tricycle peeking out of the rear window; c)I was wearing harem pants--in a town wear khakis and yoga pants are as crazy as it gets. It dawned on me that young guy was probably not checking me out or impressed by my fashionable choice of music. Instead, he was more likely mystified by the fact that the crotch to my pants was hanging between my knees and that a black car could turn brown with enough dirt.

Three: There was one day last week--only one--where I threw a dirty Sabine diaper in the trash can below the mailboxes in our apartment building (the bin is meant for unwanted mail, as in, paper only). It was an emergency as Sabine had taken off down the sidewalk without me and my arms were completely full. Suffice to say, there's now a sign on the bin that reads "No dirty diapers!!!" I'm not sure which is worse--the overuse of exclamation marks or the fact that I've been called out/publicly humiliated since I'm the only person in the building with a diaper-wearing child.

Image by Minga

Grow With Me

To win a pair of these super adorable Grow With Me moccasins for your little, clickity click on over to Freshly Picked. I'm dying for a pair of these tres chic shoes for miss Sabine. The most wonderful part about them is that the size is adjustable so your peanut can wear them from infancy to the toddler years to the child stage (a genius idea since tiny toes grow like weeds). 

They look smashing on a boy or a girl--Mason Kardashian is a huge fan (he's wearing them in this photo).

Keeping It Real

Everyone always goes on and on about how beautiful giving birth and bringing home baby is. The truth is that it's just as exhausting, ugly and harrowing. And it's often just plain insane--sans any charm whatsoever.

I've posted dozens of perfectly lovely photographs depicting the early days with Sabine. But as her birthday nears and we continue to imagine the possibility of her sequel, I'm inspired to post some images that illustrate how entirely f*cked up and impossible things felt with monster at her tiniest--we've come a long, long way. Phew.

The ugly truth:

I was falling asleep or crying. Probably both. And if Sabine was so tired she was yawning, why, for the love of god, wouldn't she just go to sleep? Or, is that jaw propped open in a bitch-feed-me-AGAIN-or-else kind of way?

Having just vomited and had a human being plucked from my womb--why are my eyelids yellowish green? And who knew Sabine would wear that tortured look consistently for the next five months?

There's a full set of luggage beneath my eyes.

Finally asleep--but I promise you she woke two minutes after this photo was snapped--all hell broke loose when that pacifier fell out of her mouth.

I've no idea what's going on here, but it looks like I'm about to drop my baby.

Just mad. And miserable.

I cannot explain what I wore back then--I think I lived in this ensemble for a week. And this image proves that even cute babies take bad photos.

Hope your weekend is honestly whatever it will be...

Katherine. Katie By The Door. Kate.

Happy birthday, sister.

Image via Observando

Here Comes The Rain

I know I will miss summer when it's gone. But at the moment, I cannot wait for the fall and winter seasons, when it rains but is still warm enough for Sabine and I to put on our rain boots and splash around in puddles until we're soaking wet. There's nothing better than drinking and spinning around in raindrops as they fall from grey skies--and then running inside the house for a warm bath and a cup of hot chocolate.

Image via Observando

Neck Candy

I'm not going back to school (thank god), but if I were, I'd wear one--or all--of these with my new back-to-school clothes. 

Three rings, Calypso St. Barth.

African, Calypso St. Barth.

Shell, Calypso St. Barth

Tipic, Calypso St. Barth

Rise of the Planet of the Tiny Apes

Is it obvious that I've been blogging this week with an iPad? Little monster got all Godzilla on us last week when she climbed onto the dining room table, lifted the laptop above her head and dropped it on the ground. Needless to say, the computer is undergoing surgery this week at a nearby Apple store. In the meantime, I hope my shorter posts are keeping you sufficiently entertained. (Have you tried seriously typing on one of these things? It's enough to make me want to give it to Sabine as her new bath toy.)

PS Recent adventures with Sabine have also included (but are not limited to) her selecting her own clothing, i.e. a plaid shirt, different plaid shorts and frog rain boots during the day; and a pink sundress over red pajama pants with white polka dots for bedtime. She also loves to investigate the contents of her diaper or rip it off entirely while trying to chug cold, day-old coffee from the coffee pot, and knock on the front doors of every neighboring apartment as we make our way through our building.

Image via Observando

Shock Treatment

The right way to mix brilliants. 

Zoe Saldana. Image via InStyle.

Lip Service

Lip gloss or lipstick is pretty much the only makeup I wear. But Sundays are zero makeup days.

This past Sunday, I was outside with Sabine when our too-chatty neighbor, a seven-year-old girl, saw me and asked, "Don't you usually wear makeup?" "Yes, a little," I replied. "Oh," she said. "Well, you look better with it on."

Shorty also found it necessary to tell me that my shorts were too short and that I "ALWAYS" wear the shirt I had on that day.

I wanted to tell shorty to beat it, but I didn't. Instead, I put on my adult pants, restrained myself and changed the subject of my appearance. But I found myself wondering if I really do look THAT much better with lip color.

Maybe. But I'm still going to rock naked lips when I want to. And for the times when I do use color--and want it to actually stay on--InStyle suggests choosing a thick and sticky gloss, which has added staying power. They also recommend "prepping" your lips by making sure they're moisturized and removing any dead or dry skin with a toothbrush.

(For the entire InStyle story, click the photo caption below.)

Image via InStyle

Different Strokes

His is filled with some sort of herbal tea. Mine is filled (twice) with the strongest coffee possible.

But I'm still constantly exhausted while he is not. (I know what you tea drinkers are saying right now. But it will never happen. I'm in love with coffee and the instant jolt it brings. I will not give it up.)

PS A nice man called me "miss" instead of ma'am the other day. It was enough to make me want to make out with him in thanks. (Don't worry, mister. I would NEVER do such a thing. You're the only one I really want to kiss--even though you prefer cats to dogs and drink tea instead of coffee.)

Image via Observando

Golden Girls

There's something about seeing the person who has been your closest friend since seventh grade hold your baby girl in her arms, while she herself is six months pregnant. You realize that she's been there for all of it, the whole time--and that life moves at the speed of lightening. One minute, you are crushing on boys, sneaking off to smoke cigarettes, backpacking through Europe. The next minute, you're all grown up--and a little beaten up from all of the life and the loss. Now you're responsible for these tiny human beings; these breathtakingly fragile little people who came from your very bodies...who will crawl and then walk through this big, bad and beautiful world--hopefully with a best friend who is as extraordinary as mine.

Happy Almost Birthday

Sabine's second birthday is just over two weeks away. Here are some photographs from her very first birthday celebration, when she tried to go swimming in her cake with her mouth wide open.

Two is exciting because she understands birthdays a bit better now. She adores giving people presents. I'm sure she will fall in love with being given them, too--tearing off brightly colored paper and ribbon and discovering a special boxed surprise just for her.

And I cannot wait to see how she dives into her cake this year.