Last week, mother nature granted us a brief respite; spring-type weather in the midst of February. A reminder that warmer temperatures will return (despite indications otherwise, including ten million inches of snow, and my utter exhaustion with the whole production. Perfect timing, anyways; I was running short on new Gabba episodes).

Around here, it was welcomed enthusiastically. With walks, and, most notably, a visit to the park. We hadn’t been to the playground in months, and Peanut certainly missed it. It’s incredible how she’s changed in that time, with an increased sense of confidence on the swings and climbing equipment. She’s almost two, after all; a big girl who can handle so much.

By the end of our visit, she was wet, filthy, exhausted. But fulfilled. And that was just perfect. Because in Peanut’s life, mucky knees are the new black.

Over the last 22 months, the state of my underwear drawer has become increasingly dire. I’ve tended to go for whatever’s a) comfortable, b) neutral, or c) inexpensive. I came out of the whole birth experience bloated like a tick. It was probably the least sexy moment of my life. And although Peanut couldn’t have been more worth it, at that very moment, my lingerie situation took a nose dive. I left the hospital in full bottom briefs, and entered the world of rotating granny panties. Well, maybe not that bad; but the days of looking good “underneath it all” were over. Decidedly done.

At least I thought.

Last Thursday, I had the pleasure of attending the #iheartlpc Valentine’s Day event. Hosted by the fabulous Glamamom, it was an opportunity for New York bloggers to gather at La Petit Coquette {The Little Flirt}, and browse some of the newest trends in lingerie.

It was an incredible time. I socialized. I was fitted for a bra (and learned I’ve been wearing the wrong size for, um, ever). I made some purchases. And remembered what it’s like to feel amazing – right down to my skivvies. Seriously, girls. It’s not about what people see; it’s not about your husband; it’s about you. Good lingerie makes you feel good. A simple equation that’s so easy to forget. Especially when you’re a mom.

Now’s the time to rediscover the feminine in your underthings! La Petite Coquette is offering a 15% discount off online purchase for The Stroller Ballet readers until February 13th. Enter code ILUVLPC at checkout.

Your inner glamour will thank you. Mine did.

A special thank you to the sponsors of this event: La Petite Coquette (for their fabulous lingerie), Knockout Cosmetics (for their on-trend nail polished), and Lia Sophia jewelry (for their absolutely beautiful necklaces, bracelets, and earrings).

Photos via Glamamom

I figured it was about time to post the obligatory snow photos. For all parents (at least those living in the Northern Hemisphere) this seems to be a critical rite of passage. Like documenting “trick or treating”, or a visit to the Apple Orchard: it’s just what you do. That’s probably why I felt a little bit guilty after our last storm: Peanut barely ventured outdoors. Particularly when a number of “toddler in snow” albums began popping up on Facebook. So, this morning was “the day”. Lest Peanut ultimately end up in therapy due to “snow photo deprivation”.

Luckily, New York City is getting dumped on this season. I’ve spent most of my life in the Northeast, and don’t ever recall this type of a winter (although pregnancy and motherhood did a number on my memory, so don’t hold me to it). In any case, Peanut absolutely loved the snow. Having spent my early years in Canada, I fondly remember being a kid in winter. So I was thrilled to see her enjoying the simple pleasures of childhood.

Somehow, in a wink, fall arrived. Correction – late fall arrived. Confirmed by the massive pile of leaves on my front stoop. Although I grew up in a house, for most of my adult life I’ve lived in an apartment. In coming to New York, we decided to rent an attached house. For a change, and, quite frankly, because we needed more space. Or at least we wanted more space. Because who really needs anything. Besides food and water, and of course, wine.

Although we don’t have a back yard, we do have a small patch of grass up front. It provides a little bit of curb appeal, if you will. What I didn’t account for was the amount of maintenance this postage stamp would require. Tuesday evening I slaved (note the emphasis) over a pile of leaves that had collected on our stoop (I’m not one for yard work). It took about 45 minutes to clear. Afterwards, I surveyed my work, quite pleased with myself. The front of my home looked lovely. I felt like the upstanding tenant I aspire to be. I may have even thought, “heck, I can handle this.”

A mere two days later, the leaves have returned. With a vengeance, I may add.

Today we were leaving the house, and Peanut paused by the pile. She reached out her little hand to grasp the scraggliest leaf of the bunch. Gripping the stem, she smiled at it with a look of wonder.

To her, it was a pile of magic.

And all of a sudden, I was thankful.