Closet Space

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Thanks, MG! 1569″> ,


Beauty is only skin deep (but lotion helps)

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There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to dive right in: I’m not a baby anymore. Suddenly, I’m paying attention to those ads on t.v., the ones that talk about erasing wrinkles and giving you a glow and turning back the hands of time.

It wasn’t so long ago that the thought of looking ten years younger was ridiculous. Why would I want to look like a twenty-year-old with four kids, I’d mutter, turning the channel. All those products were for older women, women who played bridge and ate fiber and complained of aching joints. (Which reminds me, my hip is aching today.)

And then, I don’t know exactly when it happened, I noticed a few crinkles. Nothing major, except once where there were none, lines now appeared.

This has been going on for a few years, almost more of an observation of tiny little details on my face than any else. Recently, however, I feel like things are picking up. Over the holidays I became acutely aware of lines and bags and a general ennui, on my forehead in particular. Looking back, we might also call this fatigue or holiday-stress-disorder, but I will admit that for a few days it really threw me for a loop.

What I finally realized, after discussing this at length with a few trusted friends who are dealing with this same thing (and also, my eight-years-younger sister, who is not dealing with this at all), is that this problem is universal, which is reassuring, and also that there are some things we can do about it.

Here is a list of thoughts I’d like to share with you. They are in no particular order, and cover the wide range of my musings and suggestions on this matter.

1. I realized after spending a few days of acute-skin-awareness that in ten years, I will look back and wonder what in the world I was so worked up about. That’s what finally got me out of my funk.

2. According to my sister, things are seldom as bad as you think they are.

3. According to my brain, and also the writings of wise men and women: We should not be so vain! (blah-blah-blah. oops, I mean: so true, so true!)

4. Do you really want to have cosmetic surgery to get rid of this stuff? That will most likely result in you looking surprised. All the time.

5. Some of those lines are smile lines. They are happy lines! They show how happy you are!

6. Having said that, two words: wrinkle. cream. In theory, I’m too young for this stuff. But the truth is, I’m not. There, I said it. I’m totally starting to read articles about which wrinkle creams work the best (and also all about how great Geritol tastes with your bran flakes at breakfast).

7. A few thoughts on wrinkle cream: put the heavy duty stuff on at night. Don’t wear it during the day under your foundation. If you do, this will result in you looking like you just climbed out of a vat of Vaseline. Trust me on this. I made this mistake and have the awkward pictures to prove it.

8. It’s so unfair that I need a wrinkle cream for people with breakouts. Can’t I just have one or the other at this stage of the game?

9. Find a good oil-free moisturizer to wear in the day, and then put that wrinkle gloop on at night.

10. Drink a ton of water.

11. Don’t take yourself so seriously.

12. Drink some good red wine. The wine won’t take away the wrinkles but it will diminish your fixation on them.

Do you have anything else to add? Comments are open for a great, big, therapeutic group hug.

UPDATED TO ADD: a special thanks to my good buddy who sent this picture my way asking how much time I thought this guy spent worrying about wrinkles. Point taken (gotta keep things Testosterhome-y around here).

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Worth It.

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The week before Christmas, Paul and I took our boys to a local light extravaganza. We went with a group of neighbors, and wound up walking the tour with friends who also have five boys.

Upon entering the beautifully lit gardens, we were directed to the free hot chocolate and cookies. While Paul and I worked on loading Henry into the baby carrier, our boys proceeded to the food line and then downed some cocoa. By the time we were situated and ready to begin the tour, they were on their second (and third) cup.

We headed out onto the lit paths, and within minutes, the boys took off – all ten of them. They were on Christmas overload, fueled by holiday cheer and Swiss Miss. It would be a good fifteen minutes before we finally caught up with our brood, and in the meantime we would catch glimpses of little boy legs as they flailed and zoomed off in the twinkling distance.

By the time we got home that night, after a thirty-minute ride with those caffeinated boys, I was exhausted. It was a long trip home with a group of children who, when they get overly-tired, don’t fall asleep! Everyone was within elbowing reach of each other, which made for plenty of agitating moments for us all.

“Had I known,” I told Paul, but I didn’t finish my sentence.

I realized, just before completing that thought, that had I known about the frustrations of the evening, I probably would have wanted to stay home. If I had predicted an evening of sugar-highs and over-zealous boys flying up and down the lit paths, I might have opted to stay in that night, maybe watch a Christmas video or get a root canal.

But then I would have missed out on a wonderful memory. The truth is that in spite of all those trying moments, the evening was a lot of fun. Even just a few hours after the event, my view of the night was changing. I was laughing about my fast-paced life, about how an evening of leisurely light watching turned into a frenzied chase of ten boys.

Very rarely in life are circumstances totally easy. For every wonderful, fun memory that we make as a family, there are plenty of tiny details of hardship, little moments of agitation and inconvenience that I hadn’t planned on. But over time I forget those hardships and mostly remember the beauty of the moment. Very rarely do I conclude that something wasn’t “worth it.”

This summer, on our whirlwind trip to Washington D.C., Emmitsburg and Gettysburg, there were a lot of those same frustrating moments. We have had plenty of road trips with the boys where the traveling was peaceful and easy. This wasn’t one of those trips. We spent the first day traveling in the car for 14 hours, and in some ways it felt like we never quite recovered after that.

On that first day of traveling, as we were heading to Mount St. Mary’s to take the boys to the grotto, I kept wondering if it was too much. I wondered if we should just drop that leg of the trip. But each time Paul and I would discuss it, we felt compelled to plow ahead, to push ourselves a bit. Going to the Mount would be worth the effort.

While there, we had moments of brilliance and beauty, but we also had five tired boys. I never had any clear revelation where the skies opened and God shouted out to me that I had done good.

In hindsight, it was more of a whisper.

When we got home from our trip, we were still tired and worn out.

“I can’t be totally sure that it was all worth it,” I remember telling my dad one afternoon as I dealt with still-exhausted boys. “That was so much work.”

“Pilgrimages often are,” he said. And when I look at all these adventures as a Pilgrimage, these efforts are absolutely worth it, and also, in the big picture of life, very minimal. 1567″>


The Original Snuggie?

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Thanks, FT. 1566″ .