Good Luck High Fives

Two years ago, my mother in law and I walked down Boylston Street, pushing a 7 month old Colin in a stroller, as we watched the last participants of the Boston Marathon cross the finish line in front of Marathon Sports.

I had tears in my eyes. Here it was, 6pm, and they were still coming in. No fanfare, save for those of us still milling around. No tape to cross, no banners. The barricades were down. Business returned to normal. And yet, no matter.  They were going to finish. It was a real testament to the human spirit.

Yesterday, Kase and I took our two children to watch the start of the race. One of the fun benefits of our new town is that we host the start of the Marathon. Year after year, residents open their homes to host runners from all over the world. We even hosted a co-worker of Kase’s who was running in the race for the fourth time. I wanted my boys to have this experience- to stand among the crowd, feel the overwhelming positive energy of both the spectators and the runners.

My boys. We had no qualms about bringing our two small boys to the start line of such a momentous event.  I am sure other parents felt the same way. This was an event that celebrates the human spirit. The inherent goodness of people. That no matter what heat one participates in, whether in a wheelchair or as an Elite runner, they are celebrating their good health, their ability. Their gift. Runners recognize that no matter the reason behind that bib number, they are able to do something many of us cannot. They do it for themselves or charity. Some run alone and some run literally tied to another person, guiding them for 26.2 miles.

And for those who can’t run? We watch. We cheer. We smile like fools as thousands of athletes run by. We stand for hours on the streets of our communities and cheer for family. For friends. For complete strangers.  We cheer for their determination, for their spirit.

What I will remember from yesterday morning is the sheer number of people lining the streets of our small, quiet town. I will remember watching runners stretch on front lawns and mingle with their families as they got ready to join their corrals. I will remember the police officers who entertained Colin by revving their motorcycle engines and offering him a seat on their vehicles.  Who, quite possibly, became some of the first responders later that day. I will remember the young woman we spoke to, who was going to “hop in” to the race, to join her friend in the third heat. For fun. I will remember the race volunteers, hoisting bags full of discarded clothes into charity trucks.  I will remember the scores of children lining the street, including my own son, handing out high fives to the runners as they went by, “for good luck.” I will remember how he smiled and laughed, and how they did the same in return.

It was a magical experience.

And next year? We will do it again.

The Look for Less [Black Cap-Toe Flats]

I know I’m hitting you with a lot of Looks for Less, but when you have to rejig your wardrobe and have a slight shopping addiction in addition to that, then you have to find those deals where you can. And here is another.

I was supposed to be at the mall returning items (isn’t that always how it goes?), and happened by the Payless and  the cutest pair of patent leather cap toe pumps in the display caught my eye. I don’t usually venture into Payless unless the display beckons me or I’m drunk at 2:30 in the afternoon and window shopping in New Orleans with my sister. That’s another story for another day.  Annnnnyway, lucky for me, the display pair were just my size and on sale to boot. Get in my Double City Mini, shoes!

I know. I love them, too. Turns out, these are all over the stores this season, most notably at Banana Republic. For $80. Get real, Banana. Get a job, learn the value of a dollar for chrissake and then, get real. DO YOU KNOW WE ARE IN A RECESSION?

Clockwise from Top: Banana Republic/ Payless/ Yosi Samra

The Look for Less [Didn’t I Tell You That Edition]

So here’s the thing about being postpartum again. None of my clothes fit. Yes, I would love to be that woman who bounces back to her pre-preggo weight and body a mere two months after pushing a baby out. The reality is: notsomuch.

Most of the time, I feel just fine about this. I am working out again, I’ve got a good amount of energy, and for the most part, I am eating well. But then? I step out of my sweats and try and put on a pair of jeans. And then I change my outfit eighty times because “I look fat!” which usually leads to me breaking out into a sweat from the sheer effort of it all, which doesn’t help to make me feel any less out of shape and/or fat. And then I cry. It’s a vicious cycle, really. Well, I assume it is. I’ve only ventured to get dressed in real clothes twice. It was exhausting.

Now, for the record, I know I am not fat. I don’t really even like the word. But I am too fat for my old wardrobe, and that’s the truth. The main problem is that in my sweatpants of denial, I hadn’t accepted the reality that lies between maternity wear and my old clothes.  I know for a fact that my body will return to me. One day. A day in the not so distant future, I hope. But in the meantime? Ain’t nobody got time for that. It was time to invest in some new clothes that can tide me over until then.

But you know me. I’m cheap. I like to shop. I just don’t like to spend money. You got me? I love me some J. Crew, but that store repeatedly makes me cry and then I must avow to never talk to them again, no matter how often they email me or text.

The beauty of this is that most of the places I like to shop? Love cheap bastards like myself. For instance, I’ve never bought a single thing at full price from Old Navy or the Gap or Banana. This is due to the fact that pretty much every single day, I get an email that tells me they are running an online sale. It’s like those Macy’s ads for their “One Day!” sales that just happen to be every day. Or is that just me? Anyway,  you go online, pop a few items into your cart, run the total above $50, and get free shipping. Then, a few days later, the magical UPS man comes and brings you pressies! I love pressies!  I try on my spoils in the comfort of my own home, cry in private and then return the crap I don’t like to the store. Old Navy is my recent go-to for flats. They are so cute. Love them.

My other favorite thing is that due to the economy, other stores seem to be following suit. I think that once a week for the past month, Loft has done a 50% off everything in the store thing. Or 40%. I went in before I had Jack and they were doing the 50% off thing. I thought maybe it was buy one, get one 50% off, or 50% off of one item, but no. It was 50% off everything. I went back a couple of days later (Kase and I were trying to walk the baby out at the mall) and they were doing a “Spend $100, get $50 off”. Soooo basically, another 50% off sale.  Just be straight with me, Loft. I’m no good at math.

The Gap also runs a lot of sales. And they often do additional off of sales prices. I got a pair of Boyfriend jeans for $12 and a pair of loafers for $10 at a 40% off sale. I’m not great at math, so I’m still not sure how that happened, but whatever. I don’t ask questions. I just swipe the old debit card and waddle out of the store.

Then there are the stores you scoff at. You know the ones I am talking about. But let me tell you. By just walking into those stores I vowed to never enter, I got some sweet deals. A J Crew knockoff bubble necklace for $10 at Wet Seal and  knockoff cap toe flats? $20 at Payless. Yes, Payless. And they aren’t the first pair of shoes I’ve purchased there. And loved.

And then there is the old standby: Target. I love me some Target.  Target is usually my go-to when I want something trendy, like a chambray shirt or mint colored skinnies . They are also a good spot for shoes. Love my leopard flats.

So while I restock my wardrobe, I’m not breaking the bank. Though sometimes I do feel like that girl in the Sears commercial when people inquire as to where my necklace is from, or that they like my shoes. I’m all “Erm, Payless?” But hey: At least I’m not crying, or sweating profusely from excessive wardrobe changes. So that’s a start.