Crisco sandwiches and Concealer

I was very happy to see that I have been helpful to Ebony Mommy in assisting her in creating a revolting image to summon every time she feels the urge to eat an Oreo. Read all about her Crisco sandwich and The Gross Out Diet on her blog. Ha ha!!

I hope her children follow her footsteps and copy her healthy eating habits. I know most children like to do what their parents do, for good and for bad. I am friendly with several families that have one vegetarian parent and one meat eater. I have seen the children eating the diet of the parent who is feeding them at the time, without batting an eyelash, as long as they get to eat what Mommy/Daddy is noshing at the time. I also see children copying their parents’ mannerisms and using their catch phrases too. One Daddy I know says, “That’s clever,” when he hears of something, well, clever. I heard his six year old saying it too, and I thought that was just too cute.

In my own home, my little ones like to copy the DH when he uses a screwdriver, or pliers or sandpaper to do some “manly man” project. They also like to dig beside him in the garden. I too have put them to work; at their fancy schmancy Montessori school they have lessons in Practical Life. The October lessons seemed to involve a lot of washing of pumpkins, with brushes and soap and water. This turned out to be a very practical lesson for them to be taught! There was some muddy dust on the siding of my house, from the rotten weather we have suffered through these past few weeks. I wanted to wash it off right away, but didn’t get a chance with the boys underfoot. Then I thought, “Well heck! They like to wash pumpkins, why not siding too?” We each had a bucket of warm water, some dish soap and a sponge, and the three of us attacked the siding. About 20 minutes later, the mud was gone and we were having a great time. I should have thought of that sooner.

I know they like to copy me; during my "practical" chores they want to empty the dishwasher with me (Sure! Just be careful!), stir the soup in the pot (No! Too hot!), put away the groceries (The milk goes in the door, thank you!) and so on. They also love to watch me do my "lily gilding" chores too. I have an extensive tooth brusing ritual that is apparently fascinating. After watching me, mouthes agape for a year or so, they like to “floss” their teeth too. I say - Can I have an Amen? I am also hugely into skin care and moderate makeup; I wear SPF15 everyday (yes, even if it's cloudy) and if I go out I do the mascara, concealer, powder and lipstick thing. They love to hold out their little palms for a dab of skin cream when I put mine on. I have taught them to rub their hands together and pat it evenly to the face. It's the sweetest thing to see! Everyone needs to use SPF everyday too with those holes in the ozone layer and all.

But two-year-old twin boys do not need to wear mascara, lipstick and concealer! The other day I was getting ready to got to a party, so I had the mascara wand in one hand and the tube in the other. Baby B tried to take the tube of Diorshow out of my hand, and I had to give him a dry mascara wand to appease his disappointment. He tried to copy my application technique, and got a little pissed off in his vain attempts. (GET IT?! "Vain" attempts? Heh heh.) So I had to pretend to darken his lashes and then I exclaimed, “Oh, you look fabulous!” He looked in the mirror and smiled like anything.

This morning I was dabbing a bit of concealer on my chin. I have one of those stray hairs that quite obviously does not belong on my face, and I need to tweeze it into submission every now and then. However, I attempted a pre-emptive tweeze, the hair was not long enough to grab properly, even with a dust of powder, and I made a red mark on my face. Hence, the concealer. Both Baby A and Baby B were watching this, and had already put on their Olay SPF 15. Now they wanted some concealer too. I thought, “Ah, a dab of Clinique never hurt a fella,” so I gave them each a teensy bit on a pudgy fingertip. I told them, “Put that wherever you have a blemish.” Baby B patted his onto his upper lip and Baby A stuck his in his ear. Then they both admired the results in the mirror.

My friends tell me they are going to grow up to be metrosexuals. I hope so; I would love them to be fashion designers or something. Of course, it might be unnerving to have my sons critique my skin, hair, makeup and accessories, but we MOTs can take a lot of unnerving, and the rough with the smooth. Just as long as we look fabulous doing it, of course, and if my boys grow up and become Stella McCartney/Derek Lam/Carolina Herrera/Miuccia Prada, I will definately be so! I'll just have to make sure their samples are a size 12, and not a six. They do owe me...