Parenting

Crafts for the Uncrafty

“Cave Of Wonders” Birthday Cake (With Rainbow Interior)

I want to be humble about this one, but it took me five hours, so I'm not going to be. (Granted, the creation process might have been slowed down ever-so-slightly by the fact that I was catching up on the 2-part season finale of The Bachelorette while fondant-ing, but STILL.)

So. To recap, the make-an-impossibly-fancy-birthday-cake-for-my-child tradition started with the Mermaid Cake (a process that began with my friend Alisa taking pity on me and teaching me how to make a cake that did not turn out like this).

Then came the Spooky Ghost Cake, the Moana Cake, the Bloodshot Eyeball Cake, and the Tie-Dye Rainbow Cake. This year my daughter suggested a "Moana Rainbow Unicorn Mermaid Cake," but I gently steered her in the direction of something a) new, and b) not that, because the chances of me executing that extremely specific vision were zero, and?

Crafts for the Uncrafty

Ideas For Your Fourth Of July Everythings

Baby Me, baby Lucy

Going to be a bit Grinchy over here for a minute - shocker, I know! - so hold onto your hats. I care about the Fourth of July approximately as much as I care about New Year's Eve, which is also approximately as much as I care about Ivanka Trump's thoughts on the 'male-dominant' defense industry (which is to say: very close to zero, apart from the potential for mild entertainment via trainwreck).

Related: How I Feel About The Fourth Of July, Given The (Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad) State Of The Nation

Just A Little Encouragement

A New Era Has Begun

It occurred to me yesterday that I hadn't made a dancing video in awhile. Years, in fact. (The last one we made was in our old house, wearing full Risky Business attire, but I can't show it to you because YouTube took it down. Because apparently you can't just use Bob Seger tunes willy-nilly. Shame.)

That clearly had to be fixed.

Decor

Love and Kids’ Rooms

Our old (old, old) living room, 2009.

Several lifetimes ago (by my count), I wrote my first of what turned out to be hundreds of posts that loosely fall into the "Diary" category - the missives about parenting, about anxiety, about divorce that I've posted here over the years. This first one, though, was about something a little different. A little more...tactile.

It was about my living room. The living room that I shared with Kendrick (and Lucy, and then later on Virgil and our infant son) when we lived on the Upper East Side.  It was a wild, messy mix of hand-me-downs from my parents, pieces we'd found discarded on the street and fixed up with varying degrees of success, and the occasional element of inexplicable drama (chalkboard fridge! graffiti-covered chest of drawers! insane bird wallpaper!).


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