thirty threadbare mercies

The outward expression of an inward grace.

Creativity Tidal Wave July 13, 2012

Filed under: Art,Artists,Body Image,Dance,Fashion,Him Downstairs,Inspiration,Music,Personal,Writing — rheabette @ 7:42 am
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I would not say that my creativity was blocked before I started The Artist’s Way – I have been steadily working at my arts practices, plugging along like a little worker bee.  But I am realizing now that I was slightly stuck in those practices, and consequently being very safe with my art making. Now I’m taking risks, putting myself out there more, and finding myself in a creativity tidal wave. It is simply amazing to me, how much can happen when you create space for it, defend it from internal aggressors, and then just effing go for it. Since I began doing The Artist’s Way, I’ve been confronting head-on the ways that I’ve stemmed the flow of creativity in my life, because of shame, co-dependancy, or fear. Replacing those contracting forces with love, acceptance, and playfulness has wildly affected my life in some very concrete ways.

First of all, my husband (who is also doing The Artist’s Way) and I actually started practicing for the show we are playing this Saturday. When we haven’t played music together in awhile, the first rehearsal is excruciating. We are grumpy, rusty, and full of blame and criticism. It’s pretty much a disaster. The only good thing about it is we have been together so long that we know the pattern and keep telling ourselves “It gets better It gets better It gets better don’t give up!” Then, the following night, we find some kind of groove, letting go of our creative resentments and saying yes to each other’s offers. So now, I am actually excited about our performance, and if you are in the Bay Area this Saturday, July 14th, you should come to Old Crow at 8pm for the incredible art that John Felix Arnold III has created, and stay for our croonings and beats.  I’m doing a lot more singing this time, letting myself be even more vulnerable in my performance, as we are singing about love together.  It scares me, and that is exactly why I know I need to do it.

Of course we have all of our same old tired problems, but we are starting to find creative solutions to some of them.  Now that we have some space and courage to try new things, we are shifting things around, rather than wasting time complaining about what we can’t have. We rearranged two out of the four rooms in the house, and the result is an altered perspective, and a greater investment in our cozy space. Showing the changes to my friend Ellie, I said, “Look! There’s a dance floor in the bedroom now!” “Only you would see that freed-up space and call it a dance floor”, she replied. Sure enough, pretty soon Olive, her friend Caden and I were all stretching on the bedroom floor together — the space was just too inviting to be solely for walking.

Speaking of dance, I’ve been bringing Operation RAD BOD to my dance classes, stretching myself to get even more comfortable with my body as I move it around. The classes I take are greatly cardiovascular, but I often dance in exercise pants, a tank top and a long sleeved dress over that! The teachers usually wear short shorts and tank tops, and no matter what the students don, we are equally drenched in sweat by the time the hour is over. I never really thought I was choosing my outfits based on any kind of body shame, but in the heat of this past Saturday, rather than reaching for my usual somber attire, I pulled from the bottom of my drawer an electric blue “run-skirt” — basically a mini with tiny shorts attached underneath. I topped it with a pink sleeveless top, essentially showing more skin with that outfit than I would anywhere but the beach. I didn’t really think too much of it, I just pulled it on and rushed to class, arriving to the delighted surprise of my friends. They were hilariously inspired by my colorful, tiny attire. Rebecca said, “You have great legs! I’ve never seen them before!” The fact that we have been dancing together for 5 years and she’s never seen my legs made it jarringly clear to me that I’ve been hiding my body in my dance classes.

The class was packed, and there’s a huge mirror in the room, but I did not once find myself obsessing about how all my skin looked as I shook it around. I don’t know what happened, but I was just… free from all that self-consciousness, and I had a blast, actually not overheating for once! On the walk home I realized that what I’d done out of opening my dress choices to more options was actually a big step in Operation RAD BOD. I posted my brave sartorial choice to my Facebook page, and was encouraged by how many people enjoyed that I’d thrown off the fetters of somber fabric and embraced my own skin.

Another great part of the Artist’s Way is you are encouraged to get in touch with your child self, allow yourself to play, and simply have fun. By a series of fortunate events, I found myself in a toy store without my child. I was able to browse the things I was actually interested in, rather than monitoring Olive’s interactions with the wares. I found myself drawn to a fashion coloring book — a huge tome filled with fabuous fashion illustrations that you fill in yourself — high heels to decorate, dresses to pattern, sunglasses that need a face drawn around them, prints that need colors chosen for them. I bought myself every color of Le Pen that they had, and brought it all up to the cash register, my inner artist in a state of glee and ecstacy that I was actually doing this. I then spent the evening coloring fashion illustrations, rather than watching mindless TV.  I felt my world expanding with every swirl I added to the page.

It feels a little like this. (Image by Richard Burbridge)

As I am owning myself as an artist — spending my free time singing, coloring, and writing, instead of comparing, judging and tuning out, I have been amazed at how the creative opportunities have been pouring in. My friend Esther from LTYM SF told me how to submit to KQED’s Perspectives, and I mulled over what I could possibly write about for several weeks.  Finally, an idea came to me, and though I don’t have the kind of life where I can just sit down and write any second I’m so inspired, at my next writer’s group I banged it out, and sent it off.  Much to my surprise, the editor contacted me right away, accepting my piece!  I had such an encouraging talk with him about my writing, and it happened on a day when all I was feeling was “I want to punch today in the throat.”  So, I really needed a win, and now I am greatly looking forward to being on the airwaves next week!  Things are flowing, and I am feeling more alive.

I’m sharing all of this with you because I want to spread the reality that if you let yourself be creative, if you make time and space for it, and you drench yourself in positivity rather than small-mindedness, you will be amazed by how much color and opportunity will come your way.  I’m not much for the New Agey “you create your own reality” stuff that is thrown around a lot in our post-millenial culture, as I have too much of a sociological understanding of the very real effects of classism, racism, sexism and homophobia in our current world.  However,  creativity is within you.  It could be bringing a creative perspective to your feud with your neighbor, a fresh eye to the haircut you are regretting, or just taking a different route on your walk to work.  Whatever you choose, I invite you to let your artist self take control of something today, and report to me what happens!

 

How a Style Blogger Saved Me From Hating Everyone Forever. June 8, 2012

Filed under: Blogging,Fashion,Parenting,Personal — rheabette @ 11:56 am
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Having an active, extroverted toddler in a tiny apartment means we spend very little time at home during the day. We leave by 9am, return at noon for lunch and nap, and leave again by 3pm at the latest, out all afternoon until dinner and bedtime. Olive is incredibly social, which means we get into all kinds of interesting conversations with strangers.

Last Thursday, we had had one too many adorable (Olive) and awkward (me) encounters when we had my least favorite kind, one in which someone’s curiousity about the ethnic make-up of our family makes them say completely insulting things. It was not the first time I heard this particular jem, but it somehow seems to make me angrier every damn time.

Random playground person: “Your daughter is so beautiful.”

Me: “Thank you!”

RPP: “She must look like her dad.”

Seriously. Seriously! People say this to me ALL THE TIME. I want to shake them when they look at me with that stupid smile on their face, thinking they have said something novel, hoping I will then enlighten them with why my child and I have different skin tones. Inwardly, I inform them: “You just inadvertantly called me ugly and said I don’t look anything like my kid. I NO LONGER WANT TO TALK TO YOU!!!”

Instead I just say, “Nope, you’re incorrect. We have the same features, just different coloring.”

RPP: “Yeah, I guess the hair makes a lot of difference.”  I let it go from there, walking away feeling all kinds of grumbly.

We headed to Mission Community Market, where they have live music and hula hooping for the kids every week, right in the middle of the open air market. I was doing my thing with Olive, trying to dance off all the bad juju, when a woman interrupted my reverie to tell me she has a blog that features stylin’ parents once a week, and she wanted to take some photos of me and interview me for it!

I was totally caught off guard by this, especially after my previous interaction that day. Incredibly flattered, I agreed, and enjoyed her light-hearted, encouraging energy throughout. To be honest, the experience totally turned my day around. “Not all strangers are asshats!” I thought, as well as, “I really needed that today.” So, click the link to Debbies blog, and see the piece that made me not give up on humanity entirely: http://ringletleader.tumblr.com/post/24681193875/playground-chic-look-of-the-week

Photo by Debbie Mink

 

Lifestyles of the Broke and Fabulous: Ten Tips to Survive and Thrive For Less December 20, 2011

Filed under: Artists,Books,Christianity,Community,Fashion,Parenting,San Francisco — rheabette @ 2:46 pm
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Perhaps you’ve been reading this blog and thinking, “Hey wait, you can’t be as poor as you say you are.  You live in the 2nd most expensive city in the world.”  And to that I say, “Touche.” and “Exactly.”  Surviving in this Never-Never Land that calls itself a city is an art that over the past 8 years I have been trying to master.  It is completely exhausting but the rewards are the almost constant experiences of beauty all around, so I’m going to keep running this marathon as long as I can, because the views are amazing.  Here are some sneaky tips I’ve used along the way so far:

1. Clip & Collect: Do y’all know those Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons, that come in the mail so often you’ve considered wallpapering your apartment with them?  Yeah, those shits don’t expire.  They say they do, right there on each one is an expiration date, but save ‘em up, bring ‘em in, and watch the price of that wet-vac go down, down down.  What we do is collect them for ages then bring them in and use them all in one-fell-swoop, buying all the crap we’ve gone without all damn year.  For instance, right now here is a list of the things that have broken/gotten ruined in our house that we are too poor to replace: the toaster, bath mat, mop, ironing board, set of wine glasses, and teapot.

2. Live Simply: Of course we don’t do such luxuries as pedicures, vacations, and air conditioning.  However, there are also a boatload of things we consider “luxuries” that other people consider necessities: smart phones, cable, a house, a car, and juice.  That’s right, juice is a luxury in this home.  Enjoy your tap water, luckily in SF it comes from Hetch Hetchy and tastes delicious.

3. Work that Transit System: If you live in a 2 person household, and you can only afford one monthly fast pass, one person uses it all month, then, on the first, gives the old one to the other person, who gets free bus fare for the next 3 days.  That doesn’t work on BART, just MUNI — you get to use the old pass for 3 days of the new month.  If you are poor, you’re thinking “Yeah, No doi.  Everyone does that.”  If you are rich, you’re thinking “Ew.  The bus.”  But if you’re new to SF and are somewhere in the middle, you’re thinking “The gross bus could be free 3 days a week and then maybe I wouldn’t mind so much when someone sits next to me with a live chicken in a plastic bag, because I didn’t pay to ride 20 bumpy blocks to the park.”  In that case, you’re welcome.

4. Safety First: The next time you need a pair of glasses, you may be looking at all the designer ones they put out, dismayed at the price tags for nerdy-looking boxy pieces of plastic to wear on your face.  In such a situation, ask for where they keep the safety glasses.  I recently had to get glasses, and instead of paying $300 for fancy-pants frames that would probably only have made me look more like Zooey D., I got safety glasses, which are durable (important when you have a 15-month old who says “No!” and knocks the glasses off your face every time you wear them) and sort-of-chic, especially when you have to do a whole bunch of welding.  And they were $10, including a 2-year warrantee!

5. Book It: I estimate that I have saved $884 this year by utilizing my public library.  They have this great feature where you can look up books online, request them, and have them shipped to the library closest to you.  Then you go and pick them up from a special area by the front door, check them out yourself, and read to your heart’s content.  What I like to do is browse my local bookstore, picking up & buying the tomes I have to own forever, but making a list of the ones I just want to try out.  Then I go home, request them from the SFPL, and await my treasures.  It’s the closest thing to Netflix for books out there, and I feel like I’m getting a present every time I get the email saying “your books are in, come and get ‘em.”  Also, they have Family Passes to all sorts of places in SF, you can check them out like a book and go to the Zeum, the Zoo, the Academy of Sciences, and the like.  How do you think Olive got to see the giraffes this year?  The public library saved that day of course.

6. Community Culture: Before we had Olive, we spent over three years living in community with some awesome folks, in a huge 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment with a back patio, roof access, a washer/dryer and a dishwasher.  Living with roommates is pretty much the only way you can live in a place in SF that is big enough to ever throw a party.  And the parties we would have… they were so epic that we would read about them the next day on the internet.  We would look around and realize we only knew a quarter of the people there.  I met people at those parties that were in my own house that I cherish as friends to this day.  The costumes, the dancing, the gossipy hook-ups — it is all legend now, as we live in a place where we can’t even sit 4 people at the dinner table.  Anyway, as long as you can, live in community.  Then, when you can’t, join a church or other spiritual community.  This will provide you with a venue for your tamer events, like birthday parties and baby showers, and, more importantly, a whole bunch of people willing to invest in you on a heart level, who care about your soul and your living situation.  Plus, if you’re lucky, they’ll be great cooks and you’ll get a free meal once a week at the delicious potlucks they organize. I’m not saying that you should join a church for the stuff you get being a part of one.  I’m simply saying that if you want to live in an expensive city but you don’t make bank, you’re going to need other people in order to do it.  That brings me to my next suggestion:

7. No Shame In Your Game: If someone offers you something, something you really want and could use, say yes.  Practice with me now, “I accept.”  There are a lot of people in this town that make a lot of money, mostly in the tech industry, and are also incredibly generous.  They don’t use their money for evil, they are kind-hearted and as baffled as the next person as to why they make so much more sitting at a computer than they would teaching children in a classroom.  Often, they will offer to buy you a meal, or take you to a show, or give you a ride to the beach.  This is not your moment to be a martyr, to be prideful or embarrassed.  It is the time to give them a chance to use their money how they want to, and to promise to pay it forward, if you ever find yourself in the situation to do so.  When I look around my bedroom, I see that almost all our furniture was handed down by kind souls who couldn’t use it anymore.  They are lovely pieces, and I am grateful for them.  They make me think of the people who gifted them to us, every time I use them.  Wouldn’t you rather think of your friend Doris than your buddy IKEA when you use your dresser?  I thought so.  So say yes.

8. Charming Child = Free Babysitting:  Our kid is wicked cute and likeable.  Therefore, folks line up to hang out with her.  We have yet to have paid a babysitter for a date night.  Our friends love our child and find her more entertaining than a night at home watching sitcoms.  So, do your best to have a cute kid, and rad friends, and you’re golden.

9. The Swap Economy: For six years, I swapped massages for Pilates classes with a wonderful massage therapist who became a close friend.  It was a win-win: I got body therapy every other week, she got toned abs with a boomin’ soundtrack.  If there’s something you want in your life — homemade jam, haircuts, whatever — see if there’s someone that would swap for a similar good that you are talented at.  Paint pictures for roller skating lessons.  Grow vegetables for knitted scarves.  Make a friend in the meantime.

10. Don’t Skimp Where It Counts: There are two things we shell out for, gladly.  One is childcare.  I grew up going to whatever daycare my parents could afford, and hated a good part of my childhood summers as a result.  Therefore, we have been doing a nanny share with a wonderful nanny who gives our child the best care possible, and we get another family to bond with.  The other thing we have tried to cut corners with and have just submitted to coughing up hecka cash for is coffee.  SF has some of the best roasters in the country, and once you’ve had Blue Bottle or Philz you simply can’t go back to Folgers in your cup.  So we pay for it, and love every damn sip.

As I am about to be even poorer than I was before, I am gladly accepting your tips in the comments section.  How do you save money and manage to look so good, dammit?  Fill me in, I’m dying to know.

 

 

Petitioning St. Nick December 7, 2011

Filed under: Christianity,Community,Episcopal musings,Fashion,Inspiration,Parenting,Personal,San Francisco,working mom — rheabette @ 2:12 pm
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Dear Santa,

First of all, please accept my apology for my lack of correspondence the past 20 years.  When a frenemy at a sleepover unceremoniously exposed you as a fraud way back then, I took her at face value.  However, now that I’m a part of the Anglican tradition, I believe in the communion of all saints, and in asking the dead to pray for me.  When my priest referred to you as a “visiting Turkish Bishop”, I did some research, and found out that you are indeed real.  This week heralded the Feast Day of St. Nicholas, so I’m finally ending my two decades of silence not to give you a list of demands, but to ask you for your prayers as I try to re-envision my life.

Santa, I think it’s pretty well established that I need a bit of a break.  It’s been a rough couple of months, and I could really use a nice end-of-the-year ritual.  I have been learning, painfully, that one’s happiness is directly correlated to their expectations.  Therefore, rather than expecting certain things to occur, I am trying to have a vision for what I want for my life.  But there is a lot that is holding me back.  For far too long, I have been under the belief that I needed to have the most challenging life I could possibly imagine.  For some reason, every time I’ve looked for a job, I felt compelled to work with the hardest population, in the most dangerous neighborhood, for the lowest pay I could find.  What was I trying to prove here?  Don’t answer that, Santa.  I think part of the reason you receive so many letters each year is that you never write back.  You just show up with gifts.  Maybe that should be my calling card, too.  Never respond to any correspondence, just break in to people’s houses and give them stuff.  Really awesome stuff.

I remember my parents would always say that the very best presents were from you.  They’d sign their name on the little ones, but the truly great gifts, like the Game Boy when I was ten, were always from St. Nick.  Thanks for that, dude.  I’m counting on that kind of goodwill now, when I need it most.

Without further ado, here’s the stuff I really need this year:

1. Empowering, creative, interesting work that pays me enough to provide my family with a roof over our heads and food on our table, consistently and without constant fear of a missed paycheck.  I want a job that includes my whole person, my body-mind-spirit, but also pays me a living wage for a mother.  I don’t think that is too much to ask, as I am not even being specific about the sector I want to work in.  For the first time ever, I’m expanding my horizons to work in the for-profit world, confident that I could bring my own brand of creativity and life to an advertising firm as much as I could to a public school.  Surprise me, Santa, with the opportunities you send my way.  I promise not to turn them down just because the Old Me wouldn’t have done them.  I’m ready to let go of who I am to make way for who I am becoming.

2. Affordable housing that allows my daughter to have her own room.  Olive is getting big, and she needs her own space.  However, housing in our fair city is insane.  Seriously, if any of you reading this do not currently live in SF or NYC, you will be appalled to hear what a 2-bedroom apartment goes for here. I am frequently embarrassed when talking to friends from Philly by what I pay for a tiny 1-bedroom, or I would just come out and tell you here.  I have been incredibly grateful for our little nest thus far — it is close to public transit, my dance studio, and lots of awesome things to do.  So, ideally, Santa, I would stay in my neighborhood, despite the fact that the only park nearby is wildly dirty and in an unsavory part of the district.  Once again, your work here is made easier by the fact that I am now willing to branch out.  Joel and I have even been talking about *gasp* moving to the East Bay.  I’m scared of the fashion implications and the potential loss of community, but I am trying to trust.  Don’t let me down.

Yup, there’s only 2 things on the list, because I really, really want them.  You know what, Santa?  I’m going to throw you a bone.  If you can’t swing a rad, moderately well-paying job and affordable, slightly-more-spacious housing, I won’t judge you.  Just buy me some sparkly things, and we’ll call it a wash.  I can be the shiniest work-at-home-mom on the block.

This dress would suffice.

 

 

Gifted September 20, 2011

Filed under: Birthdays,Body Image,Breastfeeding,Fashion,Mothers,One year olds,Parenting,Personal,working mom — rheabette @ 4:32 pm
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Several kind souls gave me prezzies for Olive’s birthday, recognizing that it was also the anniversary of my becoming a mother.  One friend gave me a book called The Art of Eating, another a package of yummy French macaroons, a third a check to have dinner with my husband with a promise to babysit that night.  See a theme here?  They know Mama likes to eat.

Today I gave myself a (surprisingly non-edible) gift by dropping Olive off with Brenda for the afternoon and going to get a pedicure.  Sitting there in that massage chair, getting my toes lacquered pink and gold, reading Vogue magazine, I felt luxurious right on the very edge of guilt.  Taking the time to do things that truly only benefit me, aka “self-care”, is a non-negotiable as a therapist and as a mother, but I still struggle with it.

I sat with a friend at a cafe and we talked about the dreaded family-finance-career balance, depressing ourselves with the models we could think of and also trying to find hope.  I brought up one woman, a professor we both loved, who is also a mother a two.  “Yeah, but she always looks awful,” my friend reminded me.  This friend I speak of is not at all vain, and was not being catty.  She literally meant that whatever this gal is doing can’t be working for her as great as it seems because she does indeed always look like she just got run over by a truck.  I do not mean to imply that one must have EVERYthing — kids, career, and be sexy and glamorous 24/7.  Sometimes I get really mad thinking about the age of MILFS – now we must also be hot?!  With nursing boobs and baby gut, reeking of spit-up?  Forget it.  But then I look down at my toes, and it feels like a step in the right direction to take the time to add a touch of beauty to the chaos.

happy feet.

 

A little art every day… and ladies of age rule. September 10, 2011

Filed under: Art,Artists,Dance,Fashion,Inspiration — rheabette @ 9:57 am
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Last night, at my husband’s sound-art show, my friend Suzanne and I were talking about this blog, and the challenge I put out yesterday, to try to get people to write every day with me.  Suzanne was fabulously bedecked in a red flapper dress and a long coat with a faux fur collar, all of which my daughter kept petting.  She is an artist, so I encouraged her to be a part of this challenge by doing a little drawing each day, taking a picture and sending it to me.  She said yes, so I wanted to put this out there — any form of art, if you want to commit to doing it daily for a while, could fit into this community of art-making I’m trying to build.  In fact, I’m committing to writing, but on the days when I just don’t get to it, at the very least I will dance.  In dance class yesterday, I let go of something mid-class that I had been holding on to — I’m not sure what it was but it was something I really didn’t need.  My amazing dance teacher, Dudley Flores, kept urging us, “Dance from a deeper place!  From your gut!” and I took that in, finding my center and flinging my arms and legs out from there.  It may have looked ridiculous, but it felt incredible

Anyway, dancing and visual art count, too.  I guess whatever inspires you, whatever you consider art, could count for this challenge.  I talked to this very sweet older woman last night at the show — she was wearing this fabulous lemon yellow patterned blouse, a big turquoise necklace, and little tortoise-shell glasses — the result was perfection.  I told her, “You know you have the best style in here”, and we got to talking about how all my favorite dressers are in their 70′s.  I mean, look at artist and writer Beatrix Ost here in the green headdress (I guess I am obsessed with green headdresses overall).  One of her favorite sayings is “In your body is a good place to be.” Yes!  There is also this woman at church who is so incredibly well-dressed that when I entered her number into my phone, I put her in as “Fancy Joyce”.  She keeps saying she wants to bring me some of her old shoes — that will be a happy day.  Here she is with my daughter a several months ago, looking typically amazing. 

I guess what I’m getting at is I am finding inspiration lately in unlikely places, and really enjoying the ride.  On Thursday evening, walking home from dance class with my friend Amanda, a woman drove by and Amanda turned to me and said, “Wow, she looks like a badass.”  Instantly joking with herself, she said, “I wonder what tipped me off to that?  The flaming red hair?  The open-topped Jeep she’s driving wildly down 18th St?  The music she’s bumping?” (I’m paraphrasing — I’m not sure if Amanda would use the word “bumping” in that context)  The next day in dance class, the one I mentioned earlier in which I really let go, I channelled that woman.  I said to myself, “How would that badass redhead Tank Girl dance right now?”  I was only able to capture it for a few moments, but I’m hoping I can bring her into my life more and more.  The results could be dangerous, but they’ll surely be fun.


 

Artist commune from my living room, minus the armpit hair September 9, 2011

Filed under: Art,Artists,Body Image,Breastfeeding,Community,Dance,Fashion,Mothers,Parenting,Personal,San Francisco,Writing — rheabette @ 3:57 pm

When I threw down the gauntlet to write on my blog every day for awhile, I had no idea where it would lead.  I still have this little judge on my shoulder when I write these daily posts.  He’s chunky, and balding, and has a heavy gavel that he bangs on my head while screaming “Nobody wants to hear so much about your kid, stop writing about her!  Make every post a perfectly crafted piece of writing!  Grumble grumble grouch grouch!”  But screw him, this has been awesome.  I have gotten so many great suggestions about Olive’s first year birthday party, and about starting the preschool search.

Today, when I sent Olive to the nanny for a few hours and went on a mini-shopping spree, I felt all of you cheering me on, as you’d read and commented on my desire for a non-nursing/maternity wardrobe.  And that’s great, because I needed the support.  When one is super broke, and consequently has not bought something new in a very long time, buying one awesome item leads to a few more, since you of course have nothing great to go with that one amazing piece.  For instance, I did get out to Nooworks today like I promised, and bought two incredible dresses, one to wear tonight to my husband’s show, and one for Olive’s party.  But, as I mentioned in my previous post, I only have one pair of shoes, and since I wear them every day they are quite dingy and won’t work with the said incredible dresses.  So, I went to Therapy and the cute salesgirl helped me find a badass pair of black platform wedges that go perfectly with pretty much everything.  Since SF is notoriously foggy year-round, you can’t really just wear a dress bare-legged, you have to have a pair of leggings in your bag at all times for when the weather instantly shifts.  However, all my leggings are maternity, and therefore baggy & weird now.  And if there’s anything that’s Not Cute, it’s a baggy legging, unless of course you’re wearing your leggings as pants because that is even worse.  So I hit up Multi Kulti (I had some credit there, yay!) and got black leggings, as well as a little skirt for dance class, as I’m going to four classes a week now at ODC, and majorly running out of dance clothes.

Anyway, I spent all the money I possibly can this month, but I don’t regret a single purchase (not yet.  Buyer’s Remorse may still set in, but gratefully it has not hit me up so far).  I seriously feel like a new woman — one who looks less harried and down-on-her-luck, a little more like I’m living in my own wonderland.  And it is because of you, dear readers, that I had the courage to go for it.  Shopping since I had a baby has been pretty rough.  First of all, I never have the time or money, but adjusting to my new body has been hard, too.  I remember once, soon after Olive was born, I went shopping at H&M for tops I could nurse in, as I ridiculously had no clothes that gave me easy boob access.  Joel came with me and held the baby while I tried on literally 50 things.  NOTHING worked.  It was actually a sort of traumatic experience, as I left in tears, frustrated that I’d wasted those few moments between feedings on trying on shitty clothes that only made my wonky post-baby body look even worse.  I went home and bought a few nursing tanks & tunics from Target online and left it at that.   Since then, I haven’t really ventured out to try again, and when I have it has been more of the same.  This is the first time I went shopping and actually enjoyed both the process and the result.  So hooray for me, hooray for school, Nibb High Football rules.

I think that what would make this blogging every day situation more satisfying and less judgey-judgey is if I had a friend or two who was blogging every day as well.  As I wrote in my post about Who Does She Think She Is, I believe that women crave community when they are creating art.  So, anyone up for the challenge?  My new blog friend Tanya, perhaps?  Someone who has been reading this blog and thinking “I’d like to write, but what would I say?  Who would read it?”  Well, I would.  I would commit to reading your blog and commenting on it, every single day, and you’d do the same to mine.  We wouldn’t shame each other if we didn’t get to it that day, but it would spur one another on to know that someone was waiting on your words, and writing their own as well.  Maybe it would convince my little judge friend to go take a nap.  Or a bath.  He seriously needs to wash his ass.

 

Fashion over function, yes please. September 7, 2011

Filed under: Fashion,Mothers,Parenting,Psychotherapy,San Francisco,Thrifting — rheabette @ 11:24 am

Yesterday, Olive and I took our long trek across town for my therapy appointment, her strapped to my back in the Ergo, me pounding the pavement in unfortunate “mom clothes” — jeans, decade-old sneakers, hoodie.  We walk from the Mission to the Marina once a week, a 3-mile uphill hike that takes us over an hour and gives me sore quads for a few days after.  The saving grace is usually a stop at Rare Device, to see our friends that run that cute boutique and look at the newest wares.

This particular Tuesday we had it even better — my friend Suzanne did most of the walk with us, and we even stopped for French pastries along the way!  It’s nice that it was so enjoyable this time, as it may be our last trek.  Carrying 22 lb Olive over SF hills and then taking the grungy bus back with a friendly baby and hella tweakers is not really a sustainable plan.  Also, Olive is on the go now, and tears up the therapy room as I try to have deep conversation about my emotions.  So, we are taking a break soon.  And even though I don’t pay the full going rate for therapy, I am looking forward to the slight bump in our budget very much.  I plan to spend it on…

Clothes.  A friend recently asked me, out of honest curiousity,  “Do you EVER wear pants?”  To which I replied, “Not if I can help it.”  My love affair with dresses is long-standing, to the point where I even wear them to dance class over my workout pants — I prefer a little bustle when I shake it.  Alas, having a baby and being on such a tight budget, the only clothes I have bought this year have been nursing tanks.  I have one pair of shoes that fit, flats bought for me by a dear friend.

Still, I make glamour out of rags.  I put on dingy old dresses when taking Olive to the playground — frocks that once were special for anniversaries but now are so stained that I don’t mind just plopping down in the grass with her, as she crawls around my lap, smudging my lipstick all over the print.  A mom at the park the other day said, “She must be your first baby, if you have time to put on a pretty dress…”  But it took about 5 seconds to pull on the dress, slip into my one and only flats and run out the door.  I just replied, “I don’t know, I think I’ll always find the time for glamour…”

As my year of nursing Olive around the clock comes to a close, I am PINING for an infusion into my wardrobe, mostly fabulously impractical pieces like scalloped shoes that look more like cake than footwear:

I want big woolen coats in shocking colors, with boxy shapes that a baby carrier would never wrap around.  I desire huge sparkly skirts that poof out on the playground, which I will wear with my grandmother’s fur coat and a headdress, looking dangerously like a Grey Gardens gal.

I may never make friends with the other moms dressed in such array, but I want clothes as art and not as function, I want style in every minute, and I want necklines that don’t provide easy access to a nursing breast.  Boatnecks galore, here I come!

My first stop is going to be Nooworks, where they sell locally designed dresses in fun prints and styles.  Then from there I’ll hit up some thrift stores, as my clothing budget will be but a pittance.  SF thrifting is no hardship, though — it will be a wildly fun time… if I can ever make space for it in my schedule!  Anyone want to join me on a thrifting rampage? We can take Olive and dress her up in fedoras and vintage aprons, teaching her early that wearing clothes for comfort is for the birds — eccentricity + simplicity all the way!

 

 
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