I roomed with Katie, Leah Beyer, and Nancy Grossi at the BlogHer conference earlier this month. Katie, a discus thrower in college, vowed to be my tall, blonde bodyguard should the need arise in New York. Thankfully, I didn’t have to take her up on that offer, and we went shopping instead.
Katie has blogged at Pinke Post for five years. She is the mother to three beautiful children and the wife to her prince charming. In her professional life, she works in agriculture for state government.
Today she breaks her silence about her time as a food stamps mom.
Katie Pinke in Tahari
It’s an inspiring story from a beautiful woman with great determination, incredible work ethic, and the blessings of family and faith—the stuff of real hope and change.
First syndicated post, first blogging conference, first trip to New York City in almost 20 years, first opportunity to meet several online blogger friends in real life, first time seeing THE Martha Stewart speak live and in person.
My brain is full to overflowing.
I can quit or press on. Give up or give it my all. Be afraid or be brave. Cave to other people’s ideas of who I should be or reaffirm who I am and continue to be that person. Keep writing in series of lists—my favorite literary rhythm—or learn to break it up a bit.
I’ve been challenged in more ways than I could have imagined a week ago. In the words of THE Martha, it’s a good thing.
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Who is it that overcomes the world? Only the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God. 1 John 5:5 NIV
Aaron Shust sang the perfect rallying song on the radio as I drove home from the airport yesterday: My Savior, My God.
How have you been challenged lately?
Will it defeat you or inspire you?
It’s morning. The entire day is ahead of me. Already I know there won’t be enough time to accomplish all I want. I bet many of you can relate.
Ladies and gentlemen, we can’t have it all.
power mom, as seen at Brookstone
This idea that we can excel at work, be happily married, parent effectively, exercise strenuously, volunteer wholeheartedly, entertain, invest, maintain an orderly house, grow our own food, cook gourmet meals, train as concert pianists, and blog on the side is unrealistic, wouldn’t you agree?
Work-life balance is a human condition, not a women’s issue.
Men struggle with this, too. I don’t mean to leave them out of this discussion, nor do I mean to ignore single people or those who aren’t parents. However, the debate over work-life balance for moms gathered new steam with Anne-Marie Slaughter’s recent article in the Atlantic Magazine.
Our time, strength, and resources are limited. We have to pick and choose. There are opportunity costs.
Years ago when Rosie O’Donnell was adopting another child to add to her brood, I was struck by the honesty of what she told her audience one day on her show. She said although we may see her as having it all—as a celebrity, businesswoman, author, activist, philanthropist, fundraiser, and parent—what we see belies what happens behind the scenes.
Rosie said she has help. Lots of help. And money. Lots of money. Her situation is different from that of her viewers.
First Lady Michelle Obama official portrait
Today the same could be said of Marissa, Angelina, Gisele, Giada, First Lady Michelle Obama, and other high-profile moms. That’s not to criticize or suggest they don’t work hard. It’s simply to state a fact; their situations are vastly different than most women’s.
What are you called to do? Pick and choose that. Pursue it with passion. Kick the rest to the curb without guilt. Resist judging when others do the same in their lives.
Comparing ourselves to the unrealistic and untrue standard of having it all is unfair and self-destructive. It kills our motivation and contentment.
In the end, all any of us really have is what God gives us today. Will we trust it’s enough?
Trust in Him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to Him,
for God is our refuge. Psalm 62:8 NIV
Not the laser printer kind. The skincare kind. I know it’s supposed to exfoliate. Every skincare program includes it. But it’s way too harsh for my very dry skin.
“Oh, no! You can’t do that!” they say. “You just need another formulation. You must exfoliate with a Clarifying Lotion in Step 2.”
Must. A small but mighty manipulative word.
There are skincare lines that boast of a kinder, gentler exfoliation. A-thousand-points-of-light toners, smelling of orange blossoms and chamomile. Might as well splash cold tea or rose water on my face.
Seriously, what does toner do? Is it necessary when an occasional 7 Day Scrub does the trick to get rid of dead skin cells?
Daily cleansing and moisturizing is what my skin needs to be healthy. Like confession and restoration. Toner is optional. Like legalism in a bottle.
very dry to dry
It’s an added step. An upstanding thing to do perhaps. A requirement by those who added it. Usually does more harm than good. Absolutely not a deal breaker to get the desired results.
I don’t want to get by with less than what I need or less than what’s best. But I don’t want the unnecessary, heavy, drying burden of add-ons either.
My time’s too precious to succumb to legalism. My skin’s too dry to use toner.
Then Jesus said, “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you. Let Me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” Matthew 11:28-30 NLT
Have you ever encountered legalism? How did you let go of it or have you?
Disclaimer: I’m not being compensated to promote Clinique, nor do I mean to pick on them. Personally, I like and use Clinique products. Just not the toner.
Our summer schedule doesn’t allow time for the mom to make it to yoga class. I bike and swim with my son, but yoga quest is officially suspended.
I can hear my instructor. “I see some bellies that look like they’re on vacation,” she’d say when we weren’t properly engaging the core in class.
She’d be mortified to see that now my belly really is on vacation. It’s on a Mediterranean cruise, complete with an endless antipasto bar and a Big Gulp Coke. Sip on that, Mayor Bloomberg.
It’s gone to Disneyland where dreams really do come true whether you exercise or not. You’ve never seen Snow White on a StairMaster, have you? All you need is a little Tinkerbell, a pumpkin, and a pair of glass slippers.
My belly unfolds like a beached whale on the sand. It spreads out like a jellyfish washed ashore. I took it to Vermont, home of Ben & Jerry’s for crying out loud. Can you say Vermonster?
Enough! It’s not that bad. It’s not yoga-belly either. My pilates paunch has gone kaput. The core is no more.
Walking through Target when a t-shirt catches my eye in the girls’ department.
Excuse me?
I’m a proud member of the MOB (Mothers Of Boys). I don’t see a shirt in the boys’ department reading, “My Skills Make Girls Run.” That would never be tolerated. As a grown-up girl, I’d be unhappy if it were.
Then there’s the sign I saw in Kirkland’s.
Where’s the one reading “Boys Rule: Your IQ Test Has Come Back Negative?” Kirkland’s would be boycotted post-haste if that sign ever made it to the shelves.
sorry. your IQ test has come back negative
The battles for women’s suffrage, educational equality, and Title IX were difficult. Necessary. Admirable.
Is this how we want to do it? By using little girls to demean little boys?
The notion that it’s acceptable to degrade boys isn’t new. I love the old Schoolhouse Rock songs and often feature them in my posts. My seven-year-old son and I can sing the lyrics to nearly all of them.
But there’s a line in Unpack Your Adjectives that makes me want to crawl under the table. My heart breaks as my son laughs along, unaware of the politically-loaded, mean-girl, angry-woman sentiment behind it:
“Girls who are tall can get taller, Boys who are small can get smaller, Till one is the tallest And the other’s the smallest of all.”
This is 2012, not 1950, 1969, 1975 when Unpack Your Adjectives first aired, or Thelma and Louise’s 1991. The vitriol is overkill.
Sisters, hear me when I say I’m indebted to you. Now can we please celebrate the partial victories, keep on keeping on, and leave our kids out of the combat?
you’re right. you’re not worthy
Think about what we’re communicating to our daughters. What we’re allowing to happen to our sons. Will this attitude ameliorate animosity or deepen it? Solve inequality or perpetuate it?
Teach respect. Work for equality. Rise above the hurt and the hate. Burn the cattiness with all the gusto once used to burn the bras.
My son isn’t responsible for your pain. No amount of discrimination justifies using our children as pawns in an ongoing, grown-up fight.
And He took the children in His arms, placed His hands on them and blessed them. Mark 10:16 NIV
Must have been around 9 p.m. when it began. Shouting rattled our hotel room.
My husband turned up the volume on the TV as the argument continued, peppered with expletives. I picked up the phone.
“Yes, there’s a hostile conversation in the room next door. Well, I think it’s next door. Can you check? It’s really loud.”
We waited. The yelling permeated the walls. My husband called this time.
“Will you send someone up to our floor right away? Sounds like a fight.”
I stood on my toes and watched through the peephole. A man in a uniform appeared and knocked on our neighbors’ door. “Security. Open up.”
A sing-song voice answered. “Everything’s all right in here.”
“Open the door!” said the security guard. He knocked some more, but the door was shut tight and the yelling inside escalated.
“He’s gone!” I said as they guard left. My husband held our wide-eyed son.
elevator going down
The voices cut loose, cursing and screaming. Then we heard what sounded like fists punching a feather pillow in staccato jabs. Thump, thump, thump!
I grabbed the phone again. “This is the third time we’ve called! You have to do something! Call the police! It sounds like he’s hitting her!”
Through the peephole I watched four officers rush the hall.
“Police!” Bang, bang, bang, they pounded on the door. “Open up!”
“I’m scared,” said our son.
Finally our neighbors opened their door. A middle-aged man dressed in pajamas marched out into the hallway. The police checked his identification.
in the hallway
“Who’s in the room?”
“My wife.”
“Were you yelling at your wife?”
“Yes.”
“You argue with your wife a lot?”
“No.”
“You ever hit your wife?”
“Never.”
An officer entered the room. Minutes later, he came out of the room, released the husband, and the police left.
Guess she didn’t want to press charges. No law against punching pillows, right?
clean up, exit
The room next door was quiet the rest of the night, but our room lost sleep.
Our neighbors were gone by morning. Our business-class hotel was apologetic. No harm done, right?
You keeping things on the down-low? Think no one will ever find out what’s done in secret? Don’t kid yourself.
Sin is never a private affair.
Our behavior impacts those around us. Boils over. Burns bystanders as well as those in our line of fire. Leaves us all in dire need of redemption.
You spread out our sins before You—
our secret sins—and You see them all. Psalm 90:8 NLT
In America, one in four women and one in nine men will suffer physical or emotional violence at the hands of an intimate partner (Centers for Disease Control, 2008).
If you or someone you know is being abused or is an abuser, please reach out for help. Contact local authorities, your pastor, or the National Domestic Violence Hotline 1.800.799.SAFE (7233) or TTY 1-800-787-3224.
What does it mean that secret sin isn’t really secret?
Desiree, a salesperson at my go-to store, once said of the J Crew design team, “They don’t disappoint.”
Ella dress in porcelain paisley, jcrew.com
She’s spot-on. I mean, look at this dress.
Yes, I borrowed the photo from the J Crew site without asking permission. It’s fair use since I’m commenting on it. But please, Jenna Lyons, charge me with piracy.
Throw me in J Crew jail where I’ll be forced to wear navy blue and white reverse sailor stripes and work in exotic locales like Tanzania, Bali, and New Zealand.
Sentence me to a lifetime of schoolboy blazers, cotton capris with a hint of stretch, and vintage V-neck tees in Byzantine blue, heather graphite, and the perfect shade of bright plum circa spring 2010.
Now about this dress named Ella. Exquisite. Prettiest thing I’ve seen since last month’s J Crew catalog. Oozes summertime when the living is easy.
If you read this blog, you know my dog’s name is Ella. Perhaps Jenna Lyons has been reading this blog, too, and she’s been inspired.
“See that little dog Ella?” I can hear her telling the crew at the Crew. “Who owns a creature of such intelligence, taste, and style? Feel the epistle. Inhabit the epistle. Express the epistle!”
Ella dog in wheaten fur
Voilà. Out comes the Ella dress in porcelain paisley. Named after my dog. And a steal at only… $298?!
Why do you do this to me, Jenna?
How could you design a dress for me at the end of the traditional spring-summer shopping season when my clothing budget is as dry as the sun-scorched earth of Al Gore’s inconvenient truth?
How could you introduce it in May—the month of Mother’s Day gifts, graduations, and summer camp deposits? How could you name it after my dog then price it oh so high above me?
This is one reason J Crew is successful. Besides quality, design, color, and hipness factor, J Crew appeals to those of us in the masses as attainable and out of reach at the same time.
That, and they steal writers’ dogs’ names for their dresses.
I’ve lost count of the tests and books, the hours of discussion, the rabbit trails run to determine what I’m supposed to be when I grow up.
Another career consultation looms today. Part of the relocation package. Help for the uprooted spouse.
I wonder how many people go through this. Figuring out how best to care for your family while also using your abilities to contribute meaningfully and financially with work outside the home.
Meaningfully. Oh, how I’d like to be passionate about my work.
Financially. Oh, how I’d like to be compensated for it.
I’m not much for the process. Just get to the point. Tell me the answer without the ambiguities.
But life’s not like that, is it?
The Israelites stood on the banks of the Jordan River at flood stage, waiting to cross. It had been quite a journey and Moses was dead.
The officers circulated through the camp. They told the people to watch for the ark of the covenant, the symbolic box where God lived. It would lead the way.
road full of promise
“Then you will know which way to go, since you have never been this way before.”
“Keep a distance of about a thousand yards between you and the ark; do not go near it.”
The pastor I heard teach this from Joshua 3 said the ark was far ahead of the people so all of them could see it. The distance symbolized the separation between God and the people’s sin.
Joshua then told the people, “Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you.”
And God did. That very day He parted the river waters for them to cross.
I don’t follow an ark. Christ’s death and resurrection closes the separation between Him and my sin. He comes near to me. Emmanuel, God with us.
Chin up, buttercup. Keep walking. Who knows what amazing things await?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness (or your Righteous One) will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. Isaiah 58:8 NIV
Today I’m honored that an everyday epistle post is being featured on The Couture Cowgirl.
Celeste Settrini, the site’s creator, is blessed with a positive outlook and energy for life.
She is the founder and president of Couture Cowgirl Communications and fashion editor of Equestre Magazine.
You can follow her on Facebook and Twitter @couturecowgirl7. Or catch her on Rural Route Radio with Trent Loos hosting Fashion Friday.
Or speaking to school children in San Francisco and business people in Sacramento about farming. Or leading the charge as a past president of California Women for Agriculture. Or working on her family ranch in Salinas.
She’s a busy bee. And I’ll bet she wouldn’t have it any other way.
I hope someday when I meet Celeste in person she’ll show me the ropes of being a real cowgirl. But first I need her advice on a good pair of gorgeous cowgirl boots!
Now mosey on over to The Couture Cowgirl, meet my friend Celeste, and read about my favorite fashion strategy in Many Happy Returns.
Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. Ecclesiastes 4:9 NLT
Returns. The ability to take things back. Don’t know how I would shop otherwise.
Sperry cute
The crazy town that is Macy’s during a shoe sale is no place to make a decision. It’s grab and go. Four pairs snagged at the pre-sale this past Saturday should be on their way to me from Kansas City as you read this.
Will I keep all four? Probably not. I don’t need them all. But I couldn’t decide in the store.
They all fit. All comfortable. All on sale. All gorgeous. If I left them in Macy’s unspoken for, I risked losing them to another suitor.
Remember The Limited’s old return policy? No sale is ever final. Those were the days.
Now you have to watch and make sure you don’t overstay the time limit. Sixty days are standard for generous stores and online orders. Thirty at the trendsetters. And always, always, keep your receipts.
put me in, Coach
My method is three-pronged. Try on once I get home. Make a decision as soon as possible. Return upon deciding. Not a moment to lose. While there is still time for the credit to hit my charge card’s current billing cycle.
From the pages of their books and blogs, wardrobe consultants urge me to go in with a list. Shop the list. Buy only what’s on the list.
I had a list this past Saturday. Silver sandals, black sandals, other comfortable shoes.
Macy’s, however, did not get a copy of my list when they sent their buyers a-purchasing for spring 2012. Maybe it’s too early in the season for sandals. Maybe comfort is out this year.
Nothing was a perfect fit for my list. Nothing except for the four pairs that fell into the catch-all category other comfortable shoes.
Sam Edelman stripes done right
Buying and returning is not an efficient way to shop. Yet I think the wardrobe consultants would side against efficiency in this case.
They consistently tell me dressing stylishly and within your means takes an effort. It takes time. And it’s worth the investment.
