Someday Rockstar will read this and learn his mother is an accessories whore. So maybe for Mother’s Day I’ll get a robot keychain from the Prada warehouse in Ap Lei Chau. I don’t have that dangerously expensive obsession with handbags (though I have a few.) But I love the chunky necklaces, bracelets, rings and things to wear with. And because I am now GlaMum where I used to just be Gla, I take quick inventory of which jewelry I can wear with a bouncing toddler and which of my jewelry can kill someone (note to self: wear sans toddler). Of course if I have a child with me, I don’t need that much more accessorizing – the Asian child is always the accessory in season. The people at Grazia and Today and Us Weekly obviously agree with me. Baby stories sell magazines. Asian/ other race baby stories sell more magazines (unless you’re talking Octomum.)
Today’s installment is a tribute to my latest purchase, snapped up just days after a final 70% mark down at Joyce Warehouse. Dsquared believes their cuffs should be shiny black leather, at least 3 inches wide with a bling bling gold-toned clasp. No corners sharp enough to scratch. Tough, heavy duty clasp that can stand the rigors of hauling a toddler up and down the slide, that stays reassuringly manacled around my wrist as I scramble thru the latest toddler bootcamp obstacle course after my own little wild animal. And I think it looks good with a white Catcher In The Rye t-shirt from Outofprintclothing.com.
Or maybe the 1984 tee. Every tee bought is a book donation to a community in need. Now you can run after your toddler in style, and also give back for the blessing of your little bundle of erm, joy.
http://www.outofprintclothing.com/Default.asp
Tee
Bundle of erm, joy
Toddler Bootcamp
Toddler Parent Bootcamp. I used to have hamsters. Lotsa hamsters. When we want to get em out of all the plastic tubes we just unscrew all the tunnels and take out the piece with a hamster in it. You can tell what we’re thinking right now…
I wear bling. The real stuff, the fake stuff, the stuff that makes me feel good. Most importantly, the stuff that makes me feel good. When I feel good, I lose it less readily when Rockstar does something “wrong”. He does something “wrong” pretty often. I need to wear bling pretty often. Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc – after this, therefore because of this. <Whatever the latin is for> I wear bling because I need to feel good often.
When I feel good I have patience enough for one more swing at getting him to eat/ bathe/ go to bed. It’s cheaper than therapy. Probably. Usually. Maybe.
Flexing “muscles”. This is him striking a pose after refusing to put on a clean shirt at the end of the play session. (He was actually fine leaving. He was not fine changing. Go figure.)
Now I have to wear everything around a little Christie Martin gold disc necklace with “Rockstar” hand-stamped on it. My husband bought it for me. My son checks periodically to make sure I’m still wearing it. If I’m not, I get an accusatory “What that?” at anything else I’m wearing. And it has to say Rockstar because I have smarty pants friends who go “Rockstar, yes he do. Rockstar like it, how bout you?” I thought it was relatives you couldn’t pick. Just my luck the people who see humor in my son’s name are the same people who’ve had my back over the years.
Buh-ling.
OK. Truth is, I’m typing with a lump in my throat that’s been getting bigger. Rockstar was so mad at me for near-ignoring him because I got caught up trying to finish his art project he’s been sticking to his dad and demanding his dad take over all our rituals – bedtime story, bedtime youtube educational videos, bedtime cuddle. I’ve been benched. It hurts. Because he knows what he’s doing, is why it hurts. He also dumped my clean underwear in the dog’s basket. Is he going to grow up into some crazed possessive stalker-type boyfriend of the kind mummy dearest nearly dated in her worse early-20s nightmare years? This is why I was always a dog person, not a baby person. Dogs don’t do that to you. It’s terrifying to love a person so much.
