I wish I liked eating salads, but I really, really don't. I always seem to end up with a honking piece of spinach lodged between my teeth, cliche though that may sound, so I like to carry a compact with me.
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I dug into my Mother's Day stash of bubble baths recently only to realize that they are filled with tons of artificial chemicals and additives. Hardly a relaxing thought. Cyan Bonacci must have felt the same way since she created Lee-Lai Bathing Teas--which really are all natural.
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Don't you love 20-something models advertising anti-aging creams? And yet, I fall for it every time. I have the drawer full of jars to prove it.
Admittedly I'm a sucker for hope in a bottle so when I had the chance to review the Ma Mi Skin Care line, formulated specifically to address the havoc motherhood can wreak on skin, I jumped at it. I took the sample kit with me on my recent trip to San Diego and I will now commence gushing.
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Whether you gained a whopping 65lbs with each pregnancy like me, or you were one of those women who tipped the scales a mere 25lbs above your normal weight, there comes a point when we all feel like beached whales. So slathering your big stretched out belly in Whale Oil should make perfect sense.
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I tote hand sanitizer--referred to in our house as "goo"--pretty much everywhere. I'm not a germaphobe, but we do seem to have recurring interactions with petting zoos and gross gas station restrooms.
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There is nothing quite like the feeling of having everything you need in your purse. Tissues? Check. Crayons? Check. Emergency first aid for all aiments both real and imagined? Check.
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I will admit, there are times I am envious of my girls' use of diaper wipes instead of regular old TP. What? It's refreshingly indulgent!
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We go the whole nine yard on Halloween, which this year has me running around town for a child-sized red wig and face paint. But considering my daughter's extremely sensitive skin, I'm reluctant to just grab cheapo store brand face paints for fear of the sketchy ingredients and wonderful rashes I'll be dealing with the next day.
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It seems that turning four has brought us into the world of dramatics, particularly when we fall down and even just barely bump our knee on the carpet. And by we I mean not me.
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The way I see it, with every baby I have my boobs drop a centimeter. That's not so bad when you're wearing a super duper mama bra, but not so great when you're letting them hang free for those precious 15 minutes before going horizontal at night.
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I'm conspicuously absent from photos taken after the birth of each of my babies. I know a lot of you mamas knows what I'm talking about. But it wasn't even my complexion that was making me camera-shy; it was my lady parts--my tender c-section incision and my ravaged nipples--that were making it nearly impossible for me to crack a smile.
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