The Makeup Artist

My secret to keeping a youthful appearance? Having a young makeup artist. His application techniques are unorthodox, and he takes a lot of bold risks with color and shading, but I always feel so glam when he’s around.

Lookin’ Out For Each Other

Lola and I are the only two in this family to need glasses, the only ones to know how great it feels to see the world again without smudges and fingerprints and frames off-kilter on the nose.

So we try to look out for each other, pun intended, with the lens wipes and reminders to rinse those frames.

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Making Their Space

Miss C’s room in Northern Virginia in 2011

Question #1121: What’s one chore or task you love doing?

Of all the chores or tasks I do, I love making up my children’s bedrooms. Note that I didn’t say I like cleaning their rooms: that’s an important distinction. There is no pleasure in going into their spaces when it looks like the laundry hamper, their libraries, AND their school bags have exploded all over the place. If I have to get involved in cleaning their rooms, it’s rarely a pleasant experience.

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Little Man

All the boys got haircuts yesterday. After collecting his curls for the keepsake book, I buzzed him, which was easiest given all the cowlicks he inherited from his Dad. We were surprised to discover that his hair only grew from the top and around the crown of his head. Baby hair is so weird!

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Skipping the Gym

This is usually the time I go into my gym and get moving, but two out of four of my ducklings aren’t feeling well, and they both prefer leaning on Mom while waiting for the meds to help. And I admit, an early-evening nap with a cuddly toddler is a lot more enjoyable than several sets of lunges and crunches.

Boy Mom

My cousin Andy recently said it’s easy to forget that Jaz is only 7 years old when you talk to him because he’s like this much older intellectual trapped inside a tiny body. I was reminded of that over the weekend when we ditched the girls and headed off to explore old town Salzburg ourselves. We talked about food, gifts, art, Catholic saints, holiday budgets, ice skating, and the fact that Mozart, too, was a precocious little boy.

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My Last One

How many late nights have I paced the room with a baby on my shoulder? This one — my last one — is getting heavier and heavier. I’m going to miss this when I can no longer pick him up.