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175 pages

English

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';Natalie Holbrook's sensibility is stylish and playful, as well as practical, loving, and down-to-earth. Hey Natalie Jean is a terrific read for anyone who wants to make her life more beautiful.' Gretchen Rubin The blog Hey Natalie Jean has won a cult following with writer Natalie Holbrook's honest, inspiring, and often witty posts on topics like marriage, babies, nesting, and style. Natalie's first book, Hey Natalie Jean is one part manifesto and three parts ideas, projects, and advice. Beautifully illustrated and whimsically designed, the book offers twenty-five essays and how-tos that serve as a guide to life: making date-night magic in the middle of the mundane, successfully exploring the city with a three-year-old, and creating a satisfying daily routine that still leaves room for little adventures and lots of magic. Natalie's optimism, creativity, keen eye, and zeal for life are palpable, and she encourages others to make their lives beautiful with ease. This heartfelt, personal collection of essays and photographs shows Natalie's ability to identify and describe life's lovely incidentals in the everyday routine of errands, play dates, and naps. Inspiring, moving, and whip-smart, Hey Natalie Jean is an honest look at the hard work and courage that go into creating a beautiful life.

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	17 mars 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781613127889
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	4 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0830€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Published in 2015 by Stewart, Tabori Chang An imprint of ABRAMS
Text copyright 2015 Natalie Holbrook Photographs copyright Natalie Holbrook, this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page (far right), this page , this page , this page , this page , this page (photos two-eight), this page (all except middle row, far right, and bottom row, middle), this page , this page (photos two-five), this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page ; 2015 Lesley Uhruh, this page , this page , this page (all except far right), this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page , this page ; 2015 Emma Kepley, this page , this page , this page (first photo), this page (bottom row, middle), this page , this page , this page , this page , this page ; and 2015 Justin Hackworth, this page , this page , this page (middle row, far right), this page (first photo), this page
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014942988 ISBN: 978-1-61769-152-2
Editor: Holly Dolce Designer: Abby Clawson Low for HI + LOW Production Manager: Anet Sirna-Bruder
Stewart, Tabori Chang books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@ abramsbooks.com or the address below.

115 West 18th Street New York, NY 10011 www.abramsbooks.com
To my Shirley Jean from your Natalie Jean-I am dedicating this book to you, Granny Goose, but only if you hold your mouth right. -TILLIE
INTRODUCTION
On Being a Queen
PART ONE
Domesticity Gets a Bad Rap
CHAPTER ONE
My Baby Sleeps in a Closet, and Other Thoughts on Nesting
CHAPTER TWO
On Motherhood This Very Minute
CHAPTER THREE
How to Keep the Sparkly Spark in Your Relationship
CHAPTER FOUR
Shirley s Drapes
CHAPTER FIVE
On Making a House a Home
CHAPTER SIX
On Tidying
CHAPTER SEVEN
In Defense of Beauty
PART TWO
How I Stopped Washing My Hair and Attained Inner Peace
CHAPTER EIGHT
On Being French
CHAPTER NINE
On Tomboy Style
CHAPTER TEN
Love Letter to a Uniform
CHAPTER ELEVEN
This One Time at Fashion Week
CHAPTER TWELVE
False Lashes 101
PART THREE
Motherhood Looks Good on You
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My Own Private Idaho
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
How to Make a New Place Yours
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A Mom s Guide to New York City
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Huck the Scorpio
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On Nursing
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mornings at Home
CHAPTER NINETEEN
On Grooves
CHAPTER TWENTY
What Would Meg Ryan Do? A Quick Manifesto on Femininity
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
On Babies
CONCLUSION
On Being the Boss of Your Poops
Acknowledgments
Resources
INTRODUCTION
On Being a Queen

Some days as I putter around the house, changing diapers and folding laundry and tossing plastic horses back from whence they came into their gray felt toy bin, I ll stop and realize that I feel a little bit like I m playing house. All these green army guys dotting the floor and the smears of yogurt on the couch stop feeling like a mess. Instead they become the very best kind of make believe. Make believe this life is mine . And then I laugh at myself because this is my life. And plenty of people would look at it and think, yuck. Plenty of people would look at my marriage and think, limiting. Plenty of people would look at my daily list of things I accomplish and think, silly.

But somehow I feel like I lucked out big time. Somehow I feel like I m living the dream.
I really like being a mom. Should we go for broke here? I love being a mom. I love that feeling where it s just the two of us, and I got this -I m in charge, and the whole day is ours. I love what being a mom brings to me as a whole. I love the way a woman looks when she s holding the hand of somebody small. She takes on this otherworldly, almost supernatural aura when she is about the business of caring for her people. A good mom is gravity, raw earth. She is Mother Nature herself.
It s not like being a mom is necessarily any great accomplishment, and it s not like my life is anything noteworthy or special. It s just the life of a mom cleaning up after a baby. You see it every day in commercials: frumpy mom in a button-up mops the floor. Frumpy mom in a button-up chooses garbage bags that keep the kitchen smelling fresh. Frumpy mom in a button-up makes decisions about the peanut butters, sacrifices herself and her former ambitions so her kids can run wild like ungrateful brats in stain-free clothing, playing soccer and drinking juice and leaving messes in their wake. It s the kind of life businesspeople in suits look down on and tsk-tsk about, all the while trying to turn a profit from it. You know, bon-bons and soap operas and minivans. That s all this is.
But this is it. For me, this is it. Brandon goes off to work, and I don t feel jealous of his importance or his title; in fact I rather respect his sacrifice all the more, because I had that life once. I had it, and I hated it. This is it right here, for me; this is the promotion. And Huck isn t the boss, like some might think he is. I m the boss. I m more than the boss. Huck, that little turkey, is my kingdom, and this place, this tiny apartment on the Upper West Side, this blessed little home, this is my palace. And I will tell you something: It feels regal, the work I do in here. In here, I am a queen.
First thing in the morning when Huck pops his messy head up from the pillows and looks at me with his dream-crazed eyes (even better if he s got sheet wrinkles on his cheeks), sunlight streaming through the windows and the day ahead is ours, using funny voices while unloading the dishwasher, singing silly songs to each other about the things we need at the drugstore and remembering to buy bananas, this is fun . It s a party every day, if you want it to be.
I feel lucky, because I had to struggle for this first. This silly life of cleaning up after a baby, of sudsing down the high chair for the millionth time and counting to three for my cooing songbird over and over-I had to fight for it first. My mom always told me this would be the case, when I d call her crying after another failed month, though I never believed her. After all, it s just menial housework and dirty diapers and negotiating the emotions of a very small person. But she d tell me that my fight would make my baby sweeter, the late nights easier, the messes smaller. And as always (always always ), my mom was right. How does that happen? How are moms always right? And it s weird to me sometimes that I find such odd satisfaction in the sweeping. Weirdly, I love sweeping. I see God in the sweeping. I see angels in the laundry. In the middle of sleepless nights, I feel heaven in my arms-heaven that could just as easily have been hell had I not had the chance to find out just how badly I wanted it.
I never thought the day would come, but it has, and I am going to write it in ink because for me this is a milestone: I am grateful for those two years I struggled to get pregnant. I am grateful for those seven years I struggled to find my purpose. I am grateful for every horrible moment of them.
Today. Folding little baby clothes that will be smeared with hummus in a matter of hours. Sweeping up the Cheerios. Hundreds of Cheerios that seem to scurry away under the couch to multiply and replenish the living room when I m not looking. Stopping at the dinner table to run my hand along its bumpy surface and admire my place settings. A pot of soup on the stove. A fridge stocked full of Diet Coke and a freezer full of frozen chocolate. This is not a kingdom I m embarrassed to rule over. I rule powerfully here. With grace and elegance and mercy. And sometimes false lashes.
This is a season in my life. This is my chance to be somebody s mother, to make my home my castle, and I m so honored to do it.
This sovereignty, this kingdom, this is a gift. And this , this book you are holding, is about making the most of it. This is a book about our kingdoms. This is a book about being a queen.
PART ONE
Domesticity Gets a Bad Rap
CHAPTER ONE
My Baby Sleeps in a Closet, and Other Thoughts on Nesting

Well, my baby sleeps in a closet is the first thing you should know. // We live in an 800-square-foot one-bedroom apartment in New York City on the Hell s Kitchen side of the Upper West Side, the perfect little nest for a family of three. 800 square feet, to me, feels entirely enormous. Our last place came in at just under 400 square feet, which is barely big enough to hold a coherent thought let alone all my shoes, and so our place now feels practically palatial by comparison.
I spend most of my days hopping over broken crayons and plastic penguins, sharing space on the rug with a Little People farm set, two plastic pirate ships, and at least ten vintage toy cars from the Duane Reade. And then, when it s time to sleep, Huck and I walk the two steps to the left to the hall closet. Which is his bedroom.
Actually, Huck s hall closet is pretty spectacular. It s the piece de resistance of the whole dang joint.
It s also rather large, for a closet, anyway. It s just about five feet long and three feet wide, and everything he needs fits p