Mommy blogging

I started writing this blog post at 2:30 am. I'd just pumped a cow-riffic few ounces of milk for my baby girl.




I was exhausted...but the words dancing in my head wouldn't be quiet. They demanded to be heard, getting louder and louder, forcing me to listen. It's exactly how my adventure with this blog started years ago: that inner voice just wouldn't shut up ;)

Expressing myself is who I am. The only thing that's more "me" is loving fashion.  That's why this blog was so transformative for me for so long. It combined two fundamental parts of who I am.

But today, ten weeks into my daughter's life, who I am feels like a nebulous thing.  I no longer feel like this multifaceted person: daughter, friend, partner, professional, pig, clown, fashionista, writer.  For the last two months, I've been pretty singularly defined as Mini Diabolina's mother.





She is gorgeous baby - strong, funny, sweet, a great sleeper and an even better eater.  In quiet moments when it's just the two of us, I am overwhelmed by my love for her. I cry and cry and cry because she is mine and I am hers and the love we share is like nothing I could have imagined.


















I adore my child but motherhood is grueling. It's challenging down to your core. It's also fundamentally disorienting, at 37 years old, to feel like your very sense of self, your identity, who you are is in complete flux. In some ways, I feel like a child myself: unsure, tentative, experimenting.







After all, I had finally just gotten to know and love me in my 30s.  And now that person is changing deep down in parts of my being I'd never truly mined before. All while my postpartum hormones rage.  It's supes fun, let me tell you...

So I'm going to try to come back to writing, to a part of me I know and don't want to lose.  I'm also coming back to the blog because I need to get my fashion mojo back.  I am in danger of becoming a normcore, leggings and top wearing, basic bitch, the horror!  My daughter deserves better.



Also I need to play into my vanity and lose my baby tummy. Although I may be back to my pre-preggo weight (thanks, breastfeeding and good genes!) my stomach looks like a butt. Not a nice J Lo/Kardashian boo-tay.  More like a flabby, saggy tush that would be on the cover of the National Inquirer issue of "worst beach bodies" with a black bar over the star's face. Sad but true.

I'm going to keep the posts short. I always say that and have such a hard time doing it but now I have a baby to keep me honest.




I'll blog about mommy and baby fashion, deep motherhood thoughts and my adventures with my little girl, my mother aka grandma extraordinare and Mr. Diabolina.  All while keeping it real how I've always done.






Here's to a new beginning.

A big anniversary and an even bigger announcement

On March 10, 2012, my mother’s mother who helped raise me died. And I felt like a fundamental part of me changed forever.

Two years later, as I write this, I'm pregnant with a daughter of my own. And I feel like a piece of my grandmother has made its way back to me and my mother...  

I still cried today. But they were tears of loss and gratitude. Pain and joy. Regret and hope. Because, well, life can be so heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time.  

Over the past few months, there have been several moments when my (ecstatic!) mom and I will be chattering happily about the baby and one of us will break down suddenly. We’ll tell the other one what she already knows: I wish Olga was with us, to see this, to meet the baby and to be known by her.

And yet, I’m not sure I’d be having a child if I hadn’t lost my grandma. I struggled with the decision for most of my 30s. But ultimately the biggest lesson in my grandmother's death was that I needed to live.  Stop overanalyzing and worrying and planning and instead, for the first time, truly allow for my life to unfold. 

That’s also what I’m trying to do with this post and the blog in general.  After months of hemming and hawing about recommitting to blogging  and then fretting over how to write about the baby, I’m finally just putting  words on a page: I'm pregnant and thrilled and terrified. And I want to document this incredible moment in my life with Mr. Diabolina, my mom and our loved ones. 

I’ll share all the fashion soon (I don't think you're ready for this jelly/belly or the baby's similarly expanding wardrobe!) But first I wanted to share the emotion – what I hope was at the heart of this "fashion" blog when it was a *thing*. 

Here are the first words I wrote about my baby girl several months ago. Today they feel like the perfect ode to my grandmother. May they make her smile...wherever she is  ;)

Her

She has always been a part of me. We are intertwined. Inextricable.

She's danced in the corners of my mind and at the edges of my soul for as long as I can remember.

I've never clearly seen her face or heard her voice. I've only caught glimpses of her in sun-drenched dreams – blinding flashes of her smile, how she moves in the world, the way she makes me feel.

I've never met her and yet I've always known she is smart and beautiful and strong and funny. I've always known she will drive me crazy and make me proud.

In the stillness, she has come to me, shown me that she is my destiny, my muse, my daughter.

She will teach me and heal me. She will humble me and save me.

She will unlock the woman I am meant to be...at last.

I'm back

It started with a Tweet.

@diabolina I miss your blog! Please write again soon 🙏#fanfrommanila
— leeleeput (@msbyuds) August 2, 2013

Followed by a Pinterest comment on my pin about the existential crisis that is blogging ;)

Two little interactions. Two tiny moments of connectedness. Two lovely instances of my soul dancing with strangers in cyberspace.

Made me remember what blogging felt like: befriending women around the world through my writing. Sharing. Creating. Feeling known. Inspiring. Making people smile, feel, think, cry and of course, shop ;)

I remembered that for four years of my life this blog was a whole thing. It was my thing. Blogging was therapy, exhibitionism, creativity and escape - all rolled in to one.

It's been hard to admit why I stopped blogging last year. The truth is that I lost my self there for a while. In my grandmother's death, in work. I questioned what I was doing with my life and even more devastating, I doubted my voice.

I retreated from fun and fashion and writing. Which left me sad and frumpy and voiceless. Not a good look on anyone – especially a fashion blogger.

It's taken me most of 2013 but I'm starting to feel like myself again. Change is in the air. I even give a fuck about shoes again. Mental note: Blanche is always right.

So how do I catch up on nearly a year of blogging? Not entirely sure. Feels like the format should evolve. Blathering on about my daily outfits seems soooooo 2008 ;)

As a lady of (gulp!) 36, I think it's more about sharing the big life "ahas" with some food and fashion porn mixed in. Kinda like this:

Life

My mom took me to Europe the summer after I got my Master's degree. Then I blinked and TWELVE years passed! So this summer, I finally returned the favor.

Not so fun back story: During my entire career, I've never taken more than 5 days off in a row. So no "big" overseas trips. Biggest regret of my 20s.

My grandmother dying was a huge wake up call. Made me finally understand that tomorrow is not guaranteed. That, in an instant, the things you put off can become regrets.  And that my (hilarious) mother may not always be this healthy...

So why not watch the fucking Eiffel Tower twinkle together more often than once a decade. It's like it took all the pain of my grandma's death to remind me that I was alive.

And guess who got in on Europa con nosotras? Yep, the man, the myth himself: Mr. Diabolina. It was our first time there together.

Trying to go through 1,500 pictures from Europe is #bougieproblems central. Here's one fave in Bruges pic.twitter.com/J1rrS6Zu4t
— Diabolina (@diabolina) July 17, 2013

He never took real vacations from the firm either. Ugh to both of us type As.

For most of this year, he's been negotiating his own career transition, wrestling his own darkness and emerging a healthier, happier man for it. I've never been prouder of him.

And, um, babies are suddenly everywhere around us right now.

If there's a baby in the room, this is where you'll find me pic.twitter.com/uS0EBtVNfQ
— Diabolina (@diabolina) June 1, 2013

Especially in our heads.

It's shocking but, for the first time in my adult life, I can actually picture myself as someone's mother. I think that's yet another by-product of losing one of the women that raised you. You want a piece of you back. You think about your legacy. You long for connections that promise forever.  

LOVE how much my godson & I look alike when we smile...and how unimpressed his sister is with us #shade&sequins pic.twitter.com/dOrFD5w5Rf
— Diabolina (@diabolina) August 13, 2013

No decisions have been made either way but it feels good to approach it head-on as a conscious choice. Stay tuned. (It's my mom's favorite channel, btw.)

Food

Celebrated my birthday dinner at the new vegetarian hot spot Crossroads with our favorite hot vegetarian architect.

Go to there even if you're a carnivore. Super creative uses of vegetables that recreate the textures of meat and seafood and cheese. The "crab cakes" are a must.

We also went to the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel for brunch that weekend. Hadn't been in nearly two decades. Too many memories of my dad, who had a clothing store there back in the day.

Mama looks like SHE's turning 36 pic.twitter.com/17ow7Zxozo
— Diabolina (@diabolina) July 28, 2013

Highly recommend for the old Hollywood glam...with a major side of French toast.

Fashion

So I get an F for hardly shopping in Europe.

After 2 weeks in Europe, I only bought 2 pairs of shoes & a few trinkets. HUGE restraint on my part #growingup pic.twitter.com/i3cQ49N52s
— Diabolina (@diabolina) July 9, 2013

Trying to make up for it with a belated birthday spree. Gave my tootsies a treat in mixed prints. Courtesy of Loeffler Randall. Obsessed in love with this brand. Comfortable, chic and reasonable...well, on sale they are.

Another yummy that I'm newly stalking: Bionda Castana. You're welcome.

BC fans send us their holiday photos :) Keep them coming... pic.twitter.com/KrUapN35nj
— biondacastana.com (@BiondaCastana) August 7, 2013

Pondering a new bag too. Was leaning toward a classic Balenciaga in a poppy, girly color because I have all the boring basics covered.

Then these two edgier Phillip Lims (for significantly less) got stuck in my lusty head. 

Confession: Increasingly obsessed with leopard and fur. Also fake eyelashes and bronzer. The transition to full drag queen is almost complete.

Feel like a woman, wear a braided gold lamé headband to jury duty
— RuPaul (@RuPaul) August 14, 2013

But I'm going to hold off on buying a bag until Phillip Lim for Target hits stores. Seems like it's going to be the best Tarjay collab since Missoni, riiiiiight????

Officially can't wait for 9/15! Loving every look at the #PhillipLimForTarget preview. https://t.co/zeiJTBt69r
— A Bullseye View (@ABullseyeView) August 12, 2013

So what's new wit-chooo?

xoxo

Trevor Live 2012

The Scene 

 Hard to believe it's been four years since Sable Crow first invited me to Trevor Live. Even harder to believe it's already been a year since the first time I attended as a member of the board of directors.

But what's REALLY crazy is that this year is the first time I invited my mother to Trevor Live. Many of my closest friends on the board bring their moms every year.  My own mom is my best friend, goes with me everywhere, is adored by all my friends and extremely proud of my work with the Trevor Project.  So why the hesitation?

Trevor Live is always an extremely emotional night. It's a night filled with stories of teenagers and parents and suicide. And even though the event is centered around LGBTQ youth, the night in many ways has become intertwined with the story of me, my mother and my stepfather.

It is the night, every year, where I step back in time and relive the horror of my stepfather's depression and suicide when I was sixteen. It is the night where I realize just how far I've come since the worst tragedy of my childhood. It is the night that reminds me that often our darkest moments can transform into our greatest gifts.

And so I invited my mother to join me and Mr. Diabolina this year – even though we all knew how hard it would be – because, well, part of helping prevent suicide is acknowledging that it happens.  We have to bring it out of the shadows and into the light. So there she sat BEAUTIFUL in her BCBG dress and waterproof mascara, next to "the best man she has ever known" and one of her dearest friends who has been like family to us since my dad died.  Adore these three faces.

Invited Little Miss MBA who has been one of the brightest lights in my life since we met as TAs in grad school. Owed her at least one glam night for taking me to countless fabulous fashion events over the last decade as her plus one. Also invited another loverly girlfriend from college who I've recently reconnected with.  Last year, she had a friend who committed suicide so I thought the night, though rough, might bring her some healing.

Was THRILLED Mr. NBC was able to fly out from NYC. He is one of my favorite people on the planet AND has been a great friend to the Trevor Project over the years. Was overjoyed that he could finally attend his first Trevor Live after years of hearing Sable Crow and me blab on and on about it.

Rounded out table #36 with Silver Haired Fox and Mr. Architect. Two more faces that I've adored for half my life and whose friendship I would be lost without.  Was an honor to have them share such an important night.

My favorite performance of the night was a beautiful duet from Wicked: "For Good" by Kristin Chenoweth and Anna Hendrick. I was sooooo moved (picture me crazy lady tearing up like Oprah here.) As I looked around the table, at people who I've loved for 15+ years, the words perfectly conveyed what I felt for them:

So much of me
Is made from what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end 
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend



The lyrics also pertain to the one man missing from the table...
who I know was there in spirit, who I know is always with me:

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true 
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

The Show

Amy Poehler as the night's MC again was a gift from god. 

Sara Bareilles was magic.

Seventeen year old American Idol runner-up Jessica Sanchez was awe-inspiring.

OneRepublic's Ryan Tedder singing "Feel Again" was my second fave performance of the night.

Darren Criss was H-O-T. Did an acoustic version of Katy Perry's "Part of Me."

Our Trevor Hero award winner, Katy Perry, was adorable, gracious and humble. She thanked Trevor Project for helping educate her so she can educate others.  Love.

But my favorite moment of the night came when I realized the only celeb I wanted to peep, Zachary Quinto, was sitting at the table next to mine. Zachary (Mr. Quinto if you're nasty) is on my favorite show on the planet right now, American Horror Story, as a terrifying serial killer. So when Sable Crow and I went over to introduce ourselves and thank him for attending, I was more than a little afeared.

He quickly put us at ease by making a joke about needing to raise even more money to spruce up the decor at the call centers  because - hello! - it's for gays and should look fabulous.  He proceeded to ask some incisive questions about fundraising and programming and I quickly realized a) how articulate he is and b) how dedicated he is to the organization.

He doesn't only show up to the events and write checks. He's chosen to understand the work from the inside out, electing to go through the INTENSE 40-hour training to be a volunteer lifeline counselor. He's taken calls from suicidal teens.  He is my newest Trevor shero.

As we parted ways, I confessed I was terrified speaking to him for most of our conversation. Those killer eyes twinkled behind the Clark Kent glasses as he told me I should be terrified of the writers who come up with all that cray #AHSFX stuff. He just acts it out.  I giggled with horror and ran away.

(Better show photos here)

The Outfit 

White House Black Market fringe dress
Fashion District accessories
Stella McCartney clutch
Alexander McQueen shoes

The Grade
B

The Commentary

Life's been a non-stop, overwhelming whirlwind over the past few months with work and travel and family. Didn't really start thinking about my dress until two weeks before the event. Wasn't loving anything I saw in stores or online. Well nothing that was under $500.

Thought about just wearing something that I already owned but nothing felt quite right. Everything was either too formal or too chesticle bearing. Wanted to keep the look cocktail and board member-appropriate. Cut to a crazed shopping trip THE DAY BEFORE THE EVENT.

Panicked and desperate, I walked into a store I NEVER go in: White House Black Market. Saw SO MANY evening options and all extremely well priced between $100 and $200. God help me I've become a cheap old lady who shops at a subsidiary of Chico's. The apocalypse is clearly near.




Settled on a simple, off-the-shoulder fringe LBD. Have always wanted a flapper look (see! super old lady!) Amped up the glam by getting the makeup done by MAC per usual.  Advised my friend Lawyer Legs to do the same. Ugh could the results BEEEE  any more delish?

We matched from our Mac faces to our McQueen toes. 

Sablecrow more than approved – he coveted.

Nabbed all my rosy "jewels" for under $50 in the fashion district.  Will get so much use out of that ring and the lariat with fringe was inspired, no??!

We were really rocking the two most popular looks of the night: pinkie sparkle and little black dress chic. 

 

My favorite LBD of the night was this one with built in bracelets! NEED!

Fave male accessory of the night was the Brad bowtie 

Matthew Morrison looked hot like fire in his

But didn't hold a candle to Mr. Architect who rocked his with my favorite: polka dots.

He matched Little Miss MBA perfectly!

Best end o' the night accessory: the stuffed horses we all got from event sponsor, Wells Fargo.

The event morphed into a freaking adorable Santa Anita at the end.

Hilarious, magical, moving, perfect night!

xoxo