On Peplum Tops and Artificial Dinners

If you checked the Internet history of my iPad, you'd find that I've read every possible macaroni and cheese recipe that has ever been added to the cyberwaves since the beginning of time. Or since 2011.

 

 huarache sandals: Urban Outfitters

skinny jeans: American Eagle Outfitters

embroidered peplum top: Forever 21

sunglasses: Urban Outfitters

 

You'd think that would make me an expert on the dish, wouldn't you?

 

 

Unfortunately for my guinea pig family tonight, though, you'd be wrong-o, because I'll be experimenting blindly. I don't think that dish was ever meant to be healthy, but I'm determined to feed my family something other than artificial orange lard-caked pasta bits.

 

 

Which is ironic, coming from the girl who's eaten nothing but fistful after fistful of cookies today.

 

 

But, in my defense, the cookies contain, like, a few flecks of whole wheat flour in them, which as we all know fully equates to health food. BAM.

 

 

Happy Friday.

 

 

Shop similar styles below:

Forever 21 Tops · Softspots Sandals · American Eagle Teen Girls' Denim

{shared: Style Elixir, The Mrs and the Momma, }

the 1st part is lame...and it goes downhill from there...

I apologize in advance for this post. Any shred of creativity and humor I once may have had has been zapped by UV rays and chlorine. They need to make a sunscreen for THAT kind of protection, if you ask me. C'mon, scientists. BE somebody.

 shoes: converse brand. shorts: american eagle. shirt: forever21. necklace & flower clips: gift. watch: target.

 This crown braid? Yeah. Awkward. I took it out because it's too weird, and I can't concentrate knowing that I look like a lopsided pinhead. Not to offend the lopsided pinhead population out there...I'm sure you're all very capable crown-braiders.

So, here's the deal, guys. I love this top, but I'm finding it hard to style differently. This is the case with several of my 30x30 shirts, actually. In cooler weather, it's easier for me to change things up by layering differently. But when it's hot, like it is now (not complaining, here. just, y'know, stating facts), the last thing I want to do is layer stuff just so it looks different on the ol' blog.

[Editor's note: So we've come to that, have we? "Ol' blog"? Ouch. Like Ol' Yeller...didn't he die at the end?]

So. This top is like an outfit unto itself. I don't really know what that means, actually, despite the piece of embossed cardstock somewhere in my house that says some PhDs think I know 4 years' worth of something about the English language. (Suckers.) Basically, if I wear this top, it doesn't really matter what else goes with it, because it's bold and detailed and can't really be paired with a non-neutral bottom like plaid because...ouch on the brain and on the eyes.

Speaking of pained brains: "apparently" you're "not" supposed to eat "crappy" foods "late" at night every "night" if you're "trying" to lose tummy "flub." [Editor's note: Admit it...you're a huge fan of an overuse of the arbitrarily placed quotation mark, aren't you?] Guess who's going to actively embrace her tummy flub? That's right. Me. Because some things are totally worth a romantic m&m snack by TV-light.

Happy Tuesday.

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excuses excuses

Hey guys! I'm back from running Ragnar. It was such a great (and tiring. and crazy) experience, one that has been on my bucket list for several years. (LOVE when I can checkmark a "bucket list" box, you know?)

I'm alive and well (minus my quads, the stinking complainers...I can hardly move without them screaming at me). My team--especially my van, which included two of my SILs--was awesome.

(above: left to right, me & my beautiful sis-in-laws T & M.)

This is what I wore to church today. I think I looked pregnant, with how this top poofed out over this skirt. Which isn't exactly the look I was going for, but I was too sore to change. Which is also my excuse for the tired, frizzy hair you see here. Not one for the books today, friends. Forgive me? No? Rats. And...meh.

 shoes, shirt, & bracelets: forever21. skirt: j.crew.

This week I'm grateful for:

- my husband, my dad, my brothers, and all the guys out there who love being fathers.

- my body. Specifically my legs.

- my Ragnar support van and funny memories (e.g., honking at horses, human fog horns, the merits of cops vs. volunteers, "um, what's that flag for?", honey bucket stories, etc.) 

- my family who supported me in doing Ragnar.

- being blister-free.

- IcyHot type substances.

- magical summer evenings spent outside with my husband & kids, with water and frisbees and popsicles and time. Lots and lots of time.

- sunglasses.

- successful potty-training experiences. (waaaaaay better than unsuccessful ones...)

- hot showers.

- when zits go away.

- ziploc bags.

- cell phone service in the middle of nowhere. And having something to text and someone to text it to.

Happy Sunday.

something's wrong with my phone. it says it's not saturday today...

 shoes: american eagle outfitters. jeans: kohl's. shirt & bracelets: forever21. cami: motherhood maternity. flower clips: gift.

pose below: the karate kid, circa 1985.

Some days just don't feel like the day they actually are. Yesterday totally felt like Saturday, both to me and my husband. Today, too, 'cept a super-lame Saturday where has to go to work. I tried to convince him that his boss wanted him to take a "thunderstorm day" (very similar to a "snow day" with one minor difference. I'll leave it up to you intelligent peoples to figure out what that might be). For some reason he didn't believe me.

Fine. Ruin my pseudo-weekend. I was left to drown my sorrows in some pseudo-comfort-food, a.k.a. spinach, at lunchtime. [Editor's note: Not comforting.]

So. Fast-forward to me and the kiddos at home this afternoon. We've been working on trying harder to (translation: I'm a nazi and all but yell at them when they don't) include the 2-year-old in playtime activities. [Editor's note: That and the spinach comment above might jeopardize my mother-of-the-year award for 2011. Better learn to bake. Stat.]

A few minutes ago, a fight was about to break out amongst the kidlets, when my 5-year-old showed her alarmingly strategic brainpower.
"Addie! D'you want to play with us and be our puppy?"

The toddler nodded vigorously, definitely down with that idea. Being a housepet is one of her all-time favorite pasttimes.

"Great. C'mere, cute puppy. It's crate time!"

Sheer genius. And I can't even get mad, because they "included" her.

Happy Saturday Thursday.

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