The Famous Hervé Leger Bandage Dress…And No, You Can’t Wear Spanx Underneath

In my past life, the one I refer to as “B.C.S,” 60% off and Hervé Leger would be a magically dreamy combination.  Just FYI, “B.C.S.” stands for Before C-Section.

Courtesy of Neiman Marcus

Courtesy of Neiman Marcus

Now, those sales only depress me.

Don’t be fooled.  Hervé Leger’s iconic “hold you in” bandage dress is NOT a miracle corset, no matter what anyone tells you.  They may push your assets up but they don’t hide ANYTHING.  If you have any bit of a bulge (and one too many C-sections will most assuredly result in one of those), save yourself the imminent disappointment and find an empire-waisted option.

Normal childbirth didn’t destroy my midsection.  I had a slammin’ body after Lulu was born.  It’s true, though a little narcissistic.  I looked so much better than I ever did before kids.  And since I was only 31, I barely had to do anything to maintain my figure.  Ahh, the good old days when I actually HAD a metabolism…

But things are very different now.  Lulu’s dramatic entrance pretty much guaranteed that C-sections would become my preferred delivery method in the future.  Next came Cooper, then came George, whose birth clinched the reality that my pre-C-section body was gone forever.  I can do T25 from now until Kingdom come and it has essentially no impact on my stomach.  Couple that with age, and Hervé Leger becomes a fond but distant memory.

It’s okay, though.  I’ve come to terms with it.  I just focus on accentuating other areas now…areas which haven’t been devastated in the aftermath of childbirth and half-hearted attempts to nurse.

I have to admit that every so often, it would be nice to take advantage of those damned sales now that I can actually afford the dresses!

Life’s just full of jagged little pills, you know?

In Search Of The Elusive Green Easter Egg

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Some of the scenes I’ve been dabbling in lately have a lot of emotion weaved into them.  I’m trying to figure out exactly how the characters are going to react in traumatic situations and then incorporate that feeling into the story.  Not so easy, especially since I’ve never actually experienced the same type of circumstances.  The objective is to make the characters’ perceptions realistic, so that you feel what they feel and suffer the same woes.

Creativity only takes you so far, though.

Sometimes the best writing comes from personal experience.  If I can convince you what I am dealing with and you feel my angst, it makes you better able to relate to the story, right?

Well, I’m not convinced I’ve succeeded in that goal with my current writing.  But let me indulge you with a real-life experience…

Today, at our annual Easter Bunny breakfast, George and Cooper were outside at the egg hunt, searching for brightly-colored plastic eggs.  George wanted a green one so Cooper set off to find one for him.  Which should have made me beam with pride, the fact that he wanted to please his brother when most times, they are at each others’ throats.

But in the blink of an eye, Cooper disappeared.  Literally.  He went missing.  Like to the point where the dads were going to start a search.  And to the point where time stood still and my heart was ready to break at the perceived loss.  Hubby yelled at me, I yelled at him.  Those were truly the most horrific minutes of my life.  The thought of my little baby, gone from our lives forever.  I was being overly and prematurely dramatic, I know.  But raw emotion took over.  You know the kind of thoughts that permeated my mind…and Hubby advising me to keep calm only resulted in more distress.

Fortunately, my friend Jenn ran into the school and found Cooper wandering around by himself in the cafeteria, clutching a green egg for George.  He was looking for his brother so he could give him the egg.  Cooper just wanted to make his brother happy.  He didn’t know he’d done anything wrong by leaving the hunt grounds.

in the interim, Hubby and I aged ten years and miraculously lived to tell about it.

The kind of emotion we experienced in that short amount of time is so difficult to spin into words.   The heart palpitations, the panic, the gut-wrenching feeling that your momentary lapse of attention opened the door to a potentially traumatic sequence of events…how can you write that stuff without knowing how it feels?  To be honest, I’m not quite sure.  And furthermore, if having experienced such things would make me a better writer…well, I’d sooner tackle some other craft.

Unrequited Love…At Three Years-Old?!

My two little boys are obsessed with girls.

Cooper is marrying Gracie and George is in love with Juliet.  

What the heck is going on here???  They’re 3 and 4!!!!

Just as an aside, Lulu is 8 and has yet to utter a sweet word about a boy.  I hear about how rude and yucky and annoying they are, but the desire to marry any of them?  Ah, no, nothing along that front, thank goodness!  Not ready for that one!

My dad laughs and often says he didn’t know what PLANET he was on until he was 8.  Yet somehow, these guys are goo-goo eyed…and sometimes that leads to D-R-A-M-A!

Just this morning, George and I were chatting as I changed his diaper (because I can’t get my act together enough to commit to potty-training…argh!  Please don’t judge me!).  I asked him which little girl in his class is his favorite.

The name that emerged was “Doo-eee-ett.”

Hmmm.

If I didn’t know he had a girl in his class named “Juliet”, I’d be scratching my head.  But I do, so I didn’t.  =)

Now here’s the thing.

Another little cutie in the class has him in her sights.  Unrequited love at the tender age of 3!?

And forget that we don’t know if Juliet is even aware that my little Don Juan is alive! 

I’m SO not ready to deal with this!  

My MARVELous Universe

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I feel like I live in an alternate Marvel reality these days.

Depending on the mood of my three year-old George, a.k.a. Tony Stark, I’m at risk for being blown up by his repulser.  And he’s a VERY temperamental guy.

Cooper likens himself to Captain America.  He’s got a thing for shields.  Also, he doesn’t like keeping his clothes on so a second-skin suit kind of works well for him.  He’s a little whiny at times, but who can blame him?  Saving the world is pretty exhausting.  There’s also no love lost between Cap and Tony, so he gets blown up pretty often too.

Then there’s Lulu.  She could sell ice to an Eskimo.  Though she doesn’t share the pummeling skills of the Black Widow, if put in a room with her for an interrogation, you’d end up beating the crap out of yourself.  Her rhetoric is as powerful as Black Widow’s roundhouse kicks.  Trust me.

Hulk…well, he’s just LOUD.  That’s my Hubby, according to my kids.  Plus, he’s green (Hulk, not Hubby) and that’s super cool just like Dad.

Nobody’s really interested in Hawkeye.  He’s only good for shooting arrows.  But what happens when they run out?  Then what’s his thing?  Good eyesight?  Blah!  Plus, Black Widow can trounce his ass.  Who’d want to be THAT guy?  I would personally rather be Loki.  At least he’s got a scepter.

Where exactly does this leave me?  Who am I??

Well, I’m the ringleader of this crew, the glue that holds the whole mess of them together, for better or worse.  I am…wait for it…Nick Fury, who is one of the greatest strategic minds in the world, a born leader and a master of espionage.  Totally perfect fit.

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