C and B are 1 and 3!

In case you didn't know, both Benjamin and his sister were born on the same day. On February 23 three years ago, Benjamin was born. On February 23 of last year, Calliope was born. This February 23 no babies were born to us (as Vince breathes a sigh of relief), but we still had a lot of celebrating to do because it would be the first of many joint birthdays. I started off the big day by dressing the kids in cute new clothes. Benjamin got a Superman T-shirt (complete with a cape that he hated and detached) and Calliope got a tutu (that was so big it looked like it belonged under Scarlett O'Hara's skirt). I really wanted to capture a pic of my two angels posing happily in their cute outfits, but that didn't happen. Here are some of my failed attempts:

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No, Benjamin is not trying to strangle his sister in the picture at the top right. He's trying to gently move her by dragging her away by her neck. Ok, maybe he is trying to strangle her, but I try not to sweat the sibling stuff - especially when baby sister Calliope is a mere six pounds lighter than big brother Benjamin.
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That afternoon, their beloved Hao Po was scheduled to fly in from China. She arrived just in time to attend Benjamin's hip hop class. Usually, I just drop the Boo off and return 45 minutes later to pick him up, but every so often, the teachers allows parents to stay and watch what the kids have learned. This happened to be one of those days, and we were all quite impressed by Benjamin's hip hop moves:


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If you wanna see more of these slick moves, Benjamin's class will be performing in a dance recital at the Playa Vista Spring Fling at the end of March. Stay tuned for details! But for now, back to the birthday madness...

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I'm pretty crafty (and I mean "crafty" in the Martha Stewart sense, not "crafty" in the way the Beastie Boys mean it), and I wanted to do something creative for the birthday party favors, so this year, I decided to make crayon rolls. You know what crayon rolls are, right? Those little fabric sleeves that have a pocket for each individual crayon? Ok, maybe only those of us in Mommy La-La-Land know what crayon rolls are. Anyhoo, I couldn't be happy just making regular crayon rolls, so I decided to create original labels bearing the party motto of "C and B are 1 and 3" (as in "Calliope and Benjamin are turning 1 and 3 years old"). The label-creating was quite a process in and of itself that involved designing a logo, printing it on specially treated printable fabric, cutting the fabric, treating it with fray check, and doing a whole lot of other crap to it. I'll admit it wound up being a bigger pain in the ass than I'd anticipated, but the resulting labels were pretty nifty!
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Once the labels were done, all I had to do was sew up a bunch of crayon rolls using a pattern I purchased from Etsy, design and print matching coloring books, and...
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VOILA! Rock 'n' roll themed party favors! Overkill for a toddler birthday party? Perhaps. But hey, I thrive in the minutiae of motherhood. Besides, I have to put my fancy art degree to use somehow.
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The day of Benjamin and Calliope's big bash wound up being a jam-packed, crazy busy one. That morning, we attended the party of Benjamin's oldest friend Presley. We first met Pres and her mom Brooke at the Pump Station when the kids were mere weeks old. I was there to discuss the booby issues I was having with Benjamin. Brooke was there to discuss her own Presley booby issues. It was love at first boob - I mean, sight- and we've been friends ever since. We had a great time celebrating Presley's third at an indoor playground in Manhattan Beach. In all honesty, I figured that Brooke, Presley, and dad Ben would be totally wiped out and didn't expect them to show up at our party that afternoon, but they did! Here they are looking completely overjoyed to be at their second crazy toddler birthday party in one day:
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For the sake of our friendship, I am taking the initiative to tell you that Brooke is pregnant and not bloated here. If I don't mention that fact, I'm sure she'll kill me.

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Brooke and Ben may have been exhausted, but Pres sure wasn't! In fact, I think she damn near gave her poor preggo mom a heart attack with her antics in this picture. Just look at the expression on Brooke's face!

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All the other little kiddos had a great time, too. We choose to have C and B's party at the local Gymboree, where star Gymboree peeps Rachel and Noel orchestrated the festivities.

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The kids had a blast playing games, dancing, singing, and chasing bubbles.

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Calliope was a bit too young to be able to participate in the games, so she kept herself busy posing, crawling around, and generally just doing her best to look adorable in that giant tutu.

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It certainly seemed to catch James' eye!

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After everyone worked up an appetite playing, it was time for cake! For the second birthday in a row, I had Playa Vista baker Liz Lam whip up another one of her awesome cupcake cakes.
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I'd say they were a sweet ending to a very sweet party!
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Happy Birthday to my two beautiful babies. I can't believe you're growing up so fast.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Part 1

Halloween. A time when ordinary, everyday people transform themselves into anything they can imagine: superheroes, comic book characters, legendary figures, fantasy figures, or mystical creatures. Is there no more magical time of year?
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This year, Vince, Benjamin, and I decided to trade in our boring identities as accountant, toddler, and housewife and become a family of blue-mohawked punk rockers. We debuted our new family look at the neighborhood Halloween party with our neighbors Cleopatra, a mummy, and a Caesar's Palace emplo-- I mean, Marc Antony.
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Since three-foot-tall punk rocker costumes are hard to come by, I took matters into my own hands and created one for the Boo myself.
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I started off with a black t-shirt and jeans from Target. I cut the sleeves off of the shirt, sewed on zipper trim, and used iron-on transfer paper to add the red letter "B" I'd created in Photoshop. I narrowed the legs of the jeans and sewed black pleather trim with metal rivets down the side seams.

Unfortunately, I'd narrowed the pants a little too much. When Benjamin wore his costume for the first time at a Halloween party for the neighborhood kids, he fell over nearly every time he tried to run, walk, move, or breathe. Once prone on the ground, he had trouble getting back up because the pants bound his legs together, so he wound up wiggling prone like a little punk rock fish-out-of-water. Also, the tightness in the legs kept pulling the waistband down, exposing his knickers. Not a punk rock look at all.

A few quick mods fixed these issues. I cut out the inseam of the pants and replaced it with a strip of stretchy black jersey. To keep his diaper under wraps, I added metal snaps to securely fasten his shirt to his waistband. Problems solved!

Add a few finishing touches - a metal-studded pleather belt cut down to Boo-size, a variety of industrial-strength hair products, and a cuff made from leftover pleather trim and studs pried from the belt - and Benjamin was transformed from chubby, everyday Boo into...

BADASS BOO 2009!
More Halloween hijinks to come, so stay tuned!

My Best Friend's Wedding

Clockwise from top left: the gorgeous bride Deb; George and Deb after the ceremony; Deb post-makeup and on her way to getting dressed in her wedding gown; Deb with her Maid-of-Honor Jeni and her Matron-of-Honor moi; George's Mom and Deb's Mom

My best friend Deb got married on Saturday. Most women my age have long since ceased to use the term "best friend." They may refer to certain women as "girlfriends" or "close friends," but the term "best friend" is frequently seen as a juvenile sobriquet from adolescence. I, too, used to deride the usage of that term, but that was pre-Deb. It's hard to name all the reasons why I consider Deb to be my best friend. Like many good friends, Deb and I have much in common. We share a love of singing and a penchant for dressing ostentatiously. We love watching cheesy teen romance flicks and think that the instant cappucino sold by the pound at Costco is delish. We see nothing wrong with putting clothing on a dog or shamelessly trying to play matchmaker with single friends. But aside from what we share, there are many things that are so wonderfully, singularly, Deb that make Deb my best friend.

Oh, dear, I'm becoming verklempt. I'll come back to this later.

So as I was saying, Deb's wedding was on Saturday, and in typical Deb fashion, it was a spectacular affair to remember. We kicked the day off with hair and makeup for the bridesmaids and moms. At 8:00 am, we met at the MAC Cosmetics corporate office, where Deb had prepared a training room with breakfast, music, and - as a special touch - directors' chairs with a headshot of each of us pinned to it. For the next three hours, it was a mad dash to get us ready, but not to fear - Deb had hired the best and brightest MAC artists to transform each of us.

The bride herself underwent her transformation then, too, and the result was breathtaking - she looked radiant, beautiful, and happy as all get out!

After hair and makeup, we jumped into our gowns and hightailed it to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in downtown Los Angeles. There, we met up with the rest of the wedding party, including the kids. Like the grownups, they were dressed to the nines in adorable formal outfits. Benjamin sported a bowtie, white dress shirt, black velvet suspenders, black knickers, white knee-highs, and patent leather dress shoes. I was worried that he'd balk at having to wear such fussy clothing, but on the contrary, he seemed to love it - a little too much. After preening in the mirror at home, he fairly pranced around the cathedral, and then tried to jump into the baptismal font, which I'm pretty sure is frowned upon.

The flower girls were just as daintily attired as the Boo. Deb had four of them, the younger two of which I sewed dresses for. It was my first time working with organza, a pretty tricky fabric to sew. After a fair bit of cursing, I managed to turn out two adorable little green satin and organza dresses with chocolate colored bows, one for Ciena and the other for little Calina.

Father Antonio performed the ceremony, which was beautiful. I got no pictures of it because I was standing at the altar right next to Deb. Even if I hadn't been standing up there, I probably wouldn't have been able to shoot anything decent through all my tears. Suffice it to say, it was a lovely service that touched even my agnostic heart.

After the ceremony, we took a most unusual mode of transport to get to the reception. No, it wasn't a limo, a stretch Humvee, or a convertible. It was an English-style double decker bus with an open roof. Of course, most of us jumped right up on top to enjoy the LA skyline while clinging on for dear life as we drove down the freeway to CBS Studios in Studio City. We arrived windblown, exhilarated, and ready to party with the new couple.

And party we did. Deb and George had selected the famous "New York Street" set for their reception. In keeping with the high-fashion, Hollywood theme of the day, there was a red carpet at the entrance on which wedding guests could pose for pictures. Once seated, we enjoyed a delicious Chinese buffet dinner beneath a cascade of paper lanterns. An open bar kept the grown-ups happy, while a self-serve candy bar kept the kiddies awake well past their bedtimes.

One little kiddie did not make it past his bedtime. The poor Boo was so tuckered out from his busy day filled with laughter, tears, and preening that he was passed out by 8:00 pm. Luckily, we had his blanket, stroller, and trusty sidekick Mr. Monkey handy, so Benjamin had no problems sleeping through the revelry around him.
The next afternoon, Deb and George had a picnic in nearby Chase Burton Park for out-of-towners, family, and close friends. With the madness of the wedding behind us, we were able to relax and enjoy the beautiful day. To our amusement, Benjamin found himself a new best friend, groomsman Zaldy, AKA "Uncle Z." It's too bad Z lives so far away; he would have made an excellent manny!
So back to the topic of Deb and why she's my best friend. Lest I get verklempt again while writing it all out, I'll just let the toast I gave to her during the reception explain it all. It was a bit emotional and a tad on the long-winded side. But then again, so are we.
And Deb, once again, CONGRATULATIONS!!!
The first time I met Deb was at Santa Monica Beach. I'd been playing volleyball with a group of friends, including George. This petite girl in a big grey sweatshirt pushing a bike came up to me. She introduced herself as George's girlfriend Deb, and we started to chat. It was apparent that we had a lot in common. We both had pugs. We were both singers. We both had moved here from far-away places. And we were both extremely talkative. We exchanged info, but this being LA - and me being a cynic - I figured, "I'll probably never hear from her again."
A few days later, I got an email from Deb. It was a very "Deb" email, and if you've ever emailed Deb, you know what I'm talking about. It was filled with emoticons, exclamation points interspersed with question marks, these weird animated happy faces, and entire passages that were inexplicably ALL IN CAPS. Her emails make me laugh, because they are just so Deb: exuberant and lively. And in person, she is a force. She'll greet you with that amazing smile, tell you how fabulous you look, ask how your significant other, child, latest hobby, or pet is doing, and then give you a hug that feels like it came from a linebacker. The funny thing is that even if you're not in the best of moods, her enthusiasm has a way of working its way into you so that suddenly you're smiling, too. Yes, Deb is one of those rare individuals who has the power to light up a room just by being in it.
Her incredible zest for life is the reason why she is able to fit more into her schedule than is humanly possible. Deb is the hardest-working person I know. It's difficult to remember all the things she does, but I'll try. She sings at weddings and other engagements. She cantors. She is a recording artist who has released multiple albums just in the past few years. She performs with a local rock band. She is in the process of developing a television show. Oh, and she has a full-time job. It's a good thing that she has to fly to Canada to see her family, because if it weren't for that fact, I doubt the girl would ever take more than one day off in a row.
But even in the midst of her bajillion responsibilities, Deb makes time for her loved ones. She may neglect to eat, sleep, or get her oil changed, but she never neglects her friends or family. This devotion is why she's played such a large role in my son Benjamin's life. In the months after his birth, I was sleep-deprived, depressed and incapable of taking care of myself. Enter Deb. She'd magically show up at my door when I needed her like a hip, young Mary Poppins. Within moments of arriving, she'd take Benjamin off my hands and shoo me to bed. To make me feel better about accepting her help, she'd assure me that she'd work on her laptop while I slept. But she never did - when I'd wake up, it would be apparent that Deb had been cleaning my house. Everything would be tidy, the kitchen would be sparkly, and the shoes in the entryway would be lined up like little soldiers. I used to tell her that she was like the creepy guy from Sleeping with the Enemy because the perfectly-lined up shoes would be a dead giveaway that she had been in my house. Anyway, I can't count how many times she did this for me, and she never wanted anything in return. I'd ask to treat her to a meal to say thanks, but she'd get annoyed, saying that I'm family and it's not a big deal and she'd had fun hanging out with Benjamine. Sometimes she'd even try to convince me that I was the one doing her a favor. No, she was the one helping me. She was a lifesaver in those dark days, and since then, she's become like a second mother to my son.
It seems like fate that someone this selfless and giving would wind up with a person as caring and kind as George is. And they complement one another perfectly. George is grounded, and Deb can be... hyper. When Deb gets really excited, her voice will climb to decibels not audible to human ears, and George will say, "BON!" and do his trademark (make gesture). These two balance each other out. Deb may be flying into the outer reaches, but George is in the control tower making sure her that she makes it back down to Earth.
Guys, I feel blessed to have known you and seen you through so many different stages, both in your lives as individuals, and in your life together as a couple. You make each other laugh, sometimes you make each other cry, but you always bring out the best in one another. And the love and happiness you share is inspiring enough for this cynic to say with 100% certainty that you always were meant to be together. I'm so excited for the new life that begins for you tonight, and the adventures that you will enjoy together as husband and wife. Congratulations!

Hardcore Sewing

I've never been one to do things halfway. When something piques my interest - a new hobby, a genre of literature, a nice bottle of cabernet - I'm not content to just kinda/sorta/maaaaybe try it out. I like to do things all the way. I have to master that hobby. I have to read a dozen books in that particular genre. I have to empty that bottle of wine. Come to think of it, the wine-downing often accompanies the mastering of the hobbies, and maybe that's why, in the process of mastering my latest hobby (sewing), I somehow managed to sew through my finger. Yes, through my finger. With my sewing machine.

It was late, and I was sipping my favorite red while working on a dress for my friend Jen's daughter when it happened. My first thought was, "Did I just sew through my finger?" My second thought was, "Why, yes, I think I did," which was quickly followed by my third throught: "Wow, I'm HARDCORE." A few seconds later, the adrenaline had worn off, and my finger started to hurt like a you-know-what, and at that point, my only thought was, "Holy Scheiße! HO. LY. SCHEIßE!" Only not in German.
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Thankfully, I didn't bleed on the dress I was sewing, and even if I did, I don't think it would have mattered, because the fabric was - get this - white with red spots. Ha! As you can probably gather, the dress pictured above is not the dress I was working on. It was a very similar dress to this one, which was a gift for my friend Hugo's daughter Dani. I'm only picturing Dani's dress as a point of reference for you, and also to act as a clumsy segueway to something completely unrelated.

How absolutely adorable is Benjamin in that dress? Now, before you starting thinking I'm some crazy woman who cross-dresses her son, let me just say that the only reason he's wearing that dress is because I wanted to - no - NEEDED to put it on him to check the fit. And fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), Benjamin really seemed to enjoy wearing the dress. In fact, he actually threw a screaming tantrum when I took it off of him to wrap up for Dani. I guess I'm going to have to make him a dress of his own, but he'd better learn how to sit in one if I do. I mean, look at how he's sitting in the last picture on the left - legs akimbo, skirt hiked up. No son of mine is going to sit like that in a dress!

Lileeloo Designs

My original reason for learning how to sew was to advance my Boo Beastie empire. In the process, I learned my way around a fabric store. I'd go in for just notions, but pass by bolts and bolts of fabric. They called out to me with their textures and colors, so I'd pause to finger a swatch of delicate silk or examine an interesting print. One day as I was draping a gorgeous green swath of of jersey knit Tencel over my arm, I thought to myself, "This would make a fabulous dress." And that's how my newest project was born.
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Photo credit: Brian Bobila

I suppose it was only a matter of time before I started making clothes. After all, I've always loved fashion. Some of my style choices have been less than successful. The time I paired a ruched ballroom skirt with a ratty green t-shirt jumps to mind. Then there are my go-to outfits that are in such heavy rotation I can no longer tell if they look good or bad. For example, my "uniform" of t-shirt, hat, and skinny jeans tucked into boots - what my hubby refers to as "that pirate outfit." Either way, fashion has always been my passion (ugh - did I really just say that?), and thus, no one was really surprised when I started Lileeloo Designs.

I decided to call my new line "Lileeloo" as an homage to my maiden name. My first piece, crafted from the aforementioned green Tencel, was a convertible dress and shirt that I christened the Trip Top. Soon, scarves, purses, wraps, and more shirts followed, all of them versatile pieces constructed from lightweight, stretchy fabrics in a mostly neutral palette. My aim is to fill a void in the current fashion market - and also to reduce our living room to a heap of half-finished patterns and stretchy, neutral fabric scraps on a daily basis. Perhaps my next project should be to design myself a sewing space.