15 Posts You Would Have Loved--If I Had Written Them

My kids hanging out in Delaware, where we're currently staying. (Yet another post I'm sure to be delinquent on soon...)

Recently, one of my blogging idols--Ilana of MommyShorts--wrote a genius post. She owned up to all the blog posts she hasn't gotten around to writing, and it really rang true for me since I'm also verrry behind in blogging about my own life. So many things have happened this year (and, erm, last year) that I just haven't gotten around to blogging about yet. 

This is annoying for many reasons, not least of which is that I carry around so much guilt about it! I am constantly stressing about the blog posts I need to write. (Note: In nearly every case it boils down to something lame like me already having the photos--but having way too many--and not wanting to edit them. Pathetic!) 

So here's a few of the many things that I've been delinquent about blogging about. Tell me which ones sound most interesting to you, and I'll try to tackle those first!

Our Visit to Disney Aulani in Hawaii

Spring Break in Disneyland (um, this was 2017...EEK!)

The Best Parenting Advice I Never Took

My Son's 5th Birthday Party (Looney Tunes meets Cinco de Mayo!)

My Daughter's 8th Birthday Party (a.k.a. The Year I Finally Gave Up Stressing Over Pinterest-Perfect Parties and Succumbed to SkyZone)

Why We Had to Say Goodbye to Our Long-Time Nanny

Why We Decided To Get An Au Pair (And, Yes, She Lives With Us!)

I Sat Through A Taylor Swift Concert In The Pouring Rain Because I Love My Daughter (Ok, I Loved The Concert, Too)

I Survived Whole 30 (Part Two)

I Tried This Fat-Melting Treatment On My Tummy--And It Worked!

I Got Custom-Made Sandals at Amanu and I'm Obsessed!

TK More Great Books To Read Right Now

5 More Podcasts You Need to Start Listening To

Our Backyard Transformation

Our West Coast Road Trip

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So, tell me: Which ones should I start with?

On Losing Teeth and Turning Six

“Mommy!” my daughter called up to me from downstairs a few nights ago. “Look!” 

I walked down to find her wiggling one of her bottom front teeth. It was loose. And judging from how far back and forth she was able to push it, it was looooose.

“Mommy, my tooth is going to come out soon!” she cried. “Maybe I’ll lose it on my birthday!”

That birthday—her 6^th—is today. The tooth is still here, but living on borrowed time. Thank god, because I'm not ready. Because, perhaps even more than a larger clothes size or a pencil flick on the wall marking her height, losing that tooth means she is growing up. It’s why she was brimming with excitement. And why I was about to break down in tears.

I was already having a hard time coming to terms with that fact that she was about to be six, but the tooth thing just pushed me over the edge. 

Six. Six. I know full well that I’ll be the billionth parent to write this, but how? How did that happen? They say it happens so fast, but it happens even faster than they say. It happens so. fast.

I mean, I remember when she had no teeth! And I remember my Facebook status update announcing her first one for, god’s sakes. (For the record, that status was: “Houston, we have a tooth.” I never said it was brilliant.) But wasn’t that, like, last year? How is she already old enough to have a full set of teeth, much less old enough to be shedding them?

And now it's her sixth birthday? How? I clearly remember her first birthday party. Hell, the dress I wore to it is still hanging in my closet.

That evening, I laid down next to her in bed and we did our nightly ritual: I told her a quick story and then sang her our own version of "Hush Little Baby." Usually, after that, I either kiss her good night and go downstairs, or we lay silently for a few minutes while she falls asleep. But this time I spoke up.

“I have to tell you, honey,” I began, my voice breaking. “I’ve been thinking about you losing that tooth all day and I’ve been really sad." I started to cry at that point, and then continued: "Because it means you’re growing up.”

“But it’s not like I’m going to college!” she said.

“But you’re basically going to be going to college soon!” I protested, only half joking.

“Oh mom,” she said sounding 16. “No, I’m not. But when I do, I’m going to put 1,000 pictures of you on my walls in my room and hearts, too.”

I snuggled her until she fell asleep and then headed downstairs. I went on Amazon and ordered a tooth fairy pillow and said a little prayer that the tooth would stay attached to her mouth through the two-day shipping window. (It did.) 

Next, I went on a parenting Facebook group to try to figure out what the going rate is for teeth these days. (For the record, the average seems to be $1 a tooth with some crazy people doing $10 to $20 a tooth. Giving gold $1 coins in lieu of bills also seems to be popular with people who are way more forward thinking than me.)

And now, I'm writing this on the eve of her birthday. When she wakes up in the morning, she'll be six. And I'll be the mother of a six year old.

In a few days, she'll lose that tooth, and she'll put it into the tooth fairy pillow before she goes to sleep. That night, I’ll slip into her room, quietly taking the tooth, and leaving a dollar (bill, not coin) in its place.

Then, I’ll take that tooth and tuck it the memory box where I keep the many pieces of emphemera that would mean nothing to most people, but mean everything to me. There’s her hospital bracelet, impossibly small; the lock of hair fished from the remnants of her first haircut; the pink and blue striped cap that was the first thing she wore. 

The tooth will be tucked away with those precious things that remind me that, where I now have a little girl, I once had a baby. A baby who was once only six hours old. Then, I blinked and she was six days old. Then, six weeks. Then, six months. 

And now it's been six years.

I don't know how it happened. But I'm glad we're here. 

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

How To Survive Being Snowed-In With Your Kids

As you probaby heard (after all, those affected tweeted about nothing else), New York City and much of the East coast got hit hard by the blizzard this past weekend. We got over two feet here (!), but luckily we never lost power. I've written before about just how much I suck at snow days with my kids, so this time, I spent all day Friday prepping for the storm. Then, once it arrived, I spent all day Saturday and Sunday cooped up inside with my husband and two bored little ones.

I learned a few things. Here's how to prep next time there's a massive snowstorm on the way.

1) Stock up on bottled water, flashlights, and batteries. Because having them will ensure you don't need them; while not having them will ensure the power goes out and you spend the weekend bored, drinking Gatorade, and walking around the house with a single Bath & Body Works candle for light. (For the record, I was prepared with a stash of four of these battery-operated lanterns, which came highly recommended.) 

2) Charge the iPads before the snow arrives. And then charge any external power sources you have laying around, too. (I swear by the Jackery. It's cute--I have it in gold, it's tiny so it slips easily into your purse, and it's on sale for $10.99 right now.) You'll need fully charged iPads (plus backup power), because unless you're a masochist, you're definitely going to let your kids go on an iPad bender during a snowstorm. Best case scenario, you'll just be stuck inside and that screen time is going to save everyone's sanity. Worst case scenario, the power goes out and you're going to be stuck inside rationing that sweet, precious iPad juice like it's gold. 

3) Load up your pantry with snacks. Just know that they probably won't be the right ones though. I got all of the things my kids usually love: Pirate's Booty, Goldfish, pretzels, fruit. Then, when we were actually stuck inside, they randomly demanded potato chips, which of course, I didn't have. If I were to do it again, I'd involve them in the process before I went grocery shopping and ask them for two or three snack choices they wanted to eat during the storm. Live and learn.

4) Scour Pinterest for cute and educational art projects for your kids to do while they're housebound. Haha. J/K. I'm way too much of a slacker mom for that. 

5) Make sure their snowpants and boots fit. It's best to do this in the fall, but if you're like me, you'll purposely procrastinate, thinking you could maaaaybe get through the season without having to buy these items, which they will end up wearing zero to two times. But nope. You always, always end up needing them. So you'll wait until there is an actual blizzard and your kids are standing by the back door ready to go out and play, before realizing...oh crap. I did have the foresight to buy my kids' new snowboots this year, but I flaked on buying snowpants. My size 6 daughter had to make do with last year's 5T snowpants that were about four inches too short, so she had freezing wet calves after five minutes outside. #momfail. This year, I bought these snow boots for my daughter, which she is obsessed with, and I now have these snow pants on the way. My son has Old Navy snow overalls and these boots. (Side note: I highly recommend Kamik Kids boots, like I bought my son, for any little kid around two or three. There is nothing harder than getting snow boots on uncooperative feet, but these open almost all the way, so they are simple to get on. They were also quite a bit cheaper than many other top-rated options I found. Win win.)

6) If all else fails, scoop some snow into a bowl, throw some sprinkles on it, and call it "snow ice cream." My kids actually fell for this! In fact, they loved it! And it bought me like 30 minutes of relaxing time! Snow in a bowl. Trust.

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Were you in the path of the blizzard, too? Or have you been stuck inside with your kids for other natural disasters? What are your secrets for making it out alive? I'd love to hear!

Why Do We Care If Women Are Getting Their Hair Done After Giving Birth?

In the hospital, one day after the birth of my second child. Hair is on fleek.

In the hospital, one day after the birth of my first child. Baby is adorable; hair is cringeworthy.

With my first baby, hours after she was born. I look horrible--but I don't care. I love this shot. (That nail polish though? Oof.)

I'm guessing you guys read the recent New York Times article about the supposed trend of women hiring hair and makeup pros to glam them up in the hospital for those first post-baby photos. (I use the word "trend" loosely, because in the magazine/newspaper business, "trend" often just means you found three people who did it.) 

I know we're supposed to be outraged at this (the pressure on women! the scourge of social media! the vanity!). But if I'm being honest...I don't think it's a big deal.

Okay, yes, I will say that I do think it's kind of weird to have a hairstylist literally waiting in the hospital hallway while you push out your baby, ready to swoop in, blowdryer in hand, minutes after it has been born. (To each her own, but the logistics alone? Wow. That takes some serious planning. And one seriously patient hairstylist.)

But that said, once the baby's out, once you've held her and kissed her, and had time to bond and lay skin to skin and attempt to breastfeed, once it's hours later, or even the next day, if time has passed and you'd like a nice photo of you and the baby--and if for you, nice means having hair that's not a messy, sweaty mess--why should anyone care?

In those very first hospital photos of me taken with my first child--both immediately and just hours after her birth--I look horrible. No makeup, red, blotchy face, frizzy hair, ugly hospital gown. And you know what? I don't care. That was not where my head was at that moment. And it's not where my head is when I look at them now. 

When I look at those photos, I certainly don't see something I want to rush to post on Instagram (and believe me, it took a lot of thought over whether I'd even post one here). Instead, I see a very tired woman, but one who has just fallen very much in love. I see them and I remember that day. They are real and I'm glad that I have them.

But the photos that I took the next day? Those kind of make me cringe. (That's one of them, above, where I'm wearing a white sweater.) My hospital had an awesome free service where a professional photographer would come to your room to take photos of your newborn and new family. I was so excited about this! But clearly not excited enough to do anything but wet my hair and pull it into a bun. Apparently, I didn't even bother with lipstick.

Now, of course, I was running on about seven minutes of sleep in these pictures. And I was still in a lot of pain. There is no way I could have taken 45 minutes to give myself a blowout. It's impressive that I even took a shower. (Because let me tell you, those first post-baby showers are hard.)

Don't get me wrong--I am very glad that I have these photos. But I can't stand the way I look in them, so they are not pictures I'm going to choose to display in the house. That's why they're currently doing time in the purgatory of iPhoto.

Glamsquad, and the other similar services that send hairstylists to you for a reasonable fee, didn't exist back then. But if they had? If I had had the opportunity to have someone come to my hospital room and quickly run a round brush through my hair right before the photographer arrived? Well, I can't say I would've turned them down.

Three years later, with my second child, these services still didn't exist, but I had learned my lesson. Since I was going to be induced with my son, I had my hair blown out in a salon the day before. And because of a short, very easy labor (hallelujah), it pretty much held up! Am I the hottest I've ever been in these photos? No. But my hair doesn't make me cringe.

But forget about me and my experience. Here is the bigger issue about this "trend:" Why is it anyone's business? 

Why do we care if a woman wants to feel a little pretty after having given birth? Because we looked bad at that moment so everyone should? Or because we think she should be thinking about different things? Can we accept that women actually have different thoughts? Are we actually saying that a woman who dares to think about herself for half an hour is not properly loving her baby? Think about that: Is that really what we want to be saying?

I personally know women who have cracked open a bottle of champagne or wine shortly after giving birth. I know another whose first thought was to order sushi and enjoy a smorgasbord of it in her recovery room. Why is spending 30 minutes eating sushi any better than spending 30 minutes getting a blowout? After giving birth, I personally wasn't thinking about having a drink or eating a spicy tuna roll. But I'm not going to shame the mom who was. 

The New York Times printed a "Ha! Ha! Look how dumb women are!" article--and we all fell for it.

Why can't we just let women be?

So what do you guys think? Would you have gotten your hair or makeup done right after birth? (Or did you??) And what do you think about the current backlash against those women who do?


** P.S.: After going through the photos for this post, I really wish I could go back in time and tell myself to remove that horrendous nail polish. Forget my hair--hands down, the worst part of these photos is that my nails are painted in what can only be described as a "metallic mustard." (See below.) Learn from me. Go for a classic blush pink--or nothing at all--when you're approaching that due date.

Baby's First Buzz Cut

 

My son had his first haircut a few months back, but he's been majorly due for another one for awhile now. Partly because he's been looking really shaggy lately, but even more because he has developed this weird and annoying habit of pulling out his hair. He only does it every once in awhile, but he has learned that it gets a big reaction, so he loves to do it to get attention.

I decided to try and break him from the habit with a buzz cut. I was a bit nervous though. Would he be afraid of the clippers? Would he start to scream and we'd have to pull the plug halfway through the cut and he'd look like a weirdo? Or would we succeed and he'd walk out looking like a mini military recruit? Would he hate the haircut? Would I?

But this past weekend, we did it. And he was a champ. (Thanks Diego videos and promises of "yoll-e-pops" and "ba-yoons.") He was barely even aware of the clipping and still doesn't seem to notice that anything is different. 

But I've noticed. Whether you're a grownup going from lob to bob or a two year old getting newly shorn, haircuts are by nature transformative. And he looks so different to me now! Older. And like a little tough guy. But still so cute. I do love it.

There will be many haircuts over the years. Many transformations, I know. Some I'll love, some I'll hate. But no matter how many inches come off--whether he gets a Bieber, a Mohawk, or this ridiculously soft, peach-fuzzy buzz cut (that I just can't. stop. petting.)--he'll always be my baby. 

Super Mom of The Week

Today I'm incredibly honored to be featured on Big City Moms as their "Super Mom of The Week." Past super moms have included people like Molly Sims, Jenna Wolfe, and Jill Kargman, so I'm very, very flattered. 

But PLEASE: No one let them on to the fact that I am actually NOT a super mom. Let's keep it our secret so that they keep believing that I am, ok? ;)

But seriously, check it out if you get a sec! I'm sharing parenting advice, dishing on the best-ever family vacation, and even revealing my top two favorite beauty products, my favorite workout, and more. 

Head on over and take a look. And then please come back and let me know what you think!

This Mother's Day? Leave Me Alone.

photo by Raquel Bianca

I was chatting with my friend Didi at a work event yesterday, when someone asked what we were doing for Mother's Day. Didi, who is the mom of two tweens, wasted no time answering:"I just want a few hours to lock myself in a room alone and watch the Kurt Cobain documentary." The twenty-something PR girls who were standing there looked vaguely horrified, but I totally got it.

If Mother's Day is for mothers to do exactly what we want, then let me tell you exactly what we want: We want to be alone.

And if it's you now who is vaguely horrified, here's a disclaimer for all the non-moms in the room: Wanting to be alone now and then does not mean you do not love your children. I love my children. You love your children. And we love being moms. But it's also okay to love being by yourself for a few hours every once in awhile.

One of the biggest lessons you have to learn when you become a parent is that you are never, ever alone. At first it's a matter of life or death (that baby isn't going to breastfeed itself!), and later it's more a matter of always being wanted. Someone is always hungry. Someone is always bored. Someone always needs to get dressed or have their butt wiped or find one particular Barbie shoe. And that someone always needs you to handle it.

This is mostly a wonderful thing (remember when your college boyfriend dumped you and you worried that you were going to be alone forever? Congrats! Not gonna happen now. One thing I can guarantee is that once you become a mom, you will never be truly alone again). But constant companionship can also be tough. Sometimes you miss having no plans, lying around doing nothing, or wandering aimlessly without a stroller in tow. There's peace in being alone.

So this Mother's Day, I hope you receive the most luxurious gift possible. It's a gift that can't be bought at Marc, Louis, or Louboutin (or, let's be real, last-minute at CVS), but it's still priceless. The biggest luxury for a mom is time. Alone. 

And I hope you get some. 

So, tell me: If you're lucky enough to get a few hours alone, how would you spend them? I'd love to hear!

P.S.: Here's what I was thinking last Mother's Day. (Um, can you sense a theme here?)

The Not-Fun Parent

Heading out...

Cookie dough with brownie bites for her; chocolate peanut butter (obviously) for me

This is weird to think about, but I realized that night that, because I'm usually super strict about bedtimes, this was actually one of the first times my five-year-old daughter had seen the night sky! (7:30pm lights out FTW, people.)

A version of this post first appeared here on my Instagram, and I got such an enthusiastic response, both online and off. It seemed like it spoke to many people out there--many fellow not-fun parents--so I wanted to expand on it a bit here.

I am not the fun parent. My husband is the McDonalds parent, the eat-in-the-living-room parent, the sure-you-can-pour-a-vat-of-syrup-on-your-pancakes parent, the wear-whatever-crazy-outfit-you-want parent. 

That is not me.

I am the bedtime stickler, the rules-enforcer, the eat-your-broccoli, get-in-the-bath, "You're-not-listening" parent. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I became the strict one.

But one night, a few weeks back, that briefly changed. It was a Saturday night (one of the first ones that wasn't bitterly cold), and just before bath time, my daughter announced out of the blue that she wanted to go out for ice cream. This is something that us Not-Fun Parents would normally nix immediately. I mean, staying up late? Sugar right before bed? Straying from the routine? Madness, no? But instead of reacting immediately, I listened to her, thought about it for a moment, and said, "You know what? Why not?"

My daughter eyed me suspiciously (likely thinking: "Who is this kind alien who has invaded the body of my mom?"), but I convinced her that, yes, I was serious. So she enthusiastically took a quick bath, then we threw her coat over her pjs, and walked the few blocks to Ben & Jerry's. (Yep, in her pajamas--which she thought was hilarious and definitely turned out to be half the fun for her.)

It was just the two of us. We walked hand in hand, sat down and ate our ice cream, and then walked back in the dark (which she thought was awesome since she is almost never outside at night). When we were almost home, she said that it had been one of the coolest things that she had ever done.

And just like that, I got to be the fun parent for once.

Are you the fun parent? Or the not-fun parent? And if you're the latter, have you ever considered playing the fun parent for a night? I highly recommend it. But don't worry: By the next morning, I was back to my "PUT YOUR SHOES ON" self.

The 3 A.M. Struggle Is Real

This is my (now almost-five-year-old) daughter as a newborn. I could not find a single decent, recent shot of my son sleeping. Evidence that, when my kids are actually sleeping, I don't eff with that! 

It's 3 a.m. on a weeknight when you're jolted awake to the sound of your toddler crying. You wait a few minutes to see if he'll quiet down, but it doesn't look like that's happening. You glance over at your husband. He's asleep. Once again, the sound of screaming, amplified through a monitor, doesn't seem to faze him. (Isn't it always that way?) You're so tired. You have a big work meeting in the morning. But duty calls. You walk down the hall and into his room.

He's standing in his crib, crying for you, so you lift him into your arms. He lays his head down on your shoulder and stops crying immediately. You sway back and forth, back and forth, for a few minutes, and then start to wonder how long you're going to have to keep swaying. Because while you love him--so, so much...you are tired, man. You'll be thrilled to see him in four hours. But now? You just want him to go the eff to sleep, so that you can go the eff to sleep.

But then...you catch a whiff of his scent. That wonderful scent. There must be a Darwinian reason that babies and toddlers smell like this, right? Maybe we evolved this way so that our prehistoric mothers wouldn't toss us out of the cave when we wouldn't go back to sleep in the middle of the night. But whatever the reason, that scent is intoxicating. It's nearly impossible to describe, too. Sort of candy mixed with fresh-baked bread mixed with heaven? I don't know how to describe it, but parents know this smell. 

So you breathe it in and sway, breathe and sway. After a while, his breath has slowed, so you gently, slowly lean over to place him back in the crib.

He is NOT having that. He starts to scream. 

Nooo! You cannot be here doing this all night. You want your bed. You want your pillow. You want your duvet. You want sleep. Go to sleeeeeep!

But then...you catch a glimpse of the curve of his round little bottom in the soft blue glow of the sound machine light. You feel his hand grip tightly to your shirt. And you know in that moment, in your heart, that it won't always be like this. 

It seems impossible at 3 a.m. when you are this exhausted, but you know that there will be a day when you will yearn for this. Maybe he'll be at sleep-away camp. Maybe he'll be at college. Maybe he'll be an ornery teenager who just wants you to get the hell out of his room, mother. Someday, one night will be the last night you'll ever rock him at 3 a.m. and you won't know it's the last night until it's gone.

You kiss his forehead then, his lips, his downy hair. You know the kisses are probably keeping him from going to sleep and prolonging this whole thing. But you can't help it. There will be a moment when he outgrows these kisses, too.

Eventually his breath slows again as he sucks rhythmically on this thumb. His body, curled against every curve of yours, feels heavier. Sleep is close. And then suddenly, he points his arm out toward your face, and says "Eyyyyyyyyyye!" And you think, "OMFG, yes, that's my eye. Good, you learned the word eye. But at 3 a.m.? Really??"

And then...you start to cry. Partly because you just said "OMFG" to your toddler even if it was only in your head. And partly because you know these days are numbered. These days of kisses, and cute little bottoms, and him trusting you so completely as to let all his body weight fall into your arms. And you feel like a shit for wanting to speed them up, for feeling disdain for these fleeting middle-of-the-night moments where everything is quiet and nothing exists except for these two people who love each other more than anything else in the world.

But...work. You have to function there tomorrow. And not look hideous. And you have to be up in three hours to start getting your other child ready for school. And you stayed up too late watching the stupid Bachelor so now you're just so. freaking. tired.

The 3am struggle is real.

Braids, Beautiful Dresses, and Brunch

Someone was PSYCHED for brunch.

Isola restaurant at The Mondrian

Baby's first braid bar

The finished "Elsa braid"

Flower-crown making

"Mommy, I can't stop looking at myself!"

Me and my girl

Just before the holidays, my daughter and I were invited to a brunch to celebrate the new website for the (gorgeous!) children's clothing line, Pippa & Julie. My daughter was SO excited to go--for weeks prior, she couldn't stop telling everyone from her friends to her preschool teacher about it. And I was excited, too--very much looking forward to spending a fun winter's morning with her doing something other than sitting in our playroom playing Barbies.

The event was held at Isola, the Mondrian Soho's beautiful, airy restaurant, and there were lots of fun activities. We made a flower crown together (well, I made it while she art directed), and then hit the braid bar where she asked for (of course) "an Elsa braid." 

After she was properly side-fishtailed, we headed over to check out some of Pippa & Julie's beautiful dresses. Each one was exquisite, but my girl made a beeline for this hot pink, sequined dress that kind of looks like a birthday cake come to life (in the best way possible). 

She held it up against her sweater and jeans and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. And looked. And looked and looked. Finally, she said: "Mommy, I can't stop looking at myself! I look so beautiful!" 

And you know what? She did. 

(Spoiler alert: We went home with the dress.)

It was such a fun morning. And it was also a rare one. Now that we're a two-kid family, it's actually doesn't happen too often that my daughter and I get mommy-and-daughter alone time. So that was pretty awesome. I can't wait for more brunches--and definitely more dress-shopping!--in the years to come.

(By the way, I just noticed that the dress is now on MAJOR sale, if you've got a little girly girl, too!)


Thank you to Pippa & Julie for a wonderful morning--and for gifting us with the pink dress my daughter fell in love with!

The Cutest New Valentines For Kids (+ A $100 Minted Giveaway!) {CLOSED}

Maybe it's because February 14th is my birthday (yep), but I have always loved the tradition of giving out classroom valentines. In elementary school, I remember carefully making doily-dotted, red-and-pink construction-papered shoeboxes, and then waiting with anticipation to see who would drop a little Snoopy or Strawberry Shortcake or Star Wars card inside. (And then of course, I recall totally reading into the text on whatever card the boy you had a crush on gave you: "Oh my gosh! Do you think he meant 'Bee Mine' as in, like, 'Be my fifth grade girlfriend??!")

These days, Valentine's Day is much more low-key in my daughter's school. But we still wanted to do something fun for her classmates. The drugstore valentines I found were mostly cheap and cheesy, so I was less than inspired. And let's face it: I'm too lazy to DIY. Then, I heard that Minted (that's where we ordered our 2014 holiday cards) was offering classroom valentines, so I rushed to check them out.

You guys! They are SO cute. Once I saw them, it was a no brainer to place an order. The hardest part was choosing a design--there are so many good ones! I finally settled on this cute PB&J design (aren't the gingham backs cute?). But I came really close to getting these donuts, this cookie, or this gold-foil maze. (Minted, can you offer a variety pack next year for indecisive folks like me, pretty pretty please?)

All the designs have optional coordinating stickers, or you can can mix and match, as I did by getting these pretty hearts that technically go with a different card. And the best part: I love that both the cards and stickers are personalized. You can even put your child's photo on them, which might be fun for us to try next year.

This past weekend, my daughter and I sat down and addressed about half of her cards. (We'll do the rest later this week. When you're just learning to write, the process is sloooooow and I really wanted her to do them herself, so we are only tackling a few at a time so that she doesn't get too frustrated.) I just love the way they turned out and am so excited to deliver them to her friends next week.

And now, here's some superfun news: I'm giving away a $100 credit to Minted! Use it for some cute valentines of your own, invitations for your next party, some of their pretty wall art--anything! (Please enter via the Rafflecopter widget below. Good luck!)

Are your kids giving out valentines this year? If so, do tell: Did you do the drugstore thing, go the DIY route, or...? I'd love to know!

UPDATE: Congrats to Amy T., winner of the $100 credit to Minted. Thanks to everyone who entered!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Disclosure: Minted provided me with a small credit to purchase the valentines, but there was no further compensation, I was under no obligation to feature the products if I didn't love them (which I do!), and all opinions are my own.