Trials in Toddlerhood

The Thrilling Threes

2012-01-26T09:10:00.003-06:00

Captain Destructo is 3! She had a birthday this week, and it was filled with princesses, homemade cupcakes (because I will become Betty Crocker. Oh yes.), and balloons. It's funny that I spent her whole first year dreading her 2nd birthday, and her whole second year going "hey! This terrible two stuff is nothing! I am super mom!"

And then she turned 3.

I started noticing a few subtle changes in her behavior a few weeks ago. She slowly is morphing from sweet little toddler into sassy opinionated preschooler (who is still sweet sometimes) and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Here are my observations about age 3.

"I'm not a baby, not yet a big girl."
3 is sort of this weird place between toddler and preschooler. And therefore I feel it's time to call an end to the baby stuff, like using a pacifier (not that Captain Destructo uses one still. Just this other mom I know. By the way, if anyone could offer tips on getting a 3 year old to lose the binky, just let me, I mean her, know). Also, it feels like 3 is the age when your kid really should be potty trained. 2 is still young, but 3 means time to get trained. No pressure.

Save the drama for yo' mama.
Dear God, the drama. It's like being stuck on a perpetual episode of General Hospital. Here are 2 actual conversations from this morning.

CD: (hysterical screaming)
Me: What?! What's wrong?!
CD: I wanna paint my toenails!!!

CD: NO!!!!! DOLLY WANTS TO SIT IN THE CHAIR, NOT ON THE FLOOR!!!!

Seriously, what is adolescence going to be like at this rate? It's 20 minutes of hysteria followed immediately by giggles of laughter.

I do it myself.
Independence is a good thing. We spend all of babyhood trying to get them to sit up, crawl, eat, and walk on their own. And then they really get independent and we miss the times where they sat quietly in a crib. Captain D is currently the master of getting dressed by herself. The problem is what she picks out, independently, to wear. I used to look at toddlers in the grocery store, dressed in capes and crowns, and wonder who let them out like that. Then Captain D started with the putting on tutus and tiaras and insisting on wearing them in public, and honestly it was just not worth the effort to make her change. I don't love that she wears glass slippers and five necklaces to Target, but that's the least of my worries.

There are lots of good things. The other day she said the most wonderful sentence I've ever heard:
"Mommy, I not want to poop in my underpants anymore." And a beam of sunlight poured from the sky and a choir of angels sang.
The containing of bodily functions is a great part of turning 3. Just like the sweet cuddles, the singing, and the creativity. There are lots of wonderful things about having a 3 year old.

And in just 363 days she'll be 4.

Song Stylings of Captain Destructo

2012-01-09T13:57:00.002-06:00

So Captain Destructo is fixing to turn 3. Along with the not so wonderful things to come with this (probably will write a full post on this, but a little preview: the tantrums, the pickiness, the refusal to take naps, the asking of the questions, and the insistence on wearing crown jewels to the grocery store) comes the ability to sing along. We are a singing house, so I love it that Captain D likes to sing along with me. Here are her top 5 hits.

1. Over the river and through the horse, Elmo has to go...Elmo has to go...Elmo has to go-O!

2. Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day it's Cinderelly. Do the washer and the cleaner, and every doer things!

3. Mama Miel. Here I go again. Ah ah. How uh I uh missed you.

4. I got da moves like Jack-a. I got the moves like Jack-a. I got the mooooooooves like Jack-a.
*True story: She sang this at the post office and the worker said "wow. Kids just listen to anything nowadays."

5. Jingle Bells, jingle bells, all the way to Bible Class.

Happy Almost New Year!

2011-12-30T13:18:00.003-06:00

Happy Almost New Year to all of you! I personally have big plans for New Year's Eve. My hubby is making hot toddies, which means I will be asleep within 10 minutes of finishing said hot toddy, and wake up at midnight cursing all the dang kids setting off the dang fireworks and pray they don't wake up my kids. Should be a good time.

I'm not one for setting New Year's Resolutions. I set the "lose 5 pounds" resolution for about 15 years, and finally just gave up. This year, I have a few things I'd like to work on in 2012, seeing as how I (knock on wood) will not be pregnant or have a newborn and will thus be slightly more functional than I was this year. Here's a quick round up of what I'll be working on.

1. Keep the house somewhat cleanish.
I've been checking out the Fly Lady website (google it, for some reason blogger's hyperlink isn't working. Either that or I'm a moron) and it seems manageable to me. I fear that the solution to my messy house will be getting rid of a lot of toys (grownup and kid) which will probably make me unpopular in 2012.

2. Get dressed every day.
How sad is this? Sometimes I take a shower and put on makeup, and then put sweatpants on. And by sometimes I mean pretty much every day. I rationalize that I'm not going anywhere anyway so what's the point in real clothes? But then when I was at my parents' house I feel all shlumpy hanging out in sweatpants when they were, you know, dressed and whatnot. So I started wearing real clothes and felt so much more human. It was empowering.

3. Not worry so much.
I'm a total spaz worrywart. Literally right now I scratched a mole that was itching, and then I googled "itchy mole" and now I'm pretty sure I'm dying. But most of my worrying is kid-directed. But before I stop worrying, let me run a few things by you and you tell me if they're troubling.
-Captain Destructo still poops in her underpants everyday. Every. Day. And she's going to be 3 in 3 weeks. And also I started potty training her when she was 18 months old. So that's 18 months of me sucking at potty training. Is that bad?
-New Baby won't sign. She can do things like point to her head and shake her head no when asked, but she won't do the sign for more. Instead she just shrieks like a howler monkey when she wants more food. I feel like one of those toy monkeys banging her cymbals together when I'm trying to get her to do it, but she just looks at me and laughs. So I'm thinking she's either (a) completely thinking that I'm a moron and refusing to do it out of spite, or (b) just doesn't get it.
-Seriously, the itchy mole thing. Am I dying?

So that's it, friends. Are you making resolutions this year?

The One With All The Toys

2011-12-20T20:10:00.002-06:00

So Christmas is upon us again. And every year, I end up with Charlie Brown-style indignance to the materialism the holiday brings. "Who would spend all that money on inflatable Santas? Do they know how many needy children that could feed?" I scoff, while straightening my angel wings and my halo. I decorate our tree with some candy canes, slap a wreath on the front door and sit on my chair of self-righteousness, proud that I am above all the materialism.

And then it's time to buy the presents.

Here's my thing with toys. I get super excited to buy new toys. Pretty much as excited as my kids are, for about a day, and then they forget about said new toy and I trip on it in the middle of the night and I morph into The Hulk..."RAWR!! WHY DO WE KEEP BUYING ALL THESE TOYS!!" But then I forget how much I hate toys and see something fun and the cycle starts all over again. I have kept most of Captain Destructo's old toys, since New Baby is 2 years behind her and I keep thinking we will reuse all of the toys. But now I have baby toys, early toddler toys, older toddler toys, and Sesame Street toys. Add to that the fact that Captain Destructo is suddenly over Sesame Street and very very into Disney Princesses, and it's like a freaking Toys R Us in here.

Back to Christmas. I love seeing my kids open their presents as much as anyone, but the thought of all those new toys in my house makes me cry a little. As in most aspects of motherhood, I'm torn between teaching my kids humility and simplicity and giving them wonderful Christmas memories. (Although New Baby is only 9 months old. And let's face it, she's just going to eat the wrapping paper.) On one hand, I'm excited to see Captain Destucto open the Princess dolls she wanted. On the other, I know she'd be just as happy looking at the pictures of Princesses in the Toys R Us catalog that she's been carrying around since Thanksgiving. My solution this year is to give all of the old toys away, so that in my mind, it's kind of like I'm not buying more crap for my kids, I'm making a way for us to make a big donation to charity. In a month, Captain Destructo will turn 3 and I'm going to have to deal with all the toys all over again. At which point I'll be reaching for the leftover eggnog and crying into my pillow.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

What Santa Won't Be Bringing Us

2011-11-28T13:59:00.003-06:00

Every year, I flip through the Toys R Us catalog and shake my head at the crap that toy designers make every year. I'm not sure who these people are or why they hate parents, but I pledge to not let these horrible toys inside down our chimney. Here's a few gems from this year.

1. Monster High Dolls
Someone please explain these to me. Barbie for the goth crowd? Slutty zombies? I myself am getting a little sick of the vampire/werewolf/dead thing trend. I certainly don't need it for my toddler.

2. Moon Dough
Everytime I let Captain Destructo play with Play Doh, and I find it encrusted in our carpet 2 days later, I think to myself, "wow, I wish there was a messier version of this! Thanks , Moon Dough!" Yeah. No thanks.

3. Baby Dolls that make sounds and/or excrete things
True story. I walked down the baby doll aisle at Target and it scared the bejeezus out of me. One step set off an entire aisle of (very lifelike sounding) crying. Several dolls actually REQUIRE YOU TO CHANGE THEIR DIAPERS. For real.

4. Bratz
Ok, I have to know who is buying these things. I cannot find one redeeming quality. The dolls are dressed like tiny hookers (why all the corsets? Why?), have snotty expressions that make me want to slap them, encourage girls to be brats, and are spelled with an unnecessary z (I hatez when people do that).

5. Let's Rock Elmo
Sesame Street, why do you hate me? I watch your show everyday; I own a mess of DVDs, 2 Abby Cadabbys, an Ernie, a Zoe, 2 Grovers and a Prairie Dawn. I also own not 1, not 2, but 8 Elmos. Yet you continue to make Elmo toys louder and more annoying. This one plays a drum and sings in that Elmo voice. You know the one that haunts you in your sleep. Also costs $55 and will require more and more accessories, including but not limited to a Let's Rock Elmo T-shirt. And, since my children think they live on Sesame Street (when going to the grocery store Captain D says we're going to Hooper's Store), I'm sure someone in my family will buy one for us. Maybe Santa will bring me earplugs?

Hopefully Santa will oblige my requests. What toys are on your naughty list this year?

Trials in Toddlerhood, Current Events Edition

2011-11-10T18:44:00.003-06:00

First for some awesome news: New Baby sleeps now! In case you wondered, I read Good Night, Sleep Tight by Kim West, which helped me get her on a nap schedule. This helped her sleep better at night, and then I stopped picking her up when she cried at night. We're on night 4 of 12 hours of straight sleep. Yay! Thanks for all the great advice!

Well since I am no longer sleep deprived, I can now do exciting things like read articles without falling asleep midway through and watch the news. And it's a good week to start paying attention to current events, because wow is there a lot to talk about this week.

I turned on The Today Show a few days ago and they teased that the Duggar family was going to be on with an announcement. No way, I thought to myself. No way can she be knocked up again. But as you know by now, yup! It's true. And I've read a lot from people that hate the Duggars, and people that love the Duggars, and here's how I feel. No one would give a crap if they didn't have a reality show (why do they have a reality show again?). You want to have 20 kids? As long as my tax dollars aren't paying for it, have 30. From what I've seen of the show, I feel like the Duggars are pretty decent parents. They love each other, they love their kids, they love perming their hair and wearing ugly clothes. In the world of reality show parents, they rank pretty high. Way above the Gosselins and any mom from 16 and Pregnant. I personally find it odd and off-putting that their kids are on a reality show, but whatever. As a former reality star myself, I can excuse that.

All my "aren't the Duggars crazy" thoughts were put on the back burner once news of the Penn State sex scandal broke. Surely you've read about it, but if you haven't read this article yet, I highly encourage you to. If you have a strong stomach and no tendency for nightmares, I encourage you to read the grand jury report. I am shocked and disgusted that people are defending Joe Paterno. Unless I'm missing something, the synopsis of what happened is this: Penn State football brings in lots of money, assistant coach helps bring in money. Assistant coach is a pedophile, knowledge of this causes school to lose money, so everyone who knows keeps quiet to ensure that said money will continue to come in. A TA saw a 10 year old boy being sodomized, sat on the knowledge for a day, then told Paterno, who also sat on the knowledge for a day. Paterno told the Athletic Director, saw that the Athletic Director did nothing, saw that the police were never called, saw that Sandusky was continuing to be around his football program, and did nothing. He sat back and let almost a dozen boys get molested. I can't wrap my mind around a society that values football over the innocence and safety of children. It reminds me a lot of this story.

I picked a sad week to pay attention to the news.

The Sleepless Wonder

2011-10-17T07:44:00.002-05:00

New Baby is 7 1/2 months old now. She is completely adorable and I love her so much that it physically hurts me. She's got super long eyelashes and squooshable cheeks and I just love her. I know that she's my last baby and I really am just trying to enjoy every second with her and not try to rush her to become more advanced.

But, um. There's just one thing.

Girlfriend won't sleep.

To put things in perspective, we're doing far, far better than we were in the "only sleeping every 30 seconds on Mommy" phase. And, either lucky or unlucky for me, when she was 2 months old, she started taking 2 2-hour naps and sleeping 12 hours straight at night. And I was all, "I have such an awesome baby! My baby rocks! I can sleep again!"

What's that verse again? The bigger you are, the harder you fall?

Once New Baby turned 3 months, she was over the sleeping. Why sleep when you can be awake all night? There have been highs and lows in the sleep process, but here's what my night generally looks like.
6:30-Put the Sleepless Wonder to bed. She falls right to sleep.
7:45-Sleepless Wonder crying. Replace pacifier.
9:00-Replace pacifier. Rock for a few minutes to get her to sleep.
9:45-Replace pacifier.
10:00-Replace pacifier.
10:30-Replace pacifier. Daddy rocks Sleepless Wonder as Mommy is kicking Elmo toys on way to bedroom each time.
4:30-Sleepless Wonder wakes up. Give bottle. Put back to bed.
5:00-Replace pacifier.
5:30-Replace pacifier.

Right now it's almost 8 and the Sleepless Wonder (and Captain Destructo) is still out. And I'm asking you all for help before I lose it. I read Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child and he says to put the baby in bed and ignore them for 12 hours. Ok, I get intellectually that that would work. But then wouldn't she hate me? And wouldn't I also be a hysterical, crying mess? My husband tells me Captain Destructo did this too, but I can't remember that being true. But I forget her name sometimes so I may not be the most reliable. Short of duct taping the pacifier into her mouth, what should I do?

Open Letter to the Lady Behind Me on the Plane

2011-10-05T13:45:00.002-05:00

Dear Lady sitting Behind Me On the Plane,

Hey there. You probably remember me. I was the one with the two little girls, who I find delightful and you apparently find detestable. I'm going to go ahead and assume you have no kids (and if you do, I feel very, very sorry for them) so I'll enlighten you a little on 2 year olds. 2 year olds dislike sitting still for a long period of time, particularly if the sitting involves being strapped into a seat between her parents with the seat in front of her lowered into her lap. When 2 year olds are forced to do something they don't want to do for a long period of time, generally they get, um, loud to louder.

Here's what went down. The plane landed. Captain Destructo was super psyched to finally get out of her seat. However, as is typical with bizarro plane rules, it's okay to get out of your seat 30,000 feet above the air while traveling 900 mph, but not okay to get out when you are on a runway sitting still. Captain Destructo was not happy, and starting singing. That's right. Her ABCs in fact. But you, lady behind me, apparently dislike the ABCs very, very much. I will admit that hearing the song 3 times in a row got a little old, but we could have done without your "stop already!" And yes, we all heard you. You were about as subtle as Captain Destructo when she yelled "someone's stinky!" about an hour earlier. We also heard your loud sighs of exasperation.

So, because I am concerned about my fellow passengers, I told her to stop singing. She cried. Even louder than the singing. We didn't attempt to stop the crying. I hope you liked that better.

Sincerely,
Proud Mommy of future Grammy winner

Winner, winner chicken dinner!

2011-09-13T16:34:00.000-05:00

The winner of the mug rug giveaway, according to random.org is...

AMANDA BROADWAY WALLACE!!!

Congrats! Please contact Shellee of Everyday Sugar via the email on her facebook page for details.

Ode to Facebook

2011-09-11T19:04:00.004-05:00

Hi, my name is Kristin and I am a Facebook junkie.

I admit that when Facebook first came out I was like, seriously? Now I have to know what everyone is doing all the time? Who would be vain enough to be on a website like that? As it turns out, not only am I that vain, I'm a bit of a voyeur, because not only do I like to share the mundane details of my life, but I like to know yours too. Maybe it's because I'm a stay at home mom married to a business traveler, but Facebook makes me feel like I'm "in touch" with people even though I am in my sweats feeding a baby and listening to Elmo's World.

As much as I love Facebook, I find that everytime I log on I find myself irrationally annoyed by someone's post. Here are a few of the Facebook trends that are beginning to put me over the edge.

-The "I just ran 117 miles/did yoga for 6 hours/walked across my living room and burned xxx calories."
Super duper. I just changed a nasty diaper and the image will surely ruin my next 2 meals. Booyah. I also saw someone who wrote "If you don't set the treadmill faster than 8.0 mph you have no business being on." Ok there, Usain Bolt. How about run outside? Also, hello, ignore button.

-PeOpLe WhO tYpE lIkE tHiS.
Seriously, that sentence just took me like 5 minutes to type. Way to make a time waster an even bigger time waster. And this person's counterpart...

-Tha ppl that intenshinully tipe their wurds rong.
If I have to read your post out loud to figure out what the heck you're saying, you're getting an ignore. Get over yourself. Whenever I read these posts I picture that kid from Malibu's Most Wanted (a cinematic classic).

-Peeple whu spell lyke thay never lefft secund grade.
Real quick now? You're=you are, your=your. Lose=reference to weight, loose=what happens to your pants when you lose said weight. Seriously people. Spell check once or twice.

-Parental oversharers.
OK, I am probably (definitely) guilty of this. But I think we should all agree that there are appropriate things about your kids to put on Facebook and inappropriate things. For example, "Stevie just lost his first tooth!" is appropriate. "Stevie just had a major diaper blowout up his back!" is not.

-The cryptic posts.
Example: Joe Smith is worried. Or, Joe Smith can't believe that just happened! Why don't you just say Someone please pay attention to me!!

What am I missing?? I'm off to update my Facebook.

Mug Rug Giveaway

2011-09-06T07:08:00.004-05:00

Well, y'all, as I've mentioned a time or two, I'm tired. Between the 3 AM replacing of the pacifier and the boycotting of the afternoon nap by Captain Destructo, my need for caffeine has increased exponentially. So as my two major food groups right now are caffeine and aspartame, I was thrilled when Shellee from Everday Sugar on etsy contacted me about a mug rug giveaway! You can check out all her cute goodies here.

We are giving away a set of two mug rugs like the ones shown above. To win, you must do 3 things:

1. Follow me publicly.
2. "Like" Shellee's page on Facebook.
3. Leave a comment saying "Trials in Toddlerhood sent me" or something to that effect.

The giveaway will close September 13. Good luck!

Giveaway is now closed. Thanks!

Things About 2 Year Olds That Baffle Me

2011-09-01T20:04:00.007-05:00

Let's just jump right in, shall we?

1. Inability to control volume.
Captain Destructo has 2 volumes: ridiculously loud and slightly louder. The morehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif I ask her to use her inside voice, the more she gives me a confused look and then continues talking loudly. I'm pretty sure she has Voice Immodulation Disorder.

2. Complete lack of fear for dangerous things, coupled with fear of tiny insignificant things.
Example #1: Captain D is afraid of flies, yet not afraid to careen face first down a slide.
Example #2: Captain D will cry in the bathtub "no like-a the dirt!" at the tiny speck floating in the tub, yet will also jump into 5 feet of water with no adult around.

3. Slavishness to routine.
And by "routine," I don't mean enjoys waking up, having her coffee and then reading the paper starting with the Sports section. I mean I have to read her the same 3 books in the exact same order and ask the exact same reading comprehension questions on each page, in the same precise order. Also, when we go to the gym, she has to hold my membership card and hand it to the front desk clerk ALL BY HERSELF. Then she has to go stick it in the water fountain. Every. Time.

4. Willingness to accept punishment if it means doing what she wants.
I can see her weighing in her head if it's worth it to get out of her bed during naptime, even if it means a timeout. Usually she decides that she'd rather sit in timeout than endure a nap without her cowboy hat and Crocs.

5. The need to do everything herself.
You know how long it would take me to put her shoes on? 2.5 seconds. You know how long it takes her? Well, if you add up the time it takes to put on the first shoe, argue with me about whether or not the shoe is on the wrong foot, throw a tantrum, put the shoe on the right foot, remember that she needs to be holding Elmo doll, and then put the other shoe on, that takes.....about 17 days.

6. The asking of the questions.
"Mommy, whatchu doing?" "Driving." "Oh. What's Daddy doing?" "He's at work." "Oh. What's New Baby doing?" "She's sleeping." "Oh. What's that man doing?" Stop me when this gets familiar.

7. Pickiness with actual food coupled with desire to eat non-food items.
Broccoli and green beans have made it onto the no go list as of late. However, Play Doh and cupcake wrappers are still apparently delicious. Evidently, so are the old dried out Cheerios in the couch cushions.

In 5 more months she'll be 3, which I'm told is worse than 2. Until then, I'll be making plain "pasketti" and reading Goodnight Moon about 755 more times.

The End of an Era

2011-08-25T13:48:00.003-05:00

A bit of background:
So I have rheumatoid arthritis. Mostly it's manageable, but for the past few weeks it's been pretty out of control. As in, some days I can't walk or pick up New Baby. It's been very frustrating, as I am someone who likes to be self sufficient, and as my husband travels a lot and my family is a 4 hour plane flight away. Most of the drugs for rheumatoid arthritis are not compatible with breastfeeding. So, as I saw it, I had a few choices.
1. Take an ineffective drug and be unable to care for my kids.
2. Shop around for a doctor who would prescribe me the drugs I needed while breastfeeding (La Leche League claims that if you look hard enough you can find a doctor who will let you try meds while nursing).
3. Quit nursing and take the medicine I need to be able to care for my kids.

I went with #3. I know breastfeeding is best, but I think New Baby would be best served if I could pick her up and play with her. Also, she's almost 6 months old, so she's had at least some breastmilk (hopefully enough to keep her ear infection free!).
I've got a lot of mixed feelings on stopping. I was pretty sad to stop for awhile. I actually enjoyed nursing this time around and was proud of how well I was doing. I was especially sad to learn I had 2 days to stop and begin taking medicine. On the other hand, honestly, it was a little freeing to feel like I could drink as much caffeine as I wanted, go braless again, and not worry about flashing strangers when New Baby pulled her nursing cover off.
Today is day one of no nursing. Honestly I mostly just feel pain. My boobs hurt so, so much. I am rocking the supertight sports bra, taking cold showers, and trying my best to not think about nursing. I look like Dolly Parton (actual photo of me shown above) but am realizing that soon my boobs will return to their almost-A cup, non-nursing size. And as it turns out? I haven't had much caffeine for over a year, and having 2 huge cups of coffee this morning was a bad choice.
Here's to sports bras (raises coffee mug).

Deepest Darkest Mommy Secrets

2011-08-20T20:06:00.003-05:00

I was watching The Today Show the other day and a panel of women were discussing the results of their poll of moms. Moms were asked to reveal their deepest secrets. An article about the complete results can be found here, but here are a few highlights.

1. Nearly 1 in 5 moms admitted to drugging their kids for special occasions such as long trips, 1 in 12 admitted to doing it just to get peace and quiet.
2. 1/2 have knowingly sent a sick kid to school/daycare
3.85% use their kids to get out of social obligations
4. 44% would rather be 15 lbs thinner than add 15 points to their kids' IQ scores.
5. Over half would rather have a good nights' sleep than mind-blowing sex.

Soooo, here's my thoughts on these points.
1. OK, I have strongly considered using the old Benadryl on a long plane flight. I'm sure my fellow passengers would have thanked me if I did. The only thing that stopped me is I just know my kid would be the one who had the opposite reaction and was just like Ricky Bobby's kid in Talladega Nights-"Chip, I'm all jacked up on Mountain Dew!"
2. I KNEW IT! And I bet the other half are bringing their kids to the Chick Fil A playplace.
3. I am all about using my kids to get out of social obligations. In fact, that's probably 10% of the reason I decided to have kids. Captain Destructo was about a week old when we figured out that she was the perfect excuse to get out of doing things we didn't want to do. Old, out of touch friend getting married 1 hour away? Sorry, the baby doesn't like car trips. Boring work party? Sorry, can't find a sitter. Awesome.
4. I'm Queen of Body Image Issues, but I'm pretty sure I'd rather my kids be 15 IQ points smarter. But my answer probably depends on what time of the month it is.
5. I think my mom reads this blog so I can't elaborate too much on my thoughts on #5. But let's just say I haven't slept in a long, long time. Long time.

The main point of the article is that moms are more stressed than ever and resorting to desperate measures. Motherhood can be completely overwhelming. My secret? I've been taking New Baby to the gym during her naptime so I can get some "me time", even though I know it ruins her morning nap. Also, I moved Captain Destructo's afternoon nap up an hour so I can watch Grey's Anatomy (it comes on at 1 on Lifetime! Score!)

Be brave! Do you have a "mom secret?"

Mommyrexia

2011-08-01T20:50:00.003-05:00

If there's one thing that all moms can relate too, it's feeling dissatisfied with their bodies. There's nothing like looking into the mirror for the first time after giving birth and realizing that you still pretty much look pregnant, except with added scarring (but, in my case, awesome boobs...until I stop nursing and they deflate). I've been pretty upfront about my struggles with body image and eating disorders, so I tend to pay attention to news items about such things. I was shocked to hear about a new disorder called mommyrexia. If you've never heard of it, basically it's a trend inspired by the ridiculously thin pregnant celebrities to stay thin during pregnancy and then lose the baby weight immediately after.
Honestly, I've got mixed feelings on this one. I feel like in my two pregnancies I reached both extremes. With Captain Destructo, I felt like I could finally not be on a diet after being one on for most of my adult life. So I definitely didn't diet. In fact, I ate an astronomical amount of food, and after she was born, had about 30 pounds hanging around. With New Baby, I had just lost the baby weight and was feeling good about myself when I got pregnant, so I really didn't want to go through all that again. I didn't diet per se, but I did count my calories and exercised. This time I was left with 15 pounds to lose (sidenote? There are 5 hanging around my midsection that refuse to budge. Hope they're not permanent residents.)
One on hand, I think exercise in pregnancy is a good thing. I personally wouldn't run (I tried and immediately started contracting) or do any heavy lifting, but I took spin classes and I know that made people uncomfortable. I got many, many comments while heavily pregnant and at the gym, including the infamous "if you do jumping jacks your baby will fall out."
On the other hand, God made our bodies to gain weight during pregnancy and yeah, you might not ever get that body back. Over exercising and dieting during pregnancy is putting your baby at risk, and you as a mom have to decide what's more important: your sweet baby or your sweet booty? Putting pressure on yourself to lose the weight immediately after can harm your weak body which has already been through so much. Additionally, you're worried about so many other things (like nursing and getting the baby to stay asleep for more than 30 seconds) that one more bit of pressure can out you over the edge.
This is something that I struggle with a lot. Motherhood involves a lot of dying to self-letting your desires fall to the back burner, and looks are a part of that. Do you think being a mom means giving up on having a great body?

Things Not to Say to a Mama, Traveling Edition

2011-07-25T15:34:00.003-05:00

Well, it's summer vacation now. As previously mentioned, "vacation" has a completely different meaning for parents of small children. Captain Destructo, New Baby and I recently had to fly a leg of our trip by ourselves when my husband went to Germany (for work. Although I wouldn't blame him if he was just fleeing the country). As you can imagine, this was completely horrific and terrifying. Both kids had been up since 4:30 AM to catch a flight and both were in various states of meltdown by the time we took off. I was sandwiched between an older man with a clear disdain for children and a crying Captain Destructo, while nursing New Baby about 75 times to get her to stop crying. Good times. As you may expect, I was the recipient of a variety of comments during the flights and during the stay in Maryland with my family. (Um, by the way? Maryland is the hottest place in the history of ever right now. That is all.) Here is a sample.

-"You're not a bad mom. Sometimes babies just can't clear their ears in the air."
Well, I appreciate the thought behind that statement, but now I feel like a bad mom.

-"I pee pee in the chair!"
This was said by Captain Destructo at around 30,000 feet in the air. As you can imagine, potty training is going great.

-"You know how I got her to stop crying? I dipped her pacifier in that lemonade. Worked for my kids."
A member of my family told me this. I won't say who so I don't completely slander her. Also, does anyone know if 4 month olds can drink lemonade?

-"Sorry, ma'am, families with kids can't pre-board."
No problem. I'll just make the entire plane wait while I lumber down the walkway, put New Baby in her carrier, take Captain Destructo out of the stroller, take 5 minutes trying to figure out how to fold the stroller, then carry the baby, the toddler, a diaper bag and an Abby Cadabby backpack down the aisle of the plane. You have a good day too.

-(Sound of a giant toot followed by a baby giggling. Repeat 3 times in 2 hour flight. )
You know what's slightly difficult? Changing a gross diaper in a tiny airplane bathroom with no changing table. Even more difficult? Repeating it 3 times. In 2 hours.

I love seeing my family, but you know what they say. There's no place like home, with it's abundance of changing tables and beds for each child.

Observations from the Neighborhood Pool

2011-07-03T07:02:00.004-05:00

We're pretty thick in the middle of summer now, and it's freaking hot here. When not laying over the air conditioned vents in the house, we're seeking out pools in any form. We actually belong to 2 pools-one is the free (well, if you define free by ridiculously high home owner association fees) neighborhood pool, and one is the super-nice, fancy-shmancy pool at the gym. During the week I am way more likely to go to the neighborhood pool, since it's right down the road. It also has a huge wading pool section that keeps Captain Destructo occupied and less likely to attempt to drown herself. I always have snarky comments in my head for the other pool goers, but since they are my neighbors I tend to keep them to myself. But since I don't think they read my blog, here's what I would like to say to the people at the pool.

"Hey, teenagers in the corner who are so excited about whatever's in that Bill Miller sweet tea mug? You're not fooling anyone. Also, please stop making out in front of my 2 year old. I'd like to postpone that conversation for about 10 years."

"If you have to say to yourself, 'is the swimsuit inapropriate for my age/body type?' The answer is almost always yes."

"Dear God, parents, calm the heck down. Stop yelling 'be careful' at your kid. He is 4 feet tall and playing in 12 inches of water."

"See this smile on my face? It's fake. If you don't give my daughter her toy back, kid, I'm going to take your goggles. Sweetie pie."

"Yes, this is a baby. Yes, she's super cute. If you don't get your germ-encrusted fingers out of her face, Mama's gonna lose it."

"Here are some reasons your kid is a total spaz: that 2 liter bottle of Mountain Dew and supersize bag of Cheetos you brought to the pool. And also I know who to blame for the technicolor puke in the parking lot on the way out."

"Hey there, older man hanging out in the baby pool area with no kids? You're giving me the heebie jeebies. I know Tae Bo. Best to find a new lounge chair."

"I know I pretended to smile and said 'that's ok!' when your kid jumped in right next to me and splashed me and New Baby, but I didn't mean it. It's a huge pool. Splash somewhere else."

"Yes, I just saw Captain Destructo pee in the pool too. Yes, I also just threw up in my mouth a little. However, let's not pretend that the ratio of this baby pool is any less that 50% kid pee."

Sigh. Is it winter yet?

Threats to Summer Vacation

2011-06-24T07:47:00.007-05:00

I have to admit I'm a huge fan of summer. As a former teacher, I would stare all year long at the date of the last day of school circled in red. I started the countdown sometime in October. Now that I'm a stay at home mom, my views of summer "vacation" have changed some. First, no one came on Memorial Day and offered to keep the kids until Labor Day, sadly (ok, I guess I would miss them a little). Here are a few more of the things that threaten to ruin a perfectly good summer.

1. Pools + Fearless Toddler + Mommy with a Newborn=Disaster
So Captain Destructo thinks she's Michael Phelps. As a former swimmer, I'm pretty proud of her. She loves jumping into the big pool with her Daddy, going under, blowing bubbles, and all that jazz. I learned the hard way that going to the pool is an activity that requires more than one adult. Last week, we were playing in a baby pool (and by we I mean I was gossiping and holding the baby while she bobbed around and stole other kid's toys). She took a step in the water and lost her footing. Luckily I saw it happen and ran in. It was just like Baywatch, if instead of a hot lifeguard it was an out of shape housewife, and if instead of a buoy she was holding a baby. We all went in the water, dragged the Captain out, and that was the end of that pool trip.

2 The Sun
I live in San Antonio, which is Spanish for "hotter than the surface of the sun." Or something like that, Spanish was never my best subject. It's like crazy hot here. All Captain Destructo wants to do is play outside. This involves 10 minutes of applying sunscreen to her, 10 minutes of trying to decide if I should put sunscreehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifn on the baby even though she's younger than the recommendation, putting a hat on New Baby, strapping her into the Beco Gemini, getting water for all, and then being outside for 10 minutes before we all want to go in and eat popsicles. If the pool wasn't a giant death trap that's where we'd be.

3. Actual Vacations
As previously mentioned, the idea of a vacation with little kids is, um, slightly different from pre-kid vacation. You know it will be different if getting on the plane involves a double stroller, 2 carseats, Elmo DVDs, sippy cups, pacifiers, and a partridge in a pear tree. And that's before you get to where you're going. After this vacation, all you want to do is sleep, because God knows your kids haven't done that all week.

4. The Kids that are Out Of School
Hey moms of elementary schoolers, I like your kids. Really. And I totally know that you missed your kids during the school year and they want to go to the playgrounds and mall playplaces and all that fun stuff. But still I manage to get irritated when all our go-to places to play are chock full of big kids. My already short fuse for playgrounds gets even shorter when I have to keep moving Captain Destructo away from overly helpful big kids (and I know I will be a parent of one of those big kids in just a few years).

5. Longer Days
I remember loving the long days, when the sun doesn't go down until 10 PM and I could sit outside forever at night. But then I had kids. The progression of putting kids to sleep at night goes like this:
0-2 weeks: baby sleeps all the time.
2 weeks to 3 months: do whatever you can to get baby to sleep. Mine slept on me, on the swing, on the carseat, wherever.
3 months to 1 year: actually try to get the baby to sleep in their bed. Becomes more successful at putting babies to bed.
1 year on: Child does whatever they can to avoid sleeping. This involves suggesting they need a drink, a snack, a kiss, a hug, another story, and in the case of Captain Destructo, a kiss between each slat of the crib. Add to the equation the fact that it's still bright outside until an hour past bedtime? MY KID WILL NEVER EVER GO TO BED.

6. Self esteem
Hi, my name is Kristin, my body image sucks. Also? I had a baby 3 months ago and, despite having lost most of the weight, my abdomen is all blobby and I have this weird skin thing hanging over my C-section scar. Also too? All the women who go to the pool at my gym are either (a) freakishly thin, (b) shockingly muscular, or (c) both. And even though I tell myself, "well, surely they don't have kids" they always come to the pool in their teeny bikinis with a flock of children in tow. I want to scream "did you give birth to those kids?! Do you ever eat or leave the gym?! And if the answer to either of those is yes please tell me what the heck you are doing to look like that." And then I keep my coverup on and sit under the pool umbrella with New Baby covering me up. The end.

So although I love summer, fall is looking more attractive by the day.

Awesome Things About Newborns

2011-06-21T14:54:00.003-05:00

New Baby is almost 4 months old now and is just finger-lickin' adorable. Like sometimes the urge to eat her overwhelms me. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm starting to feel a little sad that she's my last baby (not sad enough to have another one, mind you). Maybe it's because she started sleeping through the night and I no longer feel like I am underwater all the time. I was thinking about all the things I'm going to miss about having a newborn and the funny things they do. Here are just a few.

1. The attempts to talk
Captain Destructo and I like to try to talk back to New Baby in her language and it is so funny. She gets this super serious look on her face like she's saying something very important and goos and gurgles at us. My husband thinks she sounds like a wookie. I have to agree.

2. The surprised smile
New Baby will look at me with this incredibly serious expression and all of a sudden she will gasp and break into this huge smile. It's so cute it makes my ovaries hurt.

3. The rolling over phase
Captain Destructo didn't roll over until she was almost 6 months old, and I was so worried that she would be developmentally delayed that every day was like cheering for a football game-"Go! Go! Roll!" (or maybe a wrestling match...I don't know, I was too lame to be a cheerleader.) So I was surprised when New Baby rolled back to front last week. The funny part is she gets stuck on her belly because she can't roll the other way yet. So she grunts and licks the mat for a while until she gets rescued.

4. The kicking
I love the kicking much more now than I did when I was pregnant and the target was one of my organs. Now New Baby kicks all the time. The funniest is when she's in her bouncer and she kicks hard enough to rock the chair herself. Sometimes when she gets stuck on her belly she kicks too-she looks like one of those windup frogs.

5. The grunting
Oh, the grunting. Apparently babies (at least mine) must grunt when pooping, passing gas, trying to roll, and even eating. I love when I'm nursing in church (yeah, I'm that girl now) with the Hooter Hider on and you can hear grunting coming from under the cover. Oops.

6. The chubby cheeks and baby smell
Post bath, before she's had a chance to barf on herself, I wish I could bottle New Baby's smell. It's the combination of baby soap, drool, milk, and overall deliciousness. Nom nom nom.

So as much as I complain about how much my boobs hurt and how tired I am, I do love me some New Baby. Even when she's awake.

Things I Regret Saying to My Kids

2011-06-14T20:35:00.002-05:00

1. "This toy's name is Elmo."
I will now spend a million dollars on Elmo paraphanelia.

2. "If you're a good girl in Target, you can have a cookie."
So now you get one every time we go anywhere.

3. "If you're a good girl at the grocery store, you can have a cookie."
Ditto.

4. "This is called a cookie."
See above.

5. "Ooh, let's get a little potty instead of a seat for the big potty!"
I wish the little potty came with a disclaimer: this potty, when used, will be completely impossible to clean out without much gagging.

6. "Sure, let's put the little potty in the living room."
Welcome to our home, friends. What's that over there? Oh, it's just a 2 year old trying to poop in the living room. No biggie.

7. "Why don't you play with Daddy's playbook while you sit on the potty?"
And you will never spend less than 20 minutes on the potty at a time again.

8. "I think you need some toys."
Yes, I actually remember saying this to Captain Destructo when she was a baby. I felt bad for her because she didn't have enough toys. Sigh.

9. "Why don't you give New Baby a hug?"
And now poor New Baby can't sit for a minute without Captain D. smothering her.

10. "I guess we don't need to brush your teeth tonight."
And now brushing her teeth involves me sneaking up on her with the toothbrush, pinning her hands back and trying to hold her still enough to get 5 seconds of brushing. Pretty sure she'll need toddler dentures.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

2011-06-05T07:33:00.005-05:00

Before I had children, I couldn't wait for vacation. The hubby and I could drop everything and go wherever our hearts desired on pretty much a moment's notice. We took the Eurorail through Italy, we went to the beach for the weekend, we even went on a Carribean cruise for a babymoon (sidenote: if you are currently pregnant I highly recommend the babymoon, as you will spend the next several year saying "sigh...remember when we were on our babymoon and well rested?" If you can swing it, I recommend waiting until after your baby is born as you will not fully appreciate the vacation without children until you have had them.)

And then we had kids.

We have tried to stay adventurous and travel since our kids have been born, but vacations have taken a whole new tone. I consider myself somewhat experienced since we have traveled across country in a camper (4 times), flown about a dozen times, and stayed in various hotels and campgrounds. Here are several inalieable truths about vacationing with kids.

1. Airlines hate your kids.
That's right. You may be lucky enough to board early, but that's the only perk you'll get. Unless you count dirty looks as a perk. You will be told to put headphones on your one year old so no one hears her Elmo DVD, to wake up your baby and remove her from her carrier for takeoff, and to pay $200 for a seat that your 2 year old won't sit in anyway. I have heard horror stories about moms being told not to breastfeed on planes as well. Also, you have to take your kids' shoes off, put their Snoopy backpack through an Xray machine, and possibly have her patted down by the TSA.

2. And so do hotels.
We recently flew to Ohio for a family party. We flew on a 3 hour flight (New Baby was a rock star) and then drove 2 hours (New Baby was a train wreck) and finally arrived, exhausted, at our hotel, whereupon we were informed that the crib we were promised was given to another family. Awesome. I stood in an exhausted, shocked state while my husband negotiated with the front desk. He eventually drove to Target and bought a Pack and Play for the baby. Not that this mattered much, because...

3. Your kids won't sleep. At all.
I should revise this a bit. New Baby actually slept okay in her pack and play. Captain Destructo, however, was sharing a bed with us. Yeah. She basically jumped on the bed, sang, and yelled out random Sesame Street quotes for 3 hours until she fell asleep diagonally. She spent the rest of the night tossing and turning and kicking us in various special places. Forget taking a nap...way too much to do to be bothered with sleeping. Last week, we went camping where she again "slept" in a pull out couch, which also involved lots of singing and jumping on the bed.

4. Behavior may become "challenging."
Due to the aforementioned lack of sleep, as well as the fact that Captain Destructo was eating junk food that she never gets at home, we experienced some tantrums that were mind boggling. Many of these tantrums occurred in public. We just tried to implement the same discipline as home and assume she'll sleep eventually.

5. Kiss your schedule goodbye.
You know how we were making potty training progess? Yeah, not so much anymore. Also, New Baby was sleeping through the night. Again, not so much right now. I'm thinking we'll be back on track soon. Probably right in time for the next vacation.

Also, here are a few quick tips for not losing your mind.
-Don't forget extra lots of extra clothes, diapers and wipes.
-Pack lots of hand sanitizer. Airports are disgusting.
-Consider the portable DVD player for the plane if your kid loves TV as much as mine does.
-Bring a babysitter if you can. So wonderful to have an extra set of hands.
-Find a hotel with a pool.
-Remember to relax and have fun. When they are in college you can enjoy your vacations again.

Toddler Dictionary, Second Edition

2011-05-25T07:45:00.004-05:00

Captain Destructo is growing so fast. She's learning to swim, starting to go on the potty (!!!) and speaking much clearer. Here's a few of her new words.

All berry self (awl-bear-y-self): Manner in which all things must be done- without help from Mommy, as in "no! I do it all berry self!"

Bee seester (be sea-ster): Older female sibling.

Widdle seester (wid-el sea-ster): Younger female sibling. Exclaimed several times per day : "new baby's a widdle seester!"

Sweeping (sweep-ing): Opposite of being awake. Mommy's favorite time of day.

Sheeps: Linens that cover the bed while Captain Destructo is sweeping. When potty training fails, they become soaked and she yells "Mommy! Change da sheeps!"

Dance-a Waka (dans-a wok-a): Used to communicate desire to watch Shakira's Waka Waka video on Youtube and dance along. While the dance is cute, it is also exhausting, as she also yells "Mommy, Daddy, do dat!" so we are forced to dance along. (P.S.? That dance is a crazy workout. No one Shakira's got such a smoking body.)

Jay beans (j-ay beens): Candy usually found in Easter baskets, currently being used to bribe/reward Captain Destructo for using the potty. She may have eat them after using the potty for the rest of her life, but if I'm not changing toddler diapers anymore I don't think I care.

So prowdayoo! (sew proud-a you): When Captain Destructo is in a sweet mood, she wraps her arms around the deserving person/cartoon character's neck and says "I so prowdayoo!" Makes all the changing of the sheeps and dance-a wakas worth it.

Your Shoes Look Stupid and You Tick Me Off

2011-05-16T20:32:00.004-05:00

Dear Skechers Shape-Ups Makers,

Howdy. How's it going? You have been on the news lately and I have a few things to tell ya.
First off, let's just get one thing out of the way. Your shoes might be the ugliest things to happen to feet since Crocs (yes, I know, Crocs are sooo comfortable). I have to admit you had your work cut out for you with the marketing. Using Kim Kardashian and her rockin' booty to sell those bad boys was pretty smart. But let's be honest here. I could wear those shoes for the rest of my life and still look nothing like Kim K. No, I think her butt is more due to not eating and possibly a good deal of surgery. Ditto for Brooke Burke.
But if you duped a bunch of adults that would be OK with me. We're responsible for our own choices, right? What gets me is the fact that you targeted kids. I'm talking about the commercials on Cartoon Network featuring skinny girls wearing your fugly shoes and being followed by boys dressed like cupcakes (which is weird and creepy, btw). What exactly is the message here? Girls, as young as 7, should be worried about toning their tushies and impressing boys?
YourPR guy must be a genius because he says the shoes are a way to combat childhood obesity. You know what won't do a thing to help obese kids? Wearing stupid shoes. If you want to help, worry about teaching your own kids to eat healthy and possibly lay off the video games.
In a world where moms are Botoxing their 8 year olds and buying pushup bikinis for their tweens, these shoes are just one more thing adding to low self esteem and eating disorders in kids.
So, Skecher's Shape Ups guy? Stick to ugly shoes for adults.

Love,
Pissed Off Mama of 2 Girls Who Will Never Buy Your Shoes

The Mess

2011-05-14T14:33:00.002-05:00

Did you ever see the episode of Friends where Ross dates Rebecca Romijn and she's a huge slob? That's my house. I realized the other day that my house is a friggin' pigsty. And since I am a stay at home mom, and therefore spend my whole day in squalor, something must be done. Right now, looking up from the computer, I see the following:
-coffee table covered in 1 stuffed Abby Cadabby, 1 container of trail mix which is spilling onto the floor, and handprints possibly made of yogurt,
-carpet that is stained with strawberries and also covered in aforementioned trail mix,
-Captain Destructo's play kitchen which contains about 15 million tiny pieces of plastic food, half of which are scattered on the floor.

The problem of the dirty house has several roots. First of all, whatever cleaning schedule I had got shot completely when New Baby came along. Now I feel all my cleaning energy is focused on necessary things like laundry and before you know it, a week goes by and I'm all "when's the last time I cleaned the toilets? Oh yeah, 2 WEEKS AGO." Secondly, I have a 2 year old tornado known as Captain Destructo. This is actually her nickname around our house as she has an ability to destroy the most indestructible of objects. Often I don't discover that she has destroyed them until days later when I trip over a 15 year old formerly glued together puzzle piece. Also, her new favorite game is "changing Elmo's stinky diaper" which apparently involves both taking every single wipe out of the container and throwing it onto the floor and smearing Desitin all over every exposed surface in her room. Finally, I let her eat snacks in the living room. I am a pushover.

So, I know the problem, but it is driving me nuts that I can't stay on top of it. When I sit on the couch and nurse New Baby, I watch Captain D. make a huge mess and I'm powerless to stop it. She's getting better about cleaning up after she plays but she and I have apparently vastly different standards of cleanliness.

So, help out there!! How do you keep your houses clean? Or am I doomed until they graduate high school?

Off to vacuum up some trail mix.

Playground PSA

2011-05-10T16:53:00.004-05:00

Attention fellow playground goers:
It has come to my attention that there needs to be some set of rules we can agree on. There is, of course, a list of rules at the entrance, but let's be honest, none of us read that. Here's a few I have come up with. I hope you find them agreeable.

-Parents, get off your phones.
Or at least turn so you're facing your kid and pretending to pay attention to him. It would help if you would also not text/play Angry Birds/check Facebook while your kid is climbing the slide and throwing rocks.

-I don't want to push your kid on the swings.
Really. He's cute and all, but I'm not going to stand here and push him while you chat. Pushing my own kid gets boring, and I like her a lot. Also, don't give me a dirty look when I tell him "go find your mom."

-Go down the slide.
Hey, dad. See how the rest of us are saying "no, go DOWN the slide" over and over? Guess what we think about you when you not only let your kid climb up but give them a boost? Yeah. Don't be that guy.

-Don't freak out.
When your kid trips and you say "OH MY GOSH!! ARE YOU OKAY?" he's crying because you freaked him out. No one ever died from a scratch. Better to say "awesome fall!" and send them on their way.

-If you are a teenager, get off the darn swing and give my kid a turn.
See how she's standing next to you and yelling "swing now?!" Go find a bench. Or maybe grow up and leave the playground.

-Enough with the photo sessions.
Yes, I do snap cute pictures of the kids with my phone and put them on Facebook every 10 seconds. I don't, however, break out the huge Nikon with the neck strap and follow my kid around like a papparazo. I saw 2 dads do that this weekend.

So, fellow patrons, if we can all agree to follow these, we will all have a much better time. Until they hear the ice cream truck and no set of rules will help us.

2011-05-10T16:53:00.001-05:00

My Epic Failures

2011-05-01T15:04:00.005-05:00

Although this list could be much, much longer, here are some of the things I currently suck at.

1. Paying attention to my husband
And I'm not just talking bom-chicka-wow-wow. I mean I forget to wake him up in the mornings and occasionally forget to buy him food when I go grocery shopping. Apparently if you are over 3 feet tall you don't exist in my mind. Sorry, honey. I'd like to blame lack of sleep for that one (as I do everything else). Which leads me to #2.

2. Tolerating other people's complaints about being tired
For the record, I exclude all moms from this intolerance. Not included? People complaining about being tired on Facebook, due to (a) various pets keeping them up, (b) being hungover, or (c) staying up too late. You may very well be more tired than me, but I am full of self-pity and don't want to hear about it. You can put your various noise-making pets outside for the night, whereas putting a crying and hungry New Baby outside is generally frowned upon. As for being hungover or staying up too late, yeah, well, been there, done that. Still don't want to hear you complain about it.

3. Falling to sleep
Since all I do is whine about how tired I am, you'd think I'd fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. But instead I lay there and think about how I need to sleep and how New Baby is going to wake up any second, and then my heart starts beating faster and I'm up for another hour. It doesn't help that every major news event seems to happen between the hours of midnight and 4 AM. When I do fall asleep, I have crazy dreams. Last night I dreamed I was talking to Osama bin Laden, and last week I dreamed I interviewed Will and Kate. I may or may not have had a naughty dream about Shawn T from the Insanity workouts too. Oops.

4.Learning from my mistakes.
You think by now I would learn to keep doors shut. The answer to "where is Captain Destructo?" is never good, and usually involves some type of personal care product. Yesterday she rubbed a tube of Desitin in her hair.

So there you have it. Since I also suck at remembering, I'm sure I will add more to this list tomorrow.

My Secret Talents

2011-04-30T07:43:00.002-05:00

Life with one toddler was pretty hectic. Life with one toddler and one newborn is pretty much off the chain crazy. But in the midst of the craziness, I have discovered that I possess secret talents that have been laying dormant, just waiting for me to have 2 small children to be put to good use. Here are just a few.

1. Translating Toddler-ease
I can't tell you how many times my husband has said "what'd she say?" to me. My translation talents, rivaling those of a United Nations translator, have peaked these past few months as Captain Destructo has been speaking more. "Mommy, watch Elmo Potty an' jumpy on da bed?" is her obvious desire to watch Elmo's Potty Time while jumping on the bed, and "Holju Miss Mouse!" means she wants to hold her sister's Minnie Mouse. Duh.

2. Moving at warp speed
The other day, between the hours of 6:30 and 8:30 AM, I nursed the baby twice, did and Insanity workout, pumped 2 ounces of milk, made breakfast, cleaned up breakfast, swept and mopped the floor, and attempted to wake up my husband approximately 37 times. Apparently I am related to The Flash.

3. Supernatural Ability to Ignore Crying
New Baby hates the car with the fury of a thousand suns. Hates it. Screams like a wild banshee the entire time we are in there. Sadly for her, there's not a whole lot I can do for her while we're in there. I attempt to reach back and replace her pacifier and occasionally shake the carseat and say "shhhhhh" about 30,000 times, but that's about it. I've learned to just tune it out. The other day we got to Target and I was surprised to see her crying when I got her out of the car. Turns out she'd been crying the whole time. Oops.

4. Freakish Strength
I have been running lately while pushing the double stroller. This means a 35 lb toddler, a 11 lb baby, a 20 lb stroller, 10 lb carseat, and however much 6 books, a sippy cup, peanut butter crackers and a bunch of pacifiers weigh. I also occasionally carry both kids at the same time. I am still a flabby mess so don't be too impressed.

5. Superhuman ability to go without sleep.
Just like all of you, I get far less sleep than I want but am doing alright. If by "alright" you mean tripping over toys, craving coffee and daydreaming about big beds, hammocks, and pillows. Sidenote: I read that not only do you need 8 hours of sleep, you need 8 hours of sleep IN A ROW to be functioning optimally. I ask you, when is the last time you got 8 hours of sleep in a row? I think for me it was sometime in 2005.

Next week I'll write about all my epic fails. Now I'm off to save another day!

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

2011-04-10T08:10:00.004-05:00

I know I said I was going to be grateful for my children and not complain. So this isn't a complaint. It's just a statement of facts with a sarcastic undertone. All of the following took place on the same afternoon. True story.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

An important part of this story is that I started doing the Insanity workouts. If you've never heard of them, basically they're by the same company as P90X, but instead of a buff middle aged white guy who says "bring it" over and over again, Insanity is taught by a huge tattooed black guy who refers to himself in the third person. It's a great workout. I like it because it's only 40 minutes long, less if you skip the stretches like I do and even less if you stand there saying "are you freaking kidding me?!" which results in skipping some exercises. Particularly since I am postpartumish, I am typically a sweaty mess at the end. I have been trying to do the workouts during naptime. On this particular day, New Baby was having some issues falling asleep. I was holding her and she was almost asleep when I heard Captain Destructo in her say something about her diaper. I didn't want to move New Baby because getting her to sleep usually involves bouncing, singing, rocking, and occasionally the use of chants and Indian prayer rituals.

So finally New Baby falls asleep and I complete the workout, albeit in 10 minute spurts to replace New Baby's pacifier. At this point, Captain Destructo's naptime is almost over and she is still awake, so I decide to cut my losses and just get her up. As I go into her room, she stands up in bed and says "Mommy, change the sheeps. The bed alll wet." I suddenly remember her mentioning her diaper and discover that, yep, she took her diaper off in her crib and peed EVERYWHERE. Books, blankets, stuffed Elmos, all urine-soaked. New Baby is screaming her fool head off by now, but I put her down and change the "sheeps" as well as Captain Destructo, whose hair is wet but I try not to think about that.

Because I have just finished a workout and am disgusting, I turn on my shower and put an Elmo DVD on in my bedroom so I can clean up. New Baby starts screaming yet again, so I sit down to feed her quickly before my shower. When I finish I head into my room to find Captain Destructo sitting on my bathroom floor, painting the tile with my eye shadow brush and my brand new foundation. Upon closer inspection, I realize she appears several shades darker. In fact, she is covered in foundation.
I'm talking in her ears, between her toes, caked in her hair. Suppressing the urge to burst into tears, I strip her down and start to turn on the water in my bath tub. I notice a strange shape in the corner of the tub. Could it be? Oh, of course. For the first time in our 5 years in Texas, we have become home to a huge, ginormous scorpion.

One hour later, the scorpion had been flushed, everyone was clean-ish, and Elmo was back on. And that, my friends, is the story of why I never, ever forget my birth control pill.

Blessings

2011-04-06T13:00:00.003-05:00

Last night was one of those nights again. New Baby played the "I look sound asleep until you lay me down and then I'll wake up screaming as soon as you get to your bed" game from 10 PM-7 AM (at which point she fell asleep on her own.....right as Captain Destructo woke up. Super.). My husband is gone again and I was about 30 seconds from losing it. I was ready to text him and tell him to get on the next flight home until I thought about where he was.

Our former pastor lost his 24 year old son last week, and my husband was at the viewing. He told me that the boy's mother just stood by the casket and stroked her son's hair the whole time. Last night, in my self-pity, I thought about that poor mother. What she wouldn't give for one more sleepless night, one more late night nursing session, or one more 3 AM diaper change. I began to feel awful for being upset about such a trivial thing. Then I started thinking about this family and this mom, both friends of friends who lost their children to cancer. I was overcome by both sorrow and joy. Sorrow at my sinful, selfish ways and joy at how blessed I am.

I've been trying to memorize Matthew 6:25 (I am awful at Bible memorization....yet I know the lyrics to 3 Ke$ha songs...how terrible am I!). It says, in effect, do not worry about what you will eat or wear. Your life is more than food and your body is more than clothing. I am inferring that Jesus is talking about sleep too. God knows what I need and will never give me more than I can handle, and yet I have to realize how inconsequential being tired is in the grand scheme of my life. Last night, around 3 AM I was checking Facebook while feeding New Baby for the 476th time and saw that my sister-in-law had posted Phillipians 4:6-"Do not worry about anything, instead pray about everything." That was such a comfort to me. I am trying hard to stop worrying about when/if New Baby gets into a sleep schedule. That doesn't mean I'm not spending the hours of 1-5 AM begging God to just let me have an hour of sleep, but I am working on just enjoying the time with my sweet girl.

When I was in college I did pretty horrible things to my body. After I got married and started thinking about kids, I was pretty much convinced I wouldn't be able to get pregnant. And yet God knew the cries of my heart and gave me 2 beautiful, healthy girls (I always wanted girls). In the middle of the night tonight, in the middle of my struggles and frustrations, I'm going to try and remember that every sleepless minute, every stretch mark and dark circle under the eyes, and every puke stain I have is such an enormous blessing of which I'm so completely unworthy.

Never Would I Ever...

2011-04-02T08:05:00.003-05:00

When I was in high school, I was introduced to the awesome game "Never Have I Ever...". If you've never played, basically someone says something they've never done and if you have done it, you take a drink. Well, this is the parent version. These are things I swore I'd never do before having kids, but now do. If you do them too, take a drink of your morning coffee with me!

1. Have a house that looks like Toys R Us.
Totally guilty here. Here is my awesome justification-if I have to eat plastic kitchen food and put diapers on Elmo all day, I'd rather do it in the living room where at least I can sit on my couch or grab a snack. However, no matter the http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifjustification, I always have second thoughts about that position when I trip over a plastic pineapple at 3 AM when I am going to get the baby.

2. Jabber incessantly about my kids.
Ever see the movie Mean Girls where Lindsay Lohan's character talks about word vomit? When you don't mean to keep talking but the words keep coming up? Yeah, that's me. My conversations all begin normally, and when I talk to people without kids I always try to censor what I say because I do realize that they don't care that New Baby slept for 4 hours IN HER BED last night or that Captain Destructo calls Minnie Mouse "Missy Mouse." But yet, it keeps coming up. This is also related to Facebook posts, where I'm sure 99% of what I post is kid related. As long as I don't end up on this website, I'm okay with that.

3. Wipe my kid's nose on my shirt.
Totally guilty here. I also use my shirt to wipe up New Baby's spit up when I can't find a burp rag, and also do the spit-on-my-hand, wipe-the-face thing when we are out and Captain Destructo's face is dirty. Yeah, I'm totally gross.

4. Let my kid eat junk.
How hard is it to give your kids a piece of fruit, pre-children me asked? Turns out, sometimes giving them a cookie is way easier. Yes, my (mostly) breastfed, homeade organic baby food eating toddler now knows that the grocery store is where we get a cookie, Starbucks is where we get a cake pop (try these by the way! Sooo yummy!), and the only reason to sit on the potty is to get a Hershey's kiss. Yay, me.

5. Look like a mom.
Not that I was super fashionable before, but I had my standards. As it turns out, a newborn and a 2 year old aren't the best shopping companions, and since I'm at Target 5 days a week anyway, I'm buying my clothes there. Also, my body is, umm...less then ideal at the moment. Therefore you will see me in giant mom jeans and a T shirt that is baggy enough to cover my muffin top. I am wearing New Baby in a Moby wrap and hoping people look at her more than me a lot lately.

Did you finish your coffee yet? Feel free to add yours!

Feeling Postpartumish

2011-03-21T07:38:00.005-05:00

It's amazing how much you forget about having a newborn once you are used to having a toddler. You forget how little they are, how often they eat and how little they sleep. You forget how long it takes for the umbilical cord to fall off (New Baby's is still on! Well, half of it is. Is that normal?). You also forget the weird, bizarro stuff that happens to your body AFTER you have given birth. Here are a few of the things I am being reminded of daily. Feel free to join in.

1. Your hair falls out.
Ew, I know, right? Apparently the Pantene commercial hair I enjoyed during pregnancy (and by "enjoyed" I mean threw into a ponytail and tried to keep Captain Destructo from pulling) wasn't meant to be kept. Yesterday in the shower I began noticing giant chunks of hair falling into the drain. If I remember correctly, this lovely phenomena lasts about 6 months. I may look like Mr. Clean by then.

2. You're hot...and not in a good way.
One of the things I had forgotten about a C-section is that morphine makes me super duper itchy. The other thing I forgot is that giving birth makes me feel like I'm in an Indian sweat lodge. I spent 48 hours miserably itchy and sweaty. When I got home, I walked straight to the air conditioning unit and turned it wayy down. Even now, almost 3 weeks later, I wake up in the middle of the night sweating like a hog. Super awesome.

3. You're an idiot.
Whether I can blame this on lack of sleep or hormones I'm not sure, I just know that I'm a freaking moron. Just now I forgot how to spell "once." I had to sit here and think a minute. I've heard of people forgetting how to start a car or write a check. I myself forget common vocabulary and my children's names. Mother of the year here.

4. You still look pregnant.
There is nothing like being done with maternity clothes. I know in the last few weeks of pregnancy I was so sick of elastic waistbands and no pockets that I was ready to go bottomless (and THAT would have made for an attractive sight). A few days after I got home and was ready to be done with pajamas, I walked bravely to my closet and attempted to pull on my old jeans. Not even skinny jeans, but the formerly baggy mom jeans that I wore around the house. I got them to my hips, but the buttons hit my on my hipbones instead of my belly button where they belonged. So even worse than maternity clothes, I am wearing fat jeans that are sadly just barely fitting. Also? I'm nearly bald and sweating like a hog.

5. You hurt. Everywhere.
Obviously, whichever exit route you choose for your baby is bound to be a little tender for a few weeks. Additionally, if possible, your breasts hurt worse. I feel like I've gotten a titty twister from a 5th grader EVERY DAY for the past 3 weeks. There is not enough lanolin in the world. Also, if I may go on a tangent here, breastfeeding is so freaking hard and once I think I've gotten it down, New Baby hits a growth spurt and wants to eat every 3.2 seconds. I panic, call every breastfeeder I know to make sure I am not running out of milk and stare longingly at the sample can of formula the hospital sent home.

6. You're feeling a little blue.
Yes, I have the baby blues. That is, if the baby blues are characterized by plethora of moods ranging from being on the verge of tears every second, to suddenly mad enough to throw a plate, to so in love with my family that I am nearly in tears again.

There are more, I know, but I am too dumb to think of them right now. I'm off to drink some coffee, mop my sweaty brow, and feed New Baby for the 3rd time in the past 2 hours.

Nights in Newbornland

2011-03-16T16:46:00.003-05:00

I knew that newborns don't sleep. I just think I forgot how much they hate sleeping at night. Well, let me clarify. Mine likes sleeping at night fine. Just not in her bed. She prefers sleeping on my chest on the couch. This "sleeping" is preceded by 10 minutes of grunting and inching up my chest like an inchworm until her little snorting face is right by mine, then spitting up, and then sleeping. As you can imagine, I am not getting a whole lot in the way of sleep. And as I am also the mother to an overall active, nap-boycotting toddler, I am not getting a lot of naps during the day either. Let me go over my night last night.

7:30 PM-I give Captain Destructo a bath. New Baby falls asleep IN HER BED. I go to bed at 8:30, but I lay there wondering when she will wake up instead of sleeping myself. I fall asleep at 9:15. She wakes up at 9:20.

9:20-Change diaper, feed New Baby. Wait for her to fall asleep and in doing so, fall asleep myself around 11:00. Wake up in a startled haze around 1:15 and put New Baby in her bed. Run to my bed and dive in.

1:30-New Baby wakes up. Change diaper and feed her. Rock her for 30 minutes in her glider. She "falls asleep" at 2 and I put her in her bed, run to mine and dive in.

2:15-Apparently New Baby was playing a funny game. She is awake and demands to be rocked and snuggled more. I put her on my chest, sit on the couch and wake up at 4:45. She wakes up as well and is hungry again.

4:45-Feed New Baby and change diaper again. Wait for her to appear sleepy. She seems extra alert. Actually more alert then ever in her short life.

5:45-Still waiting for her to appear sleepy. Turn on the news. Early morning news is super lame. I am getting sleepy.

7:30-Wake up in a startle on the couch. New Baby is asleep on my chest. I put her in her bed only to realize that Captain Destructo is awake and screaming "Mommy, Mommy!"

So, friends, I'm about to lose my friggin' mind. Any tips for getting a newborn to sleep in her bed?

Adjusting

2011-03-08T13:15:00.003-06:00

I'm very pleased to announce that New Baby arrived a week ago! It's a girl and she is an adorable little peanut who rarely cries. I'm feeling very blessed, but we are all adjusting to being a family of four.

Captain Destructo is doing better than expected. Being away from her was way way harder than having a C-section, being pregnant, and having my catheter removed combined. By day 3 in the hospital I was losing my mind, and when the nurse told me we might not be able to leave until 5 PM I was a hysterical crying mess. When we finally did get home, Captain Destucto was a hot mess of neediness. She kept asking me to put New Baby in her bed and whined for pretty much 24 hours straight. Each day has gotten a little better, although yesterday she did throw a blanket over New Baby's head (I'm choosing to believe she was trying to be sweet). I'm looking forward to when New Baby is a little less alien-like and they can play together like sisters and I can update Facebook in peace.

My hubby is the best in the world and he seems to be adjusting the best of all of us. He lets me sleep for a few hours each night and holds New Baby while he works/watches TV/plays James Bond on the Playstation. As hard as it was to sleep in the hospital, at least I had a bed (even though it had the itchiest sheets in the world and I had an IV and a catheter in). He stayed with me for 2 nights and slept in a plastic chair/futon thing that I could hardly stand to sit in.

As for me? Mostly I just miss sleeping. I miss it so much. New Baby does better than her big sister did, but newborns are still hard. I feel like every minute I'm changing or feeding someone or getting someone's pacifier. I'm mourning the loss of my pregnant belly but enjoying my giant boobs. I'm looking forward to being able to leave the house again. I tried last week and it took us so long to get out the door that I was immediately ready for a nap and almost called it quits. I'm also looking forward to looking like a human again, not an amorphous blob with circles under my eyes, giant bruises on my arms, and smelling vaguely of baby puke and lanolin.

Off to take a quick nap. We're all here adjusting.

Pregnancy Hits and Misses

2011-02-23T07:41:00.004-06:00

Well, pregnancy number 2 is quickly drawing to a close. In less than a week, New Baby will be here and I will be whining about being a mom to a toddler and a newborn. I had high hopes for this pregnancy. I was going to eat right, exercise, stay attractive and then when I popped this kid out I'd be right back to normal! Well, here's the dirty details of what actually happened.

Hit: No stretch marks! As someone who is generally genetically unlucky, it boggles my mind that I was able to escape this one.
Miss: Belly button popped out. Even though I was a giant moose with my first pregnancy, my belly button remained an innie. I was dismayed to notice last week that it has turned inside out with this pregnancy. I'm guessing it will right itself eventually?

Hit: Managed to keep working out right up until the end. Yay me. Although I stopped going to the gym this week as I realized I was making others uncomfortable. I've been told more than once to not give birth in class.
Miss: Still gained pretty much the same amount of weight. 10 pounds less, but what's 10 pounds when you have a double/triple chin and love handles that may or may not be bigger than my actual stomach.

Hit: No weird dark line going down the center of my belly.
Miss: Had acne the entire time. That's 39 weeks of high school acne, people. And you know what helps pregnant acne? Absolutely nothing.

Hit: Was less panicky about movement this time around. I admit I was a complete spaz with Captain Destructo and swear it was much better this time.
Miss: Way more panicky about having a newborn, since I have had one before and know what's coming.

Hit: Actually got my toenails done and my hair highlighted during this pregnancy to maintain some semblance of attractiveness.
Miss: Now have dandruff, which inexplicably struck me right before Captain Destructo was born too. Thanks, hormones!

Hit: Less worried about other people's judgments of what I do when I am pregnant. I even posted about my scheduled C-section on Facebook and drank Diet Dr. Peppers in front of people.
Miss: Managed to frighten other gym goers in my attempts to show them I don't care if they think I am too big to work out. By the way? The baby never fell out during jumping jacks, my water didn't break while lifting weights, and, as I feared, I managed to maintain enough bladder control not to wet my pants on the treadmill.

Worst Parenting Advice

2011-02-14T14:11:00.002-06:00

I don't know what it is about a baby that makes everyone want to offer you advice. Maybe I looked just completely clueless with a baby, but it seemed like whenever I brought Captain Destructo out in public, everyone and their grandmother had some timeless wisdom to offer. Here are a few gems. Feel free to add yours.

1. When the baby bites you, bite them back.
I'm not sure where this one got started, but I've heard it multiple times. Really, people? Bite them back? And when they are teenagers and yell "I hate you!" do you yell that back too?

2. Don't bring your baby out in public or they'll end up in the hospital!
Because I can't think of what a brand-new, sleep-deprived, slightly depressed new mother needs more than to be told that their baby will end up in the hospital. If I brought the baby into a daycare center or was allowing strangers to touch her, I concede that she may have a chance of getting sick. When I was offered that advice, we were in Target and she was wrapped in a sling. Unless someone opened the sling and sneezed on her, I think we were okay.

3. Don't pick up that baby or you'll spoil her!
Honestly, when I hadn't slept in a month (more if you count the high quality sleep I got the last trimester of pregnancy) I could have cared less if I would spoil her. I just cared about making her stop crying. Also? Pretty sure you can't spoil a 6 week old. I wasn't giving her ponies or anything.

4. Ooh, it's hot out. You should give her water in a cup.
While this is appropriate advice for a toddler, or even a baby nearing one year, I found it interesting when offered to my four month old. Give her a cup? Sure. After that I'll grill her up some filet mignon and asparagus.

5. Rub a little whiskey on her gums. It'll help with her teething.
Can we all just agree that giving alcohol to a baby is generally frowned upon? As is using alcohol as a pain killer. At least until the baby turns 28 and has their first child.

6. Why don't you just turn on the Disney Channel?"
Now, if you've been reading this blog at all you know I am pro-TV. Magic box that has pretty pictures so Mama can take a shower without yelling "no, don't eat that!" out the door? Awesome. However, I'm not sure 3 months old is an appropriate age to start with the TV watching. Also, if you have seen anything on the Disney Channel lately, you will know that most shows are highly annoying. We've been watching the tube for a good year now and have yet to turn on the Disney Channel.

That's just a few. Do you have anymore to add?

My Funny Valentine

2011-02-11T07:56:00.003-06:00

Valentine's Day is upon us again. I have to admit I have a bit of a soft spot for Valentine's Day, as I generally enjoy holidays that revolve around chocolate. Also, I like making a big deal out of silly holidays for Captain Destructo. It breaks up the monotony of our weeks. I plan on basically cutting every food item into heart shape and browbeating my husband into buying her something (but not chocolate, as our "potty-training" lately has her eating massive amounts of Hershey Kisses. Still no peeing in the little potty by the way). It turns out that Valentine's Day and I have a long, torrid history.

When I was in high school, I was...how to put this nicely? A huge dork. 20 pounds overweight, socially awkward, and overall a dork. Also, in a weird twist of fate, I was boy crazy. I pined over movies like Pretty Woman and Sixteen Candles and longed to find my Prince Charming. Although, shockingly, no one was coming a-calling. I spent 4 years of Valentine's Days alone, stuffing my face with an entire box of Russell Stovers.

College was much of the same. Although I weighed less and was marginally less awkward, I was always single for Valentine's Day. I dated here and there, but nothing serious enough to have a Valentine. College was possibly worse than high school, as all of my roommates were always in relationships and I got to sit around our dorms, watching them primp for their dates, stuffing my face with Russel Stovers and chasing it down with Boone's Farm Strawberry wine (mmmm).

So, as you can imagine, when my husband and I started dating, I made a huge freaking deal of Valentine's Day. He delivered, too. He tried to trick me by telling me to come to his house and bring formal wear, a bathing suit, and sweatpants. It turns out that he made me a fancy dinner, from scratch, and showered me with gifts.

As marriages evolve, particularly when there are kids involved, our Valentine's Days have changed over time. This year we are going out 3 days after Valentine's Day to see a musical. I am getting my toenails done (because I haven't seen them in 3 months and am not sure they're still there), bought a new dress and will be praying my water doesn't break at the theater. Captain Destructo has a babysitter and everything. As for romance, let's just say I walked into the lingerie department in Target, waddled right through to the back where the giant granny panties were, and bought a jumbo pack. So at least I'll be comfortable. My husband is a lucky. lucky, man.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Public Service Announcement: Pay Attention to Your Children

2011-02-08T19:48:00.002-06:00

Or, The Story of Why I Left Chick-Fil-A Without a Brownie.

It's been one of those days. My husband has been gone all week, my back is killing me, it's crazy windy so Captain Destructo's bouncy house was blowing all over the place when we tried to jump, and I've been stripping cloth diapers for the past 6 hours. So I decided that Captain Destructo and I deserved a special treat. Chick-Fil-A for dinner it is.

I've mentioned my love for Chick-Fil-A before, but in case you missed it, let me reiterate how it is Mom Heaven. At our local restaurant, Tuesday nights are Kids Eat Free nights, so I got both of our dinners for $6. Customer service is awesome, meaning someone else carried my tray for me while I drug the high chair, giant purse and giant toddler. After scarfing down our chicken nuggets, I let Captain Destructo play in the play area.

Let me pause for a second here. When I say "let" her play, I don't mean I sat at my table and let her go into the play area by herself. She's 2. Common sense, right? Apparently not. There was a little boy who was probably 3 or so in the play area, playing with who I would assume was his older brother. His parents were nowhere to be found. Not in the play area, not (as far as I could tell) immediately outside the plexiglass. They may have gone across the street to Starbucks as far as I know. This will be important later. On with the story.

So Captain D. and I de-shoe her and make our way into the musty, slightly smelling of sour milk, play area. Little boy immediately runs up to us and pokes Captain on the back. She yells "no, my back!" which I have to say I was pretty proud of. I ignore this for the moment, until 3 seconds later when he comes back, pokes her again and yells "nanny-nanny-boo-boo!" I didn't realize that insult was still around, but I tell the kid to chill out. Nicely, I would add. "She doesn't want you to tease her, buddy," I say. Roughly 10 seconds later, he comes back and grabs at her again. "She doesn't want you to touch her either. Go play," I say in a slightly less nice voice. Of course he's back in her face immediately. She is starting to get fussy and I am starting to get irritated, so I walk to the other side of the play area to get her shoes so we can leave.

And then (voice of Sue Sylvester)....HORROR.

I sit down on a bench to put her shoes on and look up to see the Little Dude running at me with both of his hands outstretched. His hands land square in the middle of my giant, 9 months pregnant belly.

I am in complete shock for a moment and can't think of what to do next. I'm torn between getting out my hand sanitizer and squeezing it all over my belly and grabbing the kid by his collar and screaming "whose kid is this?!" into the restaurant. I settle for holding the kid's wrist, removing them from my stomach, and firmly saying "NO. We don't touch other people's bellies. There is a baby in there!" while he gives me a blank stare. I then sanitize Captain Destructo and myself and we head quickly home. I am so mad I leave without getting a brownie. That's pretty mad.

So here's my public service announcement: PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR KIDS. Where this kid's parents were during the whole night, I have no idea. I'm going to go out on a limb and assume they were on their phones or otherwise not paying attention. I'm assuming this because I see it all the time at playgrounds, restaurants, and libraries. I get that there are days when your kids are driving you nuts and you just want a break from them. I totally get it. Yesterday my kid's favorite game was "dump everything from the pantry onto the floor, make Mommy clean it up and then do it again." But you know what is great for taking a break? TV. Don't just dump your kid is a public place and assume that someone else will watch them. Chic-Fil-A play area is not a cage where you can throw your kid in and then let them out when you're done. Be a parent, not a zookeeper.

And, to that kid's mom, wherever you are, you owe me a brownie.

Germaphobia

2011-02-06T17:32:00.002-06:00

Ah, winter. The season of cold weather, getting fat from comfort food, and constant dry skin and chapped lips. Really it's an awesome time of the year. Despite the fact that I live in South Texas and our "winters" are what northerners refer to as "Indian summer" or even "spring," it's been pretty cold this year and I am desperate for winter to be over. Winter also is known for the #1 enemy of the toddler/preschool mom: germs.

We have been lucky this year and so far only have colds. And when I say "colds" I mean 2 solid months of runny noses and coughing. The pediatrician says that Captain Destructo has allergies, which is why her nose has been running for 2 months. Po-tay-to, po-tat-o, I say. Either way, she coughs a million times a day, has a runny nose, and looks gross enough to get me dirty looks from other moms when out in public. I want to get her a shirt that says "it's just allergies!"

I've noticed this winter that some places are germ havens and every time we go, Captain Destructo seems to acquire another illness. If germs were terrorists, these places would be on a map with bullseyes on them.

Germ Hotbed #1: Fast Food Restaurant Playplaces
When it is cold outside and Captain Destructo is sick enough to look gross but not sick enough to be any less active, I occasionally get to the point where I am about to lose my mind by keeping her quarantined. To me, Chic-Fil-A is the perfect outing. Yummy food, awesome customer service, and a playground that is in the warmth AND free. Apparently, every other mother of a slightly ill child must agree, because when we go it's like a Russian roulette of germs. There are kids wiping noses on sleeves (ok, that might be my kid), a chorus of coughing, and God only knows what else. Once, a dad told me that he took his daughter down a slide at McDonald's and his back smelled strongly of vomit afterwards. Oh, the humanity.

Germ Hotbed #2: Mall Playgrounds
Very similar to the fast food restaurant, the mall offers the added benefit of shopping for Mama. In the middle of winter when my days have consisted of pretending to eat plastic play food and changing Potty Elmo's diaper, shopping with a 2 year old actually becomes an attractive alternative. The mall playground, however, is actually more disgusting than the fast food restaurant playplace. Ours is constantly covered with a film of ground up Goldfish and Cheerios. Throw in the kids running around like wild, untrained monkeys because their parents are on their cellphones or otherwise ignoring them, the mall playground quickly becomes way less fun than I imagined.

Germ Hotbed #3: The Pediatrician's Office
The last, and most repulsive, hotbed of germ activity is the pediatrician's office. Inevitably, the 2 month cold/allergies/who-knows-what turns into an ear infection at some point and I am forced to go to the pediatrician's. Because every other kid in the city is also sick, there are always roughly 300 kids in the waiting room. There is a sick child/well child half wall dividing the waiting room, but Captain Destructo can't read and doesn't care what germs are on the train in the sick child room. I would personally love it if there were no toys at all at the pediatricians, since my kid still uses her mouth as a third hand, but it is filled with trains and books. The last time we went, we sat in the waiting room with who knows what disgustingness floating around, sat in a room waiting for the doctor for 20 minutes while Captain Destructo tried to put books in her mouth and crawled under the chair, and then learned that she didn't have an ear infection after all. "Just fussy." Awesome.

Only 6 more weeks of winter. In 3 weeks, I will become mom to The Toddler Who Eats Everything and Is Full of Disgusting Germs, and mom to The Newborn Who I Am Terrified Will Get Horribly Ill. I think I'm registering for a holster for cans of Lysol.

I've Created a (Cookie) Monster

2011-02-03T07:26:00.003-06:00

(Sorry for the language in the picture, it was just too funny not to post!)

When Captain Destructo was born, as in most areas of her life, I had high hopes for her nutrition. Breastmilk only for 6 months, homemade fruit and vegetables purees after that, and then well-balanced, healthy meals from then on out. When she was 2 weeks old and I started supplementing with formula, I realized that my master plan may be going out the window. By 6 months, I was pureeing up a storm and still clinging to some hope that she would remain junk food-free. But yesterday, I was hit hard with the realization that my kid is a junk food eating, sugar loving freak like the rest of America. Let me back up a bit.

Many, many people have told me how well candy works for potty training. I am at the point now where I don't even think I care if she goes on the potty or not. I am having a baby in less than a month and really don't feel like shuttling a newborn to the potty every 30 seconds. However, I would love it if she would at least sit on the (brand-new, $30) potty so I'm not starting completely from scratch in a few months. So, genius mommy that I am, decided that I would give her candy for sitting on the potty, hoping to catch her at the right time and she would make the connection that going on the potty is awesome, diapers are for suckers, and Bob's your uncle, she's potty trained!

Well, as you may have suspected, things haven't gone as planned. Captain D. yells "sit on potty, get candy!," runs to the potty, demands that I take off her diaper, sits and says "tinkle tinkle," and then runs to the cupboard and yells "candy!" It's first class parenting at it's best. At her 2 year check up I was explaining the candy method to my pediatrician and her eyes widened a bit. "Maybe use stickers instead?" she suggested in a way that made me think she'd be calling CPS shortly after I left.

Fast forward to yesterday. I was lamenting to the husband about the pediatrician/potty training story and said "I don't think one piece of candy every day is a big deal."
"Is that really all she has in a day?" he said.
"Of course!" I replied, offended. And then I started thinking.
There was the scone from Starbucks yesterday. There was the cookie from the grocery store. There was the tube of icing that I caught her squirting into her mouth yesterday morning.

Oops. My kid is a sugar freak. Hopefully they make dentures for 2 year olds.

Tiger Mom Vs. Blossom

2011-02-02T19:52:00.002-06:00

There have been several moms making headlines lately, and as I am full of opinions, I'm going to lay them out. First, I'm sure you've heard about the "Tiger Mom," or as I like to call her "The Self-Righteous Chinese Lady." Amy Chua wrote a book called Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, which lays out several parenting philosophies that she subscribes to. Some of her household rules are as follows:
-Any grade lower than an A (including an A-)is unacceptable.
-Children must be performing at least 2 grade levels above in math.
-Children should never be praised in public.
She reminisces several lovely memories of raising her children. One of my personal favorites is when her daughter made her a birthday card and she replied "I reject this" on the grounds that the card was not good enough. Doesn't that make your eyes well up with tears just thinking about it?
My opinion? I'm really not sure what makes this chick think she's authorized to write a book about parenting. I mean, who is she other than some completely self-righteous Chinese American? Does she honestly think that anyone would read her book and think, "hmm, it sounds like this lady is a great mom! I would love for my children to base their entire self worth on their grades and secretly resent me, too!" And although Chua makes the valid point that the Chinese are smarter and we Americans owe them, like eleventy billion dollars, I would make the equally valid point that the Chinese have a pretty high suicide rate. Besides never ever wanting to read her book, I also never want to be her playdate friend. And that sucks for her because my kid finally stopped eating crayons. I think.

Anyway, on the other end of the spectrum, Mayim Bialik (aka Blossom)has been all around online lately preaching her attachment parenting propaganda. I guess I don't have anything against attachment parenting per say. I do some attachy type things (breastfeed mostly, cloth diaper, and wear the baby sometimes). What kind of gets to me is people who proclaim themselves to attachment parent-ers and wear it like a badge of honor, like high school football players who wear their letterman jackets all the time. But back to Blossom. In this article, while extolling the virtues of elimination communication, bed sharing, and baby wearing, she throws this out there:
We practice gentle discipline. That means we don’t hit our children or punish them. We have a lot of boundaries and expectations of our children, and we are by no means permissive parents. We do not use timeouts, we do not bargain (“If you clean your room, I’ll give you a cookie”) and we do not force manners on our children (“Say thank you!” and “Say please!” have never escaped my lips). Our children are not perfect, nor are they robots. They are both even-tempered children by nature, but they have plenty of opportunity to “act out” and “flip out” and “make mama wonder why she ever thought she was qualified to be a parent.” We have had great success with gentle discipline and our children are, by all accounts, full of empathy, aware of boundaries, and pleasant to take to public places.
Ok, well that's all well and good. But what do you do? Like, say, just off the top my head here, your kid eats Play Doh. No punishment, no timeouts, no forced apologies...leaves what exactly? I think that's what bugs me about Ol' Blossom. Say vague, politically correct statements about parenting that make no actual sense and no one questions it because you're a celebrity.
I am a bit irritated by all the so-called parenting experts and the clueless moms who blindly follow them. Not that I blame the moms. I did everything in Happiest Baby on The Block because I was just so clueless and wanted someone who knew what they were doing to tell me what to do!I think for this baby, I'll try to remember that every kid is different, and even the experts really don't have a clue.

My Baby is Two and Other Terrifying Thoughts

2011-01-24T07:42:00.003-06:00

Today is Captain Destructo's 2nd birthday! I'm not sure how excited she will be, as everytime I tell her it's her birthday she says "wear hat? Sing? Birthday cake?" And her actual party isn't until next week because I was too organized to get it together enough to do it before her birthday, and also because I can't find my cake decorating kit to make her a cake yet, she may be a little let down. I'm hoping the bouncy house we got her is enough to make her forget about that for a day. Captain Destructo has learned so many things over the past 2 years, especially the past few months. Here are some of the truly terrifying and exciting things she can do.

-Get herself a cup of water.
If you don't have a two year old who can reach the water feature on the fridge, let me illustrate how this goes. She finds a cup and shakes it onto the floor to remove whatever liquid is already in there. She then toddles to the fridge and fills the cup to the brim. She takes one sip, and pours the rest onto the floor. Then, when running back to the fridge to refill the cup, she slips in the puddle on the floor and begins screaming. Ever wonder why some fridges have a lock button on the water feature? This is why.

-Speak in complete sentences
I do appreciate the fact that Captain D. can communicate with me in a way that doesn't involve crying (or at least involves less crying). However, many of her sentences go like this:
"No, Mama. Itsa mine." OR
"Mama, yook! Theresa pee pee on da floor!"

-Mimic her daddy and I
This is a stinking cute habit, I will say. She likes to sit on the couch next to her daddy with her hands behind her head like him. She also rubs her belly and says "My baby is ITCHY!" like I do. However, she is also beginning to mimic less-than-flattering habits, like the scenario below.
Me: Time for a bath!
C.D.: Crap.
The further implications of this habit are frightening.

-Play doctor
Thanks to the episode of Sesame Street where Elmo goes to the doctor, Captain Destructo is fairly aware of what goes on at the doctor's office and is way less afraid of going (see? TV is good!). She also likes to play doctor at home with herself. She'll say "check your ears? Check your eyes?" while poking into her various orifices. She also likes to use headphones and pretend they're a stethoscope (although, weirdly, she pokes them into her belly button instead of her heart. Whatever.) But you can imagine why this particular habit is troublesome. Doesn't everyone have a story that begins "we were playing doctor and...."? Hopefully I can encourage her to stop with the poking into orifices before she starts playing with other kids.

It has been a wild and crazy two years and I'm excited yet terrified to see what else time brings. Happy birthday Captain Destructo! I love you and am so proud of you!

Toddler Dictionary

2011-01-19T13:42:00.004-06:00

Captain Destructo is about to turn 2, and has accrued quite a vocabulary over the past 2 years. Here are some her many words and translations.

Shooker, Melmo, and Bee Bird (n): 3 characters on the popular children's TV series Sesame Street. One is blue and occasionally dresses as a superhero, one is red and furry, and one is large, yellow, and a little effeminate.

Keys (n): Dairy product that tops pizza. Most desirable in string form. Also what you yell when someone takes your picture.

Yook (v): What you use your eyes to do. Must be yelled approximately 20,000 times a day, as in "Mama, yook!"

Papple (n): Native fruit of Hawaii. When found in plastic kitchen set form, is oddly green.

Weedabook (v): Processing of sounding out letters and words out loud. Also must be yelled a high number of times a day while shoving a book into Mama's face: "Mama, weedabook!"

Want, too, free (n): How you count toys, books, highway signs, food products, etc. Counting begins with want and ends with "...ten, yeven!"

Moosie (n): The DVD that Mama pops in so she can (a) shower, or (b) check Facebook. Elmo moosies are the most popular.

Holju (v): Command given to Mama when you want to be picked up. Usually yelled, as in "Mama holju!"

No: Most important word in all vocabulary. Used to express feelings about eating, taking a nap, going outside, going inside, taking a bath, and stopping whatever dangerous activity is currently going on.

Wuvoo (v): Phrase to express how you feel about Mama and Daddy. High on the list of my favorite words, especially when followed by a big slobbery kiss.

Prenatal Lies

2011-01-18T20:30:00.003-06:00

I'm nearing the home stretch of this pregnancy now, a fact that excites and terrifies me. In about 7 weeks I'll have another baby, but I'll also have ANOTHER BABY. In some ways it's good because I know what to expect, but also I KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. Know what I mean? Instead of that blissful ignorance that came with the first one, I know what I'm getting into. But I digress. I've realized over these 2 pregnancies that many things the pregnancy books have told me are big fat lies. Here are some such lies.

Lie #1: Your hair will get thick and lustrous.
Ok, I will concede that it's possible my hair is thicker and more lustrous. It's just in a scrappy ponytail most times so I haven't noticed. But I definitely do not look like a Pantene commercial.

Lie #2: Your skin will be glowing.
Let's define "glowing," shall we? If "glowing" means covered in more pimples than a high school band, then sure, I'm glowing. Somehow I pictured "glowing" to be a little more glamorous then I currently am. For the record? The Proactiv commercial makers are a bunch of liars too. As are the makers of most acne products who claim that their product actually eliminates acne.

Lie #3: Exercising will keep your weight gain to the recommended 25-30 pounds
I have sacrificed my dignity this pregnancy and continued to go to the gym most days. I am still taking kickboxing, spin classes and a class called Total Conditioning which involves plyometrics, weight lifting and cardio. I will give you a minute to picture how graceful a 8 1/2 month pregnant woman looks in these classes. This is a stark contrast to my first pregnancy, where walking to the refrigerator was most of my cardio. And yet? I'm on track to gain the same amount of weight. What's up with that, metabolism?

Lie #4: You only need an extra 200 calories a day
Maybe YOU only need an extra 200 calories a day, skinny woman who writes What to Expect, but I'm freaking starving over here. I am dreaming about french fries and hamburgers. I finish lunch and start thinking about dinner immediately. What can I say? Maybe my baby is a future Michael Phelps and is carbo-loading in utero.

Seven weeks to go. I can only imagine what other lies I'll learn about...I do still have labor to go through. Until then, if anyone needs me, I'll be eating my second dinner and reapplying the Clearasil.

New Year's Resolutions for My Kids

2010-12-29T19:56:00.005-06:00

Every year, I make the same stupid New Year's resolutions. It's always to be more organized and, depending on the year, it's also to lose 10 lbs. I shudder to think how many pounds I'll need to lose next year, but I'm trying not to think of it as I shove leftover Christmas candy in my mouth. This year, since I am due in March and have no idea what to expect, I thought I'd make resolutions for my kids.

Captain Destructo
Ah, Captain Destructo. Given her nickname for her uncanny ability to destroy the most sturdy objects, she is as curious as she is overactive. Here are some resolutions for her.
1. Stop eating non-food items.
For the love of all that's holy, when does this phase end? I've been trying to introduce Play Doh for about the last 6 months straight, and everytime I do, she picks up a big hunk and swallows it before I can grab it (interestingly, the label of Play Doh only says "contains wheat" so I don't feel too horrible about her eating it). The non food items she has eaten lately include (but are not limited to) crayons, dirt, a leaf, the top of a marker, and a corner of a book. Everytime I think she's done with eating crayons I find one in her diaper. Which brings me to my next point....

2. Use the potty
I have purchased 2 potties, 2 potty books, an Elmo potty video, and an Elmo who goes to the bathroom on a tiny potty. I am sick of talking about pee pee and poo poo. We had a good few months where she went once a day on the potty, but since then it's been her saying she wants to sit on the potty, me removing her clothes and then chasing her around the house bottomless until she inevitably pees on the carpet. It's awesome. I would like to only have one at a time in diapers, but I can feel that dream slipping away.

3.Not kill your new baby sibling
I've seen the way Captain Destructo plays with the baby dolls in the childcare at the gym. Think Lenny from Of Mice and Men. Coupled with her overzealous rocking of our baby swing and her oh-so-gentle "hugs" for her daddy and I, I think New Baby's in for a rough ride around his/her sister.

New Baby
New Baby is due in March and I am becoming increasingly terrified about his/her arrival by the minute. I love babies...you know, once they can smile and sleep for more than 30 seconds at a time. Plus Captain Destructo was a really good baby so I feel like there's no way I can get that lucky twice, so I'm convinced this one will be really colicky and fussy. But I digress. Here are New Baby's resolutions.

1. Sleep. A lot.
So I've heard of these alleged newborns who sleep for like 6 hours at a stretch, but I always likened them to the Loch Ness Monster or a Chupacabra. Fun story, but not real. But a friend who I trust said her baby did it, so I'm hoping New Baby is an awesome sleeper. I remember the early days with Captain D. when I "slept" on the couch in 15 minute increments and dreamed about my bed. Not psyched for that again.

2. To not have colic
I'm not going to lie. I'm completely terrified of having an insanely active toddler and a colicky newborn. I know many moms deal with far worse and I should be grateful enough if the baby's healthy (and I will be), but still. Please, New Baby, have an awesome digestive system.

I really am excited for 2011. Watching Captain Destructo turn into a little girl and feeling the baby growing inside of me have made for a wonderful 2010 and I can't wait to see what next year holds.

That is, when I'm not scared to death.

Black Friday: A Cautionary Tale

2010-12-28T12:47:00.003-06:00

Note: I do realize Black Friday was over a month ago, but I kept forgetting to write this. Whaddaryagonnado.

This year, I decided I would go Black Friday shopping for the very first time. Not for the extra special deals, not for the first dibs at hot new stuff, but simply to go shopping ALL BY MYSELF without having to get a babysitter.

I learned something important about Black Friday shoppers.

You're all freaking nuts.

When I pulled into the Target parking lot at 5AM to the most jam packed lot I had ever seen, I convinced myself that it wouldn't be that bad. Surely not all of those cars could be going to Target, right? There was an Office Max next door....maybe everyone was after shredders and printers. I lumbered out of the car and waddled to the door, where I discovered that I was gravely wrong. There were roughly 8.3 million people crammed into the store. Most were wandering around the front of the store looking for a cart (or a buggy, for those of you native Southerners). I realized it was a mistake to bypass the shopping carts in the parking lot in hopes of getting inside faster. After milling around trying to get a cart for awhile, I snagged one from some unsuspecting lady and was on my way.

Now, what to get? I knew The Hubby would want some DVDs for his stocking so I headed to the electronics section. Let's try to squeeze my huge belly and empty cart down the first aisle....nope, too many people there. How about here...wow, even more people here. Last aisle...OK, I'll go to Best Buy later. Forget electronics. On to the toy section for Captain Destructo.

20 minutes later, after maneuvering around people searching like vultures for discounted TVs, chairs and washcloths (washcloths, really people? They're like $2 at Wal-Mart. Is it worth waking up at 4:00 for washcloths?), I made it to the toy section, where I quickly found an open aisle and parked my cart. This is probably a Black Friday faux pas, but I was so tired I didn't care. It took me about 30 seconds to grab the junk, I mean toys, I had scoped out earlier and I headed for the checkout.

I pushed my cart up to a group of people in the middle of the store. I looked around them to discover that they were the end of the line. Super. I rested on my cart and started checking Facebook on my phone while waiting (surprisingly, not a lot of people on Facebook at 5AM). A few minutes later, I started feeling a little....iffy. It occured to me that I hadn't eaten anything before leaving the house. Apparently Pregnant Me finds this to be a very, very big deal. I started feeling dizzy and really hot. Great, I thought. Now I am going to pass out in Target and won't even get to buy all this crap I woke up to get. There was nowhere to sit, so I kind of squatted near the floor for a few minutes until I felt better. When I stood up, I immediately felt sick again, so I had to repeat the squatting/move forward about 1/4 and inch for the next HOUR until I reached the checkout. The women behind me asked if I was okay, and I told them to drag me to the checkout if I passed out and put my stuff on the belt. I was completely serious.

Finally I was able to pay for my stuff and stumble out of the store. My reward? A $10 Target gift card.

Next year, I'll be shopping online.

Things Never to Say to a Pregnant Woman

2010-12-21T19:02:00.004-06:00

I've read about a million of these kind of stories, and I'm happy to report that so far, no one has asked me how much weight I've gained (do people really ask that? Who does that?), if I'm sure I'm not having twins, or whether or not I'm going to breastfeed. However, I have accrued quite a few little gems over the past few weeks that I'd like to share. Public service announcement: don't say anything of the following either:

1. "We think there's something wrong with your placenta, so you should be extra vigilant about the baby's movements."
Not sure if I've mentioned this or not, but I'm a little paranoid during pregnancy. So much so that my husband volunteered to give himself a vasectomy today so he didn't have to hear me worry anymore. So when my doctor said the above statement, I. Freaked. Out. Today, I didn't feel movements for a few hours, so, in hysterical tears, called my OB and went for a non-stress test. Not sure how "non-stressful" the test was, as I had my almost 2 year old with me and had to keep jumping up to keep her from eating the ultrasound gel.
By the way? Baby moved a million times as soon as I got to the doctor's office. Good times.

2. "Yucky." (pointing to a zit on my chin)
Well, darling, Mommy is covered in pimples at the moments because her hormones apparently hate being pregnant and so make her as unattractive as possible, so as to prevent Daddy from ever putting her in this predicament again. Do me a solid and don't point out my stretch marks or cankles. Since you are (a) one and (b) adorable, I will cut you some slack. However.....

3. "Honey, did you remember to pack your Proactiv?"

...when asked by your father is less cute.
Yes, dear, I did. However, you may be disappointed to learn that not only did it not clear up my acne, but it didn't give me boobs like the spokespeople either (thanks, Katy Perry).

4. I got this comment today in response to this post:
I don't know what you're talking about. I have a child, he's two and a half, and I look the same as I did before I had him! Actually, a little better because my breasts are bigger. They look great against my petite frame. My stomache is still tight as ever, no stretch marks, everything is the same! And I take care of myself well. I look good :)

Everything doesn't go to crap after motherhood. Don't use that as an excuse.
I know tons of beautiful mothers of multiple children that look astounding.
You let yourself go.

Wow. (insert slow, sarcastic clapping)
I've composed a reply many, many times in my head, but instead I will just applaud you, random stranger who posts nasty comments, for being such an awesome role model and benchmark for us lazy, no-good moms whose breasts are smaller and thighs are bigger. I hope one day we too can acquire your rockin' bod. And hopefully your manners and sense of humility as well. Thank you for your insight and inspiration.

5. "You shouldn't do those jumping jacks unless you want your baby to come sliding out/ Don't have your baby in spin class"
While I appreciate the concern of my fellow gym goers, rest assured that I have no intention of giving birth in the gym in any class. Also, contrary to what you may have heard, jumping jacks do not cause your baby to come sliding out. Though I wish they did...I'd be jumping jacking up a storm in about 11 weeks.

As my belly gets fatter, my patience seems to get thinner. I wish it was the other way around.

Traveling Thanks

2010-12-17T07:16:00.003-06:00

We just got back from a 10 day jaunt to see family on the East Coast. Other than being absolutely freezing cold, we had a great time and I have the following people to thank.

THANK YOU flight attendant on our 3 hour flight who handed us a pair of headphones while Captain Destructo was watching a DVD and informing us that she was too loud ("it's late and people are trying to sleep."). Really, buddy?! First of all, I'm sitting next to her and can't even hear it. Secondly, I can't get her to keep a cookie in her mouth while Elmo is on. You think she'll keep headphones in her ears? Good luck with that one. Also, I missed the "silent flight after 7:30" rule when I bought my ticket. Interesting. Lastly, you think the ridiculously quiet Elmo movie is disruptive? Turn it off and see what happens. I think you'll love her new "fire alarm" wail.

THANK YOU to the couple in front of us who chose to (a) make out the entire flight, and (b) recline their seats allllll the way back. When I got on the plane, I thought, "what's missing here? I wish a had a random stranger's head in my lap on top of the giant belly and overactive toddler." Although, sir, your wife/girlfriend/escort's bouffant hairdo was super fun to keep Captain Destructo from putting her hands in. So thanks for that also.

THANK YOU to my unborn child, for somehow communicating with your big sister and deciding to do the cha-cha-slide on my lungs everytime she jumped on me. It made for some totally awesome panic attacks when I couldn't breathe and had to practically throw her to your daddy.

THANK YOU to the manufacturers of Pampers who choose to put "lasts up to 12 hours" on the box. You should really say "lasts until it's time to get on the plane and then leaks all over your child's pants and your shirt." Also consider adding "and then your child will poop right before takeoff, force you to attempt to change her in an airplane bathroom which somehow results in getting poo on her clean pants." I enjoyed to Sophie's Choice moment when I got to decide which bodily function I allowed her to travel in for 6 hours. (I went with #1 in case you wondered.)

Finally, THANK YOU to my husband for real for being awesome and letting Captain Destructo (a) sleep on you, (b) jump on your belly and (c) watch 3 hours of Elmo on your lap. XOXO

Mama's Christmas List

2010-12-08T12:26:00.004-06:00

It seems like every year, I get less excited about what I will get for Christmas and more excited to see how Captain Destructo reacts to her new toys. But if Babies R Us came out with the following products, I would be whipping out the Advent calendar and counting down the days like a 5 year old. Here's what I would like for Christmas, Santa.

1. A see-through uterus
OK, I know this sounds gross, but every pregnancy (all 2 of them) I go through a complete, paranoid spaz-fest when I haven't felt the baby move and am convinced that something horrible happened. This year I even spent all Thanksgiving morning laying on my left side and jabbing at my belly to wake him/her up (all is fine). A see-through uterus would let me see that everything is fine and baby is just sleeping, or facing backwards or whatever. Side note: at Virginia Tech they have cows with see-through stomachs. So I feel that the technology is not too far from the see-through uterus. Just saying.

2. A wet nurse
Because really? I kind of hate breastfeeding. However, if I don't nurse this one as long as I did M, and this one turns out to be less cute/smart/generally awesome, I will be convinced that it was because of breastfeeding. And with a wet nurse I could spend those chaotic first nights nursing a glass of wine instead of a baby.

3. Anti-colic device
I have no actual experience with colic, besides allegedly having it myself, but it scares the bejeezus out of me. Since Captain Destructo didn't have it, I feel that my chances of this baby or a future baby having it are increased. If an anti-colic device existed (I'm picturing some sort of magic pill, not a shock collar or anything awful), my fears would be lessened.

4. A personal trainer/free gym membership/magic baby fat loser pill
As much as I loved showing off Captain Destructo after she was born, I didn't so much love wearing maternity pants until she was 3 months old, having more than one chin, and hearing "you look so good for someone who just had a baby." Because really that means "wow, you look awful for a normal person."

5. Live in pediatrician
Sometimes I think one of the hardest parts of being a mother is deciding if your kid is really sick or not. Once I was convinced Captain Destructo just had a little cough. 6 weeks later the doctor determined it was bronchitis caused by RSV. Whoops. I have also been convinced that she is so fussy she obviously has some sort of ear infection, brought her to the disgustingly germy doctor's office where she was probed and prodded, and found out she was fine. $15 in copays and 1 week later, she got sick from being in the office. Whoops again. Live in pediatrician would determine whether she actually was sick, and then spare me from exposing her to even more germs in the office.

So, Santa, I've been what some consider good this year. If you could squeeze a few of these in your bag, my kid and I would be much obliged.

A Walk in the Park

2010-11-29T13:42:00.003-06:00

When I was pregnant with Captain Destructo, I used to envision all the fun things I would do with my kids. I would be Ideal Mom, taking her to various activities that stimulate her physically and intellectually. Since she has become a toddler, I have quickly generated this list of Things That Aren't As Much Fun As I Thought They Would Be.

1. The Playground
Oh, the playground. I remember going to the playground as a kid. My mom would pack us a picnic lunch, which we would quietly (and while sitting down) eat and then spend hours playing nicely and appropriately on the equipment. What I didn't remember is that I must have been either (a) over the age of 2, or (b) heavily medicated, because the reality of the playground with a toddler is much different. Molly has a blast at the playground. Her favorite game is screaming "no, share!" at the kids who are on the swings, and then swinging on them for approximately 10 seconds when they are free. Sometimes she also likes climbing up the inappropriate-for-a-one-year-old ladder and getting stuck. This game is extra fun for me, as I am 6 1/2 months pregnant and the size of a small hippo. I get to attempt to shimmy up the adjacent ladder and bail her out, all the while hoping that the "ages 5-12" notice is more of a guideline than a rule.

2. Storytime at the library
I had high hopes for storytime. For the first 8 months or so, storytime was great. Captain Destructo would look adorable and stare at the other babies while I got the chance to see other grown ups and pick up some books. Now that she can walk, talk, and refuse to sit still when not in front of the TV, storytime involves her singing one song, then yelling "ball! ball!" for the next 15 minutes while I chase her around the room and try to get her to sit. Last time we went another mom told me she was "really something!" It'll be a while before we're back.

3. The Pool
The pool is one of those places that is really fun for the first 2 minutes. Captain Destructo splashes in the baby pool while I sit and try to forget the fact that the baby pool is really a large potty. But, inevitably, splashing turns into spotting something really exciting, like a leaf, outside the pool, and I spend the rest of the time running around on the scalding hot pool deck trying to lure her back in.

4. Reading Books
I'm a former teacher and current bookworm, so I fully get the importance of reading books. We do enjoy our reading time, but you know the drill. "More book?" really means "read me this same book over and over, and you had better count each of the ducks on each page and make the quacking sounds or you'll rue the day." You know what's more fun than reading the same book about Elmo? Watching a movie about Elmo. Just saying.

That's my list. Feel free to add on below.

Ode to Single Moms

2010-11-18T13:17:00.005-06:00

Oh, single moms, I don't know how you do it. And when I say that, I don't mean it as a cute euphemism. I really mean that I have absolutely no clue how you manage.

I have been doing the single mom thing for the last 3 weeks while the hubby is away on business, and I am roughly 10 seconds from losing my mind. I am at the point where I get seriously upset when Captain Destructo goes to bed at night and I have no one to talk to. When my phone rings and I actually get to talk to a human whose vocabulary is not limited to Sesame Street characters and the word "mine," I am so giddy I can hardly stand it. However, I have discovered several things about myself:

1. I am scared of the dark. When I go to bed, I first go to my bedroom and turn the lights on. Then I walk from the living room to the bedroom, turning all the lights off in a row so I never have to be completely in the dark. I also set our alarm system at 6:00. Not sure if this is sadder because I am that scared at 6:00, or that I'm that sure no one will come over after then.

2. I am really quite boring. I get so excited for my husband to call every night and then all I tell him are the cute things Captain did all day.

3. Apparently I spend too much time at the grocery store, because when Captain Destructo talks to her Daddy and he asks her what she did that day, she says "buy food." Every day.

4. Being pregnant has turned me into an emotional basket case, exacerbated by being alone. I have cried for the last 4 days over that following: the baby didn't kick for an hour, I'm afraid no one is coming for Thanksgiving, I couldn't find my favorite sunglasses, and Captain Destructo doesn't love me anymore. Yeah, it's awful.

Being a stay at home mom can be lonely and isolating sometimes, but without a husband coming home to look forward to, it becomes infinitely more isolating. So hats off to you, single moms. You deserve a day at the spa with a gallon of margaritas on the side.

Halloween Musings

2010-11-01T20:01:00.006-05:00

So last night was Captain Destructo's first Halloween...or at least the first Halloween that I let her stay awake for. I spent 30 minutes convincing her to put on her Abby Cadabby costume (complete with wig, tutu. wings, and wand) and the next 30 convincing her not to take it off so I could take her picture ("Tutu off? Tutu off?" for seriously about 10 minutes straight). We then went to exactly 3 houses, where Captain tried to empty the entire contents of our neighbor's candy bowl, before coming home and handing out candy to mostly high schoolers before retiring. But it was a pretty fun night. Here are some of my observations about Halloween.

1. As previously mentioned, mostly teenagers. Most of who looked old enough to drive down to CVS and buy a bag of candy themselves. Weird.

1b. Several of these teenagers were not in costume. One of them (a high school baseball player), when asked what his costume was, said "uhhhh...a baseball player?" To which my husband said "lame." The boy replied "I don't see your costume dude." I replied that we were not asking for free candy. But I still gave him a Butterfinger because I didn't want him to egg my house.

1c. One teenage girl was on her cell phone. She lifted up the mouthpiece, said "trick or treat," and then continued her conversation. Again I gave her candy.

2. I get that kids want to wear scary costumes. I just don't entirely get why parents think it's ok. I mean, a witch or a ghost is ok, but the scary Saw puppet thing? Really parents? So your kid has seen Saw, a movie which caused me to lose sleep for seriously about a week, or you think Saw is so cool you put your elementary schooler in the outfit?

3. Ditto for the girls in costumes that are really just hoes. Slutty Dorothy, slutty cheerleader, even slutty princess came a calling. Again, if your daughter wants to put on thigh highs and a bustier that's one thing, but what makes you think that's a good idea?

4. Kudos to the mom following her son, holding up the costume that he refused to wear so we could see it. That's my kind of mom.

5. I don't know how I feel about the mom who asked if we were the Girl Scout cookie family. At first I said no, but then she said "but you bought a whole bunch of cookies last year, right?" Oops. Now I wonder what an appropriate amount of cookies for a 2.5 person household is (but I sense it's less than 8 boxes).

5. All in all? I was super psyched for this Halloween and ended up feeling a little let down....sort of like after my first mother's day (does this sound awful? You know what I mean). Maybe next year we'll keep the costume on for more than 3 minutes.

Confessions of a Toddler Mommy

2010-10-03T19:32:00.005-05:00

Several random confessions from the past few weeks.

1. Today I caught myself singing "You Spin My Head Right 'Round" by Flo Rida. To my one year old. Oops.

2. I also had "True Life: My Breasts are Too Small" on while Captain Destructo was in the room.

3. On a related note, I've come to the conclusion that I hate breastfeeding and don't want to do it again. However....

4. I'm so scared of what my boobs will look like after this one's born that I am committed to do it for a full year.

5. I've been staring at the clock, waiting for bedtime, for about 5 hours straight now.

6. Only I kinda miss Captain Destructo when she goes to bed.

7. I go through entire days where I wonder why I thought I wanted 2 kids.

8. I am the laziest potty training mother ever. I sometimes forget that I'm supposed to be asking her if she needs to go potty and before I know it, 4 hours have passed with no trips to the potty.

9. Captain Destructo doesn't know her colors. She can count to five, name animals out the wazoo but acts like I'm asking her to speak German if I ask her which egg is blue. Maybe this should be her confession. Can one year olds be color blind?

10. My husband is gone all week and I was so lonely today I caught myself narrating out loud as I cooked dinner.

Feel free to add your confessions below. I know you've got 'em.

The Kids' Table

2010-09-12T18:38:00.006-05:00

I've noticed lately that there are a lot of anti-kid movements going on around the country. First, there was this article about 60% of the public wanting a family-only section on airplanes. Then, there was this story about a restaurant in North Carolina posting a sign that they have a no screaming kids policy. Both stories prompted hoards of offended parents to protest. I think the anti-kid movement has 2 causes: (1) parents thinking their kids can do no wrong, and (2) non-parents becoming more self-centered. Let me explain.

When Captain Destructo was born, the hubby and I made a conscious effort not to become fuddy-duddies who sat around at home just because we had kids (says the lady in stained shorts watching Food Network alone on a weekend night). We took her to our normal restaurants,camping trips, vacations, even a Major League baseball game (yeah....don't take a 5 month old to a Major League baseball game. Epic parenting fail.). We've endured our share of annoyed looks and stares from people as we brought our 5-day old into a sushi restaurant and our 17 month old onto a first class cabin for a 6 hour flight (more on this later). But here's the thing-when she gets fussy and inconsolable, WE LEAVE. One of us will walk with her outside while the other one quickly pays the bill, we leave in the 4th inning of a baseball game, or whatever. We realize that no one thinks our kid is cute enough to not care that she is screaming hysterically. I know that everyone goes through that moment when their kid starts whining when we think we can calm them down and continue with our good time. But when they cross the line into full-blown tantrum, it's time to get the heck out of dodge. You're not having a good time anymore, and neither is anyone around you-just cut your losses and hit the road. Secondly, some parents need to realize that their kid is not so supremely well-behaved that they can bring them into completely un-kid-friendly places. I love kids as much as the next guy, but I get so mad when people bring their toddlers into PG-13 or R-rated movies. You know who doesn't want to see a movie in a theater? Your toddler. You know who doesn't think your kid's so cute we don't care she's throwing a fit on our night out? Everyone else in the theater.

The other cause, I think, of the anti-kid phenomena is the selfish un-parents. We get it, ok? We know you are supremely superior to us, sitting quietly on an airplane, drinking cocktails and reading your magazine in peace. But we can do without the looks of death as we lug our kids, car seats, diaper bag, and the Elmo that fell out of the diaper bag down the aisle. We acknowledge that you don't enjoy hearing our kids scream on an airplane. Look at us. Do we look like we enjoy it either? Do you not see the looks of terror in our eyes as soon as the low-level whining starts, knowing it will escalate into a full-blown, 5-alarm tantrum and we are powerless to stop it? I acknowledge that crying kids are annoying, but I would venture to say that people who talk at ridiculously loud volumes on their cell phones, try to shove bags 6 times too big into the overhead bin, and/or people who bring tuna fish sandwiches onto airplanes are just as bad.

I personally love the idea of a family section on airplanes. I would care much less that Captain Destructo was crying, and other families might enjoy the Elmo DVDs we play nonstop more than the last seatmate I had. We've flown with Captain many times since she was a baby, the first at 3 months old (no, we are not independently wealthy. Frequent flier miles are the perk of having a husband who travels 30 weeks a year). Airplanes are not baby-friendly anyway, what with the lack of places to change a diaper-because you know your kid will poop as soon as the plane takes off-and the anti-nursing vibe. Flying as she has gotten older has become easier and harder. Easier because she can now be distracted by the aforementioned Elmo DVDs; harder because sitting in a seat for more than 30 seconds is much less appealing than it used to be.

Oh, my gosh. I just realized that this time next year I'll have a newborn AND a toddler on the plane. Plus 2 carseats and a double stroller. I need a bag to breathe in.

I hope they have kid sections by then.

Ode to the First Trimester

2010-09-09T12:57:00.004-05:00

Oh, first trimester. How do I love thee, let me count the ways...

(Before I count, I do know that 4 months ago all I did was complain about how I couldn't get pregnant and now I'm complaining about pregnancy. Whatever.)

1. The pregnancy glow that books swore would make me look more beautiful then ever? Yeah, not so much. Unless "glow" means "acne worse than a 12 year olds."

2. The constant nausea that unfortunately was accompanied by an insatiable hunger. So, despite feeling gross, I was still able to eat more bread than a carbo-loading marathoner.

3. The bone-aching tiredness, which seemed much easier to deal with in my last pregnancy. Perhaps because the result of the last pregnancy doesn't seem to care how tired I am.

4. The seemingly indeterminable length of the first trimester in general. Am I done at 12 weeks? 13? 14? No one knows for sure. I am waiting to say "hooray! I'm in the second trimester!" and it seems like I have to keep moving that date back by a week.

5. The belly that has already appeared. While in general I am a huge fan of the baby bump, I do not enjoy the "is she pregnant or is she eating too much bread?" looks I am getting (both, actually). Although thanks to the lady at church who informed me I am getting a "little pooch." I feel even more beautiful.

6. The weird in between stage I am in at the gym. Do I keep up my normal routine? Do I cut back and risk the "wow, she's gotten lazy" looks from my fellow gym-goers? If I run/do jumping jacks/do a sit up will I smush the baby?

7. The ridiculous super sense of smell. A lovely thing to have when you are cleaning a toddler cloth diaper in the toilet, watching your husband eat tuna fish sandwiches, and walking by a Starbucks. Also the grocery store has become the grossest place ever.

I am 14 weeks and 2 days, so I'm officially calling myself in the second trimester. First trimester, don't let the door hit ya on the way out.

Birthing Drama

2010-08-20T12:41:00.005-05:00

Disclaimer: This post guaranteed to lower your opinion of me.
Other disclaimer: Lady parts mentioned. Consider yourself warned.

Well, I've got about 28 weeks to decide this, but I've been thinking a lot lately about the birth of baby #2 and what I want to do.

This is ridiculous, but I've always had a fear of giving birth vaginally. I understand that God made our bodies to do that, and blah blah, but something about it scares the bejeezus out of me. I don't know if it's the actual birth or the episiotomies/tearing. In my childbirth class, the instructor showed us forceps, a vacuum extractor, and the scissors used for cutting you-know-where, and then explained a C-section. A C-section sounded much much better to me. Major abdominal surgery, maybe, but I wouldn't have stitches in my hoo-ha.

When I was 40 weeks pregnant with Captain Destructo, the OB explained to me that I wasn't dialated at all, but she could induce me the next week if I wanted. And I, who often ranted about how ridiculous it was that doctors induce for no reason, said "sure!" I'm sure there are women who are so strong in their beliefs that they are able to turn down an induction when they are 10 months pregnant, huge and in pain, but I'm not one of them. I knew taking pitocin was increasing my risk of other interventions but I decided I didn't care and wanted to get the baby out by whatever means necessary. It ended up that after 30 hours of labor and 2 hours of pushing, I needed a C-section after all, something that I was a little relieved about. Especially due to the fact that, about an hour into the pushing, the nurse looked at me and said "ooh, you're going to need a pretty big episiotomy!"

So that leaves me where I am today. Due with #2, I can decide whether to try for a VBAC or schedule a C-section. I am harboring some guilt about being induced with Captain Destructo still-I never got to go into labor on my own and was in the hospital for an insanely long amount of time. Something about scheduling another C-section, admitting I don't even want to try to give birth vaginally this time, makes me feel like less of a woman. But deep down, I really enjoyed the C-section experience (besides the actual surgery). It was quick, I recovered really fast, and scheduling would mean my mom could come down on time and not leave me alone with 2 kids. So I'm torn (though, thank goodness, not literally).

My sweet friend gave me a Bradley method book when I was pregnant with #1. I read it, only laughing at the pictures of 1970's hoo-has a few times, and at the time thought it was something I could do. So looking back I feel a little bit disappointed in myself that I wasn't strong enough to follow through.

But maybe not disappointed enough to try it.

Got Milk?

2010-08-07T14:22:00.006-05:00

Unless you've lived in a cave, you know breastfeeding is best. Your OB tells you, the pediatrician tells you, commercials say it, even cans of formula say it. So I'm not sure why moms feel the need to remind each other of this continually.

This all started when supermodel Gisele Bundchen said in an interview that breastfeeding should be a "worldwide law" and she doesn't know why mothers would feed their babies "chemical food." You can read more here. I have several big problems with this. First of all, as suggested by a far smarter friend, even if a "worldwide law" existed (which I don't think it does), shouldn't one be made about ending human trafficking or child slavery? Secondly, unless you pick food from your own orchard and butcher your own free-range, grass fed meat, your kid will eat "chemical food" at some point so let's get over that.

Another thing that gets me is I know lots of moms who didn't breastfeed for a full year (including me!). None of us stopped because we were lazy or unaware that breastmilk is best. We all tried hard to make it work and for whatever reason (low supply, tongue tie, lactose intolerance, whatever) it just didn't. Everyone I know feels guilty about stopping, so sitting on your lactationally superior high horse and reminding us what bad moms we are just makes us feel worse.

Finally, we need to remember that breastfeeding/formula is a small snippet in your child's life. Lifelong nutrition habits are far more important. What's the point in breastfeeding for 2 years if you turn around and feed your child hot dogs and mac and cheese for the next 10 years?

We as moms need to stop judging one another's choices (oh....forget what I said about hot dogs and mac and cheese then). Gisele, deflate your perfectly groomed head a little bit and start using your celebrity for good.

I Did't Know I Was Pregnant

2010-07-18T20:03:00.004-05:00

The other night I was channel surfing and came across a show called "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant." Many things about that show baffle me, not the least of which there have been enough women to not know they were pregnant to make a show. Secondly, which part was confusing to you? The lack of a period for 9 months? The fact that you gained a ton of weight without trying? Or, I don't know, how about the human being moving inside of your abdomen? Today, I am about 7 weeks pregnant and was certain that I was knocked up about 3 weeks ago, before the plus sign even appeared on the test. Here is how I knew.

-the fact that my non-existent, deflated water balloon boobs were becoming re-inflated.

-the unprompted, hysterical sobbing during episodes of Glee (Quinn had the baby! Rachel's mom adopted her! So gut-wrenching.)

-waking up on my parents' couch at 8:30 PM, having fallen asleep 30 minutes earlier.

-suddenly gagging at the smell of coffee and when changing my daughter's diaper (ok, that one's not that much of a stretch).

-the fact that my skin looks like a "before" picture in a Proactiv commercial.

I love being pregnant and know what a blessing it is, so none of this is a complaint. I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I'm pretty sure I will never say "I didn't know I was pregnant!"

Mama's Got A Brand New Baby!

2010-07-06T19:16:00.004-05:00

So at long last, after months of charting my temperature, examining cervical fluid like it was a Magic Eye poster and a little help from Clomid, I am happy to announce that baby #2 is on the way! I am only a few weeks along and probably breaking protocol by announcing so early, but I have a big mouth and can't keep it shut any longer. Getting pregnant this time around is so different than it was with #1 I couldn't help but write about it. Case in point:

With #1, I burst into hysterical sobs upon reading the positive test, then proceeded to take 5 more tests just to see them turn pink.
With #2, I took a test, started running around after #1 and forgot that I had taken a test. When I saw it was positive, I immediately started feeling guilty that I would be taking attention away from Captain Destructo.

With #1, I indulged my pregnancy fatigue and napped, in my bed, often several times a day.
With #2, I turn on Sesame Street just so I can actually sit still for 30 minutes.

With #1, I obsessed over pregnancy calendars and could tell you exactly how far along I was at any given point (3 weeks, 4 days, and 5 hours pregnant).
With #2, I have actually forgotten that I was pregnant for long periods of time.

With #1, I played the pregnancy card big time and refused to do anything dirty or difficult.
With #2, I am doing all the same things I did pre-pregnancy. I am even still washing dirty cloth diapers in the toilet without gagging.

I am totally thrilled to be pregnant again, that is when I'm not feeling guilty about taking attention away from Captain Destructo. I look forward to spending the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.

The Fall Heard 'Round the World

2010-06-07T20:30:00.004-05:00

So when Captain Destructo was born, intellectually I knew that someday she would get hurt. Simply considering this fact boggled my mind and caused my post-partum eyes to fill with tears (or maybe that was from the drugs). Sure enough, 2 weeks later I went to get her from her crib and discovered one of her beautiful blue eyes was sealed shut with weird eye goop, later determined to be pink eye. Fast forward 16 months, we have weathered our share of stomach bugs, RSV, bronchitis, teething, and 2 cases of viral pharyngitis. All of this was small potatoes for the trauma that we endured over the weekend.

I put Captain Destructo to bed early and began my usual nighttime routine of mainlining chocolate popsicles while watching The Office. Captain began screaming bloody murder, like "something's wrong", not like "I dropped my Grover." I sprinted into the room to discover her laying face down on the floor screaming hysterically(note-she sleeps in a crib normally. Not on the floor). Repeating "it's Ok, it's Ok" (and still holding half of a popsicle) I checked her over and figured she was probably ok. Scrape on the chin but otherwise fine. I put her down to try and figure out how to jerry-rig the crib to keep her from scaling it again when she started screaming again. Trying to crawl was causing her pain, which my Spider Sense determined warranting a trip to the ER. Many songs, snacks, tears, and one blown up latex glove puppet later, it was discovered that she had fractured her wrist.

Now my gorgeous girl is wearing a freakishly large splint, to be replaced by a cast at a later date. And I, who let her fall, have been asked roughly 1.7 million times by strangers what happened to her arm, you horrible mother? (Funniest story...a little girl said "but when will her arm grow back?") She is suffering through Texas heat by playing in the sprinkler with a grocery bag around her arm, but she is still smiling and running like a crazy fool. Which can only lead to more falls, I'm sure.

Judge Not...

2010-05-27T18:15:00.005-05:00

In my late night (if you consider 9:00 late) internet browsing, I stumbled across this article on USA Today.com. If you don't have time to read because you are not sticking your kid in front of Elmo like I currently am, essentially it's about moms judging other moms and the author questions why this is so. I've touched upon this before and I was glad to read the article and see that I'm not the only one who experiences this.

I think when Captain Destructo was born I expected a bit of judgmentalism from the older generation. My grandmother, for instance, has a habit of providing winter wear for my daughter on a regular basis, despite the fact that we live in San Antonio where it's maybe been below freezing once in the 4 years I've lived here. When I went to visit her on the East Coast, she brought a blanket when she met me at a restaurant "in case I forgot how cold it gets here." (side note: I love my grandmother and apologize for throwing her under the bus for the sake of humor). When Captain Destructo was a few days old, I took her to Target in a sling (thank goodness the recall hadn't happened yet; who knows what other comments I would have gotten). An older lady came over, I thought to admire the baby, but actually to tell me how many illnesses she sees at the hospital where she works and how I really shouldn't have the baby out in public (my husband said "really? There are sick people at the hospital?").

It was surprising to me that I felt I was being judged by my peers. I called a friend when Captain Destructo was a few weeks old to whine over how insanely tired I was and how my baby would only sleep in my arms or her car seat, confessing that I had let her sleep in her car seat in the house.
"(Gasp) You're not supposed to do that!" she said in shock.
"Why not?!" My insecure, sleep-deprived self said.
"I don't know. You're just not," she replied.
Helpful. Thanks.

I wonder how much of what I perceived was actually judgment and how much was projection. I felt like I was a bad mom so thought others must feel the same. After feeling insanely guilty about not breastfeeding a full year, I talked with a friend going through the same thing and realized that supplementing is actually pretty common. So if I hadn't reacted so defensively when questioned about it, perhaps someone would have sympathized with me and I wouldn't have felt like such a loser.

I'm off to rescue my peanut butter covered daughter who is done with Elmo and is eating a Kleenex. Don't judge me.

Toddler Discipline and Other Oxymorons

2010-05-10T19:18:00.005-05:00

For the first year of Captain Destructo's life, she was an angel. If she crawled somewhere I didn't want her to, I simply turned her around and she would crawl away with nary a sound. Then, she turned one.

Now I know she's only one. I know all of you with two and three year olds are saying "oh, just you wait!" I know, okay? But oh, my, gosh. The switch from baby to toddler happened so fast and so completely that I'm still a little bit in shock.

Captain Destructo started walking the week before her birthday. I clapped and videotaped her first steps and was genuinely excited. For about 6 seconds. Then she toddled past my open arms and into the kitchen, and I realized my life was over. We had done our best to babyproof the house but she quickly proved that it wasn't enough.

Whoever designed my house has clearly never had kids or hates all moms, because the switch for the garbage disposal is on the side of the island about 2 feet off the ground, perfect Captain reaching distance. The first time she flipped the switch, I was across the room and heard the sound. "Captain Destructo, no ma'am," I said as I moved her to another room. 10 seconds later, I heard the disposal again. "Captain, NO." I said, and again moved her. You can imagine the rest.....the garbage disposal switching on about 15 more times and me saying no more forcefully each time. This scene happens nearly every day. I've tried taping over the switch (she pulls it off), clapping while saying no (she laughs), and even popping her on the hand (she looks at me, smacks her own hand while saying "no no no"). So basically I am at a complete loss. Now she will walk to the switch, look at me, turn it on and immediately hold her hand out to me, as if to say, "go ahead and punish me, it's worth it."

In my desperation I read the book The Happiest Toddler on the Block by Harvey Karp. Happiest Baby on the Block saved me during her infancy so I had high hopes for this one. The book likens toddlers to cavemen (which I totally get) and encourages you to growl at them to get them to understand no. Umm...ok. Willing to try anything at this point, I growled....and she growled back. The next suggestion is starting time outs at age one. I admit I have yet to try this as it confuses me so much. I was a teacher and a master of time outs for gradeschoolers. But I can't get her to stay in one place for more than 10 seconds, even when bribed with toys and snacks. How do you get an active 15 month old to sit in time out? Really. Not rhetorical.

So that leaves me where I am today. I am trying various mean voices/loud sounds while saying no to try and keep my daughter from grinding my fingers in the garbage disposal. Can't wait for her to turn 2.

And I Was Running...

2010-05-03T11:46:00.004-05:00

This post is completely self indulgent and has nothing to do with being a mom, other than it happened to me. I will return you to your regularly scheduled programming next week.

My history with running is a torrid one. As a chubby kid with rheumatoid arthritis, it's fair to say that the only running I did was chasing the ice cream truck. Once when I was a teenager I was watching my younger siblings while my parents went for a walk (and I sat on the couch. Hence the aforementioned chub). My brother, who is severely allergic to bees, picked that time to walk into a bees' nest and ran to the house screaming, covered in bees. I threw him in the pool and attempted to run the 1/2 mile to find my parents and let them know that their youngest child was in grave danger. When I finally reached them, I was soaked in sweat and breathing so hard all I could do was gasp for air, point to the house and attempt to squeak out the word "bees." He turned out fine, in case you wondered. A bottle of Benadryl does a body good.

After I graduated high school, I learned that the most efficient way (for me) to shed baby fat was running, so I ran for 20 minutes a day on the treadmill. I hated it. I spent the drive to the gym thinking about how much it was going to suck and the entire 20 minutes staring at the countdown on the screen until it mercifully reached 0. I heard of friends who ran marathons and half marathons and laughed, putting them into the same category as friends who did yoga and were vegetarians-great for them, but that would never be me. I would have rather stuck pins in my eyes than willingly run for 4+ hours.

When my daughter was six months old and I still had 20 extra pounds hanging around, a few friends told me they planned on running a half marathon that was about 4 months away. Needing an extra incentive to lose the weight, I signed up. 4 months of training turned out to be really not that bad. There were times I even considered it to be fun. I got to leave the baby with Daddy for a few hours on Saturday mornings and run with friends. Then I got to eat an exorbitant amount of food and not feel guilty. Win-win. When race day arrived, I joined 30,000 other people and ran 13.1 miles. There were times that it sucked, but it was fun and I didn't die. Better still, I finished with a somewhat respectable time (2:07) for a novice runner, which lit a fire in me to continue training.

I kept up my mileage and 2 weeks ago heard about a half marathon in Dallas that looked like a lot of fun-totally laid back, 90% women, and only 1600 participants, so with my sweet hubby's blessing I signed up. I thought I for sure could break 2 hours and might even be able to break 1:50, so I planned on finding the 1:50 pace guy (dude with a balloon that would run the race in exactly 1:50...perfect for dummies like me who can't pace themselves) and sticking to him like glue. I got to the start of the race and discovered that there was no 1:50 pace guy, so I put myself in the front and just started running...quickly. I felt like a million bucks. I felt so good that I found myself on the tail of the 1:40 pace guy, introduced myself and told him I would just stick with him for awhile if that was OK. This seemed like a great plan, as I was thinking at this point that I was Paula Radcliffe and finding untapped talent. Suddenly, at the 7 mile mark, I got tired. Tired like a bus hit me and had dragged me around for about 7 miles. I started asking spectators if they would carry me for a few miles (they laughed....not sure why they thought I was joking). I was getting passed by a bunch of skinny childless girls in sports bras and tall Kenyan looking men. For 6.1 miles I plodded along, cursing myself for starting out so fast and deciding to run in the first place. I should have stuck to board games and Jeopardy...I was good at both of those. Finally, I heard the announcer's voice over the loudspeaker and realized I was almost there. I found a tiny bit of energy left, kicked it in and finished in 1:42. 1:42!! Some (non-Kenyan) people consider that fast! When the day was over, I ended up 20th overall and 2nd in my division (Moms of Toddlers....so maybe the skinny girls passing me were not childless).

Today I feel like death....knees hurting and I could use about 12 hours of straight sleep. I'm hanging up the running sneakers for awhile, as it appears that my reproductive system doesn't like running as much as I do and Captain Destructo needs a little sibling at some point (to save from bee stings). But the moral of the story, Mommies, is (voice of Bela Karoli) You Can Do IT! Don't be scared to try something you think might be too hard. You might surprise yourself.

P.S. I hope this doesn't sound like bragging. I've never ever won anything athletic in my life so I hope this is what is considered an appropriate level of pride.

What's In A Name?

2010-04-29T13:16:00.004-05:00

Warning: this blog has the potential to offend. I apologize in advance. Please feel free to start your own blog criticizing my child's name.

People, when did we all lose our minds and decide to name our kids bizarro things? My theory is that the Jennifers and Jessicas of the '80s grew up and decided that we wanted our kids not to be known as "The Blonde Jennifer" or "Kristin with an I" like some of us were throughout elementary school, so we thought of totally unusual things to name our kids. Yesterday I was picking up Captain Destructo from the gym and the woman in front of me said "come here, Meadow, it's time to go." Meadow?! Really?! The woman (who's name is the same as my little chicken, an awesome name if I do say so myself) managed to say this without laughing so I had to give her props for that.

Now I understand giving your kids names that are unusual. The name that we have chosen for a boy is unusual (and I won't say it b/c I don't want the criticism...it's the only name we can agree on. And I've tried about a thousand). But at least it's an actual name. Picking a random noun and making your child go by it for the rest of their lives is no fun. And can we also agree to not invent weird spellings to make a name seem more unusual than it actually is? People always ask me how to spell Captain's name, which is very traditional and common. Let's pretend her name is Mary. Is there any other way? Like with a silent Q at the beginning?

I was a teacher in the ghetto before being a mom so I've seen my fair share of weird names. One year I taught Treshawn, Dashawn, Tanisha, and Keneisha in the same class. My favorite weird name story is a student named Nautica (pronounced Nau-tee-kah, you know, like it's spelled) who had a baby brother named Dalast. Because her mother said it was da last baby she would have. True story.

Gotta go. Da first is waking up from her nap.

Mom Style

2010-04-22T07:38:00.003-05:00

I, like most people, grew up mortified by my mother's fashion sense (sorry, Mom. I have to add a disclaimer that my mom is gorgeous and a very good dresser now). Between the standard Mom hairdo and the high waisted jeans with tapered legs, she looked pretty much like every other 1980's mom-a hot mess. The other day at the grocery store I looked down and realized that I was wearing Mom jeans and my daughter had pulled my shirt down so that my bra was hanging out. I didn't have time to straighten my hair so it was in a frizzy ponytail. Where did I go wrong?

The style of moms in pop culture over the years has greatly changed. I grew up watching Full House (no Mom....poor kids), Growing Pains and Home Improvement. The moms on the latter two sported short curly 'dos that formed a triangle shape and regularly rocked the mom jeans. The message was that moms had so many other people to care about and so much else to do that personal style was on the bottom on the list. Over time, TV moms have become the Desperate Housewives variety, who are so ridiculously skinny and well-dressed that eating disorders in women later in life are at an all-time high. "Real-life" celebrity moms include people like stupid Heidi Klum, who pops out a kid and then walks down a Victoria's Secret runway two weeks later. Although I suppose if I had a full time nanny, chef, and personal trainer I could be back in shape that fast too (and breast implants and a tummy tuck).

There needs to be a balance in there somewhere. To me, the best mommmy style icons are the women I see out running pushing double strollers who can effortlessly hand out Cheerios while pushing their toddlers and running. I also envy the moms like a friend of mine who has two kids, a deployed hubby, a house on the market, and still not only (a) matches, (b) does her hair and makeup, but (c) looks super cute all the time.

As for me? My kid is 15 months and I still have not found a new pair of jeans that fits right and I can't quite figure out what is appropriate to wear to playgroup and the grocery store to look stylish but not too much so. So look the other way when you see me out. And tell me if my bra is hanging out.

Before and After

2010-04-10T15:58:00.005-05:00

It's a muggy Saturday here in San Antonio. I ran 10 miles this morning, took the fam to the Strawberry Festival and am enjoying a quick Facebook perusal while Sesame Street is on. All in all, it's been a perfect day. It's funny to think about how my definition of a perfect day has changed since becoming a mama.

A day in my life circa 2008:

I woke up at exactly 5:47, whereupon I would hit the snooze button, dream for 9 more minutes and stumble to the coffee maker. I drank my cup of coffee while showering, putting on makeup and doing my hair. I drove to work (listening to the radio station of my choosing), where I taught for 6 hours and headed home. After getting home I would hop on the elliptical and work out while watching 30 Minute Meals. My husband and I would enjoy dinner that did not include peanut butter or Cheerios and I would watch a few hours of my favorite reality show programming before hitting the sack.

A day in my life circa 2010:

I wake up to the sounds of Captain Destructo babbling in her crib, at which point I try to put her back to sleep through mental telepathy. When this inevitably fails, I stumble to her room and attempt to change her diaper while she is writhing like an epileptic and signing milk as if she hasn't had anything to drink for weeks. After breakfast, I take a shower while singing "Head Shoulders Knees and Toes" and yelling, "stay out of there! Don't put that in your mouth!"
Around mid-morning I am desperate to see big people so we run errands of some sort. If it is Wednesday, we go to playgroup, where I am so glad to talk to adults I yammer for about about 90 minutes straight. We generally head home and Captain falls asleep in the car. I put her in the crib and inform her that the nap in the car does not count and she should still sleep for her full 2 hours. After she wakes up and has lunch, she plays/destroys things while I follow behind her saying "no" over and over again and keeping her from eating crayons/dirt/dead bugs/Cheerios from breakfast. At 4:00 I let her watch Sesame Street. I have decided that one episode a day is OK (and who am I kidding, she watches The View with me most days) and I have also decided that Sesame Street is hilarious.
After dinner, bath, a warped speed reading of Goodnight Moon, prayers, and bed, I attempt to clean up the wreckage of the day and crash in front of the tube until I fall asleep on the couch and drag myself to bed.

It's truly an awesome life. Have to go, don't want to miss Elmo's World.

Girls, girls, girls

2010-03-30T16:08:00.004-05:00

When I was pregnant, we didn't find out the sex of the baby. I really, really wanted a girl though. I would pray for a healthy baby...with a vagina (I'm sorry if that word offends you. If so, pretend I said "bajinko"). I swore we were having a boy though. I called Captain Destructo "he" when referring to her in utero (as in "his head is banging against my crotch") and even painted the nursery blue and green. I was THRILLED when the doctor announced "it's a girl!" And I adore having a little girl. It's so fun to relate to her toys-she has a Strawberry Shortcake that I remember having too-and to dress her up in cute little dresses and bows (which she pulls out and tries to eat, but the point still stands). But, oftentimes I think about how hard it is to be a female teenager, and even school age girl. Because if Captain is anything like almost all of the women I know, she will struggle with her self esteem and body image in a way that her brothers never will.

When Captain Destructo was about 6 months old, I ran into a former coworker at Target. My daughter is chunky and I think it's totally adorable. The coworker said "she's so chunky! Does she ever stop eating?!" No, she sits in front of the TV eating Cheetos all day. How about SHE'S A BABY!!! All she eats is breastmilk (OK, and formula) but would she have asked that if Captain Destructo was a boy? Would it have just been cute then?

It's no secret that I have struggled with body image and disordered eating my whole life. I am pretty upfront about my eating disorders, mostly because I am narcissistic and like to talk about myself. I've been as low as 90 pounds and as high as 185 (well, that was 9 1/2 months pregnant, but still). My earliest memory connected to my weight is being in first grade and being too heavy to ride the seesaw with the little skinny girls in my class. When I was 10, I did the whole "look in the mirror and point out your flaws so other people will compliment you" routine, but even then it was obvious that I was a lot bigger than the other girls my age. I started dating after high school when I had healthily lost a lot of weight and felt good about myself. From then I sought to lose "just 5 more pounds" until I got so skinny that I fell asleep at 7:30 every night and really didn't care about anything except working out and not eating. I'm recovered now, but still wouldn't consider myself "normal" about food and exercising. Just yesterday I asked my husband what normal people eat for lunch. (Now that you know this, you know why I get all weird if you ask me to have a big lunch in the middle of the week or my body fat percentage.)

This would be all just one person's sob story if I was alone, but I'm willing to bet that you all can relate. This is why having a girl terrifies me. Because our society teaches her that big men are strong and big women are lazy. Because she will watch normal sized celebrities be criticized for their weight, make a big fuss and shout "I'm normal! I don't have to lose weight for anyone!" and then lose a bunch of weight anyway. Because when she is in elementary school, she will hear kids call each other fat and she will begin to contemplate how fat or thin she is in relation.

So I pray for her. I pray that God will bless her with the self esteem I never had and that she will love on others in a way that makes them forget their worries about their bodies. Moms, I pray for us, that we will watch what we say and do in front of our daughters. When we look in the mirror and pinch our waists in disgust, little eyes are watching. I know I've caught myself doing this in front of Captain Destructo (a point that will surely come up in her future therapy sessions).

And I pray for sons. (Just kidding....don't get me started on boys...that's for a future post)

Moms Do the Darndest Things

2010-03-25T18:08:00.007-05:00

I've always been what you might call an anti-hippie. Soggy (as opposed to crunchy) if you will. When I was in college, I had some friends who were hippies, but really we were only friends because it made me feel cooler. Secretly I would wonder who told them dreads and Birkenstocks were a good look, while I went back to my dorm to drive my car to Wal-Mart, where I purchased aeresol hairspray and voted Republican. I by no means consider myself crunchy now-the kid is fully vaccinated and got her fair share of formula, but since M was born I have done the following:

1. I've been told by several different people to squirt breastmilk in her eye when she got pinkeye. I would have done it, but I was so worried about the quantity of my breastmilk that I honestly didn't have the ounce to spare. How this remedy came to be I don't understand...who tried that for the first time???

2. I switched to cloth diapers. This switch, while done partly for cost-effectiveness, partly for environmental benefits, and mostly because cloth diapers are so damn cute, involves me swirling poopy diapers in a toilet bowl, spending Saturday nights stuffing inserts into pockets, and scrubbing diapers with a toothbrush and some Dawn. That's right.

3.I have begun conversations with the phrase "OH MY GOSH, guess what I found in Captain Destructo's diaper!" Don't know if this makes me a hippie or just weird.

4. Captain Destructo's first finger food was a brand called Happy Baby, and the food in question was called organic spinach puffs. Along those lines, I spent $4 yesterday on a product called "Organic Brown Rice Bars Coated in Vanilla Yogurt."

5. I spent a whole afternoon pureeing and freezing fruits and vegetables for her. And it was the greatest afternoon.

6. Today I googled "composting." Because I actually might start doing it. I also said this "Honey, can we get a clothesline for the backyard?" And meant it.

7. I only use cleaning products with "green" in the title and when they run out I use vinegar.

These are all clues that, during my C-section (which I loved...see, I'm not that crunchy) my OB took out the normal part of my brain. So if you smell patchouli and baby poop, look out for me.

Lessons from Labor and Delivery

2010-03-16T16:06:00.004-05:00

Two of my friends had babies this past week, and I've been reminiscing about my hospital experience. Take a trip with me down my drug-clouded memory lane.

I dragged my poor husband with me to childbirth class, where a ridiculously peppy nurse spent 3 weeks lying through her teeth to a room full of hugely pregnant, uncomfortable women and our poor partners. We all suffered through videos of 1970's crotches and contorted ourselves into weird pushing positions, while our partners (mostly husbands, one mom, and my poor friend Hil on the night the hubby couldn't come) rubbed our backs as we pretended to "he-he-hoo" through non-existent contractions. The nurse relayed to us how easy childbirth could be as long as we could bounce on our birthing balls and pace the hallways. It would be a breeze since we were prepared.

When I was in the recovery room, the childbirth class was on their tour of the hospital and stopped at the room next to mine. We said hi to the teacher as she led her poor unassuming victims by and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming "everything she tells you is a LIE!" Here's what I would say if I taught that class.

1. When you enter the hospital, you will be strapped down with about 15 different cords. I had wires coming from nearly every body part, including my hoo-ha at one point when Captain Destructo's heartbeat kept dropping. Thus, it is difficult to do things such as "pace the hallways," "bounce on a birthing ball," or "pee."

2. You will have absolutely no dignity and not care one bit. As one friend said, the UT marching band could have paraded through my room and played their fight song while staring at my crotch and I wouldn't have cared.

3. This applies double for when you are trying to breastfeed. Frankly, I'm still amazed that the human race has survived as long as we have if we were required to survive on breastmilk. I took off my shirt in front of many people, including my father and one of my pastors. If a bum on the street could have helped me figure out how to breastfeed I would have gladly let him grab my boob.

4. You will revert to childlike status, relying on other people to change your clothes when you barf on yourself (and you will), help you in and out of bed, and change your "dressing" (read: sanitary pads the size of China). You will beg for a popsicle, like you did in kindergarten. Along these childlike lines, you will be required to show people when you use the bathroom what resembles a large training potty.

It wasn't all bad. I did get room service, a free diaper bag and a pretty cute kid out of the stay. I still miss the nursery where someone else would watch the baby for a night (though I felt too guilty to leave her there, stupid me) as well as the sweet sleeping pills at my beck and call. Can't wait to do it again, as the stories afterwards are worth the pain.

Competitive Parenting

2010-03-07T18:10:00.005-06:00

I was at story time at the public library a few days ago, and the Library Lady asked the kids what sound a kitty makes. I laughed to myself, as the room was filled with babies who were either drooling, pulling their mother's hair, or both (like my kid) when an adorable, crystal clear baby voice sang out "meow!" We all laughed, but not in a "your kid's so cute" kind of way. It was an "oh my gosh, someone else's kid can do something that mine can't, clearly my child has a learning disability/horrible side effect from all her vaccines" kind of way. The voice belonged to Sally (name changed to protect the innocent), a small, bald 18 month old who could walk, talk in complete sentences, and make the rest of us moms of ordinary babies very uncomfortable.

Why is it that mothers are insanely competitive? It's bad enough during pregnancy. I remember shopping for maternity clothes and seeing other pregnant women, and quickly assessing how I looked compared to them. Although, to my credit, I was convinced that I looked much better than I actually did, so I usually came out on top. (That's what she said.) If the other shopper was smaller than me, I decided that clearly she was not as far along as I was or that her baby was surely much smaller (imagine my surprise when Captain Destructo came out at 7 pounds, and not 35 1/2 as I thought based on the amount of weight I had gained). When the babies are born, the competition takes on a whole new dimension. We try to pretend that we don't care that our kids are not as advanced as others. I know I said "it's no big deal, she'll develop at her own pace" multiple times to people when trying to explain why Captain Destructo wasn't rolling over at 6 months, when in actually at home I was googling "average time to roll over in infants" and forcing the poor child to spend all her time on her tummy. People tried to calm my fears by saying super helpful things like "it takes bigger babies longer to roll over." So now she's fat and slow? Thanks.

The other thing mothers do is attempt to justify why other kids can do things that ours can't. I know I am guilty of this. When I first heard Sally reciting soliloquies at story time, I leaned over and said to her mother "Sally's a great talker! Does she have older brothers and sisters?"
"She has a 12 year old sister," her mother explained. "Does M?"
"No, she's our first," I replied, while thinking "ah-ha! That 12 year old sister must spend all her time teaching Sally to talk."

I wonder if babies go through this. Are we born with an innate desire to be the best? Does Captain Destructo walk around thinking "hey, that other baby can make the noise for the cow and I can't. I must prove my superiority." Or, "is it me or is her butt much smaller that mine in that diaper?" (This is my fault-we cloth diaper and her booty is huge in her diapers.) For her sake I hope not. I guess all I can do is continue to build her self-esteem by teaching her new cute tricks on a regular basis and showing off as much as possible.

Dr. Mom

2010-03-02T18:38:00.004-06:00

I remember being sick as a kid. My mom instinctively knew what to do, whether it was a cool washcloth for a fever, 7up and crackers for a stomachache, or popsicles for a sore throat. I would lay on the couch watching movies with a trashcan next to me and a sleeve of Saltines on the coffee table, and I always felt better the next day. Captain Destructo has been sick for what seems like 13 months straight, and more often than not, I have no idea what the heck to do.

For the most part, I have mastered the art of dealing with a cold. Humidifier, tissues, check. That's about all you can do for a baby with a cold and really all I feel I am capable of. What brings panic into my very soul is the stomach bug. I remember the first time Captain Destructo threw up-not just baby spit up, but real vomit. She was about 6 months old and it scared the bejeezus out of me. I called Ask A Nurse in a panic as my husband held her (she threw up in his face-that's a real man for you ladies) and they told me what I suspected: you can't do anything but let it pass. It was a horrible experience, and she had another bug a few weeks later. I turn into a panicked freak at the sight of vomit, scrubbing everything with Lysol and wondering if every twinge I feel is a virus. Honestly just thinking about it now makes me sweaty and nervous. So you can imagine my horror on Friday when I heard Captain Destructo gagging on the baby monitor. She never yakked, but I assumed it was a stomach bug, and because I am so vomit-phobic I waited the standard 2 hours to see if she would barf before I gave her Pedialyte and then only toast and crackers. So 2 days later when she was still not herself, I took her to the doctor to discover she had a sore, red throat. And don't you want scratchy crackers and toast when you have a sore throat? Poor baby.

I've grown a lot as a mom this year. I have used a rectal thermometer without passing out. I'm hoping that by the time she enters kindergarten I will be able to watch her barf without closing my eyes, plugging my ears, and then calling my mother in a panic to ask what to do.

To Conceive or Not to Conceive, That is the Question.

2010-02-24T19:06:00.008-06:00

I think it's normal for every mom of a one year old to look back and reflect over the year that's passed. For me, I've been looking at my walking, talking little girl and realizing that she's not a baby anymore! I'm afraid I've also been bitten by the baby bug. This may sound exciting, but let me take you on a little trip back in time and introduce you to Trying to Conceive Me.

Trying to Conceive Me is completely insane. I scheduled my ovulation times into my husband's Blackberry (Bing! You're about to get lucky!). I could tell you my basal body temperature and the state of my cervical mucus at any given time, and if you asked me the date I answered in days past ovulation. Add to that the Clomid/Provera hormone cocktail I was prescribed to get things going, and you get one hot mess.

I am trying to keep her under wraps, but Trying to Conceive Me is fighting her way back. I've started to get jealous of pregnant women again, the first sign that she is emerging. I heard yesterday that Pregnant Man is knocked up again, and I yelled at the TV "are you freaking kidding me? A man can get pregnant three times and I'm not?!"

Of course, I am trying to remind Trying to Conceive Me of the reasons it's good to be non-pregnant. One being, I turn into a giant moose when I'm pregnant. Seriously, it's surprising that Captain Destructo didn't come out shaped like a loaf of bread because I probably ate one everyday for 9 months. You think I'm joking? Here is pregnant me above. And that was like, 23 weeks. There are no pictures beyond that because my camera doesn't zoom out that far. There's also the constant worry about the baby, the need to pee every 20 seconds, and, well, you know. The production of an actual newborn. And while babies and children are wonderful, having a newborn is kind of a thankless job. They pretty much eat (nonstop), sleep (in 10 minute intervals), and perform bodily functions on your clothes, without so much as a smile. Trying to Conceive Me would like to add that newborns grow into babies you love more than your life, which makes the newborn phase seem worthwhile, but it's still a long 3 months.

But who wouldn't want another one of these?

My Kid Can Beat Up Your Honor Student

2010-02-19T07:46:00.007-06:00

I love kids. I was a teacher before Captain Destructo and in my spare time I babysat and volunteered in the nursery. It was a great day when I made a baby laugh at the grocery store or played with someone's kid. And then I had kids of my own.

It's not that I don't like other people's kids anymore. I do. They're all well and good, but I like them (a) far less than my kid, and (b) far less than I did before she was born. (I hope I'm not offending anyone. Your kids are great, really. You know what I mean, right?)

I came to this realization while at playgrounds with Captain Destructo. Except for the past few days, the weather here has been very un-Texas like, forcing us to find somewhere to go before I lose my mind. One week we went to the germ factory known as the indoor playground at the mall. There were 2 little girls playing nicely until Captain Destructo toddled in, and they proceeded to stick to her like glue, following her around, even going so far as to touch her face with their grubby little hands. Now, 2 years ago I would have thought this was adorable, but now all I can think is, for God's sake, take your germy selves away from my daughter. Of course, their parents were talking on cell phones and ignoring them, so I (politely of course) told them Captain Destructo could play by herself.

The next week, at a different, more crowded, playground, Captain Destructo got her hair pulled by another toddler. It was so sad I almost cried-she was all excited and crawled up to her new friend, and New Friend grabbed 2 handfuls of her cute little hair and yanked until her mom pried her terrorist hands off. Now whenever we see this little girl I pick Captain Destructo up and move her. I'm sure this is just the beginning of assault by other kids-at this time most of M's wounds are self-inflicted-and the thought of other kids hurting her seriously breaks my heart. Heck, even the thought of other kids taking her toys makes me sad.

On a completely unrelated note, is anyone else sick of the Winter Olympics? I wish they would just get rid of them altogether. Seriously, did you just preempt The Office for curling? You like watching curling? Come watch me sweep my floors. It's actually more interesting as I am doing it at warp speed to keep Captain Destructo from eating the dirt pile.

Have a great day y'all.

One of those days

2010-02-12T09:36:00.004-06:00

Today's just been one of those days. I've heard parents joke about giving their kids "back." Does anyone know where "back" is? It's probably a good thing no one knows because Captain Destructo would have been heading there this morning.
As she has been most of the winter, Captain was sick this week. She's got that disgusting snotty nose/cough thing where she's not that bad but I feel guilty bringing her to playgroup, so we're quarantined. Tuesday she was a hot mess, whining all day long and nothing I did was right. I was running through my arsenal of Things to Make the Baby Stop Crying. Food? Nope. Water? Nope. Mommy singing Phredd songs? Nope. We finally resorted to watching 3 back to back episodes of Elmo's World, which she still whined through, but Elmo's "guess what Elmo's thinking about today? Ya-da-da-da!" was loud enough to drown her out. She had been better Wednesday and Thursday, but was super fussy last night, which I attributed to her being tired. Unfortunately she woke up this morning still fussing. I seriously almost cried when I looked at the clock, hoping it was naptime, and it was only 7:30 AM. She ended up falling asleep about an hour ago, and I'm kind of scared for her to wake up. Thank goodness for naps though because I was about 5 seconds away from locking myself in my closet and crying hysterically.
Hope your children are happier than mine today!

Pink's His Favorite Color

2010-02-07T20:09:00.004-06:00

So I've accepted that my daughter is bald. She was born with some dark hair, but it all fell out (I don't know when though, I didn't notice baby hairs in her bed or anything, but I also didn't notice my 40 extra pounds, so I'm not a great judge). By six months she was a total cue ball, but now, at one, she's got a little hair. No ponytails by any means but I can't see her scalp anymore. I was so excited to have a little girl and I dress her in pink/purple/other girly color all the time, so it infuriates me to no end when people call her a boy. Here is one conversation I had with an old guy at a car lot:

Old Guy: Hi handsome! What's your name>
Me: Very girly name.
Old Guy: (looks briefly confused, then embarassed) Oh, I thought for sure she was a boy. I guess I should have noticed the pink.
Me: (smiles uncomfortably)

and another conversation with an old lady at Wal Mart:

Old Lady: Hi big boy! What are you eating there? (Captain Destructo is covered in graham cracker shmutz) How old is he?
Me: She just turned one.
Old Lady: Oh, I thought she was a boy! She is in pink though (as I walk away, to check out lady) I thought for sure that was a boy!

I even sucked it up and put her in big, obnoxious bows, which did help in curbing the "what a cute little boy" statements. Now she's older and has learned that she doesn't have to wear big, obnoxious bows if she doesn't want to, so she pulls them down and lets them hang around her neck like a bowtie. I feel that a bowtie would only exacerbate the problem so she is bow-less. I could pierce her ears, but don't get my started on the ridiculousness of baby ear piercing (if you are offended by this, I'm sorry, but it's my blog. You can start your own on the virtues of baby ear piercing). Even if I didn't think it was totally tacky, I cry every time she gets her shots so I don't think I could deal with inflicting unnecessary pain. And that's just one more thing I'd have to worry about keeping clean-I've got enough to worry about, like whether or not anyone is going to notice the rugburn on her cheek (I thought rugburn on the face only happened in college!).

Moral of the story: if you don't know the gender, just say "what a cute baby." And, for goodness sake, if the baby is in pink IT'S A GIRL.

Worrying is like a rocking chair...

2010-02-02T20:17:00.005-06:00

...it gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere (author unknown).

I have always been the queen of worry. Before Captain Destructo, I worried that I would never get a job, never get married, die a lonely old woman with dozens of cats, etc., etc. When we decided to start trying to get pregnant (and what a boat load of fun that was! I took so many ovulation/pregnancy tests I should have just peed on a hundred dollar bill), after a few months of trying I was convinced that I was barren and was googling adoption and IVF options.

Obviously, I did eventually get pregnant, which intensified the worrying about a million percent, especially in the first trimester. I was uber excited, so I told people I was pregnant as soon as the stick dried, then immediately realized that if something were to go wrong I'd have to tell everyone I knew. At my 8 week doctor's appointment my OB tried and failed to hear the heartbeat (and, having read about 6 months ahead in What to Expect While You're Expecting, I knew this was normal, however I hoped I would have a baby with a superhuman heart), I FREAKED out so badly that she scheduled an ultrasound (as a side note, a baby at 8 weeks gestation looks roughly like a tadpole with no legs, or a jellybean. I was like "should I act like I am emotionally touched by seeing this weird bloblike creature in my abdomen? Will the songrapher think I am heartless and call CPS pre-emptively?"). Thank God Captain Destructo was an active baby (fetus I guess). Whenever I didn't feel her move for a few hours (or seconds) I would jab around in my belly until I felt a body part, then press on that body part until it moved.

Since Captain Destructo has been born, I haven't worried so much about if she was dead or sleeping, mostly since she never slept long enough for me to have to wonder. But the littlest things freak me out-like just today I heard you're not supposed to put baby girls in a bubble bath because of the UTI risk. So I've been worrying about her poor hoo-ha all day long. And surely the child is destined for a life of ADD, since I recently heard that having the TV on "for background noise" as I did for oh, the first 3 months straight of her life, is just as bad as having your kid watch it (but she'll be a very worldly, well-dressed dummy as we mostly watched What Not to Wear). And every time we go to storytime at the library I feel like the other moms are more interactive with their kids than I am (I catch myself just sitting listening to the book), so hopefully those kids won't be in her kindergarten class. They'll be all into multiplication while Captain Destructo can't count past 5 because Mommy would only count with her during the commercials.

Come back and check on me in a few years because I'm sure I'll be writing about how worried I am about her making friends and having a prom date, and if anyone will make fun of her cankles in high school (hopefully she'll outgrow them). I think I'm going to go take a Mylanta.

An Open Letter to the Ridiculously Skinny Girl at the Gym

2010-02-01T13:16:00.003-06:00

Dear Ridiculously Skinny Girl at the Gym,

Congratulations at being ridiculously skinny! Really, I'm thrilled for you. I just want to let you know that we can all tell you are ridiculously skinny just by seeing you in your short shorts and skimpy tank top. Therefore, it is not necessary to remove said tank top in the middle of aerobics class and complete the class in your sports bra. However, thank you for standing front and center so that the rest of us could see your abs. I did appreciate how last week, instead of removing your tank top completely, you folded it halfway up. That way you maintained your dignity while still allowing us to see your abs.
I will assume you are not a mother, since you are (a) ridiculously skinny, and (b) not wearing t-shirts with old breastmilk stains and holey gym shorts like the rest of us. So thank you for still taking the aerobics classes at 10 AM with all of the moms, and reminding us what we could look like if not for our saggy boobs, stretched out belly buttons, and stretch marks. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, as I assume that's where your scantily clad self will be. I'll be the one in the back with the mismatched socks and shorts that are rolled up sixteen times because I wore them when I was pregnant and stretched the elastic past it's maximum.

Love,
Me

Opinions are like...well, you know...

2010-01-31T18:51:00.005-06:00

I'm not sure why it is, but pregnant women are public property. If I had a nickel for every time someone rubbed my belly, I could buy the Buddha statue that people were mistaking me for. Along with the rubbing comes the incessant questions. Will you be breastfeeding? Will you be having an epidural or going natural? Have you taken childbirth classes? What's your due date? (A personal favorite of mine....because inevitably they say "Oh January 19th! That's my mom/cousin/neighbor/dog's birthday!" As if I am supposed to be super excited that my kid will share a birthday with some random person's relative/neighbor/pet.)

I think the questions in and of themselves would be fine if not for the opinions that came along with them, because with the opinions come the Mommy guilt, which comes before you're even a Mommy.
Random person (hereafter referred to as RP): Oh, you'll be having an epidural? You know that increases your risk for a C-section.
Hugely pregnant me (or HPM): Oh, well I actually wouldn't mind a C-section.
RP: A C-section?! You know you'll never have a flat stomach again (I especially enjoyed this coming from a single, childless person).

Once Captain Destructo was born, the opinions just kept coming, which I actually think was worse because I was so insecure about my parenting abilities. I had huge supply issues with my milk, so much so that we almost had to take Captain to the ER for dehydration when she was a week old. Instead of stopping breastfeeding, we just supplemented with formula, and combo-fed until she was 8 months old. I considered this a huge feat as it was about 7 1/2 months longer than I thought I would last. I was INCREDIBLY insecure about this. I would try to bottle-feed her in secret, especially when she was really young. When she got older, I would make sure people only saw one or the other-the boob or the bottle, so they wouldn't think I was weird. Obviously, this is not a long-term solution, and I was busted at a party when she was about 3 months old. A random friend of a friend approached me and said "Can I ask you something? Are you breastfeeding AND giving her formula?"
I wish I would have said, "No, actually this is whiskey. It helps her sleep. Is that not what you did with your babies?"
But actually I stuttered something about my supply and we left the party early because I was so upset (I'm a little sensitive, OK?)

Fast forward 9 months: my daughter likes to throw food on the floor from her high chair. Obviously this is not acceptable, and it's not like she'll be doing it when she's 13, but she's 1 and I feel like I have to pick my battles so I just ignore her and sweep after every meal. Same goes for restaurants, I always clean up when we're leaving, but if I picked up every bit of food after she ate I'd spend the meal under the table, and I swore I wouldn't do that again (that's a joke. A JOKE!). Last week we were at Macaroni Grill, and a waitress came by (same waitress who had been cooing over Captain Destructo the whole meal), inspected the hot mess that was the floor and said "do you always let her throw food on the floor?"
Cool me would have said what I was thinking, which was, "Well, no, usually I let her play with firecrackers and knives to distract her. You don't have any here do you?" But of course I just looked at her and said "yes, actually" and again we left.

My point in all of this rambling: I don't walk down the street and tell people what I think of their outfits (only in my head). So keep your stupid opinions to yourselves. I'm just going to ignore them anyway.

One Year Later

2010-01-30T18:45:00.003-06:00

It's hard to believe that it's been a year since I became a mommy. I've been a lifeguard, a coach, a teacher, a wife, but mommy has been the most trying, but most rewarding of all my job titles. But enough with the schmaltz, here's a list of what I've learned...and what no one wants to tell you about having a baby.

1. It's best to never utter the phrase "I'll never..." or "my child will never..." while pregnant or not yet a parent. In fact, "I never" is only to be used in a drinking game. For instance, "my child will never watch TV before they're 5" or "my child will never drink formula" were both used, quite regularly, by myself. Looking back now, it's a wonder M's first words weren't "Oprah" or "Enfamil." Additionally, it's best not to look at a screaming child in a grocery story and think of how your child would never do that. God hears you, laughs, and then gives you a child who does the same thing as you desperately search for a pacifier/graham cracker/animal tranquilizer in your diaper bag.

2. While you are pregnant, people tell you many lies, such as "breastfeeding makes you lose the baby weight" and "babies sleep for 20 hours a day." If anyone told you the truth, which is "breastfeeding may burn calories, but since you are still eating like a water buffalo and are too tired to get off the couch it won't matter" and "babies sleep for 10 minute spurts at really inconvenient times, like when you are trying to stuff your painful, engorged boob in their mouth or when you are taking them for professional pictures," you would probably throw your pregnant self off a bridge.

3. Your body changes in unbelievable, unpredictable ways. I had acne and dandruff right after Captain Destructo was born. It was super hot. Also, I was excited about pregnant boobs, but no one told me the flip side-when you stop breastfeeding they look like deflated water balloons.

4. Regular human principles do not apply to babies. Just because you sleep more on nights when you skip a nap or stay up late does not mean they will. In fact, they will sleep less, wake up earlier and be grouchy for the next few days. Also, it is possible for a baby to down a 6 oz bottle (of breastmilk of course, I would never, ever give my baby formula!), throw it up frat-boy style, and be hungry immediately after.

I'm sure I have so much more to learn, but the first year really has been incredible. God has blessed me with a husband who loves and takes great care of me, and a beautiful, healthy daughter, who has a bruise on her forehead, a cut on her lip where she tried to shove a piece of glass in her mouth, and who ate half a crayon in the bathtub. Eat your heart out, June Cleaver.