Trust Yourself

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I’ve been proof-reading the galleys of my newest project, The Everything Baby’s First Year Book, which will be published January 18, 2010. While it’s been quite a while since I had kids in diapers, it’s amazing how the excitement of those days, as well as the fears and worries flood back.

I hope this book empowers new parents because while there are experts on just about every baby topic you can imagine, the one thing moms and dads should know is that THEY are the experts of their child. Read the advice, ask questions, carefully evaluate what you’ve been told, learn the tricks of the trade from those who have been in the trenches, but trust your own instincts too. You know what works best for you and your baby.

If I could give one piece of advice to new moms, it would be trite, but true. Don’t sweat the small stuff. I’d give anything to get back the hours I fretted over whether child number one would ever sleep through the night (now a bomb could go off next to his head and he wouldn’t roll over); whether he would ever be toilet-trained (I assure you he was); whether he would ever write legibly (which is why they invented word processing); whether he would be friends with the most popular kids in the class (the answer was NEVER because they were little snots and he knew it, but I didn’t. He made his own friends which have remained tried and true through the years). I worried he didn’t go to his junior prom, in fact, had one heck of a row with him about it and he just brushed me off, stubborn (or one might say, confident) in his decision. And he was more than happy to go to his senior prom, when he was good and ready.

I would have learned to trust HIS judgment and my own. I would have believed – as of course I did when I had subsequent children – that each kid marches to his own drummer and you’ve got to listen to that beat, and not allow it to be drowned out by the others in the crowd.

What I did know then – and now – is that you can never love a child too much. I wasn’t worried about spoiling any of them by giving kisses and hugs, for reasons and no reason at all. I did have standards – even if the older kids all insisted that I had let the baby of the family run wild (their definition? I bought chocolate milk one day!).

So I read these galleys with a wistful smile and a fervent hope that new parents enjoy these precious days of childhood because they go by way too fast, even if you are so sleep-deprived that you can’t imagine surviving that first year, let alone thriving.

Enjoy!

Evelyn David
http//www.evelyndavid.com

Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David

Garanimals for Grown-Ups

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by Susan McBride

I love October, and not just because it’s my birthday month. The older I get, the happier I am when summer has ended. Since I shun the sun (how else can I keep my ghostly pale complexion?), I’m a lot less fond of shorts and bathing suits than I used to be. I long for crisp days when jeans and sweaters are the norm. And I’m thrilled that scarves are in, even with T-shirts. I’ve never worn scarves much before, except thick woolly ones to keep the cold at bay; but my fashion sense keeps changing as I, um, mature. When I go shopping now, I realize I’m drawn to items that I would’ve bypassed maybe even a year ago. I’m less prone to buy trendy things and more enamored of classics (although I’ll never dress in Polo head-to-toe again as I did during my early college days!).

I guess I’ve got clothes on the brain as I desperately need to clean out my closets (more like purge) and sort out what fits, what I don’t wear, and what I’m lacking. The last four years have kind of ravaged my wardrobe as I’ve gone through so many changes. Back in 2005, I had shrunk down to a size zero after eating healthier (read: going vegetarian) and trying (successfully) to get my cholesterol down. I had new author photos shot, and the photographer had sent me out with a stylist because “you’re much cooler on the inside than you are on the outside,” as she put it. I was advised that my hairstyle was too “anchor-woman-ish” and my sweater-sets had to go. The stylist definitely kick-started my interest in fashion again. I realized, too, that when you’re the size of a clothes hanger, everything looks terrific. I had wonderful outfits that I wore with high heels to speaking engagements, conferences, social outings, wherever. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw in “Sex & the City” (minus the cigarettes and the promiscuous sex).

Then came my breast cancer diagnosis in late 2006. The first thing I craved out of surgery was a hamburger (which I inhaled–God, it tasted good!–but haven’t had since). I was told on no uncertain terms to eat more protein during radiation therapy so I consumed plenty of yogurt, nuts, fish, and chicken. My doctors were thrilled when I put on 10 pounds, and my friends and family breathed a sigh of relief, too. I hadn’t realized until then that everyone thought my skinny (albeit very healthy and energetic) self had resembled nothing more than a “bobble-head doll” or a “human lollipop.” Nice. As for my fashion sense during this rough period: I lived in camisoles and sweats. Comfort was key. I worried more about healing and feeling strong again and less about dressing like a magazine cover girl. So my chic little clothes and high heels gathered dust. Once I recovered from treatment and started working out again, I lost a few pounds as I got back in shape; but my size zero days were gone for good. Which meant I had a closet filled with clothes that didn’t fit.

Once I donated some things to charity and gave others to petite friends and relatives, I was left with a wardrobe mostly comprised of various colored zip-up jackets with matching camisoles, jeans, and sweatpants. Perfect attire for writing, but not exactly how I want to dress when I’m doing a bunch of speaking gigs this month…or promoting THE COUGAR CLUB next February.

I wish there were Garanimals for grown-ups with colored tags that told me what went with what. It would make life so much easier. I find it amazing how my tastes have changed over time. I want to look good, but I need to be comfortable. I’d like fewer pieces that work together better. I want to wear heels on some occasions and flats on others, depending on what I’m doing. It’s kind of like my changing wardrobe reflects the changes I’ve made in my life. I’m learning to focus on fewer things that are more important, to toss the bad stuff as fast as I can, and to celebrate all the good stuff. It’s taken me awhile to figure out that it’s the good stuff that never goes out of style.

P.S. I’ve done a MAJOR closet overhaul, donating three fat bags of clothes and shoes to charity. Whew. That calls for a little shopping to celebrate, don’t you think?

On the Clothesline

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Writing clothes has developed into a theme on the Stiletto Gang this week. I’ve been thinking of what I have to say on the matter. Unfortunately, it’s not much. I write at night. So when I write, I wear whatever I wore to work that day minus shoes, jacket and jewelry. I pull my hair back in a ponytail, grab a Pepsi One, maybe some Strawberry Twizzlers, and I’m good to go.

Of course I do have to dress my “people.” Descriptions of clothing can help define your characters. Anyone who has read Murder Off the Books can tell you what kind of clothes JJ wears.

“Can I help you?” A young woman in her late teens reluctantly looked up from her computer screen, then stood and stretched. Her short spiked black hair was shaved over her left ear, which sported a silver hoop earring the size of a tennis ball. A red plaid flannel shirt, cargo pants, black studded leather belt, and heavy work boots completed the receptionist’s attire.

In Murder Takes the Cake, JJ’s style draws her boss’s ire:

“Hey, you already yelled at me once this morning. You don’t pay me enough to put up with it all day long, mister.”

Mac narrowed his eyes. After her outburst, JJ had actually flounced out of his office; a difficult feat for someone wearing an outfit better suited for a military grunt than a southern belle.

He obviously needed to establish some boundaries. She worked for him! “And buy some appropriate clothes for the office. Nothing in camouflage! A suit maybe. And no hobnailed boots. I’m tired of you scaring off the clients.”

There! That was something he’d been intending to say for days.

And somehow when JJ does upgrade her style, she still stands out.

Edgar and the dog stared at her.

“What?” She didn’t need to ask why they were staring at her. After Mac’s order to change her wardrobe, she’d visited a consignment shop. Currently she was wearing a circa 1930s, knockoff, Chanel suit. Even though she’d had to re-sew the seams, the old suit had still cost her more money than she was comfortable spending–especially just to make a point. It was black wool with gold metal buttons. She’d added a white silk blouse. Around her waist she’d cinched a black leather belt to hide the fact the jacket was a little large. The four inch heels were already killing her feet and it wasn’t even noon yet. She’d left her jet-black hair in its normal spiked style, but she’d replaced her large hoop earrings with fake pearl studs and a matching double strand necklace.

“You got one of those little hats with the black netting?” Edgar asked, waving one gnarled hand across his eyes showing where the netting would be.

“Maybe.” She had seen one of those at the shop and thought about buying it. But she wasn’t about to take fashion advice from the old man. “Why?”

“Widow’s weeds. You could get a job as an extra at O’Herlihy’s when Mac fires you. You know, as one of those paid mourners.”

Do you pay attention to what characters are wearing in the novels you read? Is there a character you’ll always remember because of his/her clothing?

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com