Rachel Callahan

A Denim Miracle.

October 2, 2011February 15, 2015 Rachel Callahan Can I get a copy of that recipe?, Delicious Greekness, Denim Drama, Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend

Update: Due to significant changes in the company and a terrible downward spiral in denim quality, I no longer recommend shopping through Vault Denim. I now buy all of my jeans through Nordstrom Rack’s app, HauteLook, which regularly features my favorite brands of designer jeans at half the cost. I highly recommend it! My current favorite brands are Joe’s Jeans, Genetic Denim, Hudson Jeans, Frankie B, Mother Denim, and 7 for all Mankind

So Friday night was the Vault Denim party.

Being that this was the first time I had done major party preparation with two kids underfoot, I got a bit over-ambitious in my preparations.

Also, every recipe I thought about sounded delicious, so obviously, I had no choice but to make them all.

So I spent all day long up to the very last second possible, with Ali’s help and Noah’s hindrance, making knock-offs of everyone else’s awesome treats.

I made Christen’s Soft Butter Mints…

My Mom’s twenty-years-in-the-creation-of-the-perfect-recipe Greek Tzatziki Dip…

Nikki’s Oreo Truffles (aka John MacArthurs)…

And Pinterest’s Rainbow Fruit Kebabs.

And Lydia, our party hostess, treated us with Edgar’s amazing and gigantic Petit Fours.

And then, of course, there was the main attraction.

Jeans,

And more jeans.

I was in heaven.

They had many of my favorite brands… 7 for All Mankind…Rock and Republic…Citizens of Humanity…and then a bunch of new brands I didn’t know but fell in love with. And they were actually, on average, less expensive than I expected!

It was almost more than I could take – it was as if the power to demolish Mom Jeans was all in one room at one time – a beautiful feeling indeed.

We had a wonderful group of women come to the party, almost none of which I actually photographed their faces.

Because I was, apparently, too busy photographing their butts.

In fact, as I lay in bed Friday night reviewing the party in my mind, I had a mini panic attack when I realized that I got no photos of the awesome Vault reps, no group photos of everyone who came to the party, and hardly any photos of people at – all except for butts.

So, it’s butts I’ll show you, I suppose.

But as I was saying, a great group. We had people that needed jean interventions, people that already had great jeans and just wanted more, and even a Mother/Daughter intervention, where Giann gave her Mom the priceless gift of helping her change her denim ways.

Look at that appreciation, mutual admiration, and overwhelming gratitude…

(And that’s the only picture of faces you’ll see in this entire post. Enjoy it while you can.)

The Vault reps, the unphotographed Kwanzaa and Simone, were amazing. They consulted with each person and helped them locate the perfect pair(s) of jeans for their body.

And they were experts at what they did. Almost everyone left with jeans, and most of us found two pair! Which, since the deals were so fabulous, was not at all overwhelming in cost.

So. I’m sure you want to see some Vault Magic now.

Several of the guests were willing to “smile” for the camera to show off their before and after rear view.

Our first victim was Subject A.

That, dear people of the internet, is stunning.

If that’s not proof of what I’ve been preaching about the right pair of jeans, I don’t know what is. For a mere $60 and a group of women to help you scrutinize your rear for the best possible fit, you too can lose 15 pounds and 10 years.

Then, there was Subject B.

Again, the shape, profile, and contours are fabulously improved.

And finally, Subject C.

…I’m pretty sure that was 20 pounds shed in a mere 15 seconds.

The next day, two of the above subjects texted me to tell me that they were now believers, and that I had been right all along about the power of designer denim. It changed their butt, it changed their life.

Okay, maybe not their life. But definitely their butt.

The party format completely exceeded my expectations. It was fun, it was interactive, we all had a fabulous time giving each other honest help in choosing the perfect pair of jeans, saved hundreds of dollars, lost hundreds of virtual pounds, and all left happy and fully denimed.

Lydia and I are already talking about throwing another Vault party, but if you’re at all interested in having a party, I highly recommend it! I’ll be glad to get you in touch with the wonderful ladies that I worked with, who can help you find out how you can throw a party no matter where you live.

Change your jeans, change your life.

Or at least your butt.

Sequel: For more before and after photos and tips for fitting jeans to different body types, click here.

Tea Collection – $100 Giveaway!

September 30, 2011September 30, 2011 Rachel Callahan Giveaways and Contests

I am a bit high maintenance when it comes to my kid’s clothes – especially Ali’s.

I want her to look hip and modern, but still like a little girl. I want her very modest and while I’m at it, I like her to feel comfortable.

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

I’ve been horribly disappointed with the selections for girls in some of my favorite stores this year. It’s all, like, camo and screenprinting and camo tulle skirts and jeggings and camo sequined shirts and … not a single thing that I want to buy.

So I’ve been scouring the internet for clothing that meets all my criteria and is FOR THE LOVE not camo, and one brand that I really fell in love with is Tea Collection.

Their clothes manage to walk the fine line well between hip and still-a-little-girl – they’re not afraid to mix funky prints, all while keeping their cuts and lengths little girl appropriate.

I contacted them and told them how much I loved their clothes, and they offered to send me a few pieces to try out, as well as let me give one of you a $100 gift certificate to shop their collection!

I sent them a link to a picture of Ali and let them do the styling, and I LOVE what they chose for her.

Mine and Ali’s favorite outfit are these awesome cord cargo pants along with an adorable shirt that Ali insists has LILY PADS on it, not FLOWERS.

Geez, Mom.

The pants are super cute – they have the tiniest bit of a skinny leg (which looks oh-so-much better on her than on me), giving it that modern flair.

And the shirt – well, it’s awesome, whether you call it lily pads or flowers.

They were kind enough to send Noah some clothes as well, and they were just as cute –

His cargo pants are impeccably made, including a super-soft red cotton lining that gives them both warmth and style.

He agreed – they were the ideal clothes for lounging around with his big sister.

They also sent Ali this fabulous dress – although short-sleeved, it’s also lined thickly for fall. I love that I can use it all year long, just adding a turtleneck during our very few months of cool weather.

Noah received a coordinating Henley that looked awesome with his eyes.

It was soft, thick, adorable, and durable enough to put up with big sister harassment.

All of their clothes are captivating and so comfortable– so much so that neither of my children protested their photo shoot. Pretty awesome, if you ask me.

If you would like to win a $100 Gift Certificate to Tea Collection, simply comment on this post!

If you’d like extra entries, you can get up to four of them by:

Liking Tea Collection on Facebook.
Following Tea Collection on Twitter.
Tweet, blog, OR Facebook about this giveaway.
Follow me on Twitter OR Facebook

(be sure to leave separate comments for your extra entries.)

This giveaway is open until Monday, October 10th. The winner will be randomly selected and posted on my giveaway winners page on Tuesday, October 11th.

Good luck!!

Disclaimer: I was sent samples to review Tea Collection’s clothing for the purposes of this giveaway, but was not compensated to write this post. My opinions are always my own.

Can’t Buy Me Love.

September 29, 2011July 21, 2020 Rachel Callahan Photographical Oddities, Pop Post, Popular Posts, Utter Silliness, Weird Strange and True

The CEO of my bank is a Tween Girl.

She is sitting at the top of her skyscraper downtown in her pink bedazzled office suite, chewing Bubble Yum, flipping through her Justice catalog, painting her nails a fabulous shade of Purple Me Tender, and talking on her jewel-cased iPhone.

“I know, like, right?? He is SOOO fetch. Oh – and girl, we have GOT to get together with Jordin and McKenna and do one of those all-jumping-in-the-air-at-the-same-time photos – ya know??? It would just be, like, SQUEE!!!”

I came to this conclusion due to the nature of my deposit receipts.

It started a couple of years ago, when, I presume, the Traditional Old Bald Male CEO must have handed off his reigns to his granddaughter.

At first, I thought the oddity was just due to a bizarre teller.

I drove to the drive-thru, slid my deposit into the drawer, and then received my standard green and white receipt back – except this time it had a personal note on it.

Written in large, curly cursive,

Um. What?

Is she…hitting on me??

I know that I come to the bank a lot… but LOVE???

All of a sudden, I felt an awkward haze between Mandy and I. I half expected to discover that she had also coated my receipt in a Romilda Vane-esque love potion, sure to send me into a romantic day dream about holding hands through the drive-thru drawer.

But then on my next visit, I received a similar declaration of affection from a different teller.

Then another,

and another.

And it was then that I realized: This was no coincidence. Nor was this just a Bored Teller Time Filler – this was a declaration from the top. They have been commanded to do this in a legitimate corporate memo somewhere.

To All Employees Carrying out Teller Duties:

Effective immediately, please notate a revision in your employee handbook under Section 11 Chapter J subsection 37 stating that all receipts are to be personally signed in a font of the female persuasion and declaring great feelings of affection toward the customer.

A few months into this apparent corporate guideline, the “love” usage seemed to fade out, but they continued to lavish upon me girly, curly, and quite odd notes, considering the professional nature of the business transaction that was occurring.

But the love was most definitely and quite conspicuously missing. I could only assume that an alignment to protocol had been made.

To All Employees Carrying out Teller Duties:

Please make an adjustment in your routine to discontinue the usage of the word “love” when carrying out your duties prescribed in Section 11 Chapter J subsection 37 – we seem to be confusing certain customers unnecessarily, and some tellers are reporting an uncomfortable increase in phone number requests from male clientele. However, please continue writing a thanks and a signature in the aforementioned font of the female persuasion.

I began to find myself desiring to collect these receipts like trading cards, and desperately wished that I had saved some of the early vintage notes that housed such great affection toward me.

But even without the love, they still held an odd fascination for me.

Ooh look! I’ve got two Whitneys! One’s even in pink – surely that makes it worth more??

And OH!! The Elusive Male Teller signature!!! How refreshing and un-curly-cued. I wonder if he’ll get a bad review for his lack of flair??

Oh, speaking of flair – look at Heather!! She added a smiley!!

And does that one say ENJOY LIFE???? That’s almost better than love there – it’s gotta be a rare find for sure.

OOOH – look at her. Curly to the max, but it’s a stamp. Personally, I deduct points for using a stamp. It’s a sign of laziness.

And this dude – “Mr. Alex”?!?!? on a stamp?!? Who gets a stamp made saying Mr. anything these days??? What kind of banker do you think you are – Mr. Potter??

And Brittney – wow. Might want to try a narrower point marker, honey…

Oh! Oh! Oh!! An Elusive Vintage Heart!!! I feel loved and adored again!!!

…but she didn’t sign her name.

(sigh)

…But the true jewel of my collection would be if I could get ahold of just one of our Tween CEO’s emails. I bet they are written in pink Curlz font, 32 points big, and with dancing kittens in the background.

meow, meow, meow.

Love,

Rachel.

Reluctantly Pinspired.

September 27, 2011September 27, 2011 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Can I get a copy of that recipe?, Kids: The Experience.

So. Pinterest.

At first, I hated it. For me, Pinterest equated to this BIG HUGE GIANT snowball o’ guilt.

In the early days of The World Domination of Pinterest, it appeared that it’s most common use was going to be for home decorating – to show all of these amazingly and perfectly coifed rooms with fabulous cohesion and, the most heinous part – NO GOOEY FINGERPRINTS ON THE WINDOW PANES.

Playrooms full of creative shelving, baskets and art installations, with nary a toy or book out of place…

Living rooms with no evidence whatsoever that children resided there…

And I am here to confess: I am not a decorator. My house has the “well-used” and “conveniently disarrayed” look to it, as I loyally follow the theory of The Efficiency of Disarray.

And, although I’m typically comfortable with my lack of magazine-worthy decor, I can tend to get a bit judgmental of myself for my lack of performance in this area, start to try to be more decor-conscious, and then once again realize that I was simply not cut out of that particular piece of cloth.

So, I filed Pinterest under the “Pointing Out All My Flaws” file.

But then I started hearing about all of these fun kid projects. And tasting samples of Pinterest-inspired recipes. THESE are things I can get into! So I began browsing Pinterest again, deliberately ignoring the heaping mounds of readily available home decor guilt.

My first dip in the Pinterest water was, naturally, chocolate.

This recipe for Deep, Dark, Fudgy, Chocolate Cookies (with no flour and no oil) drew me in and convinced me to increase my level of Pinterest Junkie to Level Three – one who doesn’t just look at the pretty pictures, but actually makes things based on what they see.

And I did make them. And they were oh-my-goodness-good.

…even after I figured the calories so that we could enter them into Lose It – cutting out oil and flour is something I want to discover more ways to do.

My second project, the ever-famous melted-crayon project, was indirectly from Pinterest, via my friend Greta. Ali is just a wee bit obsessed with the rainbow, so when I saw this, I knew how I would make her blissfully happy for the week.

So she lined up the crayons in rainbow order and we glued them on,

And then I got out the hairdryer.

And I have to say – I definitely benefitted from the fact that Ali still has a trace of hair dryer fear, because that meant I got to perform all heating, and making all of those colors melt down the canvas was a really good therapy session.

Ali lost interest in watching several minutes in, but I couldn’t help myself. I kept melting, and melting, and melting…

Noah woke up from his nap and I couldn’t stop. I let him crawl around my hot-waxed canvas while I kept melting, and melting, and melting…

I wanted to add a bit more to it, so Ali came back and we added her name to the picture.

But my new addiction then tempted me back for more.

I couldn’t resist.

I then had to melt her name, which ended up looking really crappy compared to the unmelted version.

I might have a problem.

But then I found this awesome twist on the whole melting idea, so at least I know where I’m going to get my next fix.

Ali and I had so much fun with our art project that I immediately wanted to start another (which led to a particularly fabulous visit to Michael’s).

I had seen the Watercolor-And-Painter’s-Tape project several times, where you tape out their initial and then get them to paint all around it.

But I couldn’t find the painter’s tape.

So I started scouring my closet for something else useful, and our entire shelf of foam shapes caught my eye.

Perfect!

Ali decided she wanted to make a card for Gramamma, and then I let her position the stickers on the page:

Then we worked together to paint all around them (and on them, due to Ali’s not quite grasping the purpose of the stickers)…

And fortunately, my substitute worked well – the stickers peeled off easily.

Ali signed her artwork, instructed me on what she wanted written on the card, and was quite proud of her gift.

(And yes, we do everything in our pajamas at our house. It goes along with our no-decorum household theory.)

So, although it was a long and winding road to finding a way we could co-exist happily, Pinterest and I have become friends.

…with a slight tinge of frienemy, every time a perfectly decorated room pops up in my feed.

For those of you who have asked, here are my boards, although don’t expect much original pinning – I’m mainly a repinning copycat. Also, if you’re not on Pinterest but want to try it, I can send you an invite – just let me know!

On Being All Set.

September 26, 2011September 26, 2011 Rachel Callahan "Deep" Thoughts by Rachel, A Day in the Life, Blogging: the therapy., It's Tough Being a Girl, Just My Luck

The following inner dialogue occurred Friday morning, directly after my second trip in three days to the Pediatrician’s office.

I drove around to the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru window for like the ninety-dozenth time in the past three weeks…she gave me my order and then perkily chirped,

“Here’s your large coke and your small lemonade! You’re all set!!”

I’m all set??

ALL SET?!?

Do you KNOW what my last three weeks have been like?

No? Let me fill you in.

It all started the Sunday before Labor Day when my four year old woke up at 3 AM with a 102 degree fever. We skipped church and forewent any Labor Day plans, spending copious amounts of time sitting on the couch and watching such classics as Tangled and discussing the deep philosophical questions therein such as why Mother Gothel says she’s teasing so much in great depths and on repeat.

Then, immediately after Ali recovered late Labor Day afternoon, Tropical Storm Lee paid an uninvited visit and left with our fine china and power.

Okay, he didn’t steal the fine china because we don’t have any, but he did take our power.

What followed was 52 hours of powerless hell.

Okay, it wasn’t hell, but it wasn’t fun either. YOU try entertaining, feeding, napping, schooling, and in general raising two kids without power. I hear they did it regularly at some point in history, but I don’t believe that sort of hogwashery.

Then, right as we got our power returned to us, Chris decided to enjoy his own serving of Ali’s fever virus, all while being in the middle of multiple projects at work with coinciding deadlines and therefore needing to spend his fever-filled evenings-after-the-kids-were-asleep working until midnight or later.

He recovered, but work did not. He continued to work unsavory amounts of work through the next two weeks, as the kids and I hung on for dear life on our own.

(And yes, Chick-Fil-A lady, I totally get that all of these circumstances are oh-so-temporary and completely ridiculous compared to many people’s much bigger problems, but I’m sure that all Mommies would agree that when a Mom is in the middle of Mommy Warfare, it’s really hard not to become exhausted and start looking feverishly for a refund on one’s month.)

Then the next week, I came down with illness. Thankfully, I recovered quicker than my fellow family members, but ill Mommy is never fun – for anyone.

And finally, this week, after bragging to Noah’s Pediatrician that he had only been sick twice in his whole life and those were just piddly little colds, he came down with The Fever Virus to End All Fever Viruses, shooting his temperature over 103 for three days.

And you know what, Chick-Fil-A lady? I learned something about my son during his illness. He prefers to spend his fevered hours awake. Completely awake. Completely awake and with Mommy in his tight grasp. Completely awake and with Mommy in his tight grasp and fussing all the while.

So I spent this week staying up until 2:15 AM one night and 4:30 AM the next night, rocking my poor sickly baby and reminiscing about my younger, not-so-close-to-30 years when staying up to these sorts of hours came more naturally.

And WOW did acting like a teenager again make me feel young!! And vibrant!! And wild!! And invigorated!!

Okay. NotSoMuch.

So, Chick-Fil-A lady, you see that all of these circumstances have led to this very moment, where I find myself, for the first time in months, breaking down and ordering a real Coke, and on top of that, a LARGE real coke, DESPITE the fact that there is only a week to go before my final weigh-in that will forever settle who rocks the most in mine and Chris’ six month long weight loss competition.

And from what I hear, he’s winning by 0.3% – so this coke matters.

So no, I am NOT all set. My baby is still feverish, my body is still nearly non-functioning from exhaustion, my husband will probably win our bet, my kids aren’t quite back to normal, and I’m still turning 30 in two weeks.

But oh… this coke tastes GOOOOOD.

Okay, I’m all set now.

Epilogue: After a shocking six hour nap directly after the desperate purchase of that healing coke, Noah woke up fever-free. Chris and I got to enjoy a recovery date the next day, and I am using The Mommy Force (and ridiculous amounts of chocolate) to will this new week into a better direction.

Alabama Gameday Scavenger Hunt, 2011 Edition.

September 22, 2011December 2, 2013 Rachel Callahan Football and I have a Complicated Relationship, Gameday Fashion, Giveaways and Contests, I would NEVER take too many pictures. . ., Weird Strange and True

Rules:

1. If you’re attending an Alabama game this season, Grab a Camera. Photograph as many items listed as possible. Post on your blog or Facebook – or don’t. But if you do, leave a link in a comment.

2. If you’re attending another team’s game, Grab a Camera. Photograph as many of your own team’s oddities as possible. Post on blog or Facebook – or don’t. But if you do, leave a link in a comment.

(Here’s a printable version without the pictures)

3. If you’re not a fan of any kind and find The South an extraordinarily odd place, sit back and enjoy the following documentation of our obsessive bizarrities.

Reward:

The person who collects (and posts) the most items found from the Scavenger Hunt (or from your own team’s Scavenger Hunt) will win a special prize from me. As for the rest of you, you will have the satisfaction of a hunt well hunted.

Alabama Gameday Scavenger Hunt, 2011 Edition*

* Although some essential items are the same as last year’s Scavenger Hunt, many huntable items are updated for this year’s sporting trends.

One of the most fascinating things about the “manly” sport of football is how it turns men into fashionistas, wearing prints and fabrics that they would never otherwise wear. Along this vein, here are your first spotting assignments:

A man wearing embroidered animals on his backside.

A man in seersucker. 100 bonus points if he appears to be under 30 years of age.

150 bonus points if you can spot a man in seersucker WITH an embroidered animal on his backside.

A man (or more) in more than four yards of houndstooth, the larger the print the better.

Although the men have rather impressive fashion statements, they are tame compared to the female population.

Translucent houndstooth.

Houndstooth Toms (I predict that within two years, these will completely replace the Essential Sorority Uniform Staple, Uggs.)

A woman wearing team color camouflage.

An Auburn Sorority Chick. An extra 100 points if she’s carrying a Houndstooth-covered drink.

A girl whose shoes quite obviously weigh more than her dress.

A girl whose shoes leave you wondering if the Piperlime Accessory Wall aggressively attacked her.

A girl whose shoes are causing her more bodily harm that if she were actually participating in the football game.

“Custom” jeans. 50 Bonus Points for each additional person with said custom jeans.

Gameday lingerie. 500 bonus points if seen in use, or under translucent houndstooth, creating a hypnotizingly dizzying effect.

An entire sales booth devoted to women’s chic gameday fashion.
A girl wearing a skirt shorter than her purse.

Two different houndstooth prints on the same person, 25 bonus points for each additional size of houndstooth.

Kids have gameday fashion, too. Here are a few childish fashion statements to hunt:

Gameday smock. Need I say more?

A mother making her child dress in glitter and sparkles just like her.

Oh hey…they look familiar.

A hat with it’s own hair.

A hat with it’s own ‘hawk.

A real ‘hawk. On a child. 100 bonus points if it is also in bizarre colors.

And then, of course, there are the accessories.

A fully decked-out gameday vehicle.

200 bonus points if said gameday vehicle can blare the fight song loud enough to make your children (and future children) deaf.

An Alabama Tattoo. Bonus points for each consecutive Alabama tattoo on the same person.

UmbrellaHeads.

Husband/Wife coordinating headgear.

Large groups of people drinking at unsafe heights.

And then, there are the truly bizarre…

A male that looks totally unaware that they’re even at a football game of any sort.

An opposing team’s fan that makes all Alabama fans look sane.

Someone so bizarre that no one would believe you if you DIDN’T photograph it.

A fan that seems to be simultaneously supporting the home team AND the opposing team… 100 extra bonus points if the opposing team isn’t a BCS-level team.

May you discover The True Meaning of Football in your quest, and not get attacked by stiletto heels, aggressive tattoo artists, or Alabama Superheroes in the process.

Football, Four and Under.

September 20, 2011September 21, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, Football and I have a Complicated Relationship, Kids: The Experience.

Football season is in it’s third week and in full obsessive-insanity in the state of Alabama.

Tattoo shops are filling up with loyalists wanting to bleed for their team, babies all over the state are being given abusive names such as Crimson, Saban, and Chizik, and billions of dollars are being spent just to watch a bunch of teenage guys named things such as Ha Ha Clinton-Dix run around a field and fall all over each other.

(Which, really, makes a name like Crimson seem not so bad.)

Our family is no exception, except for the tattoos and baby naming. To celebrate the season so far, we have:

1. Had Chris and Ali tailgate and go to a game while Noah and I went to the mall, much to the shame of his male ego,

2. Had friends over to our house to watch an away game,

and,

3. Taken both kids to tailgate all day, but then coming home before the game.

And this weekend, we will complete the cycle by,

4. Leaving the kids with the Grandparents while Chris and I tailgate all day and go to the game.

The complexity of our vastly varying tailgating practices can be a bit confusing, which leads to many questions of clarification from our friends and family.

And I get that. I’m usually confused, too. Luckily for me, Chris has the schedule memorized and offers me a refresher course on a regular basis.

One of the questions that people often ask is, “What do the kids do during tailgating?”

They find ways to entertain themselves – sometimes better than I do, quite honestly.

Noah, for instance, uses all football events as an opportunity to pick up the ladies.

But he knows that the overly-obvious “How YOU Doin’?” doesn’t work with the modern woman, so he plays it cool.

Even when they seem interested, still cool.

So cool that they can’t get his attention no matter what they try.

(well, maybe a little attention…)

And then, the victory grin. Smooth, I’m telling you.

Ali, being a bit more introverted, reaches within her OCD soul and pulls out her hoarding tendencies.

After collecting every nut in the city of Tuscaloosa (except for this guy),

(And yes, that’s an old picture. We are certainly not in coats around here yet)

She then launches off into fantasyland, building cities and towns for said nuts.

…but then, the plentiful and very disturbable-in-a-pigpen-sort-of-way dirt becomes more fun than the pretend.

And, while everyone else within a 200 foot vicinity is coughing and fanning away her cloud of nast, she becomes One with the Earth, nearly blending in with the ground.

…to the point of traumatizing me with painful memories of my eighth grade rub-on tan fiasco.

(Although I’m pretty sure I looked worse back in the day.)

Noah, however, is not tempted by the dirt. He never lets down his playing-it-cool vibe –

…after all, you’ve got to keep it clean for The Ladies.

Breaking News: Baby Bends to Peer Pressure From the AIBC.

September 20, 2011September 19, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Quirky quirky quirkiness, Weird Strange and True

So. Noah and I went back to Michael’s last week.

First of all, let me say that I’m really becoming endeared to Michael’s Lady, Queen of The Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club herself.

In fact, her preposterous comments are really actually making me want to go to Michael’s MORE often, just to see what she’ll scold me about next. Maybe she’s some sort of twisted marketing experiment and I’m totally falling for it, but I’m beginning to enjoy her bizarrely offensive ways enough to make me want to purchase extraneous crafting paraphernalia for the opportunity to exchange unpleasantries with her.

Also, I’ve gotten to hear some awesome stories from other lucky people who have had the unique pleasure of encountering her. One friend shared,

“I believe she had something to say about my girls carrying their loveys….and I made a comment about how “they love them to death”. She told me I should say ‘love them to pieces – to death isn’t nice.’”

…because loving someone or something to rips and shreds is so much nicer than just loving them to death.

Anyway. Noah and I went in the other night. We walked up to pay for our purchases, and there was Michael’s Lady, in all of her glory.

Except that she was FURIOUS.

She was unloading on a co-worker, complaining about how their boss was treating them and she was quite aggrieved about the fact that he was going to get a bonus because of it.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that she repeated, in elevating decibels, the sentence,

“And he’s going to get a BONUS because of it!!! AND HE’S GOING TO GET A BONUS BECAUSE OF IT!!!”

at least ten times.

She looked up and saw me waiting patiently. She threw in one more “AND HE’S GOING TO GET A BONUS BECAUSE OF IT!!!!” to the co-worker before releasing a gigantic cleansing sigh and announcing regally, “OKAY. I can take you on this register!”

I loaded my items onto the counter, greatly anticipating her examining my parenting and unearthing hidden flaws.

I didn’t have to wait long.

“Oh, why does that baby have a paci in his mouth??? He can’t talk to me when he has a paci in his mouth!!!”

“He’s sleepy.”

“Well, he doesn’t need a pacifier.”

She handed me the customer survey that printed out with my receipt. “Be sure and take this survey about your shopping experience – there’s a sweepstakes with it, and I would really love for one of my customers to win!!”

I chuckled to myself about what all I could write about my shopping experiences.

“Oh, and take that paci out of his mouth!!”

Just to play along, (and wanting to see where it would lead,) I obeyed.

I pulled his plug and Noah immediately smiled at her with a big, open-mouthed, adorably charming grin.

She literally recoiled, horrified.

“Oh, GRACIOUS!!! That baby doesn’t have any teeth!!! How old is he???”

“Um, almost nine months.”

“And he doesn’t have any teeth yet?!?!”

“Nope.”

I signed my receipt and began walking toward the doors, thinking of all the people I knew whose babies didn’t teethe until they were over a year old, and fantasizing about how disgusted she would be at their offspring.

Apparently, I walked away too quickly for her. So naturally, she followed me. She came out from behind her register and began chasing me out the door.

“Do you have any other people in your family that were late teethers???”

“Well, my daughter didn’t get teeth until she was nine months old.”

“Oh. Well that makes sense. I hear that sort of behavior runs in families…”

And then the sliding doors mercifully closed behind me and my disturbingly toothless baby.

…who apparently got a complex from the encounter.

Because, guess who woke up yesterday morning, the morning of his nine month birthday, with a spontaneous growth of not one, but TWO teeth?!

(Well, they’re not big enough to see in blog-sized photos just yet, but I promise – they’re there.)

Obviously, Michael’s Lady isn’t just making an impact on me.

And, since I know Michael’s Lady has been lying awake in bed nightly completely and absolutely emotionally wrecked at the thought of my baby NEVER GROWING ANY TEETH AND HAVING TO GUM HIS FOOD FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE, I’m thinking I should take him back in and show her – you know, just to ease her mind.

…and to hear her chastise me for making my poor baby leave the house when he was teething, cruel and heartless mother that I am.

A Denim Discovery of Profound Importance.

September 18, 2011February 15, 2015 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Denim Drama, Don't Listen to my Fashion Advice, Shopping: A Girl's Best Friend

The battle against Mom Jeans is a constant one – something that we all have to be ever-vigilant about.

It was, I’m ashamed to say, a battle I myself was losing less than a decade ago. Perhaps this is what fueled my fire to take such a strong stand against it. Much evidence of my own shameful defeat can be found in the photo archives of my computer, where I can be seen breaking many rules I later made it my job to document.

Wanna see?

Sad, no? If you could see the bottom of those jeans, you would even see a (gasp) tapered, too short leg.

But over the past few years, I’ve made great strides in reclaiming territories of Mom Jean Warfare.

But it doesn’t come without it’s price.

In the process, I’ve become an addict.

An addict to designer jeans.

They just make the fight so easy – they’re flattering, comfortable (SO soft), stylish, long-lasting… they’re ALMOST worth their ridiculous price tag.

But they’re not.

So I scour the department stores, searching tirelessly for those few mysterious pairs of jeans that made it to the clearance racks. Then I breathlessly peer at the labels, just HOPING that they’ll be my size.

Usually, I am unsuccessful in my shopping endeavors. I leave, sadly empty-handed, no denim attained. But every now and then, I find an amazing deal, and I am able to wear my glorious jeans guilt-free.

Which is why I am nearly giddy over a discovery that I made this summer: Vault Denim.

Vault goes around buying up all of the overstocks of designer jeans (possibly the reason it’s become harder for me to find them), and then sells them, 50% off, at in-home parties.

At first, the in-home party thing scared me away. I am just not an in-home party kind of girl – my inner anti-salesman-introvert gets to feeling all awkward and squirmy.

But I finally had an epiphany: for those of us who buy designer denim, this type of in-home party is ANYTHING but awkward – it is heaven.

And for those who have always wanted to buy designer denim but didn’t want to pay the price, it’s a perfect opportunity to test it out and see if it really is all that.

So, although I’m not brave enough to become a Vault consultant (too much introverted-anti-salesman squirminess), I am co-hosting a Vault party – because, honestly, I want the chance to buy some jeans!

…co-hosting with the help of my Mom Jeans cohort Lydia, of course. Kind of like an Anti-Mom-Jeans reunion of sorts. Except this time, you’re ALL invited!!

Before you start feeling all awkward inside about the in-home party, let me just say that I get NOTHING out of your buying jeans at this party or coming to the party. I, in fact, will be purchasing my own jeans as well – I just thought that the idea of mixing my favorite subject of denim with an excuse to throw a party (and hopefully get to hang out with some of you) was a really awesome combination.

So, if you’re in or around the Birmingham area (or further away but desperately need new jeans badly enough), you are invited to our party.

It’s going to be on September 30 at 6pm and will be held in the 280 area of Birmingham, and I will gladly furnish directions upon request.

There will be about 130 pairs of jeans in all sizes, ranging from $48 – $92 per pair, in all of the major brands of designer denim (including my personal favorites, Seven for All Mankind, Citizens of Humanity, and Hudson), along with some boutiquey-blingy jeans, if that’s your style.

There will be free food (including, quite possibly, a double batch of John Macarthurs.)

There will be a Vault Denim expert on hand to help you find the perfect pair of jeans for your body. (And I will probably have an opinion or two, too…)

There will be laughter, visiting, and did I mention jeans?

And there will be MUCH fun.

So whaddya say – will you come??

Because honestly – I REALLY want to meet you. And if I already know you, well, hanging out would be a lot of fun, too!!

Now I know – the idea of meeting people that only exist in blogs is FRIGHTENING – I’ve been to dozens of blogging events and am still scared out of my wits before every. single. one. But I always leave exhilarated and with new friends. So even though you WILL feel like running away before you walk through the door, if you make it through the door, I promise that I will do all in my power to help you have a great time!

So. If you would like to come, email me or let me know in your comment, and I’ll email you with directions! Let me know by September 24. And space is limited, so the sooner you can let me know, the better!!

And if you’re not close enough to come, I highly recommend you check out Vault Denim – It may be the newest, best, most exciting answer ever to the eradication of Mom Jeans!

For the results of our party, including before and after shots of several of the guests, click here.

The Dream Project.

September 16, 2011September 15, 2011 Rachel Callahan I'm a Glutton for Adventure, I'm No Videographer, Kids: The Experience.

Since I like to bring a sense of balance to my blog, I often find myself teetering precariously between posts about horrible admissions of guilt or embarrassment and exciting eureka moments.

So obviously, after the Third Nipple Incident, I owe you something great.

Unfortunately, I have nothing great. But a marginally good idea of something fun to do with your kid, maybe.

And so, I recommend to you: The Dream Project.

Since she could barely talk, Ali has enjoyed telling me about her dreams. And I have had an undying fascination in hearing them, dissecting what she’s saying and picking out familiar common threads that I experience in my own dreams. Themes such as having something in one’s hand and it disappearing, being stuck and not being able to walk or run, flying and other forms of supernatural transportation, being in one’s house but one’s house being a very strange place, and needing to pee, peeing, but still needing to pee.

And, after her recounting of the following particularly entertaining nightmare,

“I dreamed that Miss Laura’s Mommy didn’t have a head and she kept hugging me and wouldn’t stop hugging me and I told her to stop hugging me but she didn’t because she couldn’t hear me because she didn’t have ears because she didn’t have a head!!”

I decided that I needed to record some of these stories – if nothing else, for her own viewing pleasure when she gets older.

So I left my video camera on my dresser for a week. Every morning, I asked Ali what she dreamed about, and she kindly let me record her monologue. Some of the videos are poor quality because she didn’t wait until the lights were on to tell me her dreams. Also, I hope you enjoy the benefit of seeing exactly HOW cluttery we leave our (and especially her) bedroom.

The first conclusion from this experiment is obviously that we watch too many Disney movies.

Second, we don’t change out pajamas very often.

But besides that, I would like to do this once a year, keep all the videos saved together, and then be able to really geek out at analyzing how her subconscious changes over time. Because geeking out over your kid is what motherhood is all about, right?