I’m in the business of everything “Pink.” So, when Pinkerbell and Pandi decided to add items to their rapidly growing Christmas list, I decided that it was time for mommy to step in and gently “recommend” some of my favorite things (aka, No, you cannot have that stupid Kung Fu Panda stuffed animal that talks). Like Oprah but without all the drama.

So in I stepped.

And then I got stepped on -

by a couple of scheming little girls who decided that mommy’s not cool enough to know what they like.

Humph, they have a lot to learn. I’ve got Santa on my side

Since I know that they love pink, I went with it. I decided to get sneaky and slip in a few toys that will make them use their imagination and creativity. Ya, I know, you’re wondering if toys like that exist anymore?

Yep, they do. No technology. Notta.

Not that I’m against all of the ultra cool high-tech gadgety stuff, but for God’s sake if I hear Pinkerbell ask for one more battery-powered stuffed animal I am going to loooooose it!

Seriously. I must stop the stuffed animal madness that has become my home.

Pinkerbell sneered and Pandi crossed her arms in anticipation of the “yucky mommy toys” (ahem, their words I swear) I was going to recommend to their new best friend Santa.

So I read the list aloud with a smile of satisfaction on my face. I know them far better than they think.

Hasbro Pink Tinker Toys: Toys R Us : Sale $24.99

Pink Razor Scooter: Walmart : $28.99

Schwinn Pink Roadster Trike: Walmart: $63.99

Pink Mega Blocks : Toys R Us: Sale $11.99

Pink Jenga Girl Talk Game: Toys R Us $14.99 (ok, so I don’t have a child ages 8-14…um, I want this game!)

Pink Pavilion Bling Dominos : Toys R Us $12.99

Told ya there was a lot of pink involved. Listed the prices and stores in case you like what you see. And no, I’m not buying everything on this list, but come on, that Schwinn Pink Trike is to die for! Heck, I want one (ya, can you just see me now peddling to the PTA meeting…sad thing is, I actually can).

Once I made the case for some of Santa’s best “pink” thingamabobbers- none of which included any walking, talking, stuffed animals - I glanced into their wide blue eyes. Without warning, my daughters immediately started fighting over who would get what. Yep, they fell for it- hook, line, and sinker. Santa is forcing them to use their brains and braun this year and they have no clue he’s doing it.

Am I a bad mom for dangling “pink” in front of them to get them to forget about that stupid FurReal life sized Triceratops that costs $149 big ones? Nope. I will use my manipulation might while I still can, though only for the powers of good.

One day they will thank me for passing up the kick-butt pink mini MP3 Player (ugh, it’s so cute though).

Right now I have to break up the fighting before my list becomes null and void.

Um, just in case you missed my dental work = new shoes post, I felt the strong desire to post my newest conquest…AGAIN.

Yes, I’m obsessed with these Nanette Lepore heels. I suppose that should be obvious by now (ahem, the truth is I’m running low on mid-week blogging material, so I’m using the whole shoe angle again).

Check out these bad boys one more time (I got you a nice close-up for ya). Now, drool.

I’ve moved my usual Favorite Book Friday review to Tuesday this week in order to review a truly endearing book, The Truth that was sent my way by it’s thoughtful author, Dr. Barbara Becker Holstein.

As many of you know, I’ve dedicated my main site, ParentingPink, to helping parents raise strong, resilient girls. Whenever I stumble upon a book that can enhance our relationship with our daughters, I’m quick to recommend it. I found, The Truth, to be one of those “rare finds” that both mother and daughter can enjoy together.

The Truth is written “diary style” in the voice of a ten year old girl teetering on the brink of adolescence. Dr. Holstein crafts each diary entry as a journey back in time for the reader. “The Girl” as she’s known, takes us back to the 1950’s when life was much simpler, or so it seems. Interestingly, the challenges, uncertainties, and joys expressed by this ten year old are eerily familiar to most tween girls, regardless of decade.

I found myself lost in my emotions as I thumbed through each diary entry. I could relate so very much to the daily struggles this young girl found herself in. Dr. Holstein does a mesmerizing job of weaving a tale that is truly relatable for tweens and their moms. The Girl struggles with issues common to all preteen girls: feeling ignored by her parents; teased by her friends; desiring independence, but afraid to ask for it; jealousy over “prettier” girls; uncertainty of her changing body, but certainty of a boy named Paul that she’s in love with. Let’s be honest, we’ve all felt those memories and teenage insecurities creep back into our adult consciousness at some point in our adult lives.

While the book provides a truly creative and humorous trip down memory lane, it goes one step further. The Girl reminds parents what’s really important to their daughters. Though “The Girl” acts like an immature child at times, like many of our own daughters, she is wise beyond her ten years. And “The Girl” is not shy about gently laying out the truth about what’s right and what’s wrong with the world around her. Truths that slip through the cracks of our consciousness as we get older.

Such truths include:

* Your changing body can be exciting, but very awkward. “The Girl” talks movingly about her mom ignoring her constant pleas to buy her a bra. And how her mother’s rejection of her newly developing body made her feel.

* Making fun of people is not nice. The Girl struggles to understand why other kids exclude and make fun of her.

* If you look in the mirror and think you look pretty, then you are. Though she is certain that other girls are prettier, The Girl likes what she sees in the mirror and accepts her flaws as part of her beauty.

As a psychotherapist, I value the opportunity it brings to both mother and daughter to discuss the issues of “growing up.” This book enables parents to connect with their daughters in a meaningful way that encourages open discussion and creative problem-solving while also serving as a gentle reminder that sometimes, parents aren’t always “right.” We all know how vital it is to continue to connect with our daughters through the difficult and often turmoltuous adolescent years, and this book provides a great start.

Regardless of whether or not you have a preteen daughter, this book is a fun and eye-opening read for parents and daughters alike. You will laugh and cry with this ten year old as you reflect on your own adolescence. It also serves as a vivid reminder to us all that “it’s the little things” in life that count. And our daughters, though they may not voice it, really do want and need our love and support.

The fact of the matter is that I am a shoe hound. Sorta. You see, I always find myself purchasing a new pair depending on how low my mood dips. I fondly refer to it as “obsessive-compulsive-shoe-shopping-to-make-me-feel-better” therapy and it works.

As much as it pains me to admit it, I’ve got a severe mood disorder called SHOE MOOD ADDICTION (SMA).

My SMA was born of natural causes, this much I know is true. Natural causes that have, at times, sent me over the edge and right into the arms of Lord & Taylor for those must-have Coach wedges.

And SMA was responsible for this purchase two months ago from my trusted friend Ann Taylor:

I’m all for self-diagnosis, so it should come as no surprise that I am well aware of my addiction’s roots. The dentist. (get it? roots, dentist..haha I crack myself up with my craftiness).

Yep, I hate the dreaded, fear-mongering, DENTIST!

I can’t help it. Every time I go, a new pair of shoes magically appears in my closet.

My husband hates the dentist for different reasons. Not only does it usually cost him a pretty penny for a fancy porcelain crown, but it also costs him some hot, must-have 4.5 inch knock-outs.

If there is one thing about the female psyche I’ve learned from all of my studies (ahem, those studies mostly being attempted on my girlfriends, hubby, and children), it’s that when we reward ourselves for bad behavior we feel better.

Don’t judge me, it’s the truth.

Here’s logical proof: I had to get a crown last week. My teeth were behaving badly. Therefore, I’m behaving badly. I purchase a pair of heels. All is right with the world. And my tooth and feet now look spectacular.

The total cost for this dental visit plus shoes? Don’t remind me. Then I’ll start feeling bad again and the cycle will repeat itself. I told you, I have SMA, I can’t help myself.

So, without further adieu, I present my latest conquest. The mother of all shoes. The Nanette Lepore Provocative Heel:

I was feeling sorry for myself last week after my crown, that’s when the dreaded SMA kicked in. I’ve been drooling over these babies for months and I finally decided that I simply had to make these runway pumps mine. I want to pretend I’m Heidi Klum for a day, so sue me.

Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking, “Come on Ms. Pink, you’re a SAHM, you chase kids for a living, are you really going to do it in 4.5 inch heels?”

And then there’s this: “The economy sucks! How can you even consider investing in a pair of frivolous, albeit totally hot, shoes? Shame, shame on you Ms. Pink!”

Quite simply, my answer is yes and double yes! You’d be amazed how many kids I can catch in a pair of stilettos and right now ladies, it’s better to invest in a pair of shoes instead of the stock market. Ya, I’m in denial, so what? I HAVE THE SHOES!

A girl needs to feel pretty every once in a while, and these sexy shoes do the trick. They are by far, the nicest, priciest shoes I’ve every had. And me and my teeth waited a full 29 years for them (ahem, 36, but who’s counting?).

BUT OH MY GOD! OMG! OMG! OMG!

Look at the lush black velvet, the supple leather sole, the peep toe sexiness, and the elegant throw-back-to-the -1940’s black satin bow. My root canal feels better already.

Ok, so I shouldn’t have spent so much. But at least I didn’t get those Carrie Manolos I’ve been dying for since Sex and the City bid us farewell. I just feel that there are times as moms that we need to give ourselves permission to feel like a princess, even if only for a moment. Treat yourself to something fabulous when you are feeling down. You just have to do it in moderation.

So, if you are down in the dumps, no need to call a head doctor. Try my home remedy, just be sure to follow the rules:

Rule #1: It doesn’t have to be an “expensive”, designer splurge. Heck, if a big, fat, bowl of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia makes you feel better, then go ahead and dig in.

Rule #2: It doesn’t have to be “materialistic.” For many of us budget is a big factor in an economy like this, as it should be (though, you’ve got to admit, those provocative pumps are to die for). After a rough day at the office, cave into your craving to grab a glass of chardonnay and jump into a hot bubble bath while the kids argue downstairs. Go ahead, you’ll feel better!

Rule #3: If it makes your day a little brighter, your step a little higher, and your heart a little lighter, then go ahead an indulge.

Fact is,

We’re moms.
We’re human.
We have our good and bad days.
We all have to go to the dentist.
So when you have a downer, treat yourself right.

As for my case of SMA, well, I’m afraid I’m too far gone for help. But I will keep you posted and take lots of pics when I wear my Nanette’s to hubby’s Christmas soiree in December. Ya, the other ladies are gonna be so jealous! OUCH! Darn crown!

One thing that I have come to love about the blogging community is that we love to award and encourage each other’s writing. And let’s face it, mine needs all the encouraging it can get! That’s why when my buddy Petra over at Wise Young Mommy gave me this international Portuguese award, I was speechless. I mean, little ‘ol me? This little ‘ol blog? So deserving from the goddess of -cover your ears- dildos?

And then there is my buddy Jen over at Creative and Curious Kids, who bestowed this fabulous award on me. If you’ve never read Jen’s blog, then get over there, she will inspire you to be like Martha Steward. God bless her! Her crafts and art projects look like they belong on the Rachel Ray show and all I can say is if mine ever looked half that good, I’d be in heaven! Now for the 5 things I love:

1. My hubby and daughters.
2. Rainy days and PB&J
3. Storytime
4. Baking Christmas cookies with the girls
5. My new pair of shoes (you’ll see them in the next post…I promise!).

And let’s not forget another one of my favorite blogs - Lydia over at On the Verge who gave me my first EVER Butterfly Award & Collage Award. And, in case you didn’t know it, I LOVE butterflies. Wow talk about a lucky day! So, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Passing on these gracious goodies to the following delicious blogs I realize it’s a package deal, so just accept them with grace and don’t worry if you’ve already received one of them. I just wanted to “honor” your blogs and give you some linky love :

9to5to9
The Not So Blog
Sweet n Sassy Girls
Glamorous Housewife
Outnumbered Two to One

So, have fun with these awards and send the bloggy love around the blogosphere! Enjoy your weekend!

I’m rooting for the turkeys!

In honor of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, the next couple of weeks I will be posting my favorite “Thanksgiving” themed books for your reading pleasure.

Drum roll....dum, dum, dee-dum!

Announcing this weeks pick: A Plump and Perky Turkey by Teresa Bateman and Jeff Shelly (illustrator). First, does it get any cuter than the title? That alone makes me and my girls giggle. But this book goes way beyond it’s promising title to deliver an adorably whitty, funny, and captivating tale of a turkey who desperately wants to escape being “eaten.” Yes, Pete the turkey is extremely smart and daring as he comes up with brilliant ways to disguise himself from those who would want to take a bite of his wing.
Literally

What my daughters and I love most about this book is the with wonderful rhythm and rhyme in the text. The pictures are full of interesting details and often quite funny. I find that all of us do a lot of laughing throughout the story and they ask to read the “turkey book” every night.

My daughter’s kindergarten class is also making “turkeys” and reading the book as a classroom project for the Thanksgiving holiday. Each child has been asked to “disguise” a turkey with their favorite costume. I love this project because it also reinforces both reading comprehension and tactile and artistic learning. Get creative. Combining and book your children love to read with an art project is great learning fun for you both!

My girls give this book a “Turkey” two thumbs up!

Let me begin by defining exactly what a “WowWee” is. I promise, it’s nothing along the lines of Whoo-Ha or Thingamabobber.

Words can be deceiving.

The WowWee is something that has infiltrated the mass media with it’s adorable purr and cute life-like actions. This cuddly, furry, purry, animal is on the “hot list” for Christmas this year according to Time Magazine and my 5 year old daughter. And as all of us with daughters know, they are always right when it comes to what’s hot and what’s not.

Naturally, I did the mature thing and demanded that Santa send me one pronto so that I would avoid yet another Christmas where all of these must-have toys sell out and I am left to give my daughters a left-over annoying talking Elmo’s and turkey.

No way, not this year.

So, sure enough, Santa (aka my best friend Amazon) delivered this hot little baby to my door today and I tore open the box to see what all of the fuss was about.

At first, I was a little freaked out when I gazed at the WowWee Lion Cub sitting so comfortably in his box. He looked so life-like (for an over priced stuffed animal) that I was afraid it would leap out of the box and take a chunk out of my leg. Instead, I found the courage and pressed the “try me” button.

Awwwwww!

The sweet little cub purred and batted his eyes at me. Maybe this thing was worth the $45 bucks I paid (FYI: Amazon has the cheapest price by far on these critters + free shipping…I’m just sayin’).

And to tempt us moms and dads even more, WowWee has figured out a way to screw us out of more of our hard earned money. You guessed it! There are four adorable different animals to choose from: Cub, White tiger, Panda, and Polar Bear. It’s enough to make you gag (sorry, still have that puke post in my head).

But, awwwww! It’s so darn cute! Maybe Santa can bring me one too.

It occurred to me that I haven’t formally introduced my three “pink” daughters. So, here ya go:

The Rider (aka Pinkerbell):

The Gymnast (aka Pandi):

And…The Destroyer (aka Sweet Pea…known for coloring on newly refinished hardwood floors):

It’s a chore that never quite gets completely finished at my house. Laundry. I wash, dry, press and fold, yet there is always something missing. Something small, warm, and completely necessary to my families daily needs.

Socks.

No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot figure how a matching sock completely disappears into thin, blue air. It’s like they get into the dryer, have a quick happy hour with the shirts and pants, play a game of tag with the boxers, and then take off for some unknown tropical destination just as I open the dryer to pull ‘em out. Or perhaps it’s an alien abduction, the kind you read about but never think will happen to you…or your socks.

But suddenly,Poof! In an instant my hubby’s matching black Polo sock is suddenly traveling in cognito and my daughter’s pink puppy sock mate is off to the pound.

Clearly, these mismatched socks have some sort of secret life in which I’m blissfully unaware.

Where do they go when I toss them from washer to dryer? How do they get away? And most importantly, how can I get them back? I mean, clearly their mates miss them. Pinkerbell’s pink puppy sock is horribly depressed as it lays stuffed in the back of her drawer awaiting it’s partner’s return. Not to mention that my daughter misses her other sock horribly. She simply can’t bring herself to wear that cute pink puppy shirt I bought until she can once again be reunited with the pair of puppy socks. She’s a girly-girl, everything has to coordinate.

Wanted: Puppy Sock to Match This One:

And my husband. Poor guy. He’s in an awful state every morning has he grumpily sifts through his sock drawer in puzzled wonderment of how every single sock is grossly mismatched. “Honey! Why don’t any of these match?” he sighes, as if I’ve secretly conspired with the socks.

Humph.

Conspire.

Yes, perhaps that’s what’s really going on here. A conspiracy. Maybe those matching mates aren’t traveling to Tahiti or St. Bart’s to bask in the warm rays of the tropical sun as they giggle at my fruitless efforts to find them. Maybe the aliens aren’t really using them as useless hats as they blast through outer space.

Maybe, just maybe, those sneaky socks planned it all along…

I bet it started way back when I bought them in the store. I was so overjoyed to find just the right color of navy blue for hubby. And I it was a symphony of song when I plucked those adorably cute puppy socks from the cleanence pile at Gymboree so sure I had found the perfect matching accessory for my daughter’s puppy shirt.

They planned their exit strategy a couple of weeks after they met my daughter’s dainty little feet, those darn hooligans. They lay in wait for the perfect time to disappear from our lives as quickly as they had entered them. They lurk in the wash cycle and plot their getaway amidst the audible gasps of the offended tops and pants.

Why?

Why are these socks so inclined to pull a fast one on us?

Why do they set us up for failure and crying princesses?

And why, can’t we ever intice them to come back?

Because the truth of the matter is that if you are born a sock, then you’re at the bottom of the totem pole. Literally. Socks, you see, get the privilege of keeping stinky, sweaty, smelly feet warm. You get kids smearing dirt all over you, babies drooling on you, and moms and dads tossing you into the laundry like you are some sort of second class citizen.

So, now, whenever I lose a sock, though I morn the loss, I also understand that socks have a secret life of their own. A place where they are respected and never stepped on. Their feelings are not shoved aside for the likes of a “sexier” shirt or skirt.

That being said, I have one final plea:

Please, pink puppy sock, if you are out there - anywhere - my daughter really wants you back. I’ve never seen her so heartbroken. She really loves you and promises not to stomp on mashed sweet potato with you ever again (don’t ask). She wants you back, stains and all. And so do I. For the love of God, get your #$&*&@! back here.