hollywood housewife

super sliders

If you follow me on Instagram, you know that I've been going through a heavy hamburger phase. I have no idea why. I like hamburgers, but for the last several months I just keep making them on the griddle over and over and over.

books on my bedside

You can see everything on my books page here.

I love to talk about what I've read, what I'm reading, what I want to read. I have an ever-growing stack of books on my bedside table, that threatens at all times to topple clear over. But in this current season of life with two tiny people and limited brain capacity, my reading time is precious. Instead of only sharing here the books I've already read (which is pretty slow going), I want to feature some of the books that stand in the queue.

moms in the hall

When I travel alone, I forget about my children. Not the second I’m out the door, not even on the airplane. But after hours of absence, after I’ve stowed the hotel room key, I become the person I am at the core, without attachment. It takes a disturbingly short amount of time for me to revert to the person I was when I was young, the person I’ve always been, who now gets buried in the heaps of responsibility and role.

It’s harder to make this break when I travel for pleasure. Girls trips have their own brand of baggage, and no matter how much lip service I pay justifying the escape, a knot of guilt stays in my stomach for the duration. This is not true for work weekends, though both are an equal investment in myself. When I’m away with a productive purpose, I block out everything else. Any reference to a life at home leads to a pause while I reshuffle my brain.

You see the other women in the broad hotel room hallways, seeking quiet outside of buzzing ballroom speakers.  The mothers are leaned against door jams, overstuffed totes on their shoulders, bags under their eyes. Their gaze is always far away, aimed at the oversized flower vase, not seeing it.

You can tell the ones who are saddened by this phone call, whose heart is wrenched over the separation from the high-pitched voice on the other end. You know that she is restless at night under hotel room blankets, mentally going over the lists she left for her husband, her mother-in-law, the housekeeper.  You can tell the mothers who stand in the same hallways, with a similar tote, who are making the phone call out of duty, because their phone alarm went off reminding them to call before bath time. They are pacing slightly, anxious to get back in the ballroom, milking every ounce of the expensive weekend.

I slept the whole plane ride back to Los Angeles after four days in Salt Lake City. My on switch had flipped to off and with that came a physical longing for my husband and the two little beings we’ve created. The driver pulled straight into my driveway without any direction from me, and I walked into a kitchen full of guests, their night just beginning as mine was ending. I forced my dehydrated lips into a weak smile and was relieved to tag out.

It was cool in the house with the January breeze flowing in and out of the open french doors. I dozed off while reading a friend’s manuscript and awoke with a start some minutes later. The house was quiet, but I realized I should turn on the hall light so my daughter wouldn’t awake to darkness. I had some time, but I couldn’t shake this menial task. My eyes wouldn’t close again, my face muscles wouldn’t relax. I got up and hit the switch. So I was a mother once again.

friday links - alt summit edition

I've been in Salt Lake City this week for Alt Summit, which explains my relative quiet this week on the blog and facebook. 

I've been a loud mouth on twitter, though!  You can follow me here for constant conference action.

Photos from the Alt "Clue" party, which was a blast.

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For your weekend reading pleasure:

I started off wanting to call this post "bold."  But it shouldn't be called bold, because that implies a stigma to this conversation.  So instead I'm just going to tell you that this is a good post.  Let's talk about the ETB (Early Thirties Breakdown). (Vita Familiae)

My friend Darrell is a conservative Republican. But he really, really wants to understand the other side, especially after such a divisive election. He's started a new project that I really respect.  My Obama Year.

This hit all too close to home.  It reminds me of my sweet husband, who is caring for our two tiny children while I galavant around a posh hotel with fashionistas.  (He would hate that I called him sweet.)  Fatherhood, I Now Learn, Is a Young Man's Game. 

As a writer, this is one of the best things I've read in a week.  It kinda kicked me in the tush, actually.  Salon's Guide to Writing a Memoir.

Don't forget that this week Tog + Porter is offering a $25 credit to HH readers only.  Details here.

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Happy weekend! 

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tog + porter special offer for HH readers!

Last week's Tog + Porter giveaway to the online personal stylist site was such a success that the company is offering a special deal just for HH readers!

If you register with Tog + Porter this week, HH readers with get a $25 gift credit with their $250 minimum box order. 

Remember, Tog + Porter doesn't charge for their consultation process.  You skype with a stylist, tell them your favorite looks or specific clothing desires, then they send you a box of awesome items.  You keep what you want, you return what you don't.  It's easy and convenient for the women with no time or inclination to shop.

Use code HH2013 at sign up to receive $25 towards your $250 purchase.  You have until midnight on Friday, January 25 to register with Tog + Porter for this offer. 

If you were thinking about doing this, now's the time!

escape to mom mountain

Mondays are my days to dissect motherhood.  It's not precision surgery.

I deleted the facebook app on my phone.  Again.  The first time was a few months ago when I could feel the distraction monster creeping up on me.  But then I traveled, or needed something to do with my hands somewhere, or, dare I say it, simply couldn’t be without an instant escape in my back pocket.

A long, long time ago I started using other people’s words as a distraction.  I read so much I don’t write.  I listen to talk radio so I don’t hear the voice in my head.  And I scroll to see what other people are up to instead of paying attention to what I’m doing.

Move along, there’s nothing new or revelatory here.  I’m a mom in the twenty-first century with attention and anxiety issues.  I struggle with admonitions to Be Present! Seize the Day! Practice Gratefulness! so I shrug my shoulders at such platitudes and click the home screen button.

My husband seems to enjoy the kids more than I do.  He’s relaxed around them, brimming with pride and happiness.  I often feel like I’m on the sidelines, looking in at their easy togetherness, clucking with worry and control. 

I don’t need as many distractions as I have.  No one does.  There are real and true things in front of me, or that I want, minutes I want to touch.  Minutes I’d love back, actually, but I’m not shooting for the moon.

A mom marks time by the pajamas her child used to swim in that are now too tight.  The seasons that seem never ending are over before I’ve had time to send a proper thank you note.     

But know that I’m thankful.

friday links - normal edition

We are enjoying a normal week since the last week in November, nearly six weeks ago.  We traveled to the east coast for Thanksgiving, then were home for just a few days before we flew to our lake house for a few weeks, unexpectedly to Oklahoma for a week, making it back to California in time to celebrate Christmas. Then on the first day of the new year we met my family in Colorado for a week in the snow.

I squeak things in through the cracks.  I return emails on my phone, quickly, and then only sometimes.  I remember, then forget, then remember again to call the contractor.  By the time I finish this paragraph, I’ll have forgotten again.  I have systems in place, systems that work, generally, but “organization” is about as effective as shooting a potato gun at someone playing tag.

This week, "normal" felt good.

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tog + porter stylist session and $250 gift {giveaway}

**This giveaway is now closed, but there's a special offer for HH readers from Tog + Porter here**

Tog + Porter is an online stylist service that helps busy people look their best.  I wrote all about my experience with Tog + Porter here.

I think it's such a great service for busy women who truly don't have time to shop or for women who would like to learn to shop better.  The best part...drumroll please...it's FREE.

finding a preschool in los angeles

Mondays are for mommies at HH.  Due to multiple requests, I've finally addressed how we handled the preschool decision this year. 

Cliff notes: it was a frustrating path with a happy ending.

The second that you even think about possibly getting pregnant in LA, well meaning folk start bending your ear about schools.  I have been hearing about various preschools and charter schools and private schools since before I was even married.  The prevailing wisdom is to start doing the preschool tours when you are pregnant with your child.  If you start when they’re six months old, you will probably get a tsk tsk, but you’re still well within range of making it.  If you start, as we did, when your child is two years old, most will just widen their eyes and clamp their mouths shut out of pity.  One woman at music class did actually laugh in my face.

this blog turns three

Please, I can't stop recapping.  You can read my personal thoughts on 2012 here, or see a year in pictures.

Three years ago today I started this blog.  I had been blogging quietly, privately, before that, but the idea for HH swirled around and around in my mind for months before I finally just did it.

In the past three years, I have learned so much while creating this space.  Most importantly, I have learned that a writing life is a long-end game.