Get Ready to Celebrate, Moms!

Posted on May 2, 2011 by FoBaM-Jamie

Welcome to the week before Mother’s Day!

We know the Big Day isn’t until Sunday, but we want to start this party early. We think mom is worth it, don’t you?

This week on Fans of Being a Mom is going to be chock full of fun and daily giveaways. Plus, we’ve launched a new feature on our Facebook page – the Fan Photo of the Week.

So – here’s the low down on all the goings-on:

Giveaways:
Each day this week, we’ll be posting at least one giveaway. I don’t want to spill the beans, but we’ve got some wonderful indulgences to share with you. Our theme is all about small pleasures. We figure motherhood is the perfect training ground for learning to appreciate the little things, right? Each of our giveaways has been hand selected to deliver a little yummy into your day – just the right size to fit into the nooks and crannies left after you’ve done everything else.

To enter, please remember to leave a comment ON THE BLOG POST. You can enter once per giveaway and win as many times as your luck will allow.

You’ll have about 24 hours to enter each giveaway (we’ll tell you the exact deadlines in each post), and then winners will be notified by email. (Please check your spam folder in case we fall in there – would hate for you to miss out on your loot because your E-mail system sent us to the naughty corner!)

And that’s pretty much all there is to it – treats for you and we get to have the fun of playing Mother’s Day fairy godmothers.

We’re so happy to share this celebration with you. Check back often so you don’t miss any of the fun (or goodies!), and remember to enjoy each of those small pleasures in your day.

Happy Mother’s Day Week!

Image Credit: marija jure

Mommy, dance with me

Posted on January 18, 2011 by FoBaM-Jamie

My daughter turns seven tomorrow. I can hardly believe it. I’d like to ask where the time has gone, but I know where it has gone. It has slipped through my fingers, minutes turning into weeks turning into years. While I was on a client call earlier today, my computer went into sleep mode and random images from my photo archives began floating silently across the screen. I watched with a lump in my throat as pictures of my daughter danced before my eyes like a presentation on “This is Your Life”: the day we gamboled in the field – chasing butterflies, doing cartwheels, and painting watercolor pictures of circus elephants; a charming moment when, as an infant, she fell asleep in my bed with our huge dog curled up beside her; dozens of photos of her bright, broad toddler smile beaming at me – full of joy, pride, and an unquenchable curiosity about everything around her.

The years haven’t just flown by, they have disappeared like the ball in a magician’s sleight of hand trick. One moment you see it, the next – gone.  But the memories remain. As the photographic evidence of the past 2,556 days faded in and out on my screen, the feelings that accompanied each captured moment came flooding back to me. Emotions and sensory memories wrapped themselves around each moment like the lustrous layers of nacre on a pearl. The last seven years becomes a beautiful strand of softly shining treasures that warm my heart even as real pearls warm to the touch.

Seven years old tomorrow and so many firsts and lasts already come and gone. But we’re not nearly done making memories. Sunday night as we were getting ready for bath time, my little girl called out in her clear voice, “Mommy, come dance with me!” Though it was getting late and I knew this invitation to be at least partly a ploy to delay bedtime, I took her hands in mine and we spun in dizzying circles, our socks sliding across the kitchen floor. We giggled. She reached her arms up and I obediently hoisted her onto my hip. As I swung her around, she leaned in and planted a spontaneous kiss on my cheek. I looked down and saw not the tall first grader who is nearly big enough to go without a car seat, but the precocious toddler with pudgy little fingers and only the vaguest notion of the world outside her mother’s arms.

I set my tiny dancer down and stepped back to give her the floor. She twirled and kicked and swept her feet across the floor in intricate steps that she made up as she went along. She gave the routine a little hip action, and a fair amount of sassy hand jive meant to mime the lyrics. She struck a pose and admired her reflection in the darkened glass of the sliding door. I smiled, my heart brimming over with deeply felt love, pride, delight, and hope for her future joy.  She turned and grinned at me, laughing at herself and the mock seriousness of her performance – ever the little girl, ever my little girl.

I smiled back and joined her once again on the dance floor, knowing that this was another of those grain-of-sand moments that will become a beautiful, shining pearl to be treasured for the rest of my days.

The Photo Holiday Card

Posted on November 30, 2010 by Guest

I gave up sending holiday cards years ago, but apparently some interpid moms still make the effort. I’m not sure if I think they are crazy or superheroes. Today, guest writer Antonia Luff Tagupa shares her hysterical take on the whole holiday card scene with a true story that will either make you laugh or cringe. Enjoy!

Not everyone realizes that the holidays are a competitive sport; but moms do. Moms know full well that the first one to get her photo holiday card in the mail wins.

The design and execution of the photo holiday card is arguably the most prestigious event of the entire holiday season, winner takes all. There is some quality control, such as the number of photos on the card, and the flawlessness of each picture, but really, it’s the first one out that takes the win.

And why not? To achieve this honor means that you must have purchased the kids’ most-adorable holiday outfits back in September before they all sold out. It means that you somehow managed to get your kids into these outfits for no less than three different sittings, for an average of thirty photos each. At least one of these of these photos shoots will Read More…