tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35141791149125036942024-03-05T20:09:03.543-08:00A Lady Named CarlosSometimes all you can do is laugh.Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-63658584748060379462014-01-30T09:06:00.000-08:002014-01-30T21:21:57.005-08:00Parenting, the Ultimate Labor of Love<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dear first-time mothers-to-be,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Please take a deep breath, because I have some bad news. I’m
truly sorry to do this—as a doula, it’s practically my job description to be
positive and encouraging, and I love that role. It comes easily to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But sometimes a reality check is in order, and the reality
is not always pretty. I feel compelled to give you a heads up, and hopefully
buffer you just a tiny bit from the shock I’ve witnessed so many new mothers go
through as they discover what it really means to be a parent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now you might brush all this off, thinking it won’t apply to
you, or simply not believing me, and that’s okay. I probably would have done
the same. But some day, you might find yourself awake at 2 am, with vomit in
your hair and tears in your eyes, and you might remember this. Hopefully then you
won’t feel so alone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See, there’s a secret no one talks about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do you want to know what it is? Are you sure?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here goes: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For as difficult as labor
and childbirth are, they are not nearly as challenging as the day-to-day responsibilities
of being a parent. </i>Not even by a long shot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In fact, labor and parenting are really just versions of one
another.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Think about that for a minute. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After birth, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">labor
never actually stops.</i> Just changes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As with labor, being a parent means fluctuating between
moments of the most extreme intensity and blissful relief. As with labor, there
are things, so many things, you can’t control. Things you can’t predict. Things
you can’t plan for. As soon as you start to get the hang of it, it changes…</span><br />
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<br />
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As with labor, parenting is probably not what you expect it will be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOqrJjE2jJbGg122Qiry84SNYE-MtPNTkrvry4zNODoVH4OyPrWDLXrmF5THVanG5ORczdaIa9jmiT1J9IZG2ye6R2UQiy6iSSjFvrUxk-3CWQ7lKHm3B8rNF6HXHDfV58YGFHkj5YYld/s1600/04-ecard.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOqrJjE2jJbGg122Qiry84SNYE-MtPNTkrvry4zNODoVH4OyPrWDLXrmF5THVanG5ORczdaIa9jmiT1J9IZG2ye6R2UQiy6iSSjFvrUxk-3CWQ7lKHm3B8rNF6HXHDfV58YGFHkj5YYld/s1600/04-ecard.png" height="280" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As with labor, being a parent can be beautiful, and funny,
and gross, and exhausting. Sometimes it hurts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As with labor, there are moments you may think <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can’t do this
anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. I changed my mind!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or perhaps<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How long can this
possibly this go on? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or even<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why did I do this? I’m
not cut out for this. What’s WRONG with me? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe you will compare yourself to other women you know. Or
women you <i>think</i> you know because you follow their Pinterest page. And maybe they
seem like they’ve got it all together.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>Guess
what?<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> They don’t!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(And if they do, then good for them! Because enough with the
mommy wars. We are all in this together. FUCK THE PATRIARCHY AND CAPITALISM
that feed isolation and competition between women, and create unattainable
expectations of motherhood). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The point is, motherhood is an extension of laboring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But we don’t treat it like that, do we? If you are like many
women I know, your preparation for motherhood mostly involved the acquiring of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">things</i>. Building a crib, finding the
perfect matching curtains, folding the adorable clothes. That is fine and good,
but it doesn’t prepare you for parenting, not even a little bit. You can’t buy
your way to sanity and tranquility. You can’t decorate yourself out of exhaustion
and frustration. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If this is disheartening to read, I apologize. But be of
good cheer, it’s not all bad. As with labor, there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> things you can do now to help prepare yourself for parenting:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can gather your support team. You will need them. <i>We’re
not meant to do this alone. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8nelZdSptYg6YFumMwxjr992Q8qulpHTLCHYkcDSMUm2eBZEIB73wly9WBYfxV2OFALcwLafgArXF6vMsfdLQe3vDNwr8Mz6jgx2jwyJcqjn2Xn4cyXI4ZF6sM2HWyj6Cnq00rcpC9Ak/s1600/parenting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8nelZdSptYg6YFumMwxjr992Q8qulpHTLCHYkcDSMUm2eBZEIB73wly9WBYfxV2OFALcwLafgArXF6vMsfdLQe3vDNwr8Mz6jgx2jwyJcqjn2Xn4cyXI4ZF6sM2HWyj6Cnq00rcpC9Ak/s1600/parenting.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't judge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can talk to other moms to hear their stories. Real moms,
who are not afraid to show you the massive pile of laundry stashed in the
corner, the granola bar encrusted into the back seat. Who will confess that their
Facebook pictures are not telling the whole story. Who will admit that although
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">immeasurable depths of love </i>they
feel for their children make it all worth it, there are still hard times. Maybe
even lots of hard times.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can work on your relationship with your partner, finding
ways to build each other up, asking “what do you need?” and explaining “this is
what I need.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can give yourself permission to meet your
own needs <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without guilt</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There’s more. The very same techniques you use to get
through labor and birth will serve you very well when the parenting poo hits
the fan, as it will. Practice them. For instance:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Take lots of deep, cleansing breaths. This will take you
further than you can imagine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Trust in the process. In yourself. In your child. I know
that can be hard, dear mothers. It’s okay to fake it ‘til you make it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Use a mantra. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can do
this. I can do this. I can do this. I AM doing this. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From time to time, look into your loved ones’ eyes, and pause
to simply be in awe and wonderment at the whole thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And you know what? Just like labor, you WILL get through it.
You really will. One day at a time; one breath at a time; one leaky diaper,
skinned knee, forgotten homework assignment at a time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then, as with labor, you might eventually look back through
a filter of love as the memories blur and the pain recedes. You might even find
that you miss it and would do it all over again given the chance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But please do me a favor. Some day, so very many years from now,
when the tables have turned and you are becoming a grandparent, dig deep. Rose-colored
nostalgia might tint your view of birth and parenting by then (as rose-colored
expectation may tint it now), but please don’t gloss over the realities to your
future son or daughter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Instead, be honest. And then ask, “How can I help?” Because as
you are about to discover, new parents need all the help they can get.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now go get yourself a massage.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your Friendly Neighborhood Doula, keeping it real<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-70110971485685750002013-01-15T15:54:00.001-08:002014-01-30T09:22:06.446-08:00I Blame the Mayans<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7011097148568575000" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 530px;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You may have noticed that I skipped an entire year of blogging. Apparently I only write in odd-numbered years - who knew? Here is my grand list of: </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Things I Did Instead of Blogging during 2012</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">10. I courageously learned how to use a pressure cooker. I </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> then immediately turned all pressure cooking duties over to </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> my husband. (He’s from </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">Mexico </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">City and is not afraid of </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> anything. Plus, the dude knows his way </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">around a </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">pot of </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> beans).</span></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7011097148568575000" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 530px;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">9. I baked my first ever loaf of bread, which happened to be </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> for a friend’s </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">bachelorette party. Think there’s a high </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">demand for penis-shaped </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">breads? </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">Because it was delicious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> (I shall call my future side business…</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> Special </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">Shapes.) </span></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7011097148568575000" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 530px;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; border: 1px solid rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; color: black; float: right; padding: 5px; position: relative; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5zKajSri-hZpS5MZzXP7RVQ3h8bHMaTaI1_PBvp8WBTZVY37UsKZ95TCgdkW9mwNjrD0Nk4FIWTjQWGOrYjNpj3-HlWDJtQ8K7qQ-ZM4KgEMhAaM82gTk5pUG7ELiqo0i6yLC_wSlbSs/s1600/special+shapes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #cc1119; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="Balloon Fiesta" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5zKajSri-hZpS5MZzXP7RVQ3h8bHMaTaI1_PBvp8WBTZVY37UsKZ95TCgdkW9mwNjrD0Nk4FIWTjQWGOrYjNpj3-HlWDJtQ8K7qQ-ZM4KgEMhAaM82gTk5pUG7ELiqo0i6yLC_wSlbSs/s320/special+shapes.JPG" height="211" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px; background-color: transparent; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;" title="Special Shapes Glowdeo" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Special Shapes Glowdeo. Heh heh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(How come there's not a Beavis balloon?) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">8. I checked out </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Pinterest. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> It was not life-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> changing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I checked out</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Gangnam </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">Style. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Nothing will ever </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> be </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">the same. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">7. I grew an organic garden. It yielded lots of rich sensory </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> experiences for </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">my</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">children (“Look Mama, I found the </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> seeds you lost in the dirt!”) and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">not a </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">lot of vegetables, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> with the exception of tomatoes. They were </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">abundant, and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> harvested and eaten primarily by baby N (an intrepid </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> toddler by now). </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">Turns out she will eat a tomato like it’s an </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> apple. It’s </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">really pretty gross. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">I have to look away. </span></div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7011097148568575000" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; position: relative; width: 530px;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">6.<span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>I facilitated a public meeting, this time without a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> <a href="http://ladynamedcarlos.blogspot.com/2011/05/you-know-youre-parent-when.html" style="color: #cc1119; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">SpongeBob </a></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">SquarePants sticker attached to my butt. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> Progress. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">5.<span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>I went camping—twice!—with my crew. And we weren’t</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> even eaten </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">by a cougar. (I know because I stayed up all </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> night in terrified mama </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">bear mode thanks to the helpful </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> DANGER COUGAR AREA signs posted </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">everywhere.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">4.<span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>I threw a celebrity-themed baby shower for my little sister. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> My favorite</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> game was called “Person or Pony?” As the title </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> suggests, you had to</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> guess whether a given moniker was a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> celebrity baby name, a My Little</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> Pony, or a Kentucky Derby </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> winner (harkening back to our Lou-uh-vul</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> roots). It was </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> pretty amazing and I’m very proud of it and it may require </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> its own blog post. Just to give you a taste – can you identify </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> which of</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> the following is a real person? Pilot Inspektor, Petal </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> Blossom Rainbow,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> and my favorite, Jermajesty. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">Answer: Folks, those are ALL PEOPLE. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, Trebuchet, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVLf_8J3k1qQxQRda_NV_FYOJkw9dAJQiPSuWQjI_kvVMhCabxERettcKdUHh0JvnAv5m00WivVxvMJqsl43xenUJLot8z0FSnLsLtYNR09PoVFiao6GXvFQr9Gk-A4hn6jymFhxLBpmK/s1600/rainbow+dash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #cc1119; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVLf_8J3k1qQxQRda_NV_FYOJkw9dAJQiPSuWQjI_kvVMhCabxERettcKdUHh0JvnAv5m00WivVxvMJqsl43xenUJLot8z0FSnLsLtYNR09PoVFiao6GXvFQr9Gk-A4hn6jymFhxLBpmK/s1600/rainbow+dash.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px; background-color: transparent; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Meet Fifi Trixibelle! No, wait, wait, that's a PERSON. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This here is Rainbow Dash. My bad.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">3.<span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>I/we survived our first road trip as a family of four. Sure, a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> 7-hour drive took us 12, but I am now familiar with every </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> playground from Albuquerque to Phoenix, and I ate </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> something called Amish buttermilk pie along the way that </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> was DIVINE. Totally worth a cart and buggy lifestyle.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">2.<span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>I became a Dancing for Birth instructor. Though one </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> pregnant friend</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> kindly described the idea of the class as </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> “her worst nightmare ever” </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">I promise you that it’s really </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> fun and awesome and you will learn some</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> amazing birthing </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> tips. Really! You should come!</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> (Please don’t make me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> dance by myself.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">1.<span style="line-height: normal;"> </span>Finally, I tended to the physical, emotional, psychological, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> social, and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">spiritual needs of two other human beings. And </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"> got a full-time job. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">And took some doula clients (yay!). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">So dear readers (do I have any dear readers?), I'm sure you're all wondering if this post means that Carlos is back. Well, that remains to be seen. But 2013<i>is</i> off to a bang (just last week I cleaned parts of my house that hadn't seen the business end of a sponge in 6 years), so anything is possible. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">T</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4;">o the new year!</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.4;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 1.4;">P.S. If I do have any readers out there, and you like what you read, please comment on or share your favorite posts. It so warms my little heart. And who knows? I just may repay you in baked goods! Any shape you like. =)</span></div>
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Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-88392892152334762932011-09-25T07:00:00.000-07:002011-09-25T12:07:46.140-07:00Well, This Stinks<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In honor of the great Shel Silverstein's birthday today, and because the depths of my nerdiness apparently know no limits, today's post comes to you in verse. </span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Baby N was out good, asleep on my lap,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">As I fried my brain with T.V.,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When up through the air, rose a terrible stench—</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What could that nastiness be?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I gave a sniff in the diaperous region—</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(The culprit I first suspected)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But the baby was as sweet as a fresh-powdered bum,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My hunch, it seemed, misdirected.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I carefully stood, put N in her swing,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And turned off Dr. Oz. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The reek still remained, taunting me, and </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had to know its cause.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I checked out the kitchen with its dishes and trash, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sure I would find the source. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The can overflowed with veggies and rot</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So I took it out, of course.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAi09Dufcg3x6-6fr4v-N5VMKB56sSrekK-09ok8Y0a0KWUEWV3-qVezY6mUGsDhNt_clUJ3Nu6f_3Fc4FopPAWPMcsbIxP_fKgqUQ2DNS1BL_7JuoksE94vCWzEn-BAA-t_jQSs21skS/s1600/shel-silverstein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAi09Dufcg3x6-6fr4v-N5VMKB56sSrekK-09ok8Y0a0KWUEWV3-qVezY6mUGsDhNt_clUJ3Nu6f_3Fc4FopPAWPMcsbIxP_fKgqUQ2DNS1BL_7JuoksE94vCWzEn-BAA-t_jQSs21skS/s320/shel-silverstein.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">But alas when I entered my unkempt house,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The smell had not dispersed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If anything, though I opened the windows,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The odor had grown worse.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I rolled up my sleeves and got to work,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Vowing to uproot the stink.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe I’d find a forgotten sandwich</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From when, I hated to think.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But there was no sandwich or abandoned diaper,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Or a long lost bowl of slaw. (Thank goodness). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I did, however, pass a mirror</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And what do think you think I saw? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, I found the source of the Odorous Funk:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not cheddar, nor swiss, nor brie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Curdled breastmilk on my shoulder lie—</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The source of the stench was me!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ew! Double ew!</span></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-82272502175000204012011-09-19T09:27:00.000-07:002011-09-19T09:27:52.697-07:00Don't Mind Us<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I always thought babies were pacifists by nature. But baby N, despite being all big eyes and cuddles, is a warrior. She even has an archenemy: the Dark Bringer of Doom, His Uncomfortableness, the Car Seat. In her first months, whenever she encountered her nemesis, she would call upon the only weapon available to her—a piercing, hysterical scream. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And though the car seat was not phased in the slightest by N’s assault (what with it being an inanimate object), there were civilian casualties. Namely, Mommy’s sanity. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipr3djK33WgI8gElIBqEfLz4IG8mbxUhDQnd9AxYnX73GMmCK3J73djEjlE8uFBiXC1CGS87haWSoRkd4AYRK4vf3Bf3hkHReJIVfbIlGPBVDAlwzuzdXQA-DeTAT1hMXbf7LRSyx6MPz0/s1600/knucklesandwich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipr3djK33WgI8gElIBqEfLz4IG8mbxUhDQnd9AxYnX73GMmCK3J73djEjlE8uFBiXC1CGS87haWSoRkd4AYRK4vf3Bf3hkHReJIVfbIlGPBVDAlwzuzdXQA-DeTAT1hMXbf7LRSyx6MPz0/s320/knucklesandwich.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You wanna knuckle sandwich? Try puttin' me in that seat!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">To avoid these battles, I drove as little as possible in N’s early days. Unfortunately, big sister S needed to go to preschool every day (okay, let’s be honest—<i>I</i> needed S to go to preschool), so daily car rides were inevitable. To say these trips were unpleasant would be like saying that World War II was kind of a bummer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One warmish March day when N was about five weeks old, I decided to pick up S from school on foot. We would avoid the DBD, get some exercise, and enjoy the fresh air. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I nursed and diapered baby N, and set out with the stroller. N was sleepy, so I assumed she would pass out pretty quickly. Well, you know what they say about assuming…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Poor N started fussing almost immediately, and screaming not long after that. The neighborhood elementary school was about to let out, so I had the delight of pushing a wailing baby down the street at top speed, while parents sat in their cars eyeing me and probably googling ‘Amber Alert’ on their cell phones. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We finally reached S’s preschool, me huffy and puffy, N red and angry. I transitioned her into the baby wrap, sure she would settle down, and we began the uphill haul back. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">S was thrilled we were walking; there were always a million treasures to be found on the way home—sticks, bottle caps, random pieces of tire, and other </span><span style="font-size: small;">awesome playthings. N was not appeased, though. She howled even more as I hauled butt, with S motoring along beside me as fast as her little legs could carry her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The crying was not subsiding and the parents in parked cars were really giving me the evil eye now. I finally admitted that there was only one solution to this problem. Even though I’d already fed N and couldn’t imagine how she could possibly be hungry this soon, I knew the answer lay right in front of me: the almighty Boob. (And speaking of World War II, how many more problems might be solved with boobs? Just throwing that out there). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDDNsPPE8DnMnwPUMHDubUjoN3-5OH-8pT9WIzyIZB9cp6uZ0WKXYjnuTHfcUgrOhoACAW7Lzv9Xc9VcxyRZt4UTMObIOSA5gluv41xGtDRuAFnv918Q51EgSAHFy2WV3xv_f1G-qFVto/s1600/Shocked+old+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDDNsPPE8DnMnwPUMHDubUjoN3-5OH-8pT9WIzyIZB9cp6uZ0WKXYjnuTHfcUgrOhoACAW7Lzv9Xc9VcxyRZt4UTMObIOSA5gluv41xGtDRuAFnv918Q51EgSAHFy2WV3xv_f1G-qFVto/s320/Shocked+old+woman.jpg" width="233" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I turned down a quiet side street, found a shady patch of grass between a long wall and the sidewalk, and parked the stroller. S danced around looking for bugs while I went about my business, nodding casually at the few stray cars that passed. Nothing like nursing your baby on the side of the road. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But no big deal. Until I heard the dread words, “Mommy, I need to go potty.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were still a long way from home, and N was just getting going. I panicked. Looked left, looked right. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Honey, do you remember how to squat?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That's right. I told my three-year-old to pop a squat behind a tree on a public street. Not my finest moment. And she went for it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Mommy, I did it! I peed on the ground!” S gleefully waddled back to where I sat on the curb. Despite her excitement, it was clear that she did <i>not</i> remember how to squat. Her pants were around her ankles, and she was soaking wet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I told her to take them off, thinking she could ride home in the stroller with a blanket over her. She pulled off the wet clothes and skipped around while I tried to remove N, who still clung to me like the Strongest Barnacle in the West. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">And then it happened. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A car pulled out of the driveway next to us, veeeery slowly. I tried not make eye contact. La la la. My half-naked child didn’t just pee on your oak tree, I’m not exposing myself in the middle of the street, la la la. Doo do doo. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I kept my head down, waiting for him to pass. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Then S cried, “Guess what, Mommy? I waved at that man in the car!”</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Really? This is a child who won’t even say hi to people she <i>knows</i> half the time. She had to pick this moment to go all Mr. Rogers on me?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“But he didn’t wave back." She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, then shrugged her shoulders. "Oh well. Maybe next time.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Dear Lord, I don't ask for much, but please let there not be a next time. Thanks.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Your humble servant, </span><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">S. B. </span></span>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-16185069957222072562011-09-13T07:00:00.000-07:002011-09-16T09:15:45.102-07:00Murphy's Laws of Parenting<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1. The baby will wake up the second the food is served.</span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2. Your child will pee in his pants the one and only day you</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> forget to bring a change of clothes.</span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">3. Illness will hit on the first day of vacation. </span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHt-BhLubfQMeXt-Vlq13qBOUBpUTarnl5cpleNsMRlc-YdKkNs5__Tqjbqu0ttihe5xMM7cKRhtyyw5GJJSuKwVF25NxNa0ovvzcfW3W3MXSnDj84RIXKX9zr8zRv6cpJ5ce_LA9F0Hw0/s1600/crayon_on_wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHt-BhLubfQMeXt-Vlq13qBOUBpUTarnl5cpleNsMRlc-YdKkNs5__Tqjbqu0ttihe5xMM7cKRhtyyw5GJJSuKwVF25NxNa0ovvzcfW3W3MXSnDj84RIXKX9zr8zRv6cpJ5ce_LA9F0Hw0/s1600/crayon_on_wall.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">4. Your child will choose the day your</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> mother-in-law comes to visit as the </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> day she decides to go all Picasso on </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> the living room wall. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">5. Whatever it is, it’s just a phase. (Of </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> course, after this phase comes. . . </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> another phase.) </span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">6. The doorbell will ring if, and only if, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> the baby just fell asleep.</span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">7. The most expensive toy will be the most ignored. </span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">8. In the time it takes you to clean any given area in your house, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> your child can destroy a space three times that size in another room. </span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">9. The best way to get a baby to have a giant poop is to give her a </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> bath and dress her in her cutest outfit. </span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">10. As soon as you have things figured out, they change.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Surprise!</span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What wonderful truths have you discovered about parenting? Share in the comments! </span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-40599765543581273982011-09-05T14:25:00.000-07:002011-09-10T14:37:01.811-07:00Ain't No Rest for the Weary<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hello, readers, Happy Labor Day! Are you thanking the ‘folks that brought you the weekend,’ enjoying a paid day off, grateful for mandated breaks and worker’s comp? Me neither! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The closest thing I’ve had to a Labor Day in the last four years is the day I was actually <i>in </i>labor, which definitely does not count as a vacation. Invigorating, life-changing, awe-inspiring, borderline psychedelic, yes. But no weekend trip to the lake.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Perhaps you are one of those lucky ladies who has fabulous in-laws that take the kids for the weekend while you and hubby zip off for a romantic getaway. Or maybe the hubs watches the wee ones while you and your girls enjoy a spa and yoga weekend? (Do things like that actually happen in real life?) Anyway, if so, I am thrilled for you! Alas, the last time my man and I went out by ourselves was for the parent orientation at S’s preschool. Aw, yeah. Big date night over here!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The thought of creating a Parent’s Union is quite appealing, but faces several challenges. First is organization. Who’s got time to devote to that? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Even more daunting is enforcement. I’ve tried to tell S at times, “Mommy’s on a break right now, but I’ll get right on that juice order just as soon as I complete the requests for clean laundry and hot dinner,” but she just laughs maniacally and cracks her whip. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeK3FIzKJJKy2x3j9e4So9q6iw_iUd70b18KeBqG1u1OifFvxHkbOnd8PnN_Ahp2ABfHx9GCJmXzNvP0h840wgRyBzLaUdnrFXRiSCIdaLCF9crMTXAN3raUwk96hqlxYs_VXhHooseRpB/s1600/vintage_housewife_work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeK3FIzKJJKy2x3j9e4So9q6iw_iUd70b18KeBqG1u1OifFvxHkbOnd8PnN_Ahp2ABfHx9GCJmXzNvP0h840wgRyBzLaUdnrFXRiSCIdaLCF9crMTXAN3raUwk96hqlxYs_VXhHooseRpB/s320/vintage_housewife_work.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much work, so little time for martinis. Ah, who am I kidding? Like I clean!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Baby N is even tougher. I try to convince her that Mommy is contractually entitled to a peaceful meal (since she wakes up or fusses the precise minute the food hits the table), but she won’t have it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My children have also denied requests for: a full night’s sleep, an uninterrupted shower, an hour—just an hour!—of quiet time. <i>Nice try, Mommy</i>. It’s like the Gulag up in this mug. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luckily, my bosses also provide some very nice perks. These include multiple hugs and snuggles, a job that offers lots of room for growth, and plenty of humor. Just the other day, Sofia flung open the door to see the mailman, while pretending to talk on the phone. “Hello, hello?” she yelled into her make-believe device. “Anybody there? I can’t hear you!” Her telephone prop? The flange to the breast pump. Nice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I realize that someday I’ll have a quiet, peaceful, clean house…and I’ll probably miss the heck out of my little task-makers. So for now, I’ll try to enjoy the chaos, while I continue to labor away. Speaking of, I just got an urgent call via the Ameda Purely Yours…gotta go! </span></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-58729767969530259662011-07-10T22:52:00.000-07:002011-09-16T09:18:14.157-07:00If it Looks Like a Dog Toy…<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">…and it squeaks like a dog toy, is it in fact a dog toy? </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No! It’s the BPA-free, all rubber, French-made teether to the stars—Sophie the Giraffe. I have seen this trendy toy pop up at baby yoga, the park, and restaurants, hanging from strollers and car seats everywhere I go. One woman even asked if I named my older daughter, S, after Sophie the Giraffe. Um, yeah…if it was a boy, we were going to go with…Elmo…or…Batman…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, popular consensus is that STG is a miracle toy. A quick perusal of the Internet will show you that people cannot live without their Sophie. At least ten Etsy stores make “Sophie saver” leashes so you won’t lose her, and the product website even states at the bottom—<b>YOUR BABY NEEDS HER! </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89G0mfGL3T4sUBR9cduLq5jF1Aov6a4u9Zq4PjJI3W1utJ8nMtnfc-pbFU_vjyWj1PnJlftoWZjKz5_3ZP869WRrvTq0UZUGdTG1GStJlct34KtdXMsF5mJ0YtSwlJAHMaEF4cLcFEpt2/s1600/sophie_giraffe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89G0mfGL3T4sUBR9cduLq5jF1Aov6a4u9Zq4PjJI3W1utJ8nMtnfc-pbFU_vjyWj1PnJlftoWZjKz5_3ZP869WRrvTq0UZUGdTG1GStJlct34KtdXMsF5mJ0YtSwlJAHMaEF4cLcFEpt2/s200/sophie_giraffe.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s hard to argue with that kind of subtle marketing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile, baby N has been teething since she was 2 months old—drooling like crazy, gnawing anything within her reach, and protesting loudly if you remove the placemat, or checkbook, or breakable figurine from her tiny yet iron-like baby grip.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And so, despite the fact that we are cancelling our gym membership, shopping at thrift stores, and eating beans at every meal (I’m talking <i>a lot</i> of freaking beans, here), I recently went out and spent $25 dollars on Sophie the Giraffe. Okay, technically, I had store credit, but still. If I’m spending that much on a teething toy, it better not only soothe baby N’s gums, but also put her down for a nap and change her diaper to boot. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the store, baby N smiled and cooed at the sight of Sophie, immediately reaching for the box. I was feeling pretty pleased and justified with the purchase, and couldn’t wait to give her the cute little giraffe to suck on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I opened the box and presented her to N. But instead of flashing the gummy smile of appreciation I expected, baby N squirmed and scowled. She looked me straight in the eye and threw poor Sophie on the ground. I tried again, but to no avail. Baby N continued to fuss until it dawned on me. She wanted the box.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I offered her the flimsy cardboard, and sure enough, she put it right in her mouth with a little grunt of satisfaction. $25 rubber toy made specifically for this purpose? No go. Cheap cardboard box? Oh yeah. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A few weeks have passed, and N still doesn’t give Sophie more than a passing glance, er, chomp. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here are five things that baby N would prefer to chew on over STG:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">1.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The label from a rotisserie chicken. The kid loves cardboard, what</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> can I say?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">2.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The finger of anyone within her reach. Big sister gets a kick out of </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> this and loves to offer N her hand. Unfortunately, S has a </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> summertime aversion to soap and water, so I’m not such a fan.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">3.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Those tiny packages of Kleenex. These are N’s absolute favorite </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> teething devices. They’re crinkly yet soft, light, easy to grip, and </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> provide endless fun. That is, until someone notices that she’s</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> managed to open the package and has possibly ingested some of</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> the tissue, and then her daddy freaks out and asks why I don’t give </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> her a real toy. Like an expensive French giraffe that she will either</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> ignore or throw at me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">4.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Pretty much anything else you can possibly think of. Well, anything </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> that’s not meant for children to chew on. For example, cell phones,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> toy cars made in China, construction paper, watches, Barbie limbs…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">5.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Her big toe. She really goes at it if I let her: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHXRRw2pYgke5UKs7AV-rtozm85H5-VNxvEnV4gbi2R98-ebeggSQPsSJ-VTPuE_1Ay6ihnNBSUv4SKZtu7VxHxHHfGGmpndCwne8cYM3j-qQZtloz4dKDJ8t5HM_uiOvb5lUKDtZDdFf/s1600/N_teething1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHXRRw2pYgke5UKs7AV-rtozm85H5-VNxvEnV4gbi2R98-ebeggSQPsSJ-VTPuE_1Ay6ihnNBSUv4SKZtu7VxHxHHfGGmpndCwne8cYM3j-qQZtloz4dKDJ8t5HM_uiOvb5lUKDtZDdFf/s320/N_teething1.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Must. Have. Toe!</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQfvCF38ZZEQnWBBE9leMZQcSbYVa-AawtDPPef76FONHI4WJ6R-auEQhzOUBeUl-Q9a_qFn1f6-kFeutPR-DSq4O1su6OHr_zQ5v10-AMqHWisyknUCqUCyi2cLv0wV8U9FAF7-LNMHm/s1600/N_teething5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQfvCF38ZZEQnWBBE9leMZQcSbYVa-AawtDPPef76FONHI4WJ6R-auEQhzOUBeUl-Q9a_qFn1f6-kFeutPR-DSq4O1su6OHr_zQ5v10-AMqHWisyknUCqUCyi2cLv0wV8U9FAF7-LNMHm/s320/N_teething5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Nom, nom, nom.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcVTjvev7eE1dQQs7MU0v_JnY3gvalmGUYPZHD0x7jO3xLCnrDUkID_uLthw8ua8d6X26P-btJukTpB71vadojvYUt06cDoYMnpK64L1UGy5VgsbgmCLdPYa5XwS3mY9nbhwWcDQE0InE/s1600/N_teething3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcVTjvev7eE1dQQs7MU0v_JnY3gvalmGUYPZHD0x7jO3xLCnrDUkID_uLthw8ua8d6X26P-btJukTpB71vadojvYUt06cDoYMnpK64L1UGy5VgsbgmCLdPYa5XwS3mY9nbhwWcDQE0InE/s320/N_teething3.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">♪</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;">"'Who's Sophie?' she said, and smiled in her special way..."</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">or </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Dontcha wish your Sophie was a yogi like me? Dontcha....?)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile, big sister S <i>loves</i> STG. And not just because the toy could be her namesake. As soon as we brought Sophie home, S suggested that I go back to the store to buy one in her size. It went straight into her mouth, and she found it very satisfying to chew on. If only she didn’t have all of her teeth already… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">S was also thrilled to discover that Sophie the Giraffe makes a very loud, high-pitched and not-at-all annoying squeaking sound. In no time, S learned how to squeak out <i>Jingle Bells</i> on Sophie, and this has kind of become her theme song. She’ll race around the backyard, squeaking out <i>Jingle Bells</i> (again, not at all annoying), and eventually get bored and try to shove the toy in baby N’s mouth. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But of course N doesn’t want STG. She’s already found a stick or leaf or something else entirely unsuitable for babies to suck on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I still think Sophie’s cute, though, and she’s taught me an important lesson. If I’m ever tempted to spend $25 on a baby toy again, I’ll remember her and look no further than my own recycling bin for entertainment (soda bottle rattles, anyone?). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So for that I say, <i>Merci, </i>Sophie! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-68376162275273763442011-06-23T19:05:00.000-07:002011-09-16T09:17:46.260-07:00Quiz Time! What Kind of Mom Are You?<style>
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</style> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That’s right, I’m bringing back the quiz, old-school Teen Magazine style. But instead of answering burning questions like ‘Which Vampire Hottie is Right for You?’ and ‘Are You a Promzilla?,’ this thought-provoking test will determine your mothering style. It is scientifically-accurate in 98% of cases, so don’t argue with it. Okay, get your pencils ready!</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>1.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You took prenatal yoga classes because…</b></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You wanted to connect with your baby’s spirit while she was still in</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> the womb.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Your OB recommended them, and they were fun. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> C. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span> You thought they might help you de-stress—studies show that a</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> stressful womb environment can have a negative impact on the</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> baby, and it stresses you out to think that your womb might be</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> stressful…</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span> It didn’t occur to you to do prenatal yoga, mostly because you were</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> in denial that you were pregnant until you were in labor. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>2.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Did you find out the baby’s sex before he was born?</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span> No—you didn’t want to have preconceived notions about your child,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> and besides, gender is a continuum, not just based on sex.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span> Yes—it was too hard to wait!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Of course—you had to preorder the custom curtains to match the</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> sheets to go with the wall-hangings….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span> Nah—either way it’s just another kid to take care of. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">3.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>For your baby shower, in addition to the regular stuff, you </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> requested…</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span> Good vibes for the birth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Copies of your favorite children’s books.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span>Contributions to your child’s 529 plan. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.75in; text-indent: -0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></span>Cash for the paternity test.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">4.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Your baby’s name...</span></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Was inspired by nature. For example, Willow, Aurora, Jade…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Is a classic like Joshua, Matthew, Katherine, Madeline…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Is also a place—Berkeley, Brooklyn, London…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Comes from a classy alcohol brand—Hennessy, Chardonnay,</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Frangelico…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">5.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Your baby’s first exposure to music was… </span></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The drum circle playing at the birth.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The lullabies and nursery rhymes you sing to your baby.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The violin lessons you started for baby when he turned six months</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> old.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The soundtrack to Grand Theft Auto.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">6.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>What was your approach to getting in shape after having the</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> baby? </span></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You don’t have a mirror so it never crossed your mind. Besides, you</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> embrace the curves and marks your children have bestowed on your</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> body. They reflect your Journey as Woman.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You figure that with breastfeeding and taking the baby for daily</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> walks, the weight will come off naturally.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You alternate <a href="http://ladynamedcarlos.blogspot.com/2011/05/work-it-girl.html">baby boot camp</a> classes with training for a marathon</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> via the jogging stroller.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You don’t exercise. Exercise is for pussies. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu-EEj_Jppd-_wcZ246xQbs5fF4fi9KHoydAcfjCBPQbDh0NwL4UC1jPgiYaoreFKnWUJ7iJO4yTaQ7eld8A7eQ4kGyn3aoy_3WNhYUPUKGCZJ5ywD2SPauUYB4zc53sUbP1YcowJRyas/s1600/teen_magazine.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu-EEj_Jppd-_wcZ246xQbs5fF4fi9KHoydAcfjCBPQbDh0NwL4UC1jPgiYaoreFKnWUJ7iJO4yTaQ7eld8A7eQ4kGyn3aoy_3WNhYUPUKGCZJ5ywD2SPauUYB4zc53sUbP1YcowJRyas/s320/teen_magazine.jpeg" width="246" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">7.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Your stance on</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> breastfeeding in</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> public is… </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Breasts are for </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> breastfeeding, duh.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> You’ll whip out the boob</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> whenever, wherever. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>If baby is hungry, you’ll </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> find a private place and </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> nurse under a blanket.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Um, no. You plan your </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> excursions around baby’s </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> scheduled feeds, and you </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> always have a backup</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> bottle on hand just in case. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You don’t breastfeed, on</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> account of the nicotine. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">8.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>When it’s time to start solids, what do you feed your baby?</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You make your own baby food from veggies grown in the garden.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Love is the special ingredient!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You buy Gerber—doesn’t everyone? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You have freshly-picked organic baby food shipped in twice a week</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> from California.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You introduce fries at sixth months, nuggets at seven months, but </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> no Mountain Dew until after a year. That shit makes babies go </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> crazy!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">9.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>What was your approach to babyproofing?</span></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You closed the barn door and called it good.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You did the basics—outlet plugs, gates for the stairs, etc.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You paid a fortune for a professional babyproofing service as soon</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> as you found out you were pregnant. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>What is babyproofing?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">10.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>How often do you give your baby a bath? </span></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Once a week. Or less…</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Every other day or so, more if needed.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Every day precisely at 6:30, after her evening meal and before </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> bedtime.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You’re supposed to bathe them, too?! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">11.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Who do you turn to when you need a babysitter? </span></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Your five older children.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Your parents or the nice neighbor girl. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>A professional nanny that passed an FBI background check. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>A combination of Benadryl and the T.V. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">12.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>On an average summer day, your baby is wearing…</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Dirt, and that’s about it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Whatever is clean at the moment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>A matching outfit, with matching shoes and matching hat, natch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>The same clothes he’s been in for the last week. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">13.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>This past Mother’s Day, you were…</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Thrilled—your partner took you on a hike, prepared a picnic, and </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> surprised you with a new homebrew!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Thrilled—the hubs fixed you breakfast in bed, then sent you off for</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> a pedicure and a massage!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Thrilled—your husband followed your ten-point set of instructions</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> to a tee!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Thrilled—your parole officer showed up and took you and the kids</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> out to lunch!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">14.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Your worst nightmare is that your baby will grow up to be…</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A. <span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>A Republican.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>A drug addict.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>A hippie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>A cop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">15.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>At night, you don’t worry about your baby because…</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> A.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>She's in bed with you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> B.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>She's in a bassinet in your room where you can see her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> C.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You set your alarm to check on her every hour. Plus you have the </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> video monitor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> D.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>You are drunk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tally up your results!</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRlvfJ-Y6ese_jOydwteXwf34ZsRcMIFqFb31FHuT8FxUOOOEDgx7BRzlMHJmfhF18k5BmzbKf-81Jh6iwxWXPtYXiHALiCAkGGjAYcN5xjqHt3Ypcwb_zb6ubaXNgihRWV-S2TRP6W1b/s1600/woman_thinking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRlvfJ-Y6ese_jOydwteXwf34ZsRcMIFqFb31FHuT8FxUOOOEDgx7BRzlMHJmfhF18k5BmzbKf-81Jh6iwxWXPtYXiHALiCAkGGjAYcN5xjqHt3Ypcwb_zb6ubaXNgihRWV-S2TRP6W1b/s320/woman_thinking.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>If you answered mostly As, you are:</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>A Crunchy Mom!</b></span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Note: this is the P.C. way of saying you’re a hippie). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You take a laid-back approach to parenting, raising your children to be in tune with nature, their bodies, and their emotions. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Recommended reading: The Dr. Sears line of books, Mothering magazine, The Lorax…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Potential pitfalls: You want your child to be a unique expression of himself, and he will be. But at some point, he may feel awkward being the only kindergartner with dreadlocks and a tofu lunch. His way of being an individual just might mean experimenting with conformity for a little while. Don’t worry, he’ll go back to being barefoot soon enough! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>If you answered mostly Bs, you are:</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The Average Mom!</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You are practical and level-headed, and balance your own mother’s advice with your pediatrician’s. You are raising confident, well-adjusted children who will fit in wherever they go. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Recommended Reading: The Baby Whisperer, Parenting magazine, Brown Bear Brown Bear…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Potential pitfalls: Sometimes you might find it hard to follow your own instincts when it comes to parenting. Remember that it’s okay to listen to your gut, even if it doesn’t jibe with what your sister, your college roommate, or the park ladies say. It’s okay to go your own way and try new things! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>If you answered mostly Cs, you are:</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>An Overachieving Mom!</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You are the envy of the playgroup with your sparkling countertops and GMO-free 100% whole wheat muffins. You are raising kids who will be responsible, hard-working, and maybe just a wee bit neurotic. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Recommended reading: Who am I kidding? You know you’ve already got every parenting book ever written. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Potential pitfalls: Here’s the deal C-mom. Kids are messy. Life with children is chaotic, and things definitely don’t always go as planned (see <a href="http://ladynamedcarlos.blogspot.com/2011/05/tequila-me-elmo.html">here</a> for proof). In your attempts at perfection, you just might miss out on the little things that make it all worth it. Admit it—wasn’t it just a teensy bit funny when your son hung the asparagus out of his nose like a giant booger? Make sure to take time to laugh, be spontaneous, and let loose from time to time. Your kids won’t even remember the countertops!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>If you answered mostly Ds, you are:</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>A Neglectful Mom!<br />
<br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sad face. I really really hope you didn’t get mostly Ds. Now please turn off the computer and get yourself to rehab.</span></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-15548482549718031412011-06-18T14:43:00.000-07:002013-01-15T16:17:45.023-08:00Someone Needs a Swaddle<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Recently, I was in line at the grocery store with my two little buddies. S was attempting to do acrobatics off the shopping cart, but not bothering anyone, and baby N was, as usual, in the Moby Wrap on my chest. I noticed this guy behind us—young, pudgy, frumpy—shuffling from one foot to another. He kept smirking and rolling his eyes in our direction. I could tell he had something to say. I smiled at him, giving him an opening. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He pushed his glasses up his nose and sneered, “I don’t get why people carry their babies like that. Didn’t you, like, just carry her inside you for nine months? I mean, put the baby down, already!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh, my dear boy. First of all, it was ten months (add it up people—40 weeks, and N was late). Secondly, with those manners, I’m not surprised you were shopping for your Hamburger Helper and beer by yourself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although I wanted to drop-kick this stranger, I suspected his mommy didn’t do much snuggling when he was a babe. So I bit my tongue and shrugged. I figured my explanation would take too long, anyway, and this guy seemed like he had some pressing online gaming to do. But, I was left with the nagging feeling that I needed to justify why I wear my baby. So—</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Aside from the fact that new mothers tend to <i>enjoy</i> holding their babies (um, hello), there are some very practical reasons why you will find me at the store with my baby in the wrap. Here is my argument:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">1.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>We have to eat. Although I did plant a veg garden, we can’t survive off of basil for the next two months until the zucchini and tomatoes are ready. (I don’t even like zucchini or tomatoes that much). And though I hear there’s a breast milk ice cream shop in England (truly!), my family’s not ready to make that leap. Also, we don’t have a flourmill. Or any wheat to speak of. So I have to go to the store. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">2.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>It’s illegal to leave kids alone in the car in the parking lot. And mean.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">3.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Although hubby could theoretically watch the little ones while I shopped, if I’m kid-free, you can bet I’m going to do something way better than hang out at Smith’s. Yeah, if such a miracle were to occur, I’d probably spend my time…sleeping…or reading…or going to a coffee shop to work and wind up looking at pictures of my kids on Facebook...or going to a coffee shop to work and wind up talking to the lady next to me about my kids, and then showing <i>her</i> pictures on Facebook…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOQoB_HiKF4SZyFlEt8c3yMPnKPWbHZ7dqAYlOjchgmFT_99y5pcgjLHacCJBUrMLLnoM9TXCD34A_5ljkBJc_sTbddQocZfZURaBcErAbfOVO0Y3W23Dje2O8FnepbfyMQCgi1k2sDop/s1600/shopping_cart_funny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOQoB_HiKF4SZyFlEt8c3yMPnKPWbHZ7dqAYlOjchgmFT_99y5pcgjLHacCJBUrMLLnoM9TXCD34A_5ljkBJc_sTbddQocZfZURaBcErAbfOVO0Y3W23Dje2O8FnepbfyMQCgi1k2sDop/s320/shopping_cart_funny.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In short, I have to shop and the kids are coming with. Now, I could either carry N on my hip (while pushing a cart, grabbing groceries and making sure S doesn’t climb into the refrigerated foods section to cool off) or carry N in the car seat. The first option is ludicrous, and the second one isn’t so hot either. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">See, baby N spent much of her first months under the illusion that the car seat was occupied by evil spirits which she had to combat by screaming at the top of her lungs. Which brings me to my next point:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">4.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> I've found </span>that people generally don’t like being around babies who are screaming at the top of their lungs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: small;">5.<span style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Finally, even if I did take baby N in the car seat, where would I put her? I couldn’t put her inside the cart, unless I was going to pile the food up all around her. (Okay, it might be kind of funny to make her like a real live Cabbage Patch Kid—I can just see her little face peeking out between the cantaloupe and kale, but I don’t think she would like that very much). Lots of parents put the car seat on the handle of the cart, but that feels very precarious to me. Besides, I have to reserve that seat for S in case I catch her bogarting all the free snack samples or something. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And so, the remaining logical choice is for me to carry N in the wrap. It’s easy, she’s content, and I have two free hands… which I just might use to give the finger to jerks I meet in the check-out line. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh, not really. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, yeah, maybe in my head.</span></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-66609369947113489602011-06-14T15:23:00.000-07:002011-06-18T14:25:41.531-07:00Isn't That Special<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some days I should really just quit while I’m ahead. Of course that would require being ahead at some point…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last night, while making dinner, I tripped over a cloth grocery sac on the kitchen floor that hadn’t made its way back onto the hook, and—surprise!—there was something squishy in there. Week-old bananas. Neato. Now, you might think </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">gross </span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">at the thought of mushy, almost rotten bananas, but I think </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">banana bread</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. I mean, you’re supposed to use the brown ones, right?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since it had been a while since S and I had baked anything together (I’ve been working on limiting the </span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://ladynamedcarlos.blogspot.com/2011/05/work-it-girl.html"><span class="Apple-style-span">cupcakes</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> after all, boo), I thought this would be a perfect project for us. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So this morning, after getting N down for her nap, S and I began the delightful process of baking. This entailed her making an enormous mess on a tray with flour, water, sprinkles, and some spices, while helping me count out the measures in the real recipe. The first fail was that I had no baking soda. After referencing the all-knowing Interwebs, I decided I could use double the amount of baking powder and call it good. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Baby N woke up just as I was adding in the last ingredients, so I cracked the eggs and did the mixing one-handed. (Note to husband: if you find a crunchy piece in there, that would be eggshell—sorry about that). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">S was done messing for the moment, so we all went into the living room to play while the oven heated up. After a few minutes I went to check the temp, only to find thick gray smoke swirling around the kitchen. A vision of last night came back to me in a flash—the gooey, drippy macaroni and cheese that had bubbled over the casserole dish onto the oven floor. A mess I didn’t clean up—first, because I was starving and it was dinnertime; second, because after dinner I watched The Bachelorette (btw, Bentley is coming back next week, WTH?!), then got sucked into Extreme Makeover Weight Loss Edition (very touching); and third, because even though I had forgotten about it by then, I would be lying if I said I would actually clean the oven at ten o’clock at night. Stranger things have happened, but not in my house. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_bzpR42qXL8Z2W-0d0bwfL5-Juz2VqRz-mQJhOZTrHpmy2DWxVlsRzH9XK9MbPQCMqRX927hDWDdmb-Mm7vw4Q0kSsIM6BfS1pSxSOArI4UvkadpIB14FEIsloH894fAXx8CRGDAsKTFP/s1600/vintage-baking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_bzpR42qXL8Z2W-0d0bwfL5-Juz2VqRz-mQJhOZTrHpmy2DWxVlsRzH9XK9MbPQCMqRX927hDWDdmb-Mm7vw4Q0kSsIM6BfS1pSxSOArI4UvkadpIB14FEIsloH894fAXx8CRGDAsKTFP/s1600/vintage-baking.jpg" /></span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was faced with a dilemma. I could 1) wait an hour or so until the oven cooled down, clean it (with my two little helpers underfoot) and then bake the banana bread, 2) take the batter to my parents’ house and cook it there, or 3) shove it in the oven, thereby burning off the cheesy gook at the same time. The first option would probably have been the wisest, but I’m lazy and also impatient (great qualities in a parent), so that was out. The second option required getting us all dressed and out the door with our numerous baby accessories plus the batter in tow—no, thanks. So I went with number 3.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bad choice. The acrid smoke had spread to the dining room with no signs of stopping. I raced around, opened all the windows and doors, grabbed the timer and baby N, and ushered S outside.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Let’s play in the dirt!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She looked doubtful. S usually loves playing outside, but it was late morning, June, and New Mexico, which equals 90+ degrees outside with little shade. Good thing banana bread only has to bake for. . . <i>an hour</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile, S was wearing nothing but her pajama top and undies, N had a wet diaper, and I was hungry. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Ni modo. </span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was more smoke in that house than a low-rider clambake, and we weren’t going back in until it was clear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(Why didn’t I turn off the oven, you ask? Add ‘stubborn’ to my fine list of characteristics.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">S adapted pretty quickly, but the poor thing kept begging me to play Tag or Hide-and-Seek with her, both of which would require </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">not</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> sitting on my butt in the one small square of shade. We eventually settled on “Let’s see how many laps S can run around the yard” which I narrated, racetrack style. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finally, the timer dinged and we all went back inside. The banana bread turned out okay…but it’s been a few hours and my baby’s head still smells like the inside of a pizza oven. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lessons learned: put away your groceries, clean up your messes, and don’t bake in the summer!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-67656617932238372302011-06-13T09:00:00.000-07:002011-06-13T09:00:07.048-07:00Got Sleep?<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah, the elusive nap. With S, I was borderline obsessive about making sure she got enough sleep as a baby. Unfortunately, I never mastered the skill of being able to lay the baby down (awake), kiss her on the head, and let her drift peacefully off to sleep. I hear of mystical mothers who can do this, but I have never met one in person. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Instead, I rocked, carried, wore, and nursed S to sleep. My memories of her first months are of me, sitting on the couch, holding my adorable, sleeping baby. Some may call this wasting time; I call it catching up on the fascinating world of daytime TV and finally reading <i>The Mists of Avalon</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I vowed that things would be different with my second child, but who do you think is on my lap in dreamland this very minute? Baby N, of course. Oh well. I just don’t have it in me to listen to the tears or try to “train” my baby to take naps by herself in a crib. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Which brings me back to S. By the time she was three, we still had to use some tricks to get her to sleep at naptime. The main one was that we (gulp)…drove her around<b><i> </i></b>until she fell asleep, which would sometimes take twenty minutes or more. Despite the global gas crisis, despite global warming, despite the high prices. It was ridiculous.<span> </span><span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">About a month ago, I decided enough was enough. We were wasting gas, time, money, and energy, and S was beginning to really resist the car rides. There were a few times when she screamed as I carried her to the car, waving to the neighbors—<i>No, I’m not kidnapping her! She’s my own child! Please don’t call the police!</i> It was insane, and something had to change. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I decided to try her preschool’s method for naptime. They would basically set the kids up on cots, blast some music, and they’d all miraculously fall asleep. Peer pressure? Chloroform? I really don’t know, but from 12 to 2 every day, it seemed to work. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So one Saturday, I set up an ancient stereo in her room (it even had a tape deck—so quaint!), and she picked out three stories. She snuggled on my lap as we read, and then climbed into bed with the stuffed animal d’jour. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When the cue-up for the Baby Einstein Mozart CD began, her face brightened. “It’s princess music?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now, you may have gathered that I’m not a huge fan of the tiny-waisted, starry-eyed Disney gals. In fact, I’ve done everything in my power to shield S from them, yet they’ve still managed to claw their manicured little fingers into our lives. But, whatever. That’s my issue, not S’s. And at that moment, she was cheerful, cooperative, and cozy, and if she wanted to call it princess music, well shoot, I’d hire the royal orchestra. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“It <i>is</i> princess music!” I said, clasping my hands as though thrilled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“And ballerina music?” She was digging this. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Yep, ballerina music, too!” (I’m not super-keen on the ballerinas, either, but hey, at least they have a career. And S is pretty darn cute decked out in a tutu.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZdeYe6pxDlSuQt2jh7Pkdh9-s6qXuTeA9_Yi2zNIHgZ6O7_8lfNwsLT1hFitD9knBuLjiSg8tlFpRUxaplyjn0qm3RuDirrCgTL8cPvWRyCNk4wjaJPb-fLnEbl_9hUNTWyJG1Cu2FtF/s1600/sleeping-child-vintage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggZdeYe6pxDlSuQt2jh7Pkdh9-s6qXuTeA9_Yi2zNIHgZ6O7_8lfNwsLT1hFitD9knBuLjiSg8tlFpRUxaplyjn0qm3RuDirrCgTL8cPvWRyCNk4wjaJPb-fLnEbl_9hUNTWyJG1Cu2FtF/s320/sleeping-child-vintage.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And with that, I tucked her quilt around her, gave her a kiss, and left the room. There was no bargaining. (“How about park first, <i>then</i> nap, Mommy?”) No complaining. And best of all, no shrieking. Just the sweet, sweet silence of a kid in bed. Who is not shrieking. (This cannot be emphasized enough). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After half an hour of blissful peace—most of which I spent gloating to my husband about my amazing child-sleeping skills—S appeared. “The princess music’s over, Mommy. Can I hear more?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Doh! </i>I forgot to put the CD on repeat. And clearly there had been no sleeping. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Instead, S had spent the time creating an elaborate tent city of towels and blankets in her room. She seemed happy enough, but I was still hoping for a nap. She agreed to lie down with me and try to sleep, but only if we could make a “nest” on the floor. This required asking each of her animals permission to use their blankets one by one. Not a quick process. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When we finally got comfy, S popped up. Before I realized what was happening, she’d tucked me in on the floor, climbed into the rocking chair and was reading to me. I’d been bamboozled! But she was so sweet, and hey, I needed a nap, too. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a while, I left S with her animals, facing the sad realization that the days of the nap might be behind us. In fact, she didn’t get any sleep that day. But she did play in her room, quietly, happily, for <i>three whole hours.</i> And I’m going ride that train as long as I can, even if I have to share it with princesses. Just call me the Queen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-23259678925833272022011-05-26T09:29:00.000-07:002011-09-18T10:54:19.358-07:00Work It, Girl<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s time to face the facts: I am sporting a full-on baby bump. Not a pregnant baby bump—good God, can you imagine?—or even a post-baby baby bump. This is more of an ‘I have a breastfeeding infant, an unbalanced preschooler, and a busy husband, so baby, I will eat cupcakes and bacon if I want to,’ kind of a bump. </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The don’t-hold-the-mayo approach to life does a pretty good job of keeping the blues away, but it also keeps the skinny jeans away. (Or any non-elastic waistband pants, for that matter). Since I’m not ready to give up the brownies, yet, I’ve decided it’s time for exercise. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After S was born, I tried one of those baby boot camp classes. As it turns out, hanging with a bunch of highly competitive, hormonal, sleep-deprived new moms while someone is barking at us to run faster and then drop for ten is not my idea of a good time. I mean, they want me to do ten <i>pushups</i>? I just had a baby!<i> </i>I spent most of the class looking around for someone who was as miserable as me so we could cut out and talk about baby spit-up over coffee and scones. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This time around, I’m trying to work the work-out into my regular activities. I’ve devised some moves any mom can do—check it out! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Newborn Tub Time Toner </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Works: abs, back, arms, legs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You might dread those first baby baths as much as I do—there’s water, porcelain, a wiggly, slippery body—major recipe for disaster. But at some point, things start to get kind of funky, especially up in those neck folds, and sponge baths just aren’t cutting it. Tub time! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How to do it: In this exercise, you kneel on the ground, while contorting your body so that your upper half is leaning entirely over the bathtub; your left arm nestles the newborn in the baby tub, while the right arm reaches the opposite way to search for the washcloth/soap/towel you dropped. This arm may also be used for fending off an older sibling, creating even more toning action. You must hold this uncomfortable position until baby is clean, usually five to ten minutes. You must also smile and relax and coo at baby so that she enjoys bath time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often: Hardcore moms do this every day (I know, right?), but I find once or twice a week works well for us. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Explosive Poo Arm Squeeze</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Works: Arms, core</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is a great strength trainer. I’ve seen it used mostly with dads and childless friends, but there’s no reason moms can’t do it, too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How to do it: When you notice the telltale signs in your baby (first a grimace and squirm, followed by a distinct squirting sound), engage your abs, pick baby up and extend arms straight in front of you while you carry him to the appropriate diaper changing station. You may want to get your neck involved by doing a few head turns (this also helps avoid bothersome smells). If you want to up the level of this workout, you can do a couple of presses, bringing baby into and then away from your chest, but be warned that you may get stained. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often: You can never really predict the explosive poo, but you will likely find yourself doing this several times a day in the beginning, and less often as your baby grows. Note: you may have to follow with the Newborn Tub Toner. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Car Seat Arm Curls</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Works: Biceps, triceps, shoulder</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I often find myself doing the Frankenstein lurch, balancing the car seat against one straight leg as I haul it to and from the car. There is a better way, ladies. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How to do it: Using a straight arm, lift the car seat—without letting it touch the leg!—and carry to your destination. Before you put it down, curl your bicep, lifting the car seat as high as possible. This one is tricky, so work up to it. This exercise has the benefit of growing with you (assuming that you feed your baby). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often: Several times a day. Don’t forget to alternate arms!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoFg_cZUxU61iTlt8kElijwm6LrLLP_sZAhCByXdYG8dmi2YUq0adICbHrRxPImlYSvdQSvj4vZK8tJIFeQ66eo2WU2KgJj5rRRGPMppU0J8dftxuqxlrjzz4M_4ywJR_VH5M2KWE9PsM/s1600/workout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoFg_cZUxU61iTlt8kElijwm6LrLLP_sZAhCByXdYG8dmi2YUq0adICbHrRxPImlYSvdQSvj4vZK8tJIFeQ66eo2WU2KgJj5rRRGPMppU0J8dftxuqxlrjzz4M_4ywJR_VH5M2KWE9PsM/s320/workout.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The Walk-‘n’-Nurse</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Works: Back, abs, arms, legs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As a new mom, you’ve probably experimented with various ways to soothe your crying baby. Some babies like to be walked; others like to comfort nurse. When baby N gets the fusses, she wants to be walked <i>and</i> nurse. At the same time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How to do it: Drop your shoulders and lift your chest. Engage abs, hold baby laterally across your chest so you can nurse her, and walk rhythmically around and around the house. If baby is still fussing, you may need to throw in some bouncing or lunges. If, at some point, you notice that it’s gotten dark and your blinds are still open and you’re showing side-boob to the whole neighborhood, you can add in the aerobic element of jogging over to the window to take care of that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often: Possibly every night around 7:00 for the first few months of baby’s life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Rock-a-bye Kegels</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Works: Kegel muscles</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">First of all, if you don’t know about Kegels, then your OB/midwife was remiss in not mentioning them. I’ll let you go ahead and google “Kegel” to learn more. For everyone else, I know you thought you were done with Kegels once baby was born, but the health of your pelvic floor is still important. Some day you will find yourself in a bounce house with other small children and their parents, and when that day comes, I guarantee that you will want full control of your bladder. M’kay?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How to do it: While rocking your baby, simply find your Kegel muscles and squeeze! If you rock a child to sleep every night, this is a great way to pass the time, and you'll have Kegels of steel in no time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often: Up to 100 reps, once a day or as needed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Preschooler Play-With-Me Aerobics</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Works: total body</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Science has revealed that human beings have the most energy of their lives when they are three years old. Pretty much anything you do with them qualifies as aerobic activity, but I’ll make a few suggestions anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How to do it: There are many variations. At our house, some favorites include Simon Says—let your child be Simon and you will jump, wave, wiggle and skip at her will; “Witches”—dash from room to room to escape said witches; “Lasso”— gallop, circle one arm in the air and shout “Lasso! Lasso! Lasso!”; and good old Dance Party—crank up your favorite tunes and get down as you please. Note: these games may invoke lots of, “No, Mommy, not like that; like <i>this</i>!” (meaning higher, faster, harder, and more exhausting). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often: Several times a day for a few years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Tantrum Tamer Total Body Work Out</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Works: abs, arms, legs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Despite your attempts to be a loving, attached parent, holding plenty of “time-ins” with your child, at some point you may have to use a time-out. Perhaps your child just threw a second book at your head, or responded to the outrageous suggestion that she eat another bite of peas by dumping her plate upside down. Onto your plate. Yummy. Anyway, whatever time-out method you use, there may be times when your child simply won’t stay there. Instead, he will follow you, shrieking, kicking, swinging, etc, and you have to physically carry him back to the designated spot. Maybe only once or twice; maybe thirty times. Don’t fret; you are getting a great workout.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How to do it: Engage abs, bend knees—not your back—and pick up your child. If she will let you hold her close, by all means do this. If she is kicking you or doing the wet noodle, you may have to hold her at arm’s length. Make sure you breathe during this exercise! An added benefit of using this technique is that you will become very Zenlike, contemplating your future six-pack rather than losing your cool or wondering if you could still catch the last flight to Hawaii. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often: If you're lucky, not often at all</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoBPkZvrTKTmrsuxRmLUwp5NbKbWXhzOwbjVMJW7HDkMSfJ2Wh_Ww6OP5aq00D-KP-QWMrJIwauZO8Sbp8M8nW3yKU6PisvTnbyAjvv903kIPiwUyMdj2GY5jpWQUu_IohDEY3MzZdDm1F/s1600/jane_fonda1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoBPkZvrTKTmrsuxRmLUwp5NbKbWXhzOwbjVMJW7HDkMSfJ2Wh_Ww6OP5aq00D-KP-QWMrJIwauZO8Sbp8M8nW3yKU6PisvTnbyAjvv903kIPiwUyMdj2GY5jpWQUu_IohDEY3MzZdDm1F/s1600/jane_fonda1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, moms, there you have it. I hope that you can incorporate some of these exercises into your daily life and watch the pounds melt away. I’m sure you’ll also develop your own moves—please share them in the comments! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Disclaimer</b>: I am not a medical professional. Consult with your doctor before beginning any training regimen. In fact, if you are looking to me for advice, you may also want to consult your mental health provider. Just saying.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-7569805091587515092011-05-17T13:47:00.000-07:002011-09-18T10:54:50.964-07:00Survival of the Littlest<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The world’s population is nearing seven billion, so clearly, the human race doesn’t have a problem with reproduction. But I still have to wonder how younger siblings survive.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I was the oldest of three in my family, and I always considered myself a pretty nice big sister (okay, benevolent dictator if we’re being honest). I never did anything to purposefully hurt my younger sisters, but accidents happened nonetheless. For instance, when I read that vinegar was a natural hair conditioner, I had to immediately try it out on my two-year-old sister, not anticipating that she would scrunch over and get the vinegar in her eyes. Oops. Several years later, that same sister asked my friend and me to boost her onto a jungle gym bar, and unaware of our own strength, we shot her over the bar completely, causing her to land facedown in the sand, breaking both wrists. (She got one pink and one red cast—it was the saddest thing)!</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Now that I am a parent of two, I know all too well the dangers and mishaps of the older sibling, especially those in the two to four-year-old age range. And while it’s pretty common sense that you can’t leave a toddler alone with a newborn, let’s face it—sometimes you have to go to the bathroom, or turn down the flame on the spaghetti sauce, or answer the door expecting UPS, only to find your semi-lucid elderly neighbor bearing magazine clippings from the 90s. These things happen.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">It’s not that toddlers and preschoolers are malicious and want to hurt the baby. It’s just that their mission is to experiment, experience, explore. So for instance, when he pinches his baby brother with all he’s got, your older son’s thought process is not, “I’m gonna get this little bastard for cutting into my story time.” It’s more like, “Hmm, what will happen if I do this? Will he cry? Will Mommy freak out? Will she send me to timeout or just sigh and lock herself in the bathroom until Daddy gets home?” He’s just being a tiny scientist.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0673WSBHD_Doku4k6cqvh6qb_vFzRs0ZwHa4hpuN1W-w4r1vrl1qQ8001B7UbTATj7SmuCmL03fLT_Ct6BcecFRYyWWGWRfcLRdxwGwpls7yzdEKvTRssqvCt1Fj-qUc2qG20dcpMOTEu/s1600/bros-bb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0673WSBHD_Doku4k6cqvh6qb_vFzRs0ZwHa4hpuN1W-w4r1vrl1qQ8001B7UbTATj7SmuCmL03fLT_Ct6BcecFRYyWWGWRfcLRdxwGwpls7yzdEKvTRssqvCt1Fj-qUc2qG20dcpMOTEu/s1600/bros-bb.jpg" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In fact, preschoolers really want to be helpful and please you. This is why your daughter is surprised at times to find you frantically undoing her hard work instead of praising her with a loving “thank you.” (After all, baby sister looked cold, especially in the head region, so the natural thing to do was cover her with ten to twenty blankets). </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Of course, despite their good intentions, children of this age cannot be trusted. When you ask, “Uh-oh. Did you bonk your baby brother?” your toddler frowns as though in deep thought and responds, “No, Spiderman did it.” Again, he’s not trying to be bad; heck, he might not even be lying. (For all you know, he <i>was </i>Spiderman in that moment). And though this age group is not known for its rationality (understatement of the year), fibbing is pretty logical. <i>If I tell Mommy I did it, she might get mad, and I don’t want to make Mommy mad. I love Mommy! I will repeatedly sing Little Bunny Foo Foo at full volume to cheer her up.</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The problem with this is that when baby starts crying and you rush in to see your three-year-old standing over her with a sweet little grin, there’s a good chance that you will never really know what went down. And you have to accept that.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">In addition to protecting your infant from bodily harm, you also have to do all the regular baby stuff—like making sure she gets enough sleep. It’s no secret that the baby-sleep equation can be tricky to work out, but when you throw a big sister into the mix, it can be downright impossible. This was a recent exchange at our house:</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<br />
<blockquote><span style="font-size: small;">Me: [whispering] Look, baby N fell asleep on the car ride home! That means you and I can do something special together. What should we do?</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: small;">Big sister S: [hovering over the car seat] I want to give N a hug.</span> </blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-size: small;">Me: [with hand on S’s shoulder] And you can, just as soon as she wakes up. But let’s let her sleep for now. Come have a cookie! [Subtext = Please, child, step away from the car seat. I repeat, step away from the car seat.]</span></blockquote></div><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">S: [dejected] Okay.</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">[Pregnant pause as S backs away] </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">S: [suddenly jumping] HELLO, BABY! HELLO!</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">S: [happy] Look, Mommy, she’s awake. Probably because I screamed.</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me: [resigned to the fact that this is my life]. Yep, that’’ll do it.</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Baby N: Wahhhhhh! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></blockquote><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are benefits to this madness, though. You will find yourself coming up with creative solutions to everyday challenges and multitasking like nobody’s business (i.e. nursing the baby to sleep while typing an email while counting to 100 in a game of hide-and-seek). You will also discover that you are <i>fast</i>. I may be a white chick, but you could have mistaken me for a Jamaican sprinter the day I heard S call from the other room, “Mommy, I think baby N is hungry for a penny.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Your younger children are bound to be resilient, adaptive little scrappers. (Just look at Steven Tyler making a comeback).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">And yet I still worry. Since I’m not prepared to outfit baby N with a tiny helmet and bubble wrap, I guess I just have to bite my lip and hope for the best. But if there are any veteran moms of two or more out there, please feel free to share your tips and survival stories—I suspect we’re going to need all the help we can get.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-89713156865525894072011-05-10T07:00:00.000-07:002011-09-16T09:10:06.162-07:00You Know You're a Parent When...<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">10. You make it through a whole day’s work (which may or may not include facilitating a public meeting) without noticing you have a SpongeBob SquarePants sticker stuck to your butt. </span></div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">9. At some point, you’ve found one of the following in your purse: a Lego, a sock, random loose goldfish crackers, or the unfortunate dried beetle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">8. Words like potty, owwie, undies, and jammies are a regular part of your vocabulary. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">7. You feel a greater sense of accomplishment getting a child to sleep than defending your Master’s thesis.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2Am1dEAergPl_enWFueONN7Afxx51HmbH7X0YkpJm87Ta7cfrz8fpx1jk66UmMNVrcirRIYNerFp4xQa6KwI-cWDCEOVIannMFA3JNGxU0t52zKB9189kHj515Mdq8LCzY1wwu0-oH-P/s1600/messy_house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2Am1dEAergPl_enWFueONN7Afxx51HmbH7X0YkpJm87Ta7cfrz8fpx1jk66UmMNVrcirRIYNerFp4xQa6KwI-cWDCEOVIannMFA3JNGxU0t52zKB9189kHj515Mdq8LCzY1wwu0-oH-P/s320/messy_house.jpg" width="320" /></a> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">6. There is something purple melted into the backseat of your car. Skittles? Crayons? You may never know. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">5. Going to the bathroom by yourself counts as "me" time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">4. You have risked missing an international flight to run home and pick up a forgotten binky, blankie, bunny, etc.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">3. You suspect that if your house was ransacked and robbed, you probably wouldn’t notice for weeks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">2. You’ve said something like, “No, you may not wipe a booger on your baby sister, but thank you for asking.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">1. You know who Mr. Noodle is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">You know you're a parent when ________________. Fill in the blank in the comments!</span></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-49184154914806291262011-05-05T07:04:00.000-07:002011-09-16T09:18:27.779-07:00You Can Thank Me Later<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Need a last minute Mother's Day gift? OK, well this one isn't really appropriate for your own mother, but it's great for a sister or friend who has recently welcomed a new baby. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's....(drumroll)...."Porn For New Moms." Don't worry, it's all very G rated. It basically has pics of hot guys with funny sayings. Check it out:<br />
<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfwhdywmER3OufbMmxGeXvzbVZKVi98GcPBlIRqLnq3AFfWzf_Ux7DlbB2T5SwowYP0wjAvstga_lGPmnf-JXCJcqh33mnW5oof9tKObnE4N71Nb2aFLY7V22mU6ttgALJc1vyIGT2T9n/s1600/Porn-newmoms3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfwhdywmER3OufbMmxGeXvzbVZKVi98GcPBlIRqLnq3AFfWzf_Ux7DlbB2T5SwowYP0wjAvstga_lGPmnf-JXCJcqh33mnW5oof9tKObnE4N71Nb2aFLY7V22mU6ttgALJc1vyIGT2T9n/s400/Porn-newmoms3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Damn! You look hot in those sweatpants!</span></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> And</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemhRzEsHhaD9b5kKw8u9rHZbgBjYZbi64EmHtGq9zG-ft9tuGigOWz2Qx4Lj7X2MN9lentshpBt-cw3WD4YdDb_wLl4dTh7WiMmWILiq4CIC_QT2KCkpw8iLJgr6hk76PHABRtIfbQWE7/s1600/porn-newmoms1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemhRzEsHhaD9b5kKw8u9rHZbgBjYZbi64EmHtGq9zG-ft9tuGigOWz2Qx4Lj7X2MN9lentshpBt-cw3WD4YdDb_wLl4dTh7WiMmWILiq4CIC_QT2KCkpw8iLJgr6hk76PHABRtIfbQWE7/s1600/porn-newmoms1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">...and in just eight more hours, we can wake up mommy!</span></span></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And my personal favorite </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiav6c3hWqQKCILrgw3aW7BQcuGPoR7pPgTHB1i99DQtwAiOlNNsAoVEfwuR0U3wUlx_cNey5P1pP6IeRTDSvEcl5LzvkSRbOCT4hUrmDQGjWNMWu5t_H8yd0JXQLxSCQvffZl4oFeiWuKU/s1600/porn-newmoms2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sure your girlfriends can drop their babies off here while you girls go to the bar. The more the merrier.</span></span></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">Ha ha! This would also make a great baby shower gift (for a mom who already has everything she really needs) or a stocking stuffer. (By the way, thanks to my sister C for giving me this book!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">IMPORTANT: Dads, this is NOT an acceptable book to give to your wives for Mother's Day unless you plan to personally act out all of the photographs and follow through on the sayings. And sure, pancakes in bed with the kids crawling all over mom are fine, but they must be accompanied by a big fat gift certificate for a spa day. Make that a spa weekend. And yes, you are responsible for finding the babysitter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">For everyone else, you can buy it wherever fine books are sold - "Porn for New Moms," 2008, Chronicle Books.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-35974891024573281572011-05-02T07:50:00.000-07:002011-09-18T10:53:56.091-07:00Tequila-Me Elmo<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Like most of America’s preschool set, S is captivated by Elmo and friends. Although she’s lately grown fonder of Dora and the harem of Dread Disney Princesses, the fuzzy red guy is still cool. When I saw a newspaper ad for Sesame Street Live, I couldn’t resist. Now that I was on maternity leave, I could do all of those wonderful things stay-at-home moms get to do with their little ones. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The show falls on a Wednesday, so S gets to stay home from preschool, enhancing the thrill of the day. We pack into the car, pick up my mother and head out to the theater, located in what Rio Rancho, NM has designated its “City Center.” (If by center, they mean the center of the desert, then that is an accurate description, as there is no housing, commercial activity, etc. for miles. But I digress). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After 50 minutes, we arrive. Excitement is in the air. Little girls flaunt Abby Cadabby fairy wings. Babies clutch Cookie Monster dolls. The scent of overpriced popcorn and nachos pervades everything. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We find our seats on the ground level. The lights dim and life-sized Bert and Ernie welcome the crowd. Immediately, the kid to our right bursts into tears and buries herself in her mother’s shoulder. I smugly pat S on the knee. <i>My</i> big girl isn’t crying. My own eyes, however, well with nostalgic tears. This is what parenting is all about. We are going to Make Memories.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As the Sesame Street crew breaks into song, S says in a shaky voice, “Mommy, I can’t see.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“It’s okay!” I reassure her, pulling her onto my lap (a challenge since baby N is snuggled on my chest in the MobyWrap) and wrangle her this way and that until I’m positive she has a clear view of the stage. But to no avail—she starts to cry. I hug her and rock her, bursting with Happy Mommy hormones. After all, I’m cuddling two warm little bodies, their sweet heads within smelling distance—this is like crack for mommies. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But S is still upset. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">New plan. We make our way to the tiered seating in the back and find an empty row. S settles down and watches. But within minutes, she’s sniffling again. “It’s too da-a-a-ark,” she moans. “I can’t see my h-a-a-a-ands.” I try not to roll my eyes and once again make room on my lap. (Naturally, because Grandma isn’t covered in ten pounds of sleeping baby, S doesn’t want to sit on <i>her </i>lap). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The show drags on. I wonder how the heck the actors can breathe (not to mention see) in their costumes. And how do they move those gigantic puppet mouths? To pass the time, I craft a love triangle murder mystery in my mind. <i>Beneath its cheerful demeanor, Sesame Street Live harbors a dark secret. Far from “sunny,” the actors—chain-smoking, meth-fueled degenerates…</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I’m interrupted by intermission. Vendors appear selling huge Elmo balloons. As they make their way through the crowd, S bounces in her seat. “Look! That man is coming with my balloon!” Finally, some enthusiasm. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After shelling out ten big ones, I go back to our seats, triumphant, and present S with the balloon. She crosses her arms and looks away. “I don’t want it.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I practice my yogic breathing and remember that we are here to Have Fun. My mom explains that S saw an ICEE vendor and really wanted one of those. As if that would happen. I want to tell her about the poor children in Africa who don’t have Elmo balloons, but the thought of how much food my poorly spent $10 could buy depresses me and I keep my mouth shut.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Act Two begins. Baby N has been asleep this whole time and at some point wakes up to nurse. Afterward she’s aware of the circus going on around her and has trouble going back to sleep. I stand up to walk her in the hallway when I hear sobbing. “Mommy, I want to go wi-i-i-th you.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Fine.” But N passes out after just a few steps—that MobyWrap is golden—and so we all sit back down. Telly leads the audience in some clapping and foot stomping exercises. My three-foot curmudgeon won’t stand up to save her life. She sits frowning, tiny brow furrowed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At various points during the program, the puppets come off the stage and skip through the audience. Zoe bounds through the crowd and waves at our section. I look at S, hoping this will provoke a smile. However, since I have the one child in the Universe who hates Sesame Street Live, she is wailing. Again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“What now?” I hiss. Happy Mommy is gone. She is hovering in the corner, watching everything from above while Mean Mommy takes over.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My own mother, choking back a giggle, explains that S is upset that Zoe only waved in our general direction and not specifically at her. OMG. I try to appease her with a cheese stick, but no. S wants <i>orange</i> cheese. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Twenty long minutes later, and the Nightmare on Sesame Street is over. As we reach the parking lot, S snatches Grandma’s walking stick and starts to run away. I grab her hand and she gives in, but decides it will be more fun to hold Grandma’s hand, too, and swing between us. This would be fine except that poor Grandma cannot do this. I explain that S needs to walk on her own. I say ‘walk’ but she hears ‘roll around on the ground screaming’.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I smile apologetically at the happy families sidestepping the spectacle that is us, and yank S off the ground. I carry her all the way to the car—N still strapped to my chest, the sadistic Elmo balloon merrily bobbing along, and Grandma limping as fast as she can to keep up. I strap the kids in and gingerly remove the string from my arm to stow Elmo away. I’ll be damned if we don’t play with that sucker later. Just as I start to close the trunk, the worn cover snaps back, and in an instant Elmo has escaped and is mocking me from 300 feet in the air. It’s about then that I start wishing I had a flask. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I get in the car and break the news about the balloon to S.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As though reincarnated by a Buddha, she says, “It’s OK, Mommy. That happens sometimes.” Utterly serene. Then, “Mommy? I peed. In my seat.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Of course you did, honey. Of course you did. </span></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3514179114912503694.post-69772691670895785002011-04-30T12:27:00.000-07:002013-01-15T16:19:20.120-08:00Introduction<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><style>
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</style> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One morning before preschool, three-year-old S takes my hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">“Mommy, I have to tell you something.” Her little brow is wrinkled; I wonder what has been spilled, ripped, colored on, peed on, or otherwise destroyed. Instead she says, “Grandpa’s on the moon.” Pause. “And there’s a lady named Carlos.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before I can decipher this message, she gallops away to save baby sister N from a witch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ah, yes. These are the little gems we share with the grandparents, the playgroup, Facebook. But <span style="font-size: small;">for every hilarious tidbit, there’s also a struggle, or tantrum, or 20-minute session spent begging your child to please, for the love of God, put on her pants so you can all go to the grocery store. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sometimes challenges are resolved quickly and you think you’ve got this parenting thing down. Other times you feel as though you’re starring—and losing—in a new reality show called, “I’m a Mommy, Get Me Out of Here!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Take, for instance, the morning my husband made the fatal—and frankly, amateur—mistake of flushing the toilet after S made a particularly impressive deposit. If he had been paying any attention at all, he would have known that she wants to do everything by herself. First came the shout—“Hey, I wanted to do that!” Then the whimpers as he tried to calm her down—“No, no, don’t talk to me. Go away!” And then the full-on screaming, crying, kicking, and general flailing about. All of this before 7 AM. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjON5dRzXr9Eb1-Yy65DsYLhoBAZzEudW9PvDwdRRPz9DiNMRve-BriStPYf5jGzL3y_WBD6QqFShK6BZ4RRkS_copFdCEF8ZZM0gWhQp-shYsDLtWtNnQKmKyLYnDwL0x0rDdLU4ZdbAK6/s1600/female-screaming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjON5dRzXr9Eb1-Yy65DsYLhoBAZzEudW9PvDwdRRPz9DiNMRve-BriStPYf5jGzL3y_WBD6QqFShK6BZ4RRkS_copFdCEF8ZZM0gWhQp-shYsDLtWtNnQKmKyLYnDwL0x0rDdLU4ZdbAK6/s200/female-screaming.jpg" width="198" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Later that day, our accountant, who is as sweet and grandmotherly as they come, confessed in a chipper voice that when her daughter was three and a half, she discovered that she just might be capable of child abuse. What! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shocked? Horrified? Clearly you’ve clearly never tried to brush the teeth of a toddler, who, despite your offerings of copious amounts of Princess toothpaste and patience, just ain’t having it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That evening, I was at a potluck with friends whose children are all about S’s age. I asked tentatively, “So…do your kids still have tantrums?” There were snorts and laughs and a collective sigh of relief as we all realized that we weren’t the only ones who wondered, at times, if we and/or our children were in need of psychiatric attention. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And so I find that I’m not alone. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">My friends appear unflappable and together on the outside—and maybe I do, too—but on the inside, I imagine we are all just one lost binky away from the crazy house. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I created this blog as an outlet to share those challenging parenting moments and turn them into something a little lighter, so that hopefully the Carlos moments will stand out more than the poopy ones. Maybe other frazzled moms will get a laugh the next time they discover their toddler attempting to pour the cranberry juice by herself. Into a wine glass. Over the white carpet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As you read this blog, you will learn that sometimes I curse, and yell, and hand my husband the baby pretending like I don’t notice she has a dirty diaper. I do have one little secret, though. Despite my ranting, I love being a mom. So though you may be reading about the worst of me, there’s a good side too. Nice Mommy (a.k.a. Mommy-who-has-slept-more-than-four-hours-in-a-row) makes homemade cupcakes, plants vegetables, shamelessly sings Wiggles songs in the grocery store. But no one wants to read about that. So feel free to judge if that makes you feel better, but please don’t go calling Child Services just yet. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thanks,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">SB </span></div>Sara B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/01975666427972056060noreply@blogger.com4