However, the more I learned about Bobiam Artistic Streetwear, the more I was intrigued. All of their designs are designed by kids! I know Bear would love to see one of his monster drawings on a shirt that is sold and worn by other kids! How cool is that? I kind of want to draw something myself…

The other part I love about the company (besides being Minnesota based) is that a portion of their proceeds go back to charity that supports youth art. I am much more inclined to support any company when I know they are putting back the money they earn in to the community that is supporting them. That is a huge plus. And another bonus – they always have free shipping.

I got this great half hoodie, designed by 10 year old Jenna, and I LOVE it. Also, Bear loves it because it’s a dragon, so that makes me a pretty awesome mom. It’s super lightweight, fitted but comfortable. And if I actually followed my new years resolution, I would wear it to the gym.  Instead I wear it to Target.

Bobiam has offered to do great giveaway!

Mandatory Entry: Please check out Bobiam’s website and leave a comment with one of your favorite designs for a chance to win a $30 giftcard to Bobiam!

You can also follow Bobiam on Twitter @bobiamstrtwear  and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/BobiamArtisticStreetwear

For Additional Optional Entries: Leave a comment telling me that you followed Bobiam on Twitter and for fun you can follow me too @marta28

This Giveaway closes on Saturday, January 28th (my birthday coincidentally).

Opinions and grammatical errors are entirely my own.  However Bobiam was kind enough to provide me with the hoodie for review.

Yes, a week with my inlaws had many moments of awkward family drama, passive aggressiveness, and not nearly enough alcohol. However, it was still one of the best vacations I’ve ever had if not for the sheer delight on my children’s faces every day.

All Aboard

The flight and our hotel, the Beach Club.

Epcot: While there I ate by myself for the first time (in public) to which then a duck joined me and tried to steal the food out of my hand.

Magic Kingdom: I love on the left the before, during and after photos of Splash Mountain. That or Bella’s look of terror at meeting Eeoyre.

Animal Kingdom: My favorite park (and the kids). We saw lots of animals, rode lots of dinosaur rides and got very wet.

Hollywood Studios and Universal Studios: It rained while we were at Hollywood Studios so I didn’t get many photos but Bear rode the Tower of Terror TWO TIMES. The best was when we were discussing a third and he said, “”Here’s the thing. Personally I was not brave I was scared. I was pretending.” It was the funniest thing an almost five year old could say.

Other favorite moment was riding Jurassic Park four times and getting so wet it appeared as though we showered in our clothes. The last time The H and I were the only two in the front row.

It was great and I cannot wait to go back…. with my parents this time.

Linked with Memories Captured

Yet undeniably, there is an appeal to a new year, a fresh start, a new you. The same way that after a break up a woman changes her hair to signify the rebirth of herself as newly single. We go through these physical transformations to tell ourselves that our insides are going to change too. That our shorter brighter hair will make us less lonely.

That this New Year will be different. We will be different.

I make and break resolutions every year like countless others.

Though I’m learning with each scratch mark ticked in the age column that things aren’t mysteriously going to happen to me. I will not suddenly become magically thinner just because I want to be, but will not work for it. I will not have millions of dollars just because I want them. I will not suddenly be one of those people with perfect hair, makeup and outfit every morning because I’m not willing to wake up more than fifteen minutes before I leave. Wanting is simply not enough. January 1^st is simply not enough.

My resolutions are not for this year. They don’t end on the 31^st of the year, nor solely begin on the 1^st. They’re not bound to dates, or a foolish hopefulness. It’s action not desire. Momentum not stagnation.

Amongst many things, I am tired of being a pushover. Tired of bending over backwards and contorting myself like a trapeze artist for people who are never grateful and rarely return the favor. I was wisely told that in times of adversity we truly learn who are friends are. I’m not holding onto stray thoughts of who a person once was. Trying to hold a shadow and never quite grasping it.

I’m walking out of the waiting room. I’ve read every magazine. I’m not going to wait for my life to become something greater just because I wish it so.  Perhaps its because I leave for the Happiest Place on Earth on Saturday, but I’m feeling good.

we gathered round the Christmas Tree and read The Night Before Christmas.

On December 25th at 2am Bear awoke and saw that Santa had arrived, but went back to bed and waited patiently.

The table was set in the morning and a feast was had,

after which we tore into the presents:

When it was my turn it was not the necklace that I had asked for that was my favorite. It was a rectangular shaped box from my mother that had a card attached which read

As I tore into the package I realized what was inside despite my tear rimmed eyes.

At almost twenty-seven years old my mother got me the gift that I had always dreamed and ask for as a child.

This Christmas I learned dreams can come true for anyone at any age.

my shrew love gave to me

a big pile of agony.

On the second day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

two paranoid co-workers

and a big pile of agony.

On the third day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the fourth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the fifth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the sixth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the seventh day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the eight day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the ninth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the tenth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

ten copiers a-copying,

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the eleventh day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

eleven beepers beeping,

ten copiers a-copying,

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

On the twelfth day of kissass

my shrew love gave to me

twelve tattlers tattling,

eleven beepers beeping,

ten copiers a-copying,

nine ridiculous requests,

eight interns a-tweeting,

seven printers not a–printing,

six bosses a-bossing,

five incoherent emails,

four shrieking voicemails,

three sleepless nights,

two paranoid co-workers,

and a big pile of agony.

Featured Image Snowbow from Jenny Downing’s Flickr

I hereby present you with the best gift to give your co-worker:

The Horrible Bosses Gift Pack:

Horrible Bosses DVD

Chapstick: For all the ass kissing

Hand Sanitizer: For all the hand holding

Starbucks Gift Card: To stay awake in meetings

Excedrin Migraine: After all the stupid questions

Godiva Truffles:  To eat away the pain

Beer*: To not remember the day

Needless to say she actually had to pop two Excedrin during the day. I patted myself on the back for this thoughtful and creative gift.

*Original Concept was wine, but she doesn’t drink wine so I adapted.

I also received an absolutely astounding gift from my dear friend, E. Inspired by my creativity he went all out for my present putting my season 1 of West Wing to shame.

The Breaking Bad Gift Pack

Awesome handmade gift wrap with my elemental initials

Seasons 1 & 2 of Breaking Bad

Bag of Blue (M&Ms)

Spoon, Lighter, and snorter

Prescription bottle of M&Ms

Pill of the Day container of M&Ms

I loved it.

So what great creative gifts did you give/receive this holiday season?

My mother and I had a big argument about gender on Saturday. As I drove the hour to meet a friend of mine I called her and flouted the idea of me going to Greece with a friend of mine. A male friend of mine. Her reaction was tantamount to me declaring my decision to run a brothel. The problem was not that I was going on vacation, not that I was going without the H, but that I was going with a man. Yes, on the surface I understand why this is perceived as odd. I get it, but her reaction was disproportionate to the situation. Who cares what gender my friend is. He is in fact, just a friend. Our conversation took a severe left turn about the differences in gender and I stood by my belief that there shouldn’t be any.

This is how our conversation went:

Men and women are just different. Men don’t wear makeup.

But they can and if they wanted to, they should.

But that’s wrong.

Why, why is it wrong?

Because it is.

But why?

You’re saying if you went to the bank and the male teller had on make up that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable?

No.

If the H wanted to wear eye shadow you’d be fine with it?

I’d take him to Sephora.

Well would you pee in a store?

Um no.

Why?

Well because its wrong.

Exactly.

To be clear, you’re comparing a man wearing makeup to urinating in a store?

Needless to say, we never came to a resolution.

So what do you think: Do you think a man and woman can be friends and go on a vacation together? Do you think men can wear makeup? What are your thoughts on public urination?

    The ability to do something that frightens one.

    Strength in the face of pain or grief.

Where does one find courage within themselves? Do we have a reservoir hiding in the crook of our elbow, behind our knees, in some other hard to reach often missed spot?

I am digging to find it. My hands are raw and torn, the dirt tucked deep under my fingernails. But I am left empty handed. Instead this thumping heart. Instead this nervousness parading through my blood stream. Where is this courage you speak of?

Yesterday, I read a statistic that 1 in 5 women have been raped.

My breath quickened.  The sharp intakes of air rushing through my lungs.

Yesterday, I read Jo’s post on ViolenceUnsilenced. I had read it before on Band Back Together. I have met Jo; I have held her super adorable baby girl in my arms and smelled the top of her little blonde head. I have met this person whose courage flowed through her pores.

I read her story again with my breath on pause, my eyes unblinking.

Yesterday, I remembered.

My palms heated and moist were scrubbed furiously. My throat on fire.

Yesterday, I was silent.

Slowly the ache inside of me grew, spreading through me, cracking skin and exposing wounds long since scabbed.

Today, I pressed send.

Felt the air escape from my body, leaving me breathless and hollow.

Today, I did the bravest most frightening thing I’ve ever done.

I told a secret I have held close for most of my life.

Now, we wait.

We place our tree in the front window and brew hot chocolate with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. On a special holiday platter sit seven different kinds of Christmas cookies and we watch the lights twinkle on our freshly cut tree as the crumbs settle in the corner of our lips. The sounds of the carolers echo in our ears as we carefully unwrap delicate ornaments who have been hibernating awaiting just this moment.

With steady careful hands we dress the tree. First the bulbs, then the ornaments, then saving the best for last — those Santa brings to our home on every December 6th. On the Eve of Saint Nicholas Day we place our Christmas lists on our bedroom floor and when we wake we are left with a special ornament chosen just for us.

This year I received a partridge in a pear tree.

My husband a hand blown bulb made in Romania with frosted trees.

Bear his favorite, a singing Scooby Doo ornament that the family dances to.

For Bella, a Santa who counts down the days until Christmas.

In years past we have been blessed with ornaments memorializing weddings, births, favorite moments.  And they each are suspended on our tree, a moment, a memory, a dream frozen in time. The lights dance across them and I remember why I love this season, despite it all.

Linked with Just Write

His words echo in my ears You seem to have it all. My ungratefulness fills my insides with a sickening guilt. I am left with endless longing for so much more than I have. You seem to handle it well. Inside I barely hold myself together. I do nothing for me, and everything for the parade of requirement put upon me.

Having just swirled this special whisk made just for hot chocolate another endless contraption made to lessen the burden of the solitude of motherhood. I kiss the top of your golden head as I hand you your steaming cup, the glee on your face palpable. It should have filled me with something more than obligation.

tap. tap. swosh. swosh. inhale. exhale.

Begging for more marshmellows you both stand at my feet, palms out, awaiting. Rationing them out. Five for you, two for you. You wiggle your butt in excitement yet I feel like a communist officer allowing you your daily allottment of bread and flour. What would you children have done if you had to wait in long cold lines like my parents did with me at their hip? You are spoiled by society, by my guilt. You will never appreciate what you have, always having everything.

I will never be fulfilled by what I have, having had nothing but wanting everything.

I love you both so much more than you could ever know, but some how still not enough.

tap. tap. swosh. swosh. inhale. exhale.

There is so much taking. So much demanding. Never enough giving. Perhaps I am too selfish for this profession? Too bound up with my own needs, my own unfillment to find joy in the mundane. You are chewing on the bell of Santa’s hat. I am too tired to stop you.

It’s not only an exhaustion of lack of sleep. But the brevity of it all. Never enough time. Never enough. Why are there still six unfinished christmas cards when forty have already been completed? Why send wishes of joy when you recieve so few back. Always giving.

tap. tap. swosh. swosh. inhale. exhale.

Please stop taking down the Christmas ornaments. Please stop making so much noise. Please don’t eat that. Please don’t touch that. Please.

I want him to take me despite what it would look like. I want him to not have been kidding that he would take me to the place I’ve always dreamed. To walk along the shores of the Aegean sea, to run my fingertips among the homes of the Santorini. I want to go like an ache in my soul that cannot be dulled.

Please stop picking the cranberries off the wreath. Please don’t yell at your sister. Please stop crying. Please.

tap. tap. swosh. swosh. inhale. exhale.

If he will take me. If he will pay for me. I will go despite your hesitations. Despite the outward appearance of it all. If he will take me I will go and do this thing for myself. I will leave the three of you behind. And spend seven days in quiet. And I will come back, and be better for it.

I love when you lay your baby face on mine. Cheek to cheek. I breathe you in. And it passes faster than it came. The tears rolling in like a thundering from miles away.

tap. tap. swosh. swosh. inhale. exhale. done.