Gymboree. I adore Gymboree. First of all, it’s hopelessly cute. Second, if you are a devoted sale and coupon shopper, it’s pretty darn affordable. Next, could it be any easier to buy from a single Gymboree line, toss it in the closet and not have to worry that your child will emerge the next morning looking like she’s ready to audition at Rodeo Clowns R Us? And finally, it’s durable. Not Tuffskins durable, but durable in a way that makes me feel like I won’t be purchasing blue jeans for at least two months.
Or at least it used to be. Recent shopping excursions have netted t-shirts of the thin and “shapeless after washing” variety. I thought it might be a summer weight issue, until I bought some fall clothing. Even my not terribly fabric astute four year old who does not often see beyond Sparkles! and Horsies! noticed that her shirt “felt funny”. Then she complained of a hole in her new pants. Closer inspection revealed that both edges of fabric had not been picked up and there was a hole in the seam. I could have sewn it, I should have sewn it – but I exchanged for a different set. And am still explaining that I’m sorry the “purple pantseses with da bows” are gone, but the store no longer carried them in her size and I did the best I could.
The seven year old who prefers function over form was actually interested in appearances this year and selected two darling rugby shirts from another line. One was washed and worn. After the second washing I noticed that she must have undergone a mammoth growth spurt between August and September because I could see wrists and a tummy while she was wearing a shirt deliberately bought one size too large (oldest mom trick in the book). Then my gray matter stirred to life and I pulled out the other unwashed rugby shirt for a little comparative research. Two inch shrinkage in every direction.
It’s worth noting that when Rob washed and dried a pair of dry clean only linen pants he only managed about one half that amount of damage.
Not happy.
I like cute children’s clothes. I do not like having to put a lot of effort into children’s clothes – as a working mother I prefer to spend more time with the children and less with the clothes.
The receipt says “Gymboree Listens” – we’re going to find out.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Rooms To Go
I was going to try to come up with ninety-five of these and tape them to the store's front door, but frankly, it's not worth the effort.
From the website: Designed for decor flexibility, the collection is not only beautiful (Well, yes, it was attractive), but functional (And yes, you can sit on it). Each piece is well built on a hardwood (Is pine plywood now considered hardwood?) frame with precision tailoring for good looks and long wear (Five years??).
The purchase process was awful, and required a conference between the salesman, his manager, my husband and myself to verify that we would in fact not be purchasing a fabric warranty that did not include child or pet stains, spills, or other markings. Hello?
From the website: Designed for decor flexibility, the collection is not only beautiful (Well, yes, it was attractive), but functional (And yes, you can sit on it). Each piece is well built on a hardwood (Is pine plywood now considered hardwood?) frame with precision tailoring for good looks and long wear (Five years??).
The purchase process was awful, and required a conference between the salesman, his manager, my husband and myself to verify that we would in fact not be purchasing a fabric warranty that did not include child or pet stains, spills, or other markings. Hello?
When delivered, we had to remind the driver that the manifest also included end tables.
I have a price point after which I no longer expect to assemble – this was violated.
Packing rope was stapled to the underside of the tables. Stapled.
The finish on the end and coffee tables began to degrade as soon as the pieces were placed and we stood back to admire them.
The micro-suede on the loveseat has been worn shiny from repeated contact. Like the bottom of a pair of dance shoes for those of you that have ever taken dance.
The interior structure of the sofa is comprised entirely of scraps of wood stolen from the trash of a middle school shop class. We know this because we have opened the sofa and re-bolted and re-braced the frame not once, not twice, but three times. In five years.
The bottom frame is currently braced with three landscaping 4x4s. They are out of view, but I know they are under there and it rankles.
The back cushions are completely misshapen and require beating into submission before any sort of comfort level can be attained.
The seams are coming out of all four throw pillows. Which, for the record, we have never thrown.
Friday, August 6, 2010
For Carrie Sue
Even Lilly Pulitzer can make a mistake. I'll have to politely disagree with the "classic, classic, classic" description of this little frock. It looks rather more like what a better heeled mourner of Tai Shan's return to China might have donned to dab her eyes and tragically whisper to the cameras how much she's going to miss the little guy.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Public Service Announcement
If you decide that you simply must catch up with the first season of True Blood and a website has all the episodes right there, for free, something is probably too good to be true.
For example, when you try to stream the finale of the first season and you’re asked to take a quick quiz first, you may or may not infect your computer with a virus. That virus may or may not respond to standard anti-virus protocol and require that your husband spend four hours wiping the system clean and reinstalling everything.
On a positive note, the husband does love a project, and I’m always happy to oblige.
For example, when you try to stream the finale of the first season and you’re asked to take a quick quiz first, you may or may not infect your computer with a virus. That virus may or may not respond to standard anti-virus protocol and require that your husband spend four hours wiping the system clean and reinstalling everything.
On a positive note, the husband does love a project, and I’m always happy to oblige.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Saturdays With Sage
A not terribly old woman, a young girl, and I didn't learn my lesson.
My apologies to Mitch Albom.
Having failed to escape detection this morning, I took Sage along with me for the running of errands. Weight Watchers (where I learned I lost the exact same increment of not quite a pound as last week) went well, as did our impulsive breakfast at Mama Margie's. It would have been a truly special mother-daughter meal had Mama Margie not thoughtfully placed a large screen television right over my left shoulder. I tried, but I simply could not compete with King Julian.
He likes to move it.
Feeling full and sassy, we toodled over to Lowe's and managed to annoy every man in the store. I only saw one other woman there without a male companion - and she was in the outdoor gardening area. I was (gasp) loitering in the paint aisle. The males there clearly had Very Important Things To Do and had not factored in the woman with slow small child variable.
After Lowe's, my child, my coupons and I went to Target and saved money by spending money. I think there was more spending than saving, but I now have enough Cheerios to keep the spaces between the couch cushions nice and crunchy for months. Sadly, my failure to sufficiently caffeinate, the heat, a low grade sinus infection and Sage's incessant questions (what are humans made of, what is God made of, what are shopping carts made of, I WANT A SPARKLY PINK PENCIL CASE) brought on a crashing headache. We cut the trip short and eliminated the HEB leg completely.
After a nap and a handful of Tylenol, I decided to tackle the rest of the grocery issue. With Sage.
I wonder if there's any Darvocet left in the house?
My apologies to Mitch Albom.
Having failed to escape detection this morning, I took Sage along with me for the running of errands. Weight Watchers (where I learned I lost the exact same increment of not quite a pound as last week) went well, as did our impulsive breakfast at Mama Margie's. It would have been a truly special mother-daughter meal had Mama Margie not thoughtfully placed a large screen television right over my left shoulder. I tried, but I simply could not compete with King Julian.
He likes to move it.
Feeling full and sassy, we toodled over to Lowe's and managed to annoy every man in the store. I only saw one other woman there without a male companion - and she was in the outdoor gardening area. I was (gasp) loitering in the paint aisle. The males there clearly had Very Important Things To Do and had not factored in the woman with slow small child variable.
After Lowe's, my child, my coupons and I went to Target and saved money by spending money. I think there was more spending than saving, but I now have enough Cheerios to keep the spaces between the couch cushions nice and crunchy for months. Sadly, my failure to sufficiently caffeinate, the heat, a low grade sinus infection and Sage's incessant questions (what are humans made of, what is God made of, what are shopping carts made of, I WANT A SPARKLY PINK PENCIL CASE) brought on a crashing headache. We cut the trip short and eliminated the HEB leg completely.
After a nap and a handful of Tylenol, I decided to tackle the rest of the grocery issue. With Sage.
I wonder if there's any Darvocet left in the house?
Friday, July 16, 2010
Well Baby Visit
Rob says I can’t call it a well-baby visit when the baby in question is seven. I disagree.
As we were leaving yesterday, I noticed that Ashton had paired her less-than-demure-light-up Twinkletoes sneakers with equally less-than-demure pink, purple and silver sparkly socks (note to self – lose those socks in the wash this weekend). My plea to please change into socks less likely to induce a seizure was met with serious resistance until Rob walked in, took one look and very dryly pronounced her 25% clown. “25% clown” was an instant hit with the adults and is currently the quickest way to provoke a foot stomp and dramatic exit. We love it.
In any case, our well baby was found to have extremely loose ligaments in her knees. She does this odd thing where she can roll her knees back and forth, but thus far my concern has been limited to keeping her from doing it while walking (looks like she has spaghetti legs) and while she’s sitting next to me on the sofa. It’s hard to concentrate on Burn Notice when the cushions are rocking and rolling with her patellae. Dr. T has never seen a child do this and was amazed that with just a bit of pressure, it would be possible to push Ashton’s kneecaps out of joint. As a parent, I am less amazed and more concerned by the apparently shoddy construction habits of her general contractor - i.e., handwringing and “oh I just knew I should have taken in more calcium during the 21st week of gestation”. The long and short of it is that my high energy, high speed child is at increased risk for tearing her ACL, especially if she goes on to sports that will pivot her knees. Fortunately, some of that risk will be mitigated as her quadriceps develop and stabilize her knees.
Quads. Ashton. That’s funny. It would be funnier for you, dear reader, if I wasn’t so concerned about her finding this blog and having a meltdown when she’s fourteen – I’d post a picture of her decidedly not muscular legs. If you are a van Staveren, you know exactly what legs to which I refer.
I was feeling particularly snuggly and prone to coddling my delicate little flower until about ten o’clock last night when Sage started to scream that her finger hurt. Why? Ashton wanted to know if a bedside lamp was hot and convinced her three year old sister to touch it. One burned and blistered fingertip later, Sage had learned a hard lesson about the manipulative tactics of the older sibling. It’s a lesson I thought she learned during the “try to fly and I’ll catch you” episode that culminated in a trip to urgent care, but three year olds have retentive memory issues.
Sage, bless her heart, has decided that she is ready for preschool. At home. She refers to this concept as “preschool at my house” and much to my amusement has steadfastly refused to shorten it to “homeschooling” – which is essentially where we appear to be headed. I’m very excited for Rob, who I’m sure is simply thrilled. I have big plans involving school supply shopping, magnetic letters, books, flash cards and activities that will probably culminate in her stubborn refusal to do anything but sit at the kitchen table and draw very tiny monsters in one corner of a sheet of blank paper and insist that we keep and display them all. But I have to try, because that is what mothers do. If we throw enough mud at a wall, eventually, we hope, just a little will stick.
Not that Sage is a wall, or education is mud.
Perhaps my own mother should have worked on metaphors just a little more intensely…
As we were leaving yesterday, I noticed that Ashton had paired her less-than-demure-light-up Twinkletoes sneakers with equally less-than-demure pink, purple and silver sparkly socks (note to self – lose those socks in the wash this weekend). My plea to please change into socks less likely to induce a seizure was met with serious resistance until Rob walked in, took one look and very dryly pronounced her 25% clown. “25% clown” was an instant hit with the adults and is currently the quickest way to provoke a foot stomp and dramatic exit. We love it.
In any case, our well baby was found to have extremely loose ligaments in her knees. She does this odd thing where she can roll her knees back and forth, but thus far my concern has been limited to keeping her from doing it while walking (looks like she has spaghetti legs) and while she’s sitting next to me on the sofa. It’s hard to concentrate on Burn Notice when the cushions are rocking and rolling with her patellae. Dr. T has never seen a child do this and was amazed that with just a bit of pressure, it would be possible to push Ashton’s kneecaps out of joint. As a parent, I am less amazed and more concerned by the apparently shoddy construction habits of her general contractor - i.e., handwringing and “oh I just knew I should have taken in more calcium during the 21st week of gestation”. The long and short of it is that my high energy, high speed child is at increased risk for tearing her ACL, especially if she goes on to sports that will pivot her knees. Fortunately, some of that risk will be mitigated as her quadriceps develop and stabilize her knees.
Quads. Ashton. That’s funny. It would be funnier for you, dear reader, if I wasn’t so concerned about her finding this blog and having a meltdown when she’s fourteen – I’d post a picture of her decidedly not muscular legs. If you are a van Staveren, you know exactly what legs to which I refer.
I was feeling particularly snuggly and prone to coddling my delicate little flower until about ten o’clock last night when Sage started to scream that her finger hurt. Why? Ashton wanted to know if a bedside lamp was hot and convinced her three year old sister to touch it. One burned and blistered fingertip later, Sage had learned a hard lesson about the manipulative tactics of the older sibling. It’s a lesson I thought she learned during the “try to fly and I’ll catch you” episode that culminated in a trip to urgent care, but three year olds have retentive memory issues.
Sage, bless her heart, has decided that she is ready for preschool. At home. She refers to this concept as “preschool at my house” and much to my amusement has steadfastly refused to shorten it to “homeschooling” – which is essentially where we appear to be headed. I’m very excited for Rob, who I’m sure is simply thrilled. I have big plans involving school supply shopping, magnetic letters, books, flash cards and activities that will probably culminate in her stubborn refusal to do anything but sit at the kitchen table and draw very tiny monsters in one corner of a sheet of blank paper and insist that we keep and display them all. But I have to try, because that is what mothers do. If we throw enough mud at a wall, eventually, we hope, just a little will stick.
Not that Sage is a wall, or education is mud.
Perhaps my own mother should have worked on metaphors just a little more intensely…
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Making light of a serious situation
One might make the assumption that anything used to melt metal is a burn hazard.
Wire Feed Welders Recalled by Star Asia USA Due to Burn Hazard, http://www.cpsc.gov/cpscpub/prerel/prhtml10/10298.html
Of course, the "one" in question reads CPSC recall notices obsessively and was perversely delighted to learn that toy helicopters were bursting into flames mid-flight. At our house, that would be the hallmark of a truly outstanding toy.
Tween Brands Recalls Children's Metal Jewelry Due to High Levels of Cadmium, http://www.cpsc.gov/cpscpub/prerel/prhtml10/10297.html
We should all know better than to buy any sort of shiny trinket made in the People's Republic of Misfit Toys. Even my seven year old will flip over a potential purchase and think twice if she sees "China". I have nothing but good feelings about the people and culture of China, but I do have some misgivings about their manufacturing standards and government regulation of same.
If your child requires something shiny and inexpensive, get thee to the jewelry case at Wal-Mart and buy her something in a nice sterling silver.
On the other hand, while cadmium is generally toxic, most warnings involve ingestion. If a 10-13 year old is eating her earrings, perhaps a parent has more to worry about than reading government recalls.
Wire Feed Welders Recalled by Star Asia USA Due to Burn Hazard, http://www.cpsc.gov/cpscpub/prerel/prhtml10/10298.html
Of course, the "one" in question reads CPSC recall notices obsessively and was perversely delighted to learn that toy helicopters were bursting into flames mid-flight. At our house, that would be the hallmark of a truly outstanding toy.
Tween Brands Recalls Children's Metal Jewelry Due to High Levels of Cadmium, http://www.cpsc.gov/cpscpub/prerel/prhtml10/10297.html
We should all know better than to buy any sort of shiny trinket made in the People's Republic of Misfit Toys. Even my seven year old will flip over a potential purchase and think twice if she sees "China". I have nothing but good feelings about the people and culture of China, but I do have some misgivings about their manufacturing standards and government regulation of same.
If your child requires something shiny and inexpensive, get thee to the jewelry case at Wal-Mart and buy her something in a nice sterling silver.
On the other hand, while cadmium is generally toxic, most warnings involve ingestion. If a 10-13 year old is eating her earrings, perhaps a parent has more to worry about than reading government recalls.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)