Daddy's Little Girl

Setting: This morning. The living room. Three year old Gracie is watching PBS kids and eating an apple. Will is straightening his tie before leaving for work. He bends down and gives Gracie kisses.

Will: Who loves you?

Gracie: Daddy does!!

Will: And how much does Daddy love you?

Gracie: A few million dollars!


There is no denying that Gracie is Daddy's little girl. She has been since before she was born. She was so rotten to me while I was pregnant with her. I was constantly sick and constantly kicked. And after a grueling 24 hour labor which resulted in an unexpected and very painful c-section, Gracie was passed over to my husband and given her first bottle while I spent three hours in recovery without even getting a chance to see her, let alone hold her.

Gracie turns three in a couple of days and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she loves and adores me. She is my very sweet and affectionate Prima Donna, and knows that when she is sad or sick or needs someone to pass her some stickers and a colored pencil, Mommy is the one to get the job done.

However, her big baby blues are still always fixed upon her beloved Daddy. They always have been and I'm sure they always will be. I don't mind, of course. Not when I know how much Will adores her back. There is nothing quite as sweet as a big strong Daddy with his three year old princess.

And anyway, I'm pretty sure that if she does get that few million dollars, she'll share with some of it with me. I am, as she says, her "precious sweet darling mama," after all.

Moving Madness

I hate moving. I hate the packing, the planning, the apartment hunting, and well, everything.

You wouldn't guess it as we move just about every other day. But I hate it. And actually, every other day is a slight exaggeration (only slight), but since Will and I were married three and a half years ago, we have packed and moved five times... and are currently getting ready for our sixth.

Ugh.

We are trying to be happy about it. Will has been offered promotions with his company in West Texas for about 6 months now, but we keep turning them down as we do not want to move to West Texas. I'm not too keen on rattlesnakes and tornadoes. We don't particularly like living in Austin, either, and have been talking seriously about moving since we got here about two years ago. However, we certainly didn't think when we moved it would be to Abilene.

But off we go. We finally decided he needs the promotion right now and that his career is more important than my fear of being bitten by a rattlesnake or sucked into a tornado. And besides, it will only be a year in West Texas before we can move back and figure out where to go from there (I'm debating whether we should even bother unpacking!!).

Gracie is able to put on a happy face for a silly picture, but in the real world she is really upset by all the talk of moving. My whole family is in Austin and we get together as often as humanly possible and more. This apartment is all that she remembers living in and the idea of a "better apartment, just like the little girl in the moving book" just pisses her off.

It certainly doesn't help any that we have to pack and move out in under a month. She just sits back watching us pack up her toys and clothes and scowls, saying, "I'm not going to move to a bigger and better house. I'm going to live in Austin, Texas."

Luckily, Annelie is too young to figure out what is going on and the packing boxes are just a whole lot of fun for her. She is a climber and now she has a jungle gym all over the whole apartment.

I'm trying to lessen the blow of moving, by letting the girls have wonderful picnics filled with their favorite lunches and dinner. It certainly makes my life easier and the picnic amongst the boxes is Gracie's favorite part of the day.

The meal of choice seems to consistently be a hot dog octopus sitting in a Ramen noodle ocean filled with bagged veggie fish. Part of me is completely ashamed (that would be the organic loving, cooking meals from scratch part) but the other part of me thinks that I am just preparing them for the cheap and easy crap they will eat once they get to college (yay, for Ramen). Its good to be prepared, right?

Kinda gross. But the girls are happy.

So my artwork is being packed. I will still have my shop open for the next few weeks, but wont be starting any new projects or working on any commissions. I hope all goes nice and smoothly and as painlessly as possible... but you never know when it comes to moving day!!

Killer Caipirinhas

My mother-in-law is back in town, which always means trouble of some sorts. The last time she was visiting, trouble took the shape of mass quantities of sugar frosted sweets.

This time, trouble is taking the form of the zippy Brazilian beverage known as the Caipirinha (pronounced KIE-PUR-REEN-YAH).

Yum.

In the two and a half months since she stayed with us last, my MIL has been backpacking all over South America. The gift she brought back for us was a lovely bottle of cachaça (pronounced KA SHA SA) which is a national product of Brazil. In the US, cachaça is labeled as Brazilian rum, but it differs from most rums as it is made from sugarcane juice, rather than molasses. Cachaça has a rich history dating back over 400 years. The Caipirinha is Brazil's hottest drink made with it.

As avid history lovers, Will and I were more than happy to partake in this exotic cocktail. So, without further ado, my MIL put on the CD she bought in Peru and got busy crushing limes and ice.

To make a Caipirinha, you need:

2 ounces of cachaça

sugar to taste

lime slices

ice

The ingredients are always crushed together in a glass using the blunt end of a wooden spoon or a wooden pestle made specifically for this task. Its pretty simple and you can alter how sweet or sour you want it to be by adding (or not) more sugar.

If you want to make this drink, but don't have cachaça handy, there are other variations. A Caipirissima is like the Caipirinia, but mixed with rum instead of cachaça. And if you use vodka, you will have a Caipiroshka.

Go ahead and give it a try. As the weather warms up, there is nothing quite like the zesty and sweet taste of a Caipirinha!

Baby Beautician

She's ready for her close up, Mr. DeMille.

Gracie is three, going on thirteen. I can't imagine what the make-up battle is going to be like when she hits her teen years. Right now, I think she is winning. She might dress herself up to look like a raccoon on acid, but she certainly has the sneaking make-up routine down perfect.

You know kids are up to something when you call out, "Honey, what are you doing?" and you get "Nothing" as the response. Nothing, of course, always means "cutting my hair," "strangling my sister," "sneaking the potty-training candy" or "eating your toothpaste."

Why can't they just say so in the first place?

Today, "nothing" meant "slathering thick and sticky grape flavored lip gloss onto my eyelids." And when I saw her face, Gracie gave me a winning smile and said, "I look like a princess."

Sure she does.

I don't know. I think she looks kinda retro seventies. A little vintage glamor girl. Too bad the lip gloss is as thick and sticky as war paint. I think we will be staying in for the next few days, because after wiping and wiping and wiping some more, her eyes are now all red and the purple has soaked into the skin giving her a nice bruised look. I'm not really prepared to have child protective services question my mothering abilities.

For all of you who love make up as much as my three year old, here are some things my might enjoy from some fabulous Etsy shops.

This Smootches handkerchief from Avril Loreti is the perfect thing to blot your lips.


These gorgeous lipsticks from Mineral Magic's shop are intended for the lips, not the eyelids. I'll have to let Gracie know that if I ever get her some, one day far, far away. But they are such beautiful colors! And all of the make-up pictures in this shop are smokin hot!


Looking for the hottest coin purse around? Look no further than Lindy Lou. This pink lipstick coin purse is just the thing you need for ... well, your coins. And probably a tube of lipstick.

Plus, Lindy Lou happens to be my mom. Holler!


And when it is time to wash your face clean, these oh so soft minky dot face cloths and make up remover pads from Antoinette's Boutique are perfect!

Enjoy!

Putting on My Big Girl Pants

I'm not very good at taking chances. Not a quality I admire in myself, thats for sure. When asked to describe myself, I don't generally say things like, "chicken" or "total coward."

But I definitely am.

Some of you readers might remember when I was first toying with the idea of opening Elegant Snobbery. It feels like a life time ago when I had knots in my stomach about whether to post a picture of my first snob for my blog readers to see (here). That was only just mid-December! If it wasn't for the encouragement of my blog readers, I don't know if I would have been able to take that leap and open up my Etsy shop. I just would have been too scared.

My confidence in myself has improved in the last couple of months. Its nice to know that there are people who have my artwork hanging up in their house. A little shocking, as I was never totally convinced that I would be more than just a girl who likes to draw, despite the fact that being an artist has always been what I dreamed of... But I do want to be successful and with every new illustration I draw and every picture that is purchased from my shop, I feel like I am finally reaching my goal.

Needless to say, I was completely appalled with myself when, after reading Macaroni and Glue's blog post about her Trunkt portfolio being accepted, I congratulated her and then went on to say that I could never apply to Trunkt, because I am such a coward. I just sat there for a few minutes, looking at my comment on her blog and thinking, "Well, Marisa, you don't deserve to ever be a success with an attitude like that."

So guess what I did? I put together a portfolio of my own and submitted it without ever giving myself a chance to look back, to ask questions, to doubt... and I got accepted!

I am, of course, excited beyond words. I feel honored to have my work up next to artists that I have admired for months and months. But mostly, I'm proud of myself for taking a leap and not being a total coward. Now, I am actually wondering what giant leap I'll be taking next.

Funny thing is, it doesn't feel so scary.

Happy Birthday on a Budget

In my family, we love to celebrate birthdays. Most people do, of course. Who doesn't love parties, cake and ice cream, a chance to celebrate something with people you love... and of course, presents?

Every year, my family celebrates 21 different birthdays (that might not seem like a lot, but I'm not even counting my husband's side of the family). Every month is covered in cake and ice cream, confetti and presents. And every month as our bank account dwindles, I think, "Wow, we spent a lot on those gifts!!"

As our budget is a bit tight, I'm always trying to figure out creative ways to say Happy Birthday with bells and whistles -- and without going broke.

Yesterday, we celebrated three birthdays: My older brother Dan, my teenaged cousin John, and my cousin-in-law, Craig. Three hard-to-shop-for guys.

And my budget: $10 -- total.

Did I stick to it? You bet! And the best part is, they really liked them. Always important when giving gifts from the heart... and for the belly.

I hit up my favorite store on the planet: The Dollar Tree. Between party bags, snacks, and cute Happy Birthday ribbon, I only spent a grand total of $8.

The guys loved their bags, which were instantly ripped into and eaten up, in the quick and careless way that only guys are born with.

I think I just might do gifts like this for everyone, all the time.

Especially during the holidays, when, in addition to all the winter birthdays, we celebrate Christmas. Thats 21 gifts to buy all at once. Talk about brutal.

For the Love of Sisters

When I see Gracie and Annelie playing together, I cannot help but smile.

I never had a sister, just a big brother who tortured me and teased me and did all the rotten things that big brothers do. When I knew I was having another girl, I couldn't help but cry. I was so happy that Gracie would have a sweet little sister to love and cherish, to share toys with and play dress up with, have tea parties with and play soccer with. And I was so happy that little Annelie would have an adoring big sister who never teased and never tortured and never did the rotten things big brothers do...

Who was I kidding?

Gracie loves her little sister. She especially loves to take away her toys, pour water on her head, steal her snacks, and wake her up when she is sleeping.

And of course, dump enormous quantities of sand on her head.

Enormous quantities.

Lucky for me, Gracie also loves to take baths with her sister.

And luckier still, Annelie is very, very forgiving, quick to get over things, and always up for a bath with her big sister.

I had friends back in school who despised their sisters. They fought like cats, stole each other's clothes, and sabotaged each other's dates.

I also had friends whose sisters were their best friends. They played sports with each other, went to the mall with each other, and always watched each others backs.

I'm hoping that by the time Annelie is old enough to stick up for herself, Gracie will have outgrown the torture game. And I'm holding my breath that they will one day fall into the latter category -- love, respect, and most of all be best friends with each other.

Sisters

When Nan and I were little
we sometimes used to fight:
she'd read my secret diary
and I would scratch and bite.

If she pulled up the window shade
I would want it down;
if she wore short pajamas
I'd wear a long nightgown.

But then we learned it's better
to have a sister-friend,
someone beside you in the dark,
someone to hold your hand.

Now we're glad my hair is long
and hers is short and curled.
The difference doesn't matter:
we're two against the world.

by Ruth Whitman

In the meantime, I know I have a lot of work ahead of me!

Funny how the bathtub has more sand than the sandbox ever did! Of course, besides cleaning up messy, tortured little sisters, I also have to clean the bathtub. Thanks, Gracie.