Its muggy hot not sunny hot and this weather makes me not want to wear sunblock let alone makeup (I know no block is bad and I try to sit in the shade!). But while writing a beauty story for Self I was chatting with Emily Kate Warren, a wonderful makeup artist in NYC and we were talking about lipcolor that lasts really, after long-work days in AC and yucky humid days around town. Her suggestion: Tarte LipSurgence Lip Luster, $24. It goes on with the ease and of a pencil, has the shine of a balm and the rich pigment of a stain that really lasts. It’s a find, especially now. Plus its paraben, petrochemical and phthalets-free.

My other makeup discovery happened by chance at the Beach Club. Dashiell jumped into the three-feet and scraped his chin on the bottom of the pool. Ouch! He came out bleeding and I hustled him over the lifeguard for the first aid kit. While she fixed him up I couldn’t help but notice her insanely lustrous lashes. I was dying with curiosity and asked, “How can you keep your lashes so lush all day if you have to jump in the pool?” Apparently, lifeguards know their waterproof mascara and she told me she swears by Dior DiorShow BlackOut Waterproof Mascara, $24. And now I do too.

I was late today, about two and half hours. My sitter had to leave to go to her Dad’s 50th birthday party so Amanda, an extremely understanding friend took the boys until I finally showed up and it all worked out well enough on that end but when I came home I noticed the dogs has pooped in the sun room and the guest room, Kate forgot to put the screen over the chicken cage so one hen flew out and pooped all over the basement floor and was chirping like mad trying to find its way back to the cage and the dogs were so hungry that while we were putting the kids to bed Asta climbed up onto the kitchen table and swiped the chicken patty right out from the grilled chicken sandwiches I made for dinner and was eating them both under the orange couch.

Today is my second day at my new summer job and I really love it. But I think I may have turned off a few potential cube mates after answering a personal call. Here’s what a few new colleagues overheard, if they were even listening at 2:00 this afternoon.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Yes, five.”

“Oh no! Was it gruesome? Did the kids see it?”

“Of course I’d love to give you mine but two are roosters and we want to keep the others.”

“I know because they are freaking huge.”

“I think you do need to keep them in pairs, mine freak when they are all alone. Well Monica is leaving for Paris so she is probably ready to unload hers. We have a Bantam red and that awesome kind with the feathers on her feet, she looks like she’s wearing Alexander McQueen stilettos.”

“Ha! She is like a drag queen. Okay so now that I have you on the phone can I ask you: what about the R.A.T.S?”

“She does? Well she lives behind me maybe that’s why I had such a fucking awful problem last year!”

“I gave up on composting.”

“Okay that’s reassuring. We want to let them go free range.”

“3 dozen a week?”

“Oh really that long, I thought sooner.”

“No no I wouldn’t do that, I’m not into rushing anyone’s ovulation.”

“Okay so let me give you Monica’s phone number…”

I know chickens are being raised in Brooklyn, Queens and even on the Upper West Side, I just don’t think they have reached 4 Times Square—yet.

We have chicks. Five to be exact. It happened very quickly and blindly. Over the year Conrad’s 2nd grade class did a grain study and it culminates in hatching eggs and raising chicks the last week of school. Conrad’s class took it very seriously they were quiet for the weeks the eggs were incubating and their silence paid off. His class had 100% success–all 14 eggs produced fuzzy little chicks that needed homes.

Shortly after the blessed event, we were at a family dinner party and was talking to a friend and who asked if we were getting chicks and I nearly choked on my vodka tonic and said, “Are you crazy no way!”and Conrad turned around and said, “But I’ve been saving all my tooth fairy money for a coop!” and promptly burst into tears. Obviously, I didn’t know he felt this way and we had “the talk” its his responsibility, he’ll contribute his money to taking care of them, he has to play and feed them. Yes Yes Yes. He promised.

It’s been one week. Conrad gags when he sees the poop, so does Dashy. Conrad has a hard time picking them up. Dashy swoops in and grabs them as if he’s swiping a cookie off a hot baking sheet. David, much to everyone’s surprise has fallen in love with a rooster he named General Tso. He has built a dowel to for the birds to perch on and an elegant weighted screen to slide on top of the cage so they won’t fly out and is easy to remove. He’s also looking at plans for coops. Me and my babysitter Kate are cleaning up a lot of poop and making trips to the Montclair Pet store for makeshift supplies. We like them—a lot. And we are seriously considering keeping them except last night at our weekly family meeting we told the kids that if we kept the chickens it would mean having less of other things, like Lego sets since a chicken coop, at least the one we like and need given the number we have, is like buying two Lego Death Stars.  The kids thought about it and said they’d rather have Lego and are ready to send them back to the “farm.” The trouble is David and I are not. A kid got us into this problem, a kid is letting get off guilt free so what is keeping us from taking the easy out? There is something extremely romantic about having chickens. Aside from it being fairly surreal to watch a chicken walk around your lawn and the promise of eggs, it feels unpredictable and adventurous, like it’s my own version of suburban Outward Bound. They are always on my mind, I started at Brides yesterday for summer job and while I was at my desk I thought I heard chicks chirping, just like when you are a new mother and you hear phantom baby cries when you are in the shower. And yes, I absolutely get that if waking my neighbors up  at the crack of dawn by keeping a rooster is the most scandalous thing I can do we have hit some deep crevice in the halfway point of our lives.

But we have to decide and soon. Friday we are going to visit David’s mom in Rockport and if we are keeping them we have to bring them on a five hour car ride with both the dogs.

Sounds like this is the part when the Hazard brothers found themselves in a whole lotta trouble…

This is very exciting! Gilt Group is having a DVF swimwear sale today and yes the very suit I posted in on sale. That means you Molly and Jen and Erin and Tara…go. shop.now.

Molly you said you would only buy it if it was a tankini. Well walla, sexy is served! Gilt, $155

Notice how the model’s boobs are not flat triangles? How could you not, right? This sweetheart underwire lifts and separates in way that no soft cup bra from Land’s End ever will. Gilt, Top $69, Bottom $65.

This one is just hot. If I were writing fashion copy, we’d probably run something like its the “Little Black Dress of bathing suits,” but no black dress has ever been this sexy–I mean there are sheer inserts but then lots of demure coverage. Wow. Gilt, $99

And I know you may not get to the sale in time. Its the last day of school and we are all running around buying last minute Dunkin’ Donuts gift cards for the bus drivers and crossing guards. So if you miss the sale, I’m sorry. All I can think of is that scene in Say Anything, when Jim Court is incarated and Lloyd gives him the letter from Diane and it turns out it’s not the letter that says how much she loves still him and Lloyd says, “Just knowing that a version like that exists, knowing that just for a minute she felt that and wrote ‘I can’t help loving you’. That has be a good thing.” Well ladies for all of you who took me aside and said, ‘I liked you blog post, but those suits never go on sale and they are so expensive I won’t ever be able to get one,’ this sale is your version of Jim’s “I can’t help loving you.” letter. It’s proof that an amazing suit will go on sale and you’ll be able to rock it as soon as it stops raining.

I forgot to give Dashy his lunch today and boy I am glad because while I was hightailing it down North Fullerton and passing an antique shop that is a little scary but a little more fabulous than really scary, I spied these:

I was on the phone. The dogs were in the car. I had about 9 minutes to get him his lunch. I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t spend more than $75. Heck I was flush with all the cash I’m collecting for the end of the year teacher gift (KIDDING!). I pulled over and tried to act like cool. “How much for the koooky elephants?” I asked. Jamal, a lovely cute guy with dreadlocks had to check. Unfortunately Jamal’s manager was not picking up his cell. We waited, feeling silly staring at the elephants and waiting for his manager to call back. I thought, if it’s outrageous maybe I can get my friend Erin to go in with me, she is equally obsessed with elephants.  Jamal finally said,  The best he could do was $60.***SOLD!

We lifted them into my car. They are heavy as hell but they are elephants. I have no bed bug fear because they are ceramic. I called Erin, told her she is going to be jealous but in happy way and that I wanted to give her one but they really work better as a pair. She understood.

Now my elephant moment is over. I can’t do any more otherwise I’ll be that crazy parrot lady, only with elephants. The buzz from this find is going to last a while.

***David I promise with all my heart that $60 is the real price. †

† Price mentioned above plus an hour worth of babysitting.

It’s our third summer at the Montclair Beach Club and we’ve noticed that the snack bar staff seems a taking a little while longer than usual to get their act together. The other day, while waiting for over 30 minutes for an order of mini hot dogs we let our hanger get the best of us and started to think of funny ways to mess with the 16-year-olds slaving away at the grill. Our best idea: leave funny initials with our food orders. See, when you place an order you don’t give your name, you just give your intials: FC or DM or CM etc…and when your order is up they holler them out from the snack bar for everyone to hear. The staff is new and doesn’t know our initials yet and the older kids are super sweet but I highly doubt they remember our initials from last summer so we gave it a go. Needless to say there are few things that are as much fun as hearing a kid yell out: P.P…Pee…Pee?…PP!

We also got a kick out of leaving:

AU

FU (adults only!)

PU

BS (adults only!)

and ET (kid’s fave after PP)

We are now stumped for more initials. Given that this joke can’t last if you can think of any other ones please don’t hesitate to post them here.

Too Much? Friday I bought a really big sun hat. It’s so big that it covers my shoulders and I will probably feel self-conscious the first time I wear it to the beach or the Montclair Beach Club. But could you have resisted? I think not. You can’t see it in the photo but the brim is pleated, its so chic and high time I move on to serious sun protection so maybe now I’ll be able to look my age–and not five to eight years older.

Too little. Sunday I was invited to a “Welcome Newcomer’s Gathering” at my church. I’ve started to go to a low key Episcopalian church around the corner from our house with the boys. In the fall, Conrad was asking a lot of questions that I couldn’t answer so we attended a service before Thanksgiving and followed everyone along to coffee hour where they asked if any kids wanted to be in the Christmas Pageant. Conrad took one look at the sheep costume (imagine a full body suit of my Patagonia above) and signed himself up. Once your kid is wearing a sheep suit on Christmas Eve, you have committed. Anyway, they had a newcomer’s gathering at the rectory from 4-6 on Sunday. I got there at 4:15 and I was the only newcomer to show. I met six other active parishioners and chatted for a while over a glass of chardonnay. My minister, Andrew, commented that our gathering was very cozy and I told them that my birthday in October 9th but they don’t have to get me anything, this party was enough. We all laughed, but I did feel badly that their turnout was less than they had expected.

Never Enough: I took the boys to Rockport Thursday because I was invited to speak about my book at my college reunion. The book is coming out next spring and called The Happiest Child, published though Weldon Owen and Parenting. It’s been a busy couple of days and David left yesterday for Dubai. I called my mom Thursday after we drove up. Then I didn’t call her. She called me tonight. As soon as I heard her voice I knew I was in the doghouse. I had meant to call her, I even had a question: Do you think its okay for the child of one of your friends to eat food off your plate without asking, like take the tomato off your sandwich? (She didn’t.) Anyway I didn’t call her before she called me. We talked for about twenty minutes or so and she said, “I told Christine (David’s mom) I hadn’t spoken to you since Thursday and she said she was going to have to talk to you”…I apologized but reminded her I had called Thursday and it had only been a couple of days and I usually call her everyday or every other day. “You think you call me a lot but you really don’t, Chess,”  was all she said. My mother called her mother everyday. Calling my mom is kind of like how I blog. I do it when I have a funny story, or I just know I’ll feel better after I do. But for my mom, that’s not nearly enough.

This is not a sad post. These are the photos the boys took during the reception for Tony at the Rockport Art Association. I gave them them the phone when most everyone had left.

I know our littlest dog is good, deep down in her heart there is goodness. But a casual observer would say she is bad from the stream of chewed, gnawed, and shredded toys and accessories in our house. When she is bored she makes her own kind of fun and I respect this in her, it means that she can entertain herself. What mother doesn’t love a child that can entertain herself? My issue is that she entertains herself with my things.
Friday…Conrad found a trail of foam that lead to the sun room…

and right up to my couch where she had chewed an enormous hole.

Saturday we were rushing out the door to get to the beach club and I couldn’t find my sunglasses, but someone else did.

Sunday speaks for itself…

This was not staged. I walked into the living room and she had this water pistol in her paws.