Popsicle Rationing

Late last week, a local sports camp slashed the price of this week's basketball camp in half. Like a colonial minuteman, a neighbor drove down the street screaming the good news out of her car window.

Within an hour, all the vacant slots were filled by kids in my neighborhood.

My boys are having the time of their lives at the camp, despite the rationing.

Kellen: "We have a popsicle for snack every day."
Me: "That's nice."
Kellen: "Yesterday I got the half with the stick. Today I didn't."
Me: "Huh?"

Evidently, popsicles are in short supply at the discount basketball camp. In order to prevent additional loss, campers are given half a popsicle for snack each day.

Me: "You mean your coach breaks a pair of popsicles in half?" I asked.
Kellen: "Nope. He cuts one popsicle in half with a knife."

In this case, at least, the old saying is right: You get what you pay for.

Petting Zoo Horrors

I like most animals....from a distance. Zoos, especially those with glass enclosures, provide ideal wildlife viewing experiences for people like me who appreciate nature but don't particularly want to interact with it.

For obvious reasons, petting zoos are a challenge. Unfortunately, my kids love sticking their hands inside of the mouths of barnyard animals, so I frequent them more often than I like.

Immediately after I handed my toddler a cup of goat food pellets this afternoon, he dropped it on the ground. As I scrambled to catch the pellets before they fell between the cracks of the floor, my hand grazed something cool and squishy. That thing turned out to be a large native corn snake that had somehow slithered its way into the petting zoo and made it its home.

The crime scene

My scream forever endeared me to the zoo employees who had to deal with the mass hysteria that ensued.

"I can't do this anymore!" I cried to my kids. "I've tried but I just can't do it!"

Kellen was sympathetic to my plight. He put his arm around me and led me to the wash station, where I scrubbed my hands until they were raw. The other three were less generous in their responses. Cameron cried over his lost goat food pellets. Camber and Cortlen disappeared into the adjacent gift shop. When I went looking for them, I found them standing in front of the display window, holding a six-foot rubber python.

"Ha ha!" they laughed so hard they were crying. "You're scared of snakes!"

As I ushered my kids out of the Little Shop of Horrors, I saw something else move underneath the floor slats.

A zookeeper saw it too.

"Rat," he said matter-of-factly.

Never again. I love my children, but never again.

****
The winner of the Tom & Drew shark shirt is "sarahandmatt" who wrote: "If I get this shirt, my two boys will totally fight over it...But I still want it!"

Sarah, shoot me an email with your contact info and we'll get the shirt shipped out to you pronto. Congrats!

Ode to Women Who Wear Tennis Skirts Around Town

You know how much I love uniforms and feel deprived because I have never had a legitimate reason to ever wear one.

You can also imagine how excited I was to learn that there is an unofficial uniform for women in Orlando. It is called the tennis skirt.

Everywhere you go you will find women wearing them, including (but not limited to) the grocery store, the post office, the pediatrician's office, the school carpool line, and the public library. The best place to see large numbers of tennis skirts is at Panera at noon.

If you ask a woman in a tennis skirt if she is on her way to/from playing tennis, chances are she will look at you funny. I have learned that this is because a significant number of the women who wear tennis skirts around town do not actually have any plans to play tennis that day. Rather, they wear their tennis skirts at odd times and at odd places (ie. 10:30pm in Target) so that they can show off their legs and pretend to be cheerleaders.

Women who wear tennis skirts 24/7 will vehemently deny this accusation, but when pressed will agree that wearing a tennis skirt is a socially acceptable way for a woman over the age of thirty-five to wear a mini-skirt.

I do not play tennis and have no desire to learn how to play. Since moving to Florida, however, I have been seized with the desire to buy a tennis skirt and wear it to my sons' soccer tournaments, church, Vacation Bible School, swim lessons, Home Depot.

The possibilities are endless.

Vacation Bible School

My church does a lot of things well. In my opinion, one thing that it is missing is Vacation Bible School. For this, I have to outsource.

Last week, my kids joined half our neighborhood at VBS at a local church. At Monday's pickup, one of my neighbors volunteered to drop off all of my kids for the rest of the week.

"It doesn't make sense for both of us to drive," she pointed out.

This was a very generous offer and one that seemed like a good idea, except for the fact that the neighbor in question drives a two-seater convertible.

"Would you like me to take your daughter to VBS this week?" I sighed.

"That would be great."

On Tuesday, my kids came home with a cross made out of sugar cubes and a CD of Bible songs. They suggested that our church's version of "How Great Thou Art" would be much improved if it was set to drums. After listening to the CD, I must admit that I agree.

After VBS on Wednesday, I took the kids to a fast food restaurant for lunch. The man behind the counter looked at my kids--who were wearing matching VBS t-shirts--and then at me. "Haven't you figured out where those things come from yet?" he asked, gesturing to my offspring.

I almost lunged across the counter.

My daughter grabbed my arm just in time. "Jesus is watching you 24/7," she whispered.

At that point, I had listened to the CD approximately 4,000 times. "I think it's "Jesus is watching OVER you 24/7," I whispered back. The man behind the counter missed my two year-old during his first headcount.

"Wowzers!" he exclaimed. "I missed one!" I felt like Michelle Duggar.

My daughter shook her head. "No, Jesus watches you all the time, even when you sleep. He's totally watching you right now."

That was just what I wanted to hear at that moment. "Rats," I said and swallowed the words that desperately wanted to come out.

On Thursday morning, one of the coveted VBS t-shirts went missing. Cortlen destroyed the house looking for it and cried all the way to the church. When everyone got out of the car in the church parking lot, I noticed that my daughter was wearing a VBS t-shirt with her brother's name tag on it.

"You're wearing Cortlen's shirt!" I shrieked. "Where's yours?" She looked a little scared when she admitted that she had no clue.

I had to hold the hyena off.

VBS ended on a positive note. There was an accident on the freeway and despite leaving my house 30 minutes before showtime, I missed most of the end-of-the week concert. I also missed Kellen cutting his face out of his group picture.



"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"I wasn't smiling," he replied. "And it makes it seem like I didn't have a good time. And I did."

All's well that ends well.

Tom & Drew Clothing Giveaway

My kids are obsessed with sharks, or as my two year-old calls them, "snarks." There is a good reason for this: one of Orlando's local beaches has the dubious distinction of being the "Shark Attack Capital of the World."



Given our interest in toothy fish, it is entirely appropriate that Tom & Brady, a company that designs hip clothing exclusively for BOYS should send Cameron a shark t-shirt to test out.



It came in the mail this morning. My little guy had it on in about three seconds.

Tom & Brady has a reputation for producing stylish, high-quality boys' clothing...and the shirt we received did not disappoint. Think a few steps up from Gymboree and Gap quality. These suckers are built to withstand a few million washings.






You want a shark shirt too? The folks at Tom & Brady have very kindly agreed to send one lucky Mean Mom a shark shirt in the size of their choice:
All you've got to do to enter this giveaway is to leave a comment below. If you really like me, you'll subscribe to my blog (see right sidebar) or friend or follow me on Facebook or something!

Contest starts now and ends at 11:59pm on Sunday, June 26. The winner will be chosen at random and will be announced a day or so later. Good luck!

Hamsters

I spent a considerable amount of time this afternoon hoping that the other women hanging out at the indoor playground at the local Burger King wouldn't notice the sign plastered to the wall...or that certain members of my family were violating rule # 6:

The first article of clothing to come down the enclosed slide was a Vacation Bible School t-shirt.

I stuck my head up the slide.

"Who isn't wearing a shirt right now?" I screeched.

A period of brief silence was followed by a logical explanation. "It's hot up here!" Cortlen whined.

"I'm hot too, but I'm still managing to keep my shirt on," I pointed out.

Raucous laughter echoed through the hamster tunnels above my head.

Me: 0
Hamsters: 1

"You have three seconds to get down here," I told him.

Instead of showing up in person, my son sent down a peace offering in the form of two smelly socks.

ETC Jewelry Giveaway

I'm happy to be hosting a giveaway for one of my readers today!

Beverly is the mother three boys (5 years old and 3 yo twins) and who is also in the process of adopting a little girl from Rwanda.

Beverly and her hubs are currently #135 out of approximately 175 families "waiting" at the minister's office in Kigali, Rwanda. Three of Beverly's husband's sisters have also applied to adopt and two of them have already brought their sons home. Here's a picture of one of the little guys (picture posted with parents' permission):



She's raising money for the adoption by selling hand stamped jewelry.

Beverly has very kindly agreed to send one lucky reader of The Meanest Mom blog her Carine necklace, which includes two personalized discs with two crystal birthstones and an 18" sterling silver bead ball chain.



Want a chance to win this gorgeous necklace? Register for the giveaway over HERE.

As always, good luck!

And good luck, Beverly. We hope your daughter comes home soon :)

Father's Day

Very early yesterday morning, my husband was startled out of his slumber by the sound of heavy breathing. He opened his eyes to find two of his children millimeters away from his face.

"We're hungry," announced a pair of seven year-olds who did not finish their dinners the night before.

"It's not time to eat yet," he groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

"But it's Father's Day!" Cortlen and Kellen cried in unison.

Later that day, I served my husband's favorite meal.

"You know I don't like this," said one of my kids as she pushed away the plate. "You're ruining my Father's Day."

A few minutes later, I brought out the fondue. While I was taking care of Cameron's latest catastrophe and my husband was talking to his own father on the phone, the same child pretty much poured entire bowl of chocolate down her gullet.

"You didn't leave enough for your dad," I pointed out.

"It's Father's Day," she explained matter-of-factly.

Over the past few weeks, we had purchased a number of high quality gifts for my husband including a set of clearance headphones, a book, and a bag of gummy bears. Cameron shoved the latter down his pants and ran out of the room.

It was late when we put the kids to bed. "Can you rub my back?" asked Cortlen.

"Not tonight," replied my husband. "It's way past your bedtime."

My son's eyes narrowed into slits. "Not even for Father's Day?" he hissed. "Thanks a lot."

Shortly thereafter my husband collapsed onto the sofa. He looked exhausted. "This day cannot end fast enough," he said.

*****
Any good Father's Day tales from your neck of the woods? Do tell. It will make my husband feel less violated.

My Visit to Coca-Cola Headquarters

Last week, I had the privilege of joining eleven other bloggers at the Coca-Cola headquarters in Atlanta. During my visit, I had the opportunity to do lots of cool stuff, including meeting with top female executives from Coca-Cola and McDonald’s.

I came away from the experience wanting a number of things including a designer business suit, a title that includes the words “General Manager” or “Vice President,” and a vending machine filled not with soda, but rather, “sparkling beverages.”

I am only half joking.

The folks I met from Coca-Cola and McDonald’s are amazing people who are doing amazing things… both to preserve the environment and improve local communities. Right now, the Coca-Cola Company is funding clean drinking water initiatives in Africa, sponsoring scientific research on women’s health, supporting over 100 physical activity programs world-wide, and making recycling easier and more efficient with things like PlantBottle packaging. And that’s just scratching the surface. To learn more about Coca-Cola’s Sustainability goals and achievements, head over HERE. To read about what McDonald’s is doing in these areas, go HERE.

Coca-Cola and McDonald’s are everywhere. It is hard to think of two companies who are more pervasive in the world…or more influential. If I learned one thing during my visit, it was that both corporations take seriously their responsibilities as global leaders. Specifically, they have embraced the idea that where much is given, much is required.

Coca-Cola and McDonald’s lead by example on important and pressing issues in the world, and encouraged us bloggers to do the same, with things that matter to us. Of course, I’m no large corporation, but still, my trip to Atlanta was a good reminder that all of us have been given much—in the way of knowledge, insight, and experience about something important. Each person’s gift is different, and all are equally valuable.

Where much is given, much is required.

I like that. My goal for the rest of the year is to live into it.

Family Pictures

It's always a joy.

I booked the session about a month ago but didn't tell my husband about it until the day before. I've learned from experience that ignorance is bliss.

He behaved himself (for the most part) until we pulled into the parking lot of a local park. It was filled with cars.

"There are other people here!" he cried in horror. My husband refused to get out of the car for five minutes.

"What's your problem?" I hissed.

He pointed to a nearby picnic blanket that was occupied by a young family. "They are going to watch us!" he wailed.

The idea of smiling for the camera was bad enough. The realization that he would have an audience just about sent him over the edge.

Add to the mix three kids who consumed too much water from the drinking fountain and had to use the bathroom and one who is two years old and doesn't like people looking at him and you've got a recipe for fun.

I have our fabulous photographer, Jennifer, from Treasure Photography here in Orlando to thank for making the experience as quick and painless as possible. She didn't have much to work with, but did an amazing job with what she had. We were in and out within an hour:









You can see some more pictures from our photo session on Jennifer's website over HERE.

*****

The dress: it's lovely, no? If you've read my blog for any length of time, it should come as no surprise that it's from Shabby Apple. Even if stores did still sell stylish dresses that are appropriate to wear outside of a nightclub (good luck) you would have to pry me away from Shabby Apple. I love 'em. The dress they very kindly sent me just in time for my family photo session fits like a glove and is insanely flattering. Not to mention perfect (lightweight) for the summer. If you haven't tried a Shabby Apple dress yet, I highly recommend. You will love.







I also have my eye on this one. I have a thing for embellishments. And white horses.

The Bunk Bed Part II

My kids' first item of business after getting their bunk bed:


Turning the ceiling fan into a merry-go-round for stuffed animals.

I opened the bedroom door just as one of my sons flipped the wall switch that activated the amusement park ride.

Immediately, it began raining aquatic animals. I was hit promptly in the face with a hammerhead shark.

My twins acted like they had just won the lottery...until they saw my face.

"What did I specifically tell you not to do?" I growled?

"Mess with the ceiling face," one replied with a smirk. He tried to mask his giggles by pretending to have emphysema.

"Stop coughing," I ordered.

Meanwhile, the other one appeared to have drifted off.

"I know you're not sleeping," I hissed over his motionless body.

"Gross!" he screamed, wiping his cheek as if I had poured a bottle of acid on his face. "You just spit on me!"

"Please." Once they regained a grip on reality, I congratulated them for waiting a whole ten minutes before they disobeyed me.

"You're welcome," chirped the twin with the greater number of dormant brain cells.

My husband was listening to this conversation from the other room. When he heard my breathing escalate into a pant, he ordered me to turn off the ceiling fan and close the bedroom door.

I Always Knew You Hated Me

Nearly every night, my kids play musical beds. It always surprises me where I find my kids in the morning. Sometimes where they wake up is a surprise to their siblings as well.

"What are you doing in here?"
THUMP. CRASH. SCREAM.

Compassion is not our strong suit.

Tonight my husband injected a little more excitement into the nightly routine by installing a bunk bed in one of the boys' rooms. The set-up process was only supposed to require three brain cells, but turned out taking three hours, three bad words, and three Advil.

(We got the BB at Wal-Mart. The bed's quality is surprisingly good, given the cost).

The individual assigned to sleep in the top bunk of the new bed was shocked and thrilled. As soon as the announcement was made public, the individual's two similarly-aged siblings pulled out their poison dart guns. The duo spent the next several minutes listing every reason why their brother was undeserving of the honor. When trash talking failed to generate the desired results, the sore losers made it personal.

"I always knew you hated me!" one screamed in my direction and stomped out of the room.

"I'm going to go outside and sleep on the driveway!" yelled the other on her way out.

My husband and I watched the pair lug their pillows and blankets out the front door.

"Good night!" we called after them.

Less than thirty seconds later, both had a change of heart. One decided that not being the first person to sleep on the top bunk wasn't the end of the world. The other still believed that he was being unfairly persecuted, but also did not want to be eaten by a hyena.

The Walk of Shame

Last week, we checked out 12 books at the library, which is 12 more than we should have checked out.

I know better. Over the past six months, 2 DVDS and a Babysitter's Club novel haven't made it out of our house alive. After our last mishap, I swore that I would never step foot in the public library again.

But then school let out for the summer and my morals fell by the wayside.

"My name should be up there," I told my brood while we waited in line at the circulation desk. I pointed to a gold plaque listing the names of the library's biggest donors.

Kellen was carrying the corpse of our latest victim in a plastic shopping bag. Exactly what happened to the book is certain; by the time I found him, its body was barely recognizable.

"Cameron dropped it into bathtub!" my daughter screeched.

"I saw him throw it in!" added Cortlen.

Clearly several people witnessed the assault, yet it didn't occur to anyone to try to do anything about it.

"What could we have done?" Cortlen asked incredulously as he covered his hands with his mouth to stifle the grin.

"You could fish the book out of the water," I suggested.

[insert blank stare]

While at least one of my kids would like me to believe that he isn't playing with a full deck, the second witness was smart enough, however, to realize that time was of an essence. She knew that the book wasn't going to last long before it turned into a pulpy mush. That's why she screamed at the top of their lungs for the third to join them.

I found everyone in the bathroom, giggling hysterically.

"You think that's funny?" I asked.

Twenty-four hours later, I had to make the walk of shame. I timed my library visit so that it would coincide with the lunch break of the Children's Librarian.

"Ooooooooh!" The librarian on duty almost fainted when she saw the book. She spent the next few minutes looking like she was mourning the loss of a close relative.

It was almost too much to take.

"What do I owe you today?" I asked, pulling out my wallet. Most libraries let you buy the exact same book on Amazon and pay a small replacement processing fee. This library makes you give them half of your liver.

The librarian was willing to give me a number (which wasn't as bad as I thought), but only after she showed the deceased to all of her co-workers.

All I needed was a scarlet "A" pinned to my breast.

The only consolation in all this was that while the librarian was showing off my latest example of bad parenting, my toddler was using his fingers to make irrigation holes in a large potted plant in the lobby. Usually I would have grabbed him, but for some reason, I didn't have a lot of motivation. By the time the librarian and I were finished settling up, the ruined book was put in perspective.

Sports Authority

We were only in Sports Authority for ten minutes. And one department for that matter. Yet, within this short period of time, one child managed to poke another in the face with the end of a fishing pole. Another child accidentally pulled down a display sleeping bag from the wall. A third couldn't stop looking at the shotguns.

"Please don't touch anything!" I cried.

"We forgot," they replied.

That's when I noticed that I had sweated my way through my shirt. This did not bode well.


By the time we reached the checkout line, one of my kids had wandered off. We found him hitting golf balls on the miniature putting green.

"Get over here!" I screeched.

As I was buying three 30-degree sleeping bags, I decided that I didn't want to take my kids camping this summer after all.

In fact, I realized that I never wanted to take them camping. The thought of my whole family inside a tent sends shivers down my spine. But like wearing a onesie with the phrase "Daddy's Little Slugger" plastered across the front, it's a right of passage for American boys. Cortlen and Kellen are beyond excited.

That's unfortunate for me because I like camping about as much as I like the male librarian in the children's department at the library. Which isn't all that much.

It's not happening for another month, but I already know that it's going to be amazing.

Candy Curls Bowtique Giveaway

An Open Letter to the owner of Candy Curls Bowtique

Dear Jessica,

I would be delighted to host a giveaway for your shop on my blog; your headbands, clips, and bows are darling! Thank you for your generous offer to send me a few things from your store, but I'm going to have to very respectfully decline for the following reason:

Today's Victim

From what I can gather, this beauty was part of my daughter's lunch. It was also the "potato" in an impromptu game of Hot Potato. It may or may not have also been accidentally run over by my car a few hours ago.

Needless to say, we are not ready to partake of your greatness.





For a chance to win something of your choice from Candy Curls, head over here:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Candy-Curls-Bowtique/120471401367803?ref=hnav

Don't want to wait? You can buy your headbands/hair clips now! Readers of the Meanest Mom get 10% off their purchase through June 30. Enter coupon code THEMEANESTMOM at checkout.

Good luck!

Living Positively in the Aftermath of an Archaeological Dig

Over the weekend, my seven year-old twins came across a strange and suspicious object partially buried in the middle of our yard. The mysterious object was round, black, and either part of a UFO spaceship or an ancient Egyptian artifact. So they did what first grade boys do in such moments of exhilarating discovery: they dug the object up.

The archaeological dig proved to be wildly successful. My sons did not find any evidence of ancient civilizations buried in our lawn, but they did find a piece of PVC pipe, which they pulled on until it broke.

Only my kids would dig up their home's sprinkler system.....and maybe yours :)

I'm not going to lie: upon discovering what my boys had done, I curled up into a tight ball in the middle of my yard and cried for a good ten minutes. And then I started to laugh.

My family's most recent adventure has reminded me of lots of things, the most important of which is that happiness is a choice. I am far from the paradigmatic parent, but one thing that having lots of young kids has taught me is that living positively is a conscious act. Finding humor in situations and circumstances that should not be at all funny is both my primary coping strategy and life's guiding principle. If I can instill in my children one thing, I hope to teach them the role of laughter in living positively.



In a couple of days, I'll be attending the Conversations with Coca-Cola event in Atlanta, where I'll be meeting with some of the top leadership at Coca-Cola. I feel honored to have received this invitation and am super excited for the event. Since I'll be representing you--mothers of the world--what questions do you have for them? What have you always wanted to know about Coca-Cola (the product and/or the company)?

I promise I'll take lots of pictures.

Disclosure: This is a paid post by BlogHer. Coca-Cola will be paying for my travel, lodging, and activities while in Atlanta.

The Sobriety Test

When I woke up this morning, I did not plan my day around spending five hours in a run down strip mall.

But that's what happened when I got new tires for my car.

Within minutes, it became apparent that I wasn't going to leave the tire store without spending less than $500. In addition to new front tires, I also needed new front and rear brake pads.

Our stay in the tire store's waiting room was brief. My two year-old helped himself to a cup of water from the cooler in the corner. When I attempted to help him drink it, he got mad and dumped the cup on my head.

"Hee hee!" My older three kids very much enjoyed seeing their mother drenched in ice water. Their mother was less pleased.

We spent the next two hours perusing K-Mart. We spent the bulk of our time in the candy aisle. Fantasizing.

My two year-0ld turned everyone's dreams into reality by ripping open a jumbo bag of gummy bears in the middle of the aisle. My older kids descended on the spilled treats like rabid hyenas.

After purchasing what was left of the candy, I walked the hyenas to an abandoned corner of the parking lot. There we played every game known to man. And, when desperation hit, even a couple that I made up.

No one questioned me when I asked them to walk in a straight line with their arms outstretched.

My daughter thought that it was a little weird when I asked to smell her breath.

"Why are we doing this?" she wanted to know. She also wanted to know why I was giggling to myself.

"You passed," I told her without explaining. "Congrats."

Kellen was up next. He tripped over himself and fell on the ground. "This game is fun!" he chirped.

I sent him to jail.

Curling Irons

I avoid holding conversations with most people I know, but will go out of my way to talk to complete strangers.

That's one of the things that my husband likes best about me.

Last week, I went up to a young woman at Target who had particularly attractive locks and asked her how she got them that way. The woman-child looked at me like I was her mother. "I used something called a curling iron," she said flatly.

Fortunately, I have heard of those. Unfortunately, I haven't used one since the sixth grade.

I wanted to buy all the curling irons at Wal Mart, but my husband suggested that I just start with one. Of course, I chose the one that made me look like Little Orphan Annie.

"How am I supposed to know these things?" I hissed.

When I was growing up, I skipped a few stages of development. "Hair and Makeup" is the most noticeable.

What I need is a personal stylist. Or a sister who is an aspiring Gap model. I have one of the latter, but the last time I talked to her, she suggested that I wear dress pants and a silk blouse to the grocery store. "You'll feel so much better about yourself," she promised.

Needless to say, I haven't spoken to that sister in awhile.

A few hours ago, I returned to Wal Mart to look at the curling irons. I intended to buy one with a bigger barrel, but in the end, I brought home something that is guaranteed to make me feel like the opposite of a Gap model:


I'll let you know how it goes.

The Magic Show + Jewelry Giveaway

My daughter was in a talent show today at school.

The first I heard of the event was last night.

"It's going to be awesome," she told me.

"What talent are you sharing with everyone?" I asked nervously.

We are not a family of performers, at least not intentionally. I worried that she might say something that included the words "instrument" or "Irish dancing."

Fortunately for her classmates, Camber told me that she was just going to put on a little magic show.

She didn't seem to be as concerned as I was that neither of us knew any magic tricks.

"It's too late!" she said smugly when I suggested that she consider other ideas. "The program is already printed."

Thank heaven for preteen boys and the Internet. Without YouTube and seventh graders with webcams in their bedrooms, I would have never learned the secret behind the "Disappearing Toothpick."

I felt more than a little creepy watching the videos so I cut my daughter off after two tricks.

"That's it?" she cried. "That's all the magic I'm going to do tomorrow? No fair!"

"What do you want to do?" I asked. "Saw someone in half?"

She looked hopefully at her brothers.

******

Speaking of talents, here is another one that I don't have:



Making stuff is hard for me. It's easy and evidently fun for Sandra, one of my readers. In celebration of summer, we're teaming up to offer one lucky reader a piece of jewelry (your choice) from Estylo Jewelry.


You can see more gorgeous pieces on Estylo's Etsy site

Want a chance to win a piece of Estylo Jewelry? Fantastic! Register HERE

Good luck!