Linde Balderas, owner of Tailored Tadpole is an adventurer who loves to move around, and have lived in many places. "I attended UNC-Chapel Hill and studied International Relations. Like so many, my actual profession ends up having nothing to do with my field of study. I founded Tailored Tadpole with the help of my business partners, Deanie Madison and Kristina Whitman, in 2005 after the birth of my first child, Marina. I guess the whole idea began brewing even before Marina was born." says Linde.

"Being new to the world of parenting, I had no idea where to look for cool products and couldn't find modern styles for my babe. I was not a fan of the pastel, ordinary designs I found everywhere. I couldn't even find nursery decor that was my style. So I made my own! Curtains, crib linens, blanket, changing pad cover. I was so thrilled, also so huge I could barely reach the sewing machine, but somehow I finished it before she was born. I made my first blanket with my newborn wrapped in the Moby wrap asleep on my chest at the sewing machine. It took me hours. I proudly listed it on ebay, thinking it was the coolest thing ever. Why not start at $.99 bid? Imagine my disappointment when it sold for a whopping five dollars! But I didn't give up, although I admit it has been a challenging experience growing this business. The thing that keeps me going is my true, deep love for what I do."

"My kids are my inspiration. I design what I want for them, as a mom. Soft, washable, stylish designs in wonderful colors with great detail and superb quality. Our entire line is handmade in the USA by women paid a living wage--no sweatshops or unfair labor practices. This is very important to me. I want Tailored Tadpole to be a win/win for everyone involved, not just myself, but the customers and the producers. I have a fantastic team beside me and could not do this without them."
 
"For me there are two great rewards. The first comes when I can dress Marina or Soren, my son, in one of my designs and see it come to life. This is so gratifying to me! Maina comes home from preschool every now and then and tells me she told someone that her mami made her dress. It always makes me smile. Second, to see someone else made happy by my clothing or blankets. I participate in a fundraiser every year for the Junior League of Raleigh in North Carolina. It is so amazing to see the pregnant women I met the year before come in with their babies dressed in Tailored Tadpole lounge sets or wrapped in our blankets. People rush up and grab the display pillow gushing to their friends how much they love the one they bought last year. I can't describe this feeling. I am so glad to be able to add a little more joy to the wonder of parenthood by providing parents with styles they are proud to carry."

As far as plans for the future, Tailored Tadpole's first full clothing line launched in October for the Spring/Summer season. It is for boys and girls ages newborn to size 6. They also debuted Tailored Tadpole ECO, using colorful organics and eco friendly fibers. Linde concludes, "I plan to expand this over the next few seasons. We are also expanding our wholesale reach to take Tailored Tadpole to local boutiques across the country. As my children grow, I want them to continue to wear my designs, so I plan to expand the line beyond size six eventually. But for now, I have my hands full and am loving every minute of it."

Visit www.tailoredtadpole.com  Suffolk, Virginia  View Spring catalog at www.tailoredtadpole.com/catalog2.htm.

Jenny Meilichove is a freelance illustrator and artist currently living in Jerusalem, Israel. "I was born in Russia and at the age of 11 I came to Israel with my family. Last summer I finished my studies In Bezalel academy of art and design. Finally! I studied design in Illustration Department, and finished it with excellence award," says Jenny. "Now I'm living with my boyfriend in Jerusalem, and we have a cat together! His name is Blueskii, and he's the most beautiful and beloved cat in the world. No, seriously. He loves to jump up and sleep on my work desk where I draw.  When I was a very little girl My father teach me to draw  (because my father really loves art). Today my father is a doctor and I am an artist."

Jenny draws inspiration In everyday life. "I really like living in a world of happy little creatures.
I aim to create optimistic art, which reminds us that life is good," she says.  "And if it's not bright and shiny right now, there's always a hope for better. And in order to improve it, only you can change your life, in every way you choose. My intention is to make people smile when they see my work, this way they'll have at least one moment of bliss a day."

"I like that my work never repeats itself. That every day I do something different from yesterday, that I am free to use different ways to create something, like one day working with paints and other with scissors, or fimo and felt. That every day I can work on another area of interest, either love or other complex relationships and situations. I manage my workflow myself, and enjoy it  lot. And from my point of view, illustration artist is a very happy profession."

Jenny's artwork would be a wonderful addition to any child's decor.  Her work is whimsical and happy.  Jenny has a wide variety of work displayed on Flickr and features pieces for the playful side in all of us.  

Visit  www.behappynow.etsy.com  and http://www.flickr.com/photos/jen7/  Jerusalem, Israel

Though a joyful time of year on many levels, the few days preceding Christmas inevitably prove to be harried and exhausting times for many parents.  True to form, I personally spent the three days leading up to Christmas Eve doing last minute shopping until the mall closed at midnight only to return home wired; then baking and wrapping gifts until 2 or 3 in the morning.  Christmas Eve was spent cooking and serving dinner with a mad rush afterward to an annual Holiday party.  Santa made his appearance to the delight of all, and we rolled back down the driveway somewhere in the vicinity of 11 p.m.  With the kids finally asleep and my husband sent off to bed after several attempts to "help" me, I proceeded to "clean" for Santa and take care of last minute preparations until about 2 a.m.

Following a full day of opening presents, assembling toys and cooking, when Christmas night had finally arrived and the children had been put to bed, I was more than ready for some sleep.  Finally, snuggled deliciously in my bed, I shut my eyes only to feel them spring open again at the sound of my daughter's panic stricken voice bellowing from the end of the hallway.  With a mad dash to her room, I arrived just in time to see her toss her cookies.  Clearly, she had not seen the sign I carry inside my head:
She didn't even need to be able to read to get this one.  And so, the evening continued with me cleaning up, settling her little self back down, settling my son back down after he woke to see what all the excitement was about and finally settling myself back down as well.  Not back to my own bed, mind you, but curled up like a pill bug at the bottom of my daughter's twin bed.  It just seemed easier to grab a few winks that way and be handy in case she forgot to remember the sign again.

The next morning, I awoke to the distinctive, nostril piercing smell of burned toast.  And weak coffee.  And something else familiar that I couldn't put my finger on.  I willed my eyes open again as I also identified the distinctive snore of my husband from down the hall.  Husband in bed, mother in bed, food cooking; it all registered.  Breakfast in bed.  I do not like breakfast in bed.

My children have tried to give me breakfast in bed several times before.  In the past, my husband has been able to direct them to simple fare most unlikely to cause any problems such as custard style yogurt, grapes, coffee in a travel mug and juice in a sippy cup.  All are technically fine, but I still passionately dislike the idea of food in my bedroom.  I distain the thought of the kids using appliances, using knives, spilling whatever on the carpet up the stairs and the inevitable item that has rolled off the tray to remain undiscovered for weeks.  I know my misgivings should be overshadowed by the spirit of the gesture, but I really do struggle with the entire idea.  

When I asked others about their feelings on the subject, I had mixed results.  I sifted guiltily through many e-mails from disgruntled mommies who felt slighted because their kids had never made them breakfast in bed.  Those lucky mommies don't know how good they have it, I lamented.   In several cases I was not-so-subtly told to lighten up.

One mother wrote to me and shared a story about how her daughter had prepared a healthy bowl of cereal in milk, clearly at least a half hour before it was eaten.  Although the milk had started to sour, this mother embraced the gesture in the spirit in which it was intended, and recognized that her daughter enjoyed doing something nice for her mom and clearly felt very grown up for doing so.  I must point out, however that no appliances or cutlery were used in the making of that breakfast!

Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that the genuine gift of a loving gesture toward a parent should be dismissed so easily.  However, in the case of breakfast in bed, I am not sure that the motivation behind the gesture is always so pure.  I suspect that at least sometimes, the children involved in these meals may have been bored, tired of waiting for their own food, or worse privy to what was going on behind closed doors.  In any case, the meal preparation and delivery may very well have been an act of passive aggressive rebellion by unsupervised children.  Hungry, unsupervised children.

To my delight, I received more than one story about parents who had received meals in bed after they had foolishly attempted to steal a few private moments together.  There was one couple, parents to four children and a Labrador retriever, who were forced to enjoy their breakfast in bed without letting their generous darlings know that they were wearing only their birthday suits under the covers.  An adult child rang in with a story about how she and her brother made their parents "dinner in bed" after their parents locked themselves in their bedroom for a "private meeting".  That meal was served, outside the door, with martinis included.  Perhaps I could overlook my compulsions if a martini were included, although I am not convinced.

My favorite response to my inquiry was from Jerry, father to three and grandfather to nine.  Jerry wrote, "Jayne, the thought is wonderful, but the results are often disastrous, ranging from crumbs in the bed to a nightmare in the kitchen.  I believe it should not be attempted by anyone under the age of 13 for girls . . . and 15 for boys."   

I then asked Jerry about how to convey his sentiments to children without seeming ungracious.  Ever-wise, Jerry responded, "Jayne, I would explain that there are other (and better) ways of expressing this affection."  While recognizing that when children "help" the "help" actually given often causes more work for the parent, Jerry suggested guiding the children toward other tasks, such as helping dad with the car, helping mom set the dinner table, working in the yard, etc.  

I wish I had Jerry's advice tucked in my head as I sloughed through my daughter's blankets, tripped over the overturned (yet thankfully still clean) vomit receptacle that had landed on the floor and proceeded down the stairs.  I entered the kitchen with a forced calm I did not know I could possess knowing that breakfast was being prepared while my husband and I both slept.  And there, on the kitchen counter, sat the dreaded tray, fully loaded.  One, unfortunate orange had clearly been hacked in half with a butter knife.

"We are not allowed to use the other knives so we are sorry about the funny shapes," I was told. I found this amusing given that the rule about not using the toaster oven seemed to have slipped their mind as I looked at the charred, buttered bread on the plate.  Believing it unnecessary, I had never actually given my children a rule about not using the coffee maker or coffee bean grinder, so it just let that go.  And then, there was the matter of that familiar yet unidentifiable smell.

"What is all this?" I asked my excited, jumping little friends.  

"Mom, you weren't supposed to come downstairs yet.  This is supposed to be breakfast in bed.  You need to get back upstairs right now," they yelped.  

After convincing them that I would much prefer to sit at the table with one of them on each side of me while I enjoyed their meal, we all settled in.  They waited expectantly as I raised the coffee cup to my lips and took the first sip.  Apparently my surprise did not register on my face as I swallowed.

"Can you make out the secret ingredient?" my son asked me with pride.  "It's cinnamon!" he exclaimed. 

"Oh really," I thought, "I don't think so."  "MMMMMMMMMMMMM," I said to him through my forced, blissful smile.  It was when I averted my eyes from his that I noticed the spice drawer had been pulled out, just enough to reveal where the confusion had occurred.   The cinnamon and the Old Bay Seasoning sat innocently side by side in the drawer, in similar containers.

"We know you have been working really hard and staying up really late to make everything special, so we wanted to do something special for you," they blurted earnestly, hugging me.  "Do you love it?" they asked me from their little upturned faces.  

With a change of enthusiasm to rival those of George Bailey, the Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge I replied, "Every bite," and I even meant it. 

Having a son with interests and abilities beyond his years has always provided a source of great amusement in my home.  Despite wisdom to the contrary, my husband and I have often mused about our younger daughter's interests and abilities while comparing her progress to that of her brother at the same age.  I am aware that we have broken many parenting rules by doing so, however since we only have our son to use as a point of reference, we have found the comparisons to be unavoidable.   

While my son has enjoyed an almost obsessive passion for science from a very early age, my daughter has a more age-appropriate interest in the subject.  So, in the wake of her fourth birthday, we were delighted and intrigued by her request for a "real" guitar.  The request for something musical did not surprise us very much, since she seems unable to be in the general vicinity of a tempo without shaking her little booty, waving her hands in the air and bobbing her head to the beat.  She also sings constantly, and regularly turns everyday objects into instruments.  But a guitar is such a specific request!  Clearly, it was calling out to her.  The girl needed a guitar.   

My fabulous mother-in-law took on the project of locating a beautiful guitar for my daughter, and packaged it up to arrive just prior to her birthday.  When the big day arrived, I proudly presented the large, polygon-of-a-box to the birthday girl.  She tore the wrapping paper off with enthusiasm, and squealed with delight when the guitar was revealed.  She danced around the room, strumming and hopping and dancing away.  I beamed at her and marveled at her joy, and basked in the promise of her apparent love of the instrument.  I tried not to think about how difficult it is to earn a living as a musician, and took hopeful comfort that her scientist brother will likely be able to support her.

Suddenly, she stopped.  She looked around on the ground, inside the box, and behind the couch.  "Where is the case?" she asked.

I gently pressed her to ask her question again.

"The case, where is the case for the guitar?" she demanded, clearly launching into a panic.

Feeling the buzz of her previous joy wearing off, I explained to her that the gift did not come with a case, but that she did have the nice polygon-of-a-box to store her guitar in.   

"What!" she exclaimed, as she flopped herself down on the floor in disappointment.  "I can't believe there is no case.  This is terrible, just terrible!" she proclaimed with all the drama she could muster.

I again tried to appease her, by explaining that the case was not important, that the guitar was beautiful and that she would enjoy playing it for a long, long time.

"Mum, without the case, the guitar is useless.  How am I supposed to make any money without the case?" she asked me, clearly irritated at my inability to see such an obvious problem.

But I didn't understand.  I was confused, and I must have looked that way, because moments later, I received astute clarification.   

"Mum, when I have gone into Boston on the train with Grandpa, everyone plays their guitars with the case on the ground.  People throw MONEY into the CASE!  If I have no CASE, I will not make any MONEY, and that was the whole reason I wanted the GUITAR in the first place!" she declared, as if it were the most reasonable of explanations and as if I were the most stupid woman in the world.

As I broke into a laugh and collected my disgruntled daughter in my arms, I could not help but feel proud of my little budding entrepreneur.  With her attitude and a bit of luck it will be kindergarten and then business school for her, and early retirement for me!

Basmatie Littles graduated from the High School of Fashion Industries and attended the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City. She has interned at several fashion showrooms as a Buyer's Assistant, as well as worked in numerous fashion shows dressing fashion models in New York City. "I got involved in every other business than my calling," says Basmatie.

I was not passionate about any of those businesses, therefore I lost interest.  I felt as if I was going in circles.  I felt as if I was in a maze that had no exit and every turn I made, I could not get out.  I just saw dollar signs and saw how other people were making lots of money, so why not give it a try.

I would go down every other road, except for the road that I was passionate about and it was staring me right in my face. I thought to myself, it is right in my face, what am I doing?  That was my wake-up call. I finally realized why I was failing at the other businesses, and that was because I was not passionate about those businesses.  I got tired of failing and was very frustrated, so I decided to re-evaluate what it was that I wasn't doing right.  I made a list of everything that I was passionate about, and that was when I finally found my calling, and went down the path of my success.     

I have always envisioned my own clothing line, therefore my vision for Karma Kidz became my dream come true. My son is my inspiration behind designing a children's clothing line.   

Where do you draw inspiration for your business?

I came up with the name "Karma Kidz" because I am a firm believer of "Karma", and being that my clothing line is catered to children, I thought it would be cool to incorporate the two.  Our Karma Kidz Designs are unique, trendy, and sends out a positive message. For example, our "Karma Kommandments Onesies" sends out a different positive message on each onesie.  Karma Kidz is meant for every nationality.

When designing my logo, I wanted to send out the message that Karma Kidz caters to all races that is why I feature the different nationalities of babies as part of my logo. Karma Kidz does not discriminate.  It's all about Karma.  It's Karma Baby!

My beautiful husband, son, and my friend Jenny are my inspirations. My husband is supportive in all of my visions and goals. He is my motivator, confidant, best friend, my rock, and everything else. Looking at my son brings tears of joy to my eyes. He is my inspiration behind designing a children's line. He is truly a blessing and a gift that can never ever be replaced. There are days where I feel so exhausted, but knowing that this little person depends on me and looks up to me makes me push even harder towards achieving my dreams.

Jenny is a friend that is one in a trillion. She is like my on-call consultant, except I could never repay her for every piece of advice and every idea that she has blessed me with. I would be in debt to her. I could email her a million questions, and she always has an answer for me. She is always there for me. She is always supportive of me, telling me how proud she is of me, and always tells me to not give up. I greatly appreciate, value, cherish, and most importantly, trust her friendship.

Describe your best selling items and favorite experience?

Our best selling items are: Signature Karma Kidz logo Onesie, Meditating Teddy Bear - It's Karma Baby Onesie, Bath & Body products, Maternity Tees, among, many other Karma Kidz items.

My favorite experience is when our customers tell us how much they love our products. That is always a great feeling.

What are your plans for the future?

Wow!  I see endless visions for Karma Kidz.  I am overwhelmed (in a good way J) just thinking about it.  Karma Kidz is growing everyday.  I envision big dreams for Karma Kidz J

We are full of surprises.  A magician cannot reveal her secrets, J. 

Visit www.ItsKarmaBaby.com.     Charlotte, North Carolina