June Cleaver Nirvana

I’m filling in for Holly today--because she invited me, and also because I’m positive that she needs a break. She has to! Look at all she does. This blog, Burbmom.net, raising kids, wife...the list goes on and on.

So I’m providing the break, and though I know you’ll miss her, I hope you’ll forgive her for the hiatus and read my little story.

There’s also the added benefit that I’m giving away a prize! Now, that’s motivation, isn’t it, because everyone loves free things?

Here we go...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved books. She loved writing. Crazy, I know, but she actually enjoyed essay assignments and treasures a paper she earned an A- on because the professor wrote on it that she should never change her captivating writing style.

Book Nerd, that’s her.

This girl grew up to be a woman, earned her teaching credential [in English, of course], fell in love, got married, had a career as a teacher, had kids [2], became pregnant again and was rapidly losing her hair from trying to juggle...er...life.

She moved with her growing family from the Sacramento Valley to the San Francisco Bay Area and spent the next six months in a rental house, trying to hold down the food that just wanted to creep back up her esophagus, killing the swarming ants that just wouldn’t go away, and taking care of her boys while her husband’s career blossomed.

She began to write...just to keep her sanity.

But, again, as it tends to do, life marched on despite the vomiting and ants. A third boy was born, and though the woman was hailed as a ‘pura mujer’ by her grandmother-in-law because she had birthed so many boys--and we all know how much more valuable and honored boys are over girls, right? [Argh! Don’t get me started...]-- writing took a back burner in the woman’s life.

The family bought a house in a different Bay Area city and moved, time passed, and finally the woman sold a children’s story. It became a book, and then she had another baby--this time--gasp--a girl. Her reputation as a ‘real woman’ faltered [only slightly], but she kept writing, and the family tried to put down some roots.

Only they didn’t.

Life intervened again. They ended up going back to that appealingly HOT Sacramento Valley. One thing led to another and--well--they had one more child. A fourth boy. The woman’s ‘pura mujer’ status was firmly in place again, but alas, her hair was thinning and she was rapidly losing grey matter with each passing day. Her brain was turning to mush. Again, she tried to find balance.

She started writing again, but sadly, with her daily life surrounded by children, she was drained and, as they say, had lost her muse. She found she didn’t want to write children’s stories. No. She wanted to write about adults! About people who swore occasionally [but only in Spanish, and only when pushed to the very limit]! Mystery! Sex!

Thus her fictional alter-ego was born. And she was called: Dolores ‘Lola’ Cruz.

Lola is who this woman would have been had she been born Latina. With a crazy desire to be a private investigator [and an even crazier family]. If she was sexy. Sassy. A black belt in kung fu.


It took six years from writing the first word to publication [did I say the book was released today?]. It took writing in the wee hours of the morning. It took understanding from her family. It took more balance than she’d ever thought possible when she started teaching again, had her five kids to carpool around, and wrote during every possible stolen moment. It took a move from California to Cowboy-land [aka Texas] so that she could write full time and the family could still maintain their quality of life.

And now, on the day of her book release, she’s realized that she’s many things: A woman. A mom. A wife. A teacher. A daughter. A friend.

And an author. Finally!

She persevered. She held true to her dreams. She modeled these things for her children. And her second career was realized.

And, thankfully, she still has hair.


The End



And now, here’s the really good part... One lucky commenter will be randomly chosen to win a copy of this woman’s book! All you have to do is tell us all what your very favorite book is? The one you escape to when you’re in that ‘Calgon, take me away’ moment.

Also, be sure to stop by MisaRamirez.com to enter the February contest to win other fun prizes [of course for those, you have to buy and read Living the Vida Lola, but it’s a really fun book, so go ahead and indulge!].



Note from Holly:
Ya'll know I can't stay away...
Misa Ramirez's debut novel Living the Vida Lola is being released TODAY, January 20th. So...

Leave a comment naming your favorite book to win a copy OR go buy it today!

First order of business--

Did ya notice?

Did ya notice?

If you are on a reader, please click through to bask in my blog make-over. A big thanks to Shauna who took action yesterday and waved her magic HTML wand over the Nirvana. It is still a work in progress, but I am loving it.


Second order of business--

I have started a "Featured Favorites" blog box to the right....

I am going to update it weekly with some of the blogs I absolutely adore.


Third order of business Let's have some fun!

Today we are visiting Meg at A Mom Two Boys for my favorite classic holiday tale:

The Adventures of Holiday Dog

Yeah! This is one of my favorite stories...

Go!

The orange couch will still be here when you return.

Last night I was trying to figure out what to do today and realized it was going to be Wednesday and realized that I hadn't officially asked anyone to let me steal their work and realized it was getting late and realized I usually have these things lined up weeks in advance and realized...crap.

So I sent out an SOS on twitter.

And I am so glad I did because one of my very favorite bloggers reminded me of this post. I love this journey into the land of Barbie. A very distant and foreign country from my house. A big thanks to EATPLAYLOVE for rescuing me. And now we know what she was making room for in her garden by vacuuming bugs:

The Orange County Beach House Armageddon

Let's take a moment and envision the "closed doors" meeting at Mattel, the unearthing of a brand new Barbie. All the details are meticulously planned out, right down to the packaging. Hundreds of hours of overtime have gone into the final product. Large glossy color posters adorn the board room.

Eyebrows raise at the unveiling, side conversations begin. It's the birth of a new Orange County Barbie. The executives are in love. Simply in love.

Just for the sake of detail, let's even imagine an argument ensuing over the number of twist ties that hold the O.C. Barbie into her packaging and the sewing of her hair onto cardboard to create the perfect effect. The argument was a shot in the dark, from a real life mother and top Mattel Designer, to give all of us consumers of Barbie a voice at last. She knows what it's like, ripping into the box, can't move your hands fast enough, the scissors get caught up, all while a four year old is screaming, "I WANT IT NOW"!

The new, latest and greatest Barbie hitting in mass quantities at every local big box retailer straight off the boat from Taiwan (so Mattel can boast in today's climate, not made in China) is complete with a twenty piece line of accessories. Cell phone, purses, a small arm held pooch, lovely black eyeliner, gravity defying ta-ta's, a gorgeous hybrid convertible, and a Laguna Beach House. Orange County Barbie has it all.

But what the executives fail to see, is after her newness wears off, Barbie sits in a bin with the other cast off Barbies. Crammed to the gills, next to accessories, clothing, missing shoes, brushes, and glitter. Her hair becomes rather nappy in a gorgeous Hippie Barbie kind of way. Maybe someone even brought her into the bathtub and applied bar soap to her shiny coiffed locks.

Eventually her Laguna Beach House is replaced by some other latest and greatest marketed toy. And then it happens, it finds it's way into the backyard, because no mother in her right mind would house and unwanted Barbie Beach House in the confines of a organized bedroom or playroom to collect dust.

See these days, Barbie is rolling up in her Tonka Dump Truck, to her weathered abode. Shaking her head and wondering where the good old days of glamour have gone?!





***The identity of this Barbie has been changed to protect her innocence in the Blogosphere. Please note, she sold her diamond ring to pay for back taxes on her house when her secondary role in Sex and The City was cut.


Thanks EATPLAYLOVE so much...and yes the check is in the mail.
*cough*
Mr. Linky will return sometime soon!

YEAH! After a little break, It's not me, it is you is back! Mr. Linky is below for you to share a shopping-related post. AND if Target is involved you get extra credit because....

Asking to use the following post was OBVIOUS. She had me at the first picture. Be still my Target-loving heart. She is....Jenni from Jiggety Jigg! Jenni, of course, is awesome. I was going to suggest sharing a room at BlogHer this summer, but now I am a little frightened she would bring her freaky 5-ft. Santa/karaoke combo.. Please enjoy the following freaky 5-ft. Santa/karaoke combo-free story about her long-suffering husband:

***

WAYS I MAKE IT HARD TO LOVE ME

I make you wait at the top of the cool escalators at the swanky new Target with my cart so I can get to the bottom first in order to take a picture of you coming down with it.

But it's for my bloooooog, hun! Come on! It will only take two seconds!

So here he is...working hard to look all casual in his Chuck Norris t-shirt while he rides down next to my Target haul...



Target Dude behind him is all, "That broad must not get out much..."

But seriously how LEGIT cool is that cart escalator?

I needed to get a picture, right?

And ALSO!

How fabulously terrific is my husband for humoring me?

You can clearly see he was sooooo wishing he had just stayed in the car...



Maybe if I refuse to look at her, people will think she is just a random crazy woman snapping pictures of strangers and they will NOT realize I am actually married to her...

***

And now it is YOUR turn. Please link directly to your shopping related post below! People not linking directly to posts may encounter freaky 5 ft. tall Santa/karaoke combo.'s unexpectedly in their kitchen in the middle of the night after having their link removed.

Hi, My name is Holly and I am a low maintenance girl.

It isn't that I don't like to look nice.
It isn't that I don't want to look nice.
It is just it takes so much effort...

I have tried to change.

If you don't believe me, please click here for the story how I nearly caused the heart attack of a Barney's world famous make-up artist.

The good news for my low maintenance ways is that I recently found a haven...

(read my full make-over story over at Blah Blah Blog HERE)

FYI: Shauna who is one of my partners in my burbmom.net adventure writes the Blah Blah Blog...

Mr. Linky is below for posts related to a MISUNDERSTANDING.

Today I am turning over the Nirvana to capable hands. VERY CAPABLE hands. It is Jenn from Juggling Life. She is a beacon of hope for those of us in the trenches of toddlerhood. She has made it through and still maintains a sense of humor. Jenn linked to this post a few weeks ago and it makes me laugh every time I think about it...

In Which A Miscommunication Occurs

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away Once upon a time When Grown-up Girl (GuG) was less than half as grown up as she is right now, she was on the cusp of puberty. Because I believe everyone should be educated and informed, I bought her this book. Because it's just the kind of girl she is, she devoured the book. She walked around for days with her nose in the book, and frequently gave impromptu quizzes on puberty trivia. She was indeed educated and informed.

One night she was at the grocery store with her Grandma. They ran into the mother of a friend of GuG's. A grocery store conversation ensued. You know the kind; you park your cart to the side of the frozen vegetable aisle as though you are only temporarily stopped, but you proceed to chat for at least fifteen minutes. The conversation centered on softball, and the girls, and oh-how-fast they are growing. GuG's contribution to the conversation was this, "You should totally get Desiree The What's Happening To Your Body Book For Girls. It's really good, it tells you everything you should know about masturbation."

Well, okay then. Sounds good. Good-byes were said, and as carts were pushed down the aisle the enlightened, liberal adults thought, "Hmmmmm, that's interesting."

Three nights later, as we ate dinner, Grandma included, GuG looked up from her baked potato in horror and shrieked, "Did I say masturbation?! I meant menstruation! You have to call Desiree's mother right now!

Of course, we reassured her that Desiree's mother probably didn't even notice, and that is was no big deal, and not to even worry about it rolled on the floor laughing as we cried and peed our pants.


And now it is your turn. Please link directly to your MISUNDERSTANDING post:

MR. LINKY is below! Please link to a marital tale (funny, nice and sweet tales preferred).

Connie from The Young and The Relentless who brings us a funny tale of marital strife was my inspiration for today's theme. She linked to this post two weeks ago during the Nirvana funniest post extravaganza. Here is Connie (and her husband, Calvin) in her post entitled:

Puss in a Box


The other day, I was going through Alex's closet, taking out clothes that don't fit anymore and making room for more. I found a forgotten box of beanie babies and pulled it off the shelf. When we moved to Utah, I put them up there until Alex was older. I opened it up and it was a bunch of kitties.

Fun, I thought. The kids will love these!



Calvin came home that night and began to freak out.

Calvin: Why are my kitties all over the floor!

Me: Those are your kitties? I just found them in Alex's closet. I didn't know where they came from.

Calvin: {counting kitties} I had them in my apartment and one of them is missing. A white one. Where is my white kitty!

Me: {still confused} It has to be here somewhere. Is it a special kitty?

Calvin: No, I just....I had them displayed in my apartment.

Me: You did? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have dated you if you had kitties displayed in your apartment. You must have hid them before I came over everytime. I mean the action figure displays were almost a deal breaker.....

Calvin: My Mom gave them to me when she gave up on me having kids. Let the kids have them...but I'm keeping the black one for myself. {Calvin affectionately pets ZIP the Kitten.}

This is what Calvin looked like when I met him....



We will be celebrating our 4 year anniversary next week. I am still amazed at the stuff I find out about my husband that cracks me up! And then I fall in love with him all over again!


Now it is your turn to tell a marital tale. It can be a new or old post, but please link directly to it or I will come over and short-sheet your marital bed and then take down your link.

WHAT SHOULD HOLLY MAKE FOR DINNER?

Please link your suggestions--past posts, new posts, recipes, take out numbers, private chefs, etc. below in Mr. Linky!

There will be karma bonus points for anyone who suggests beef dishes that I could actually make (and by actually make I mean actually make)!

This week I am featuring my dear bloggy friend, Rachel. She feeds her family well. She is also concerned about my lack of feeding my family and has been posting fabulous recipes every Monday at A Southern Fairytale and sending me secret recipes via email.

The following recipe is my favorite to date.
It is easy!
It is fun!
It is yummy!


If your mouth isn't watering just looking at that picture... well, then you're certainly not a Texan.

This dish is easily adjustable and one of my favorites.
It is crispy and spicy and the flavors just explode on your tongue in a wonderful tonguegasmic taste fiesta.
I can crockpot it or leave it simmering on the stove for hours while I blog read clean house and teach my children to speak multiple languages.
The ingredients are simple and the recipe is a dash of this and a can of that.

So here goes.

Texican Hash

* 2 pounds of lean ground beef (I use 90/10)
* 2 packages taco seasoning
* 1 can corn (big can)
* 1 can black beans (big can)
* 1/4 C nacho sliced jalapenos, chopped
* 3 chipotles in adobo sauce, chopped
* 1 large yellow onion, chopped
* 1 (7 oz) can diced green chilies
for the topping and layering
* Shredded cheddar or Mexican Blend Cheese
* 1 bag corn tortilla chips
* Sour cream and green onions and salsa for garnish

In a very large skillet or stock pot brown Ground Beef and then cook according to taco seasoning instructions.
Now comes the fun part :-).
Dump all of the ingredients in with the ground beef and stir well. Bring to a lovely bubbling heat and then turn the heat down to simmer, put the lid on it and simmer for at least 30 to 45 minutes, stirring occasionally.
(You could let this simmer for hours if you so desire, just stir occasionally)

In a 9X13 (or whatever sizes you have handy) baking dish place a layer of corn tortilla chips. Top with hash. top with cheese.
Repeat until dish is full. Finish off with a layer of chips and cheese.
You could purty it up by laying sliced jalapenos on top of the cheese.

Heat in a 375 degree F oven until the cheese is all gooey and melted and bubbling like hot delicious cheesy lava.

Scoop out onto a plate or bowl, top with sour cream, salsa and green onions. Devour.

You can come back and thank me later.

This is one of those delightfully easy dishes that can be adjusted to your family's spiciness level or you can take away or add all different kinds of ingredients to make it your own.

* you can add diced tomatoes or charro beans or whatever you want to make this your own. I use one hot and spicy taco seasoning and one original. Enjoy!!!


Please link directly to your post below!

WHAT SHOULD HOLLY MAKE FOR DINNER?

Mr. Linky is below! Please link to your funniest post (or at least something that makes you laugh...)

Today's post is by one of my favorite bloggers. It is Heidi from Frantically Simple. Heidi is a funny girl. Heidi can tell a story. Heidi made me laugh coffee through my nose with this post (the computer company logo picture). Heeeeeeeere's Heidi!


Once upon a time there was a Heidi.

The Heidi family had a husband,

a daughter,

and a dog.

Sidenote: Other actors tried out for the part of Shasta

but none were quite right for the role.

Heidi liked to write.
Heidi also liked to color with markers.
Even though she was officially a grown-up.
For some reason no one could tell, Heidi liked to share her "art" with others. On the internet.
This is Heidi's computer.

It is a laptop. It is three months old.
It does not smell like a lemon.
It does not look like a lemon.
But Heidi thinks it is a lemon.
If you look close you can see it says this:

Heidi has had nothing but problems with her computer. Heidi wishes she had gotten a Mac, but Heidi's husband needed to use her new computer until his new job supplied him with a new laptop and a Mac was incompatible with his software.
If you understood that sentence, Heidi is impressed.
One day Heidi was trying to scan some of her drawings.
It was not working.
Heidi was angry.
Heidi was frustrated.

Heidi was not sure why her laptop would no longer speak to three printers or a scanner.
It had become an aloof lemon.
Or why the 's' sticks, turning words like "sticks" into "tick".
Heidi has to watch carefully for ticks.
(Alternate line: It has caused Heidi to develop a tick.)

Heidi called Dell.
Dell said, "We do not wish to help you, Heidi. Please call the Geek Squad."
Heidi called the Geek Squad.
The Geek said, "We would be happy to help you, Heidi. Please give us $200."
Heidi became really angry.
She did not give the Geek $200. She took a nap.
Sometimes Heidi deals with her emotions like that.
She might have dreamed about doing this:

but she did not.
When she woke up her Husband asked her to go for a drive.
He drove and drove and drove.
After an hour he ended up at a fruit stand.
A fruit stand that sells only Apples.
He said, "Heidi, why don't you buy a new laptop?"
Heidi said, "Um, ok." And smiled really big.
The Fruit Seller said, "The new iphone just came out. Please get in line. For two hours."
Heidi obeyed.

But then Heidi remembered that she is a homeschool teacher now.
That means that she qualifies for a big discount.
But she had no proof. She needed an Official Homeschooling Mama badge from the state. But she doesn't have one yet.
So she left the line,
gave Mr. Frantic a big kiss,
and went home.
Then she remembered that as much as she wants a new laptop, she needs a new:

So she is calling the Geek Squad tomorrow.

Heidi may not have a new laptop, but she has a great husband.
And he is totally compatible with her software.

***
And now it is YOUR turn. Please link directly to your funniest post.

(If the link doesn't go directly to the post, I will be forced to send out wild dogs to chew up your legs and then they will return and take your link down. Those mean dogs.)



Thanks for playing!

programming note: Mr. Linky is returning next Wednesday for you to link to your funniest post. I know you have one. I want to read it!

This week I convinced Shallow Gal to let me steal her post. (Yes, it is Le ShallowGal if you want to get all fancy...) I recently found her. It was love and first read. I loved her originality and wit, but what sealed the deal is her absolutely amazing use of the footnote. The posts are funny, very funny and then you get to the footnotes...

This post is *NOT* about my children

PCSguy is concerned. He feels that I spend too much time blogging about my children and that I will lose readers unless I expand topically.

So today I will post about my lonely sock basket. You can thank him yourself later.

Every organization expert has a way of dealing with this age-old problem. The worst one I ever saw was a clothesline behind the dryer with single socks clipped to it for easy reference. That's so mean. All the missing socks are probably hiding under the dryer already and then they see their mate just hanging there, mere inches beyond their grasp. Plus I'd need like 3 miles worth of clothesline.



He built it from scratch in his workroom. Don't get me wrong, I loved my father-in-law very much but still, I dread the day PCSguy retires.

I may pile all the bills in small stacks throughout the house, nowhere near the checkbook or stamps. But for socks, I have a system. I'm not going to say it's the highlight of my month but that's just because Nordstrom has sales in June, July and November.

Once a month I empty out all the socks. I always start with the black and blue ones.


Honestly, I'm not truly the anal type. My kids dress themselves and a lot of times, yes, they look like orphans. I don't have control issues. Except about socks. Rule number one: Once placed in the lonely sock basket, a resident cannot be released until the exact match is found. It's like the Hotel California for socks.

Now I may not be able to identify my children by name on the first try, and there's no chance I could pull out a fact like how old they were when they lost their first tooth. But I can tell you to the minute how long each sock has been in that box and the circumstances surrounding its arrival. It's all about priorities people.

See the teeny yellow cashmere sock all the way on the bottom right? I'd like you to meet LSB's longest resident. These socks were a baby gift from a friend of my mom's when Noa was born. The sock made it's grand debut in the LSB (2) back in September of 2000 after only one wearing. I'm 99% sure that it fell off Noa's foot at the pediatrician's office. Even if the mate did miraculously appear, there is no foot small enough in our house to ever wear this sock again. (3) Totally immaterial. Can you imagine how I'd feel if after holding on to this sock for EIGHT (4) years, I threw it away and the next day the mate showed up. Seriously? You think I'd laugh and write all about irony? Are you new here? Is this sock taking up enough real estate that it's worth that risk? No, I didn't think so. Moving on.

Next comes white with some kind of design:

I can hear you, Elizabeth in Maryland, wondering out loud why I can't just pair up those 2 orange champion socks in the top row together. You think that because they'll be unnoticeable under my sneakers that I could just loosen up a little. You could not be more wrong. Not even if you were the Queen of Wrongville.

Finally we're here. The grand finale. The white socks:


These guys are tricky. A true white sock match is almost unheard of. By now I notice nobody even considering suggesting the two on the bottom left look sort-of the same. And sure enough, no match today. However my mission is complete. All 59 single socks go back in the box until next month. I can go to bed feeling I accomplished something. (5)



1) We spent many hours discussing if I could help him get a patent on his "pants stretcher."
2) At the time a much smaller box. There are no lonely socks from before 2000 because before then I had a life.
3) Like I said, you can checkout anytime you want, but you can never leave.
4) At first I said seven years, like the blogger version of writing 2007 on a check, if I could find my checkbook.
5) Except it's only 3:24 so I can't really go to bed for like 4 more hours.

Programming note: A huge thanks to all who participated last Wednesday. I was overwhelmed by the response. There was some BRILLIANT stuff! Mr. Linky will return in 2 weeks for you to link to your funniest post.

My post today is from my dear bloggy friend Janet over at The Planet of Janet. She can make me laugh harder than almost anyone around. She posted this for last week's "It's not me, It's you Wednesday" Mr. Linky. She handpicked it for me because she thought I would enjoy it. She is good. I nearly fell off my chair...

Intestinal fortitude:

This is a difficult week for those of us of the Jewish persuasion -- of which I count myself a member.

It's Passover -- truly a lovely holiday that is all about the celebration of freedom from slavery.

I love this holiday. I love the traditions. I love the two nights of seder dinners with their traditional foods. I love the way the foods are meant to represent parts of the story -- the charoset (the mortar of the bricks the Jews made for the pharaohs of ancient Egypt), the bitter herb (representing the bitterness of slavery), the matzah (the unleavened bread that the Jews took on their flight from Egypt because they couldn't wait for the bread to rise).

Yes, I love it all.

Well, almost all.

I hope it's OK if I tell you a little secret:

Shhhhhh.

Matzah really IS the bread of our affliction.

Or, to put it another way: Holy Moses! I am so freakin' constipated!!!!!

Ah, matzah, I love you, but you do not love me.

There is nothing that binds us Jews together like the traditional solidifying of our intestinal tract into a concrete block.

And please, let's not talk about the after-effects of my favorite take-to-work-during-Passover lunch: melted cheese on a matzah.

That sound you heard was my colon grinding to a halt.

Now, when I was a small child and going to seders at the home of the family matriarch (my paternal grandmother -- and you BETTER not cross this woman ... and I'm serious, young lady!), there was always something that puzzled me about the meal.

She always served this nauseating fruit compote thing for dessert.

All us kids would stare at it in horror and try to pass it off to the person to our right. Uh, no thanks, Grandma. Really! I couldn't eat another bite!

Right nasty it was, all pale and slimy-looking in a bowl.

But it wasn't until years later that I had an epiphanous moment.

It was stewed fruit, people. Apricots, peaches and PRUNES!

My grandma knew even way back then the importance of this traditional phrase:

"Let my people GO!!!!!!!!!!"

What blog post would you want someone to read if they were ONLY going to read one?

Please link to YOUR post below in Mr. Linky!

***
I recently fell in love with a fellow blogger.
She has three boys. I have three boys.
She blogs. I blog.
She animates* her life. I animate my life.
*it should be noted that her animation is much more HIGH TECH and she has mad Photoshopping skillz

She writes Three Boys One Mommy and she graciously allowed me to re-run my favorite post of hers...
(you may click on the image to make it larger)

A True Story about Screech and Paper Cuts






And now it is your turn!
Please link DIRECTLY to YOUR BLOG post that...
You would want someone to read if they were only going to read one.

Julie is a friend who should have a blog, but doesn't. Her last Nirvana appearance was to upgrade my beaver trapping apparel. She is funny, cute and smart. She is a freelance writer at home with her three children. Today I am taking advantage of her blogless situation by posting the following story that she wrote:

Catalogs Save the Day
By Julie Blair Riekse

Confession: I am a total catalog junkie.

On any given day about 6 p.m., you’ll find my four-year-old twins floating in the tub while I perch atop the potty playing lifeguard. On my lap is usually a pile of dog-eared mags selling wares from J. Crew, Garnet Hill or my new favorite from England, Mini Boden.

While others might ply their minds with the national section of the local newspaper or a book of historical fiction, I prefer to segue into my evenings with something akin to Valium.

My husband, of course, thinks thumbing through a wrinkled copy of Pottery Barn Kids: Spring 2008 is a total waste of time. He is one of those intellectual types who memorizes maps and learns foreign languages in the space between shampooing and conditioning.

Mostly he worries that the glossies will actually hit their mark and lead to a purchase.

I guess I should tell him that PBK is the only reason I have yet to resign my post as stay-at-home mom.

Just looking at a picture of a color-coded playroom where children appear to share the mint green retro kitchen set gives me strength to make it through the bedtime battle then straighten up my own bomb-damaged rumpus room.

Moreover, I find that catalogs make me a more creative mother.

“Wow,” I’ll think to myself as I stroke a forefinger over the $36 “splat mat” advertised in Land of Nod. “I could make one of those out of the black trash bags to spare my new beige carpet the devastation of tempera paint.”

And so I do.

In addition, my catalog habit has resulted in healthier eating for our family.
I look at the apple-cheeked models in the Baby Gap Fall ad campaign and mentally remind myself to purchase organic grapes while at Sprouts later in the evening.

Occasionally, my catalogs even help me make friends.

While my husband has colleagues at work with whom to converse, I have “Elaine,” the operator at The Company Store.

Last Wednesday, when no girlfriend was available to take my calls, I spoke with Elaine about the potential purchase of a duvet covered in sunflowers.
“Well,” I told her, “I’m really cold down there in the Snoring Room at night so I think I need a new layer to add to the bed.”

“The Snoring Room?” she asked. “Why are you down in that guest room all by yourself, dear? You should have him get the Pillar Procedure. It stops 98 percent of all nasal reactions without the noise of one of those machines. My Earl did it five years ago and we’ve been back up in the master together ever since. Totally saved our marriage. Well, it was that and the cruise to Mexico. What’s your zip code, again, Honey?”

“75022,” I respond.

“That’s Dallas.” Elaine says. “If you can do the drive to Galveston, you might want to consider the Caribbean Royal Cruise Line.”

After 55 minutes on the phone, Elaine and I hang up.

I am thus completely refreshed and ready to scrub the pans in the sink.

Catalogs, too, give me a sense of the passing of time and encourage me to savor the precious moments with my own children.

My favorite Delia’s model—the one with the large blue eyes and the crooked front teeth—has really grown up since she became the retailer’s go-to girl three years ago. Last Christmas, her perfect mane was in pigtails now they’ve got her sporting these too-short miniskirts that make her look like a hussy despite the patterned schoolgirl knee-highs.

I swear. They grow up so fast.

I close my catalogs and put them away.

Gingerly, I lift my twins from the bathtub and gently wrap them in their towels.

Now, we’re ready for a good book.

***
Julie Blair Riekse is the President of the Metrocrest Parents of Multiples and a freelance writer. When the time comes, she always recycles her catalogs.