Coffee!!

Every mom should drink coffee. It's essential. Mandatory. You should not be able to pass as a mom unless you drink a cup of Joe. At least one a day. Now I have a friend who's allergic to caffeine so I guess she's an exception. But if you aren't allergic to caffeine then there's no good reason you should not drink coffee. I don't care if you're trying to keep your teeth white. Drink through a straw or get them bleached. I don't care if you don't like the taste, add some sugar, mix it up, whatever. Not drinking coffee is like taking a college course without the main textbook. You will not pass. In fact you will fail, miserably. And it's the only legal drug us mommies can partake of and still be considered sane -- most of the time.

On the flip side, I know all the politics over coffee. How third world plantation workers are being over-worked, under paid and taken advantage of on coffee/cocoa fields. How one cup of coffee/espresso actually requires a ridiculous amount of beans that someone busted their behind to pick for us. But it's COFFEE. We can't help it. Blame the corporations ("The Best Part of Waking Up, Is A Folgers In Your Cup!")! We turn a deaf ear to the coffee plantation stories just to get one drip of the aromatic bliss. I'm sure right now as I type (and drink a luke warm cup of Joe from a Styrofoam cup!!) someone is probably doubled-over, dripping sweat and maybe even shedding a tear while finding me the perfect bean. And I feel for them! Really I do. But in all seriousness, it is really unfortunate what goes on behind the scenes in the coffee industry just so another Starbucks can go up in Timbuktu. And perhaps us moms should rally up to do something about it. But first, let's discuss our strategy, put our brains together, really take this issue seriously -- over a cup of coffee, shall we?

Remembering...

Over Thanksgiving weekend I came down with the most terrible stomach thing. Not sure if it was food poisoning (my body's revenge for being a glutton) or a nasty stomach flu. Whatever the case, I was doubled over in pain, crying my eyes out and reminiscent of labor pains almost a year ago! My family was quick to suspect that I could be pregnant again since I was also running to the bathroom constantly to give back all the lovely food I had partaken of. That or had H1N1, Bird Flu, or any other heinous illness.

I ruled out the preggers possibility by asking my single sister, who's never had to buy a pregnancy test in her life, make a drug store run. She hesitated at first. Then admitted to being embarrassed. It was cute. Almost like she was in middle school and I was asking her to go buy some maxi pads. Or her first condoms purchase. But she went anyway for the love of her little sis. Wonder what her face looked like as she put the pregnancy test down on the counter. Did she make eye contact with the cashier? Try to throw in gum or water or something else to distract from it? I'm sure in her mind she was paranoid that she didn't have a wedding ring on and that the cashier would assume she was some irresponsible single person making a secret pregnancy test run in her pajamas. Hilarious.

Later that night the pains got worse. I really started to believe that I was about to give birth to a 10 pound baby. Maybe the test was wrong and I really did have a big huge baby stuck inside my belly, hiding along side my size 1 waist? Maybe I would end up on that TV show I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant!

Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I asked my husband if he could take me to the ER. I was giving birth... to something. So he did. And my sister came too, the loyal sis that she is. Naturally, when I got there the pains began to subside. But as we pulled in front of the ER and checked in, I began to have de ja vu. The last time I had been to ER was for Cub's arrival. As we sat in the ER triage room, amidst my discomfort, I felt a warm feeling of happiness come over me. Everything started coming back to me. The drive to the hospital, the wheelchair taking me up to the labor area, the smell of the hospital, the anticipation... and at that moment I felt like the luckiest woman alive. To be able to conjure up that memory. To have lived and experienced giving birth.

After our Ken Doctor (that's what we called him because he seriously looked like a Barbie doctor) couldn't find a reason to keep me there, and my husband was barely able to continue standing he was so tired (it was now about 1 AM), we were released.

While the stomach thing was the worst I've experienced in my 30-odd years of life, I am so grateful that I was able to experience that little moment of remembering... the day my first-born was brought into our lives. That made it all worth it... kind of.

New Mom Sexual Mind

Sex or Watch Leno?
Sex or Finish Folding the Laundry?
Sex or Movie?
Sex or Finish that Book?
Sex or Set my hair?
Sex or Write?
Sex or Sleep?
Ooh, sleep! Now that's sexy!
Sex or Watch the baby on the monitor?
Sex?
What's that again?

Free Moments

I'm out. All by myself. An independent woman. Alone. Driving down the street. Listening to the radio. Feeling old and out of date for not knowing the latest pop hits. But also relieved because they all suck these days. I have a few free hours to myself. To run errands, shop, do whatever it is I feel like doing. And for a moment I feel like I'm myself again. The me, myself and I self. It feels good if only for a passing moment. I do love the new me and how full my life is now. I am fulfilled. But being out by myself feels liberating. And womanly. I feel beautiful and cool. Someone I'd like to hang around. Chat up at a coffee shop. Then I'm at a coffee shop. Walking in this secret me. I don't need validation. Don't need anybody to look at me or strike up a conversation. I'm bad all by myself! Loving being alone for a few short moments in this day. As I reach for my wallet to pay for the coffee I find a rattle. Then the cap to a bottle. Then something chewy and yucky stuck to the lining of my purse. I am reminded. And tickled that I am a mother. A loved, loving mom of one of the most wonderful little boys. And I feel suddenly needed and assured. I get my coffee and sit down. Taking in the fun, freeing atmosphere. Slipping back into an alone but perfectly content moment. Then I reach into my pocket. Something's crunching. I feel crumbs. I pull out the crunchy fragile shell of a former Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. There's no escaping it. I am a mother. And that alone makes me feel even more attractive and sexy. All by myself.

When You Can't Blame The Baby

Today I had one of those mortifying moments. One of those moments you wish you could stop time and quickly rewind to undo the undoable. But the moment took a big fat front seat right in front of me and laughed hard in my face. So hard that I actually blushed even thinking about it later.

If only we could tivo life. Then we could use that bloop bloop bloop sound to go back to a moment we may have missed or quickly skip past a moment we're too afraid, ashamed or mortified to face. Like this one.

So you're wondering what? What? Tell what happened! Okay, I will, but first I get to go off on a few more tangents, because that's what blogs are for, so bear with me...

Now if you're like me or any other human being, you've blamed someone else at some point or another for something you had done or were responsible for. Your blame didn't have to be some mean-spirited finger pointing blame. It could have been as light and fluffy as a white lie, but it was still a misdirected blame. A point-blank lie.

Perhaps you've blamed the baby for those extra pounds you're still lugging around. Or blamed the excessive weight on nursing. Your body needs the extra calories, right? Right! Or blamed the baby for the reason your home is a mess and disorderly (I'm preaching to the choir on that one). Or maybe even a dirty diaper for your indigestion...

Maybe it's not so much an ordinary blame, but more of a condescending correction like "Oh, Cub, don't put that shoe in your mouth. It's dirty!" When really I was the one that left the dirty shoes out for him to grab. Does he not put EVERYTHING in his mouth?

Or, "Cubby, electrical cords are dangerous. You know you can't play with those!" When in reality it's really my fault for leaving them exposed. And he's a baby, does he even know what dangerous means? Will he not pull at anything sticking out?

Well, today, I had to suck up this mortifying moment all by myself. No one else to blame. It was just me and Cub at home and surely Cub was not responsible for this one!

Let me give you a little background first...

We're currently living in pretty tight quarters. Our space is limited and the walls are thin. So my husband and I do our best to keep quiet while Cub's sleeping. We do have white noise going but maybe out of habit we tip-toe around and talk in low tones. Well, as nasty as it sounds, lately we've been trying not to flush the toilet right after he falls asleep. We try to go back and flush it as soon as he's sleeping but that doesn't always happen. Now let me assure you, this is only for #1's. See, our one bathroom shares a wall with Cub's room and it happens to be pretty loud. So we'll do anything to preserve his precious sleep. Hey, we're first-time parents! We can get away with these ridiculous routines.

So... this morning (forgive me for tmi), I put Cub down for a nap and retreated to the bathroom to "let it all out". I'm pretty regular and my bathroom date happens to correspond with Cub's nap which is pretty convenient. This particular morning, I decided to hold off flushing for a few minutes just to be safe. Breaking the golden rule, never leave the "other number" in the toilet. Naturally, time flies and Cub gets up and off we go to meet daddy for lunch at his office.

The moment we get home, our building's repair man is arriving to fix an outlet in our bathroom. I cheerfully let him in. Cub and I begin to play in the front room as he takes care of the bathroom. All along I'm chatting him up and asking him if he can also come back to fix this and that, etc. He's very friendly and agrees, then leaves. An HOUR later, I happen to go into the bathroom to grab something and there it is! I will spare you the details. Let's just say the toilet remained in its unflushed glory right before my eyes. And you know how water expands everything! I wanted to jump right in there and flush myself down the drain! The poor repair man respectfully carried on a conversation with me looking right over the remains of my breakfast, last night's dinner and whatever else my body had disposed of. For a split second I pretended that maybe he hadn't seen it. Maybe he didn't look. But reality told me otherwise. It was unavoidable.

I stood there in utter shock. I knew I would have to see him again. Maybe even as soon as tomorrow and there was no one else I could blame. It was all me.

If only Cub had been older and I could have blamed it on pottie-training!

Oh well.

Kindergarten Mom

Being a mom, especially of young children, can be a lot like being in kindergarten.

For various reasons:

You find yourself talking in ridiculous pitches, you tend to be in desperate need of naps, you're snacking all the time, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, leaving the house in clothes only a five year old would pick out, and occasionally doing the pee-pee dance if you've been so busy and preoccupied that you actually forgot to pee.

But the similarity I love most is making friends wherever you go.

You know how young children around the kindergarten age can be dropped into random settings and make instant friends? You just let them loose and within minutes they're running around with some new friend, chasing imaginary villains, sharing snacks, laughing like they've known each other for decades, and having a ball. Then when it's time to go, their friendship takes a bow and they're off to the next thing. Just like that.

Well, as a mom with young children, you find yourself chatting up all sorts of people you might not normally engage in a conversation. It's like you have instant friend credibility. A sign around your neck that says, "you can talk to me, I'm a mom."

Now the woman down the street smiles when you walk by where before she shuffled past on her cell phone dodging eye contact. Now random strangers stop you on the sidewalk asking how old your little guy is and offer up stories about their kids or grandchildren or even their friends' kids.

You make best friends (for five minutes) in the grocery store line, whipping out photos, exchanging coupons, and sometimes sharing very personal experiences -- all within five minutes! But like a kindergartner, once you've swiped that credit card and it's time to go, good-bye new best friend. Nice knowing you. Off to the next thing... or friend.

But no matter how short these acquaintances are or how meaningful or trivial the exchange, these little moments of human interaction pour hope and optimism over our sometimes cynical adult hearts. Reminding us that it's okay to smile at strangers, make eye contact as you walk down the street, it's okay to be vulnerable and put yourself out there. These little moments leave us with kindergartner kool-aid smiles and a much needed eager anticipation to keep at this thing called life.

Beauty of Memories

I took a day trip with Cub today. They were doing roof work on our building so we needed a quiet getaway. I decided to take a nice cruise up the shore to Santa Barbara. That drive really is breathtaking. Reminds me over and over again how awesome God's creations are. The breaking waves along the rocks. The rolling hills. Even the clouds were carefully placed along the picturesque scenery. He really is the ultimate designer. Would kick some serious Project Runway butt!

As I entered Santa Barbara, I saw a sign for their zoo. I never knew they even had a zoo. Since I'm a sucker for cute animals, and Cub's learning the zoo animal names, it was the perfect destination. And boy was it! These animals have it good! Normally I feel bad for zoo animals. All incarcerated and stuck in drab fake habitats. But these Santa Barbara animals had 5 star habitats!! Which is perfectly fit for Santa Barbara, being as bourgeois as it is.

At one point I caught a glimpse of the elephants from a hill with the backdrop of the Santa Barbara mountains and for a moment I actually felt like we were in a different country. I was also tickled by the Giraffe taking a stroll along a beach backdrop. Everywhere I looked, beauty. I kept trying to capture it on camera but the camera couldn't do it justice. Some things are just better left to the eye.

On my way back, I continued admiring the coastal beauty and debated whether I should try to whip out my camera or iphone with one hand and snap a shot while driving. I decided not to, not only because it would be completly irresponsible and unsafe with my sleeping Cub in the back, but also because I had to tell myself, not everything has to be captured on some form of technology. Then I thought, ooh, I can't wait to write about this on my Facebook status. Then again, I stopped myself. Just let it be! (Even though I still did end up writing about it on Facebook later this evening!) As I drove home listening to my thoughts, this simple yet profound thought came to mind: a memory is the best place to frame a picture.

I can take a thousand pictures of Cub and try to write about his every last development, but the best place for all of these pictures and stories is right at home in my memory. Yes, one day these memories will be fuzzy and blurred together and I'm sure they'll be confused and intertwined with memories of his future sibling, but who cares?! For the moment as they hold their own, carefully cataloged in my mind, they are perfect. And I can't think of a better home for them!

WARNING: Robber On the Loose

I'm sending out this WARNING to every parent within readers reach!! There is a robber on the loose! I have not seen him but I have found his footprints and evidence all over my nursery. He is out to get every nursery and yours is not exempt. He will even try to sneak into cars and strollers too. He is notorious and dangerous. He will leave your child cranky and irritable. Or over-stimulated and hyper. He is the nap robber.

At first I thought it was teething or transition. Perhaps Cub was still adapting to his transition from three naps to two. Or maybe he's transitioning into later nap times. Then I thought he was overly tired and couldn't settle himself down to sleep. But one day, I came in to Cub's room after a very exhausting nap battle and I saw it. The evidence. Cub's eyes were red from fatigue as if someone had just snatched his sleep from him with no remorse. He had been violated. My little sweet boy was violated by the nap robber. His clothes were tattered. Blanket thrown about. And even the curtains fluttered from where he had crept in through the window.

This man is cold-hearted. He doesn't have any sympathy or compassion for tired parents. He could care less that you have things you need to get done during the once valuable nap time. He laughs and scoffs at the notion that you could actually get a moment to yourself.

I've tried bolting my windows shut and putting surveillance cameras all around Cub's nursery (I finally got a video monitor, DB's Mama!). I've even tried to blast him out with stadium concert-level white noise. So far none of it has worked. He's slick and smart. And still sneaks in undetected.

If you catch him, please let me know. I'm willing to put up a 1,000,000,000,000,000 bounty for his head!

Legacy

I was at a function a few weeks ago where the ice-breaker question was "What have you learned about parenting from your mother."

The question caught quite a few of us off guard. Many of us in tears. I had never really thought about that question prior to that day. I've thought about ways I take after my mother as a woman or many times in college or at different points in my life when I was trying to balance and figure out who this me person is and how this me person relates to and compares to those around me.

But as a first-time mother, I really hadn't considered my mother's parenting. At least not in the greater sense. I'm sure I've had a more critical view during tough moments or while she parented the rebellious adolescent me. But to take a step back and really examin what I've learned from her was new territory.

Most of the women had something to say in response to this question. And as I pondered it, I was emotionally moved by how I felt about my mother's parenting efforts. I thought about how she's such a positive, glass half-full person. How giving she is. And so many other strong and admirable attibutes I had taken for granted.

When you're a child struggling against the parental forces, all you tend to dwell on is how unfair, uncool, unfit your parents are in your immature mind. But to look back as an adult, it can be truly rewarding and eye-opening.

Many of the women said they never knew how poor they were until their mothers told them later as adults. As children, their mother's made such sacrifices that the day to day struggle was never apparent. There were also a good handful of women who said they learned how "not to" parent from their mothers. These women had bad examples of parenting. Riotous, irresponsible, self-centered mothers who left them feeling like an after-thought or burden.

While the question unearthed some deep, appreciative sentiments toward my mother, it also forced me to think about myself and my parenting. How would I want Cub to answer that question? Or better yet, to date, if he could speak, how would he answer that question?

Now that stumped me. Sure I want him to say I was kind and funny and cool and beautiful, all the attributes that pump my ego. But if I go deeper, to the heart of the question, to the inward parts of my true being, what would my behavior and lifestyle mirror for my child? I can quickly defend myself and say I'm not "so bad". Or, I'm not as bad as some women. Or lean to the other side and give myself all sorts of pats on the back for what a loving, wonderful mother I am. And truth be told, I am many things -- good and bad. So as I continue to let that question sink in, I challenge myself to push to improve all areas.

Maybe it's not about what I "want" him to say about me. But what would Truth say?

"Good, better, best. Never let it rest. 'Til your good is better and your better is best.”

Spacing Out

My loyal readers out there may be noticing that the frequency of my postings are becoming further and further apart. This is not deliberate. Although I did start out of the gate certain that I would maintain at least a daily, if not a couple of times a week, posting schedule. Then reality hit! Ha!

But I do promise you, within my control, I will post at least once a week!

Today's post is about spacing out. Yes! Don't you love that? Who doesn't love just spacing out?
Kids do it all the time. Ever notice a baby or a toddler just zone out? Then you call their name or say something and this little funny smile creeps up on their face, eyes still somewhere far away, until they blink and boom their back to the present.

Us adults used to space out and day dream all the time. Until technology robbed it from us. Now whenever we have moments to space out, we instead go to our iphones, blackberries, laptops or any other gadgets to play around with. But we must reserve time for spacing out!! Or rather, PRESERVE space out time. It's very important.

I hear moms all the time talk about how they don't have any "me" time anymore. Between juggling multiple toddlers, babies, schedules, cooking, cleaning, and every other mommy demand, their personal time is virtually non-existent. So the roaming question is always, how do I create more me time?

Most of us think that "me" time requires going out to get a pedicure, massage or some other form of pampering. And don't get me wrong, I am the queen of pampering! I need a massage like babies need milk. The only problem is, I can't always get one. At least not as often as I'd like to. So where do we dig up this mommy time? Between drop-offs, soccer games, changing diapers, etc etc?

I was talking with a few of my girlfriends the other day about prayer. How prayer has become such a struggle for me. I used to hop out of bed and start my day out with it. But now it's like pulling teething. We all complained that there's just no time for prayer anymore. I'm sure God had a good laugh at that one! Then I remembered all the times I had to get up in the middle of the night to nurse or rock Cub back to sleep. All the moments when I was in a dark room with him asleep in my arms with nothing to do -- except pray. But did I do it? Not, usually. I did do some quality spacing out though. It can actually be quite funny to take in all the random thoughts and images that cross your mind while zoning out. You might come across a high school classmate you haven't thought about or seen since 10th grade!

As my girlfriends and I continued to talk, we all realized there are mini-me moments that we could be taking more advantage of. But instead we find ourselves cramming in little odds and ends of things that don't "have to" be done in that moment. Some of the best mini-me moments are at a red light. When you're stuck waiting and instead of getting on your cell phone or changing the radio station you can just zone out. Tune the world out. And be. You'd be surprised how refreshing 15 seconds of spacing out can be. It's powerful!

So yes, our lives as moms are demanding. And yes, it's very difficult to find me time, but no, it's not impossible. We just need to be more creative and perhaps redefine what "me time" really is. Spacing out has all sorts of benefits. And it's also free!! And can be done anywhere and everywhere. Go ahead, try it!!

Get Up, Stand Up

My baby is gone.

He was just here.

I found some of his old booties.
They're tiny and precious.
They belong on a doll's feet.

I put away some of his clothes. To believe that a very short time ago he couldn't fit into the newborn onesies we had. But now they're all piled up, shoved inside a closet and waiting. Either to be given away or for a sibling to come sometime in the future. Or to be eaten by nasty silverfish hiding in the deep crevices of the closet.

That baby I had, that yummy, gummy, beautiful cooing little baby boy has vanished. I cradled him to bed one night. All cozy and perfectly curled up into my arms. Then I woke up and poof he was gone. Just like that. I'm sure there was even the "poof smoke" when it happened too. But since it was the middle of the night I didn't get to see it.

Now I have a wiggly, twirling, adorable greased pig. Not a pig like the dirty, smelly, gross animal. A cute piggy. Like a Babe type pig. The frisky type of pig you want to kiss all over and play with. One that George Clooney would get. A Wilbur pig that bats his eyes at me and makes me laugh. That frolics and giggles and is impossible to catch or hold still.

I think this pig ate my baby.

Somehow during nap and bedtime this little piggy disappears. And leaves me with a bop bag. You know, those balloon-like things that you bop down and they keep bouncing right back up? That's what's happening in the crib.

No more baby.
No more pig.
Just a bop bag.

Cubby is now all about pulling up. He has mastered this skill and wants to show it off on every occasion. Especially during sleep times. I lay his little self down and bop he's up again! Standing, holding onto the crib railing with his four teeth grin.

I let him do this a few times, hoping he'll get bored or tired or both. But after what feels like 10 hours, I gently put him back down and firmly tell him it's time to go to sleep. He looks at me like, yeah right. Then scrunches up his little face with all his might, trying to use those little six-pack abs to pull himself up again. As soon as I step away --- BOP. What do I do with this new bop bag?

When I try to resort to picking him up and rocking him to sleep, the cute greasy pig comes back and is wiggling and squirming out of my arms!

It's a conspiracy.

They're double-teaming me. That bop bag and greasy pig.

And what's really pathetic is they're outsmarting me!

I guess I'll make peace with them for now.

I gotta admit, they're cute.

And when I turn my face during these moments so he won't see, I can't help but to want to laugh at how ridiculous this is.

Cold Communication

When Cub was first born I made a best friend.

Her name is Stacy. In the early days she was just "the nurse practitioner". But after a gazillion phone calls, voice messages, heart to hearts, she became "Stacy". Or better yet, Stace.

Those first few weeks, every little sniff, cough, gulp, blink, long breath, poop, sent me running to the phone.

At one point I actually felt inclined to send "Stacy" a thank you note for being so helpful and patient with me as a new mom.

My conversations went like this (with exaggeration of course):

"Hi, Stacy. It's me. Cub is breathing. Is this normal?"

"Hi, Stacy. It's me again. Cub just sneezed and then a little snot came out of his nose. Does he have pneumonia?"

"What up, Stace. You know who it is. Cub only sipped from one boob today. Is my milk gone?"

"Stacy! Where are you?!! Cub is throwing up. Does he need to go to the ER?"

"Hey, there. It's me... again. Cub is sleeping. He's actually sleeping! Can you believe it?!! Should I be worried?"

Poor Stacy.

Then one day I woke and realized it had been MONTHS since I called Stacy. Wow. I sort of missed her. But I actually felt in a good groove. Sure Cub was doing all of the same things, but I actually was more relaxed about it.

So here we are today. Cub is sniff sniff sneezing. Cough cough, choke cough, nose running coughing. And I know better than to call Stacy. But I wish there was some magic potion I could give him to make him feel better. I've already tried the saline drops and humidifier. He doesn't have a fever to my knowledge and seems otherwise fine. But the poor kid can't even drink a bottle without yanking it away to gasp for air.

In an attempt to fill my Stacy void, I find myself striking up random conversations with strangers to give the latest sick update.

Yesterday I was at Babiesrus. I had to pee so bad because I had been driving Cub around town for an hour to let him get a good nap in sitting upright in his car seat with his stuffy nose. So I run to the bathroom and what a relief!! When I came out of the stall there was an employee washing her hands. Naturally I had to involve her. So there we are washing hands and I'm telling her about how badly I had to pee because my son's sick and I just finished driving him around town for an hour and how hard it is to have a sick baby, etc etc. At first she gave me a warm smile and commented about how great it is to pee after having to pee for so long. But after I continued on with how sick Cub's been and all of his latest symptoms, I could see the "weirdo, weirdo" alert flashing on her forehead and the "vacate the bathroom" alarm ringing in her ears. She sort of started walking backwards out of the bathroom, maintaining her trying-to-be-nice smile. Then bolted!

I didn't even get to describe the various colors of muscous to her!!

Where's Stacy when I need her!

Crunch

This evening I was in Cub's room as he worked to fall asleep. After struggling a bit to put himself down, I decided to quietly soothe him with a melodic hum. Naturally, my not-so-melodic hum made him cry out even more. If he could've expressed himself in words, he probably would've said something about how off-key my humming was and how could I really expect him to fall asleep to that?! Lucky for me words have not become him yet.

After putting "the hum" to bed, I continued to gently pat him in the crib and rock his little legs, which seemed to have a mind of their own, jolting up and down as if on some secret sugar high. Cub had started to settle down for the most part now, everything except those active legs. Then I heard it -- A crunching sound.

What is he chewing on?! I panicked. It was too dark to see anything. The crunching continued.

Cub goes to bed with two loveys in his crib and both of them are soft animals. I did buy him one lovey that has chewable edges but I knew this wasn't in his crib. Then it occurred to me. Oh my gosh, he's gotten a hold of some nails or screws -- something terrible! How did he get them? I'm the most irresponsible mother! I managed to allow my 8 month old son to sneak nails into his bed!

Crunch, crunch...

The sound was atrocious! Worse than someone scraping their long fingernails down a chalk board. I immediately felt my way up to his face in the dark prepared to do the Heimlich. Clear the air passage, clear the air passage, I rehearsed, trying to quickly remember all the tips from high school health class.

Crunch, crunch...

My internal dialogue: My child eats nails! A metal eater. An almost crawling human garbage disposal --

When my fingers reached his little mouth. Nothing was there.

I tried to force my fingers into his little mouth as gently and gracefully as I could, trying to recover all the nails and scrap metal he managed to get in there, probably a junk yard full. But nothing.

I was perturbed.

Crunch, crunch...

There it was again!

I rushed my fingers back to his mouth. And then felt it.

Sharp as metal --- teeth.

He was grinding his new teeth!

About a week ago, Cub's two top teeth started cutting through his gums. Now he has a nice set of four teeth -- two top, two bottom. At any given moment he loves to break into this toothy goofy ear-to-ear grin to show off his latest achievement.

And now, it appears he likes to grind them together while trying to fall asleep.

Being a former hypochondriac, I would have rushed him off to ER after reading that one of the symptoms for baby teeth grinding is a sign of a parasite in their stomach!! But more commonly, and to my relief, it's an absolutely normal thing for babies to do when they first discover their teeth. (Check out one of the articles here)

Since I'm not usually in the room with him as he falls asleep I have no idea when this started or for how long it will go on. Most of the articles I read said it will subside within a few months. Or when he gets bored with it. Once the novelty has worn off.

I'm thankful that he wasn't swallowing nails tonight. And that most likely (in the name of Jesus) he doesn't have some 20 foot long worm in his tummy. But after hearing that grinding sound, I must admit those issues aren't much worse!

Stuck In the Car Seat

Ever been stuck in the car seat?

I'm not talking about you being physically stuck in a real car seat or your baby. But I'm sure that would make for a very interesting story. Do tell!

I'm talking about the "proverbial" car seat of life.

When you're the baby and God is the mama driver.

Cub goes through different moments of car seat rebellion. Sometimes he's just fine with getting in the car seat, sometimes there's a big protest. We used to sing him a car seat song we made up, it goes like this:

Adventure chair,
Adventure chair
We go everywhere in the adventure chair
Adventure chair,
Adventure chair
Every---Where... (big long note) in the adventure chair!!!

That used to do the trick. Nowadays he's much too smart to fall for the song. But he'll acquiesce if he must. Perhaps I need to make up one for myself when I'm stuck back there.

We're stuck in the car seat when we're on a ride or journey in life and have no idea where God's taking us. Or we may know the destination, but aren't sure when we'll get there, how long it will take, if there will be traffic along the way, or God forbid an accident.

Like a baby stuck in a car seat, we feel confined! The straps are too tight. We're just subjected to wherever the driver's taking us. And sometimes it gets boring stuck in that chair! Sometimes it's uncomfortable! God may toss us a few toys to distract or sustain us during the ride or maybe even humor us with a little song, but there are moments where we don't want that dumb toy or song! We want to get out!

We may cry, kick our feet into the back seat, fuss and fight, but guess what? There's no getting out until we've arrived at the destination and until He comes to the back and unstaps us.

But guess what's even better? (I'm speaking this to myself as I share it with you guys) Just like Cub being frustrated with me about being stuck in the car seat, he's usually 99% of the time very happy when he finds out where we've arrived. It's almost always somewhere far better than where he was at before he got into the car seat.

I was thinking about how many times I've had to bear with Cub crying in the back seat because he didn't want to be in the car seat. Usually it's when he's tired and cranky. But sometimes because he's just discontent. During these times I try to softly talk to him and tell him how much happier he'll be once we get to the destination. He doesn't usually understand this. Nevertheless, I have to calmly take a deep breath and continue to drive, knowing that I know what's best in this moment.

Just like God. I don't know how many times I've cried out and made a big fuss while He's driving. It must be so exhausting to listen to, but He's so patient with me. He continues to drive, loving me through my tantrum, knowing that once I get there I'll be so much happier. Even if I don't understand it along the way.

One

If but for one...

We were at the Zimmerman Children's Museum yesterday. Great little place. Cub had a ball.

Being that it is a Jewish Museum, there's lots of inspiring scripture and stations that represent Judaism. A wonderful environment for learning and fun.

As we were coming down the stairs, I read one of the quotes that said (and probably familiar to most of us),

"No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted."

After reading it, I thought to myself, "That's nice." In a sort of condescending manner. Sounds good, right? Then I sort of chuckled to myself with a "But let's be real," attitude. I thought about all the scenarios where one could do an act of kindness for someone else and feel like it was a complete waste of time after that person took it for granted or was ungrateful.

Looking back, I gotta give myself a whack for having such a negative response. Because the truth is, if our hearts are in the right place, acts of kindness really are never wasted. No matter what the response from anybody else. Because just the act of extending ourselves is a blessing, even back to ourselves.

I was encouraged by one of my reader's this morning. I hope she's not embarrassed by me calling her out!

DB's Mama, has been so encouraging to me since I started this blog. Reading her periodic comments reminds me that there are people out there. There is an audience. Now I could just be pumping up my own ego, but I'd like to think that moreso I'm encouraged because I am putting myself out there, hoping that these words, no matter how big or small, are never wasted. That they have meaning. Even if it's to put a smirk on someone's face for that day. Even if there's only one reader!

What DB's Mama also reminded me in her simple role call response was that I don't have to "see" the audience to believe that these words are landing somewhere.

How many times in life when we do acts of kindness do we really have the opportunity to "see" the results? Maybe the immediate results. But we don't usually get to see the long-term. Yet the results live on beyond our sight.

So I want to encourage all of us today to continue to do acts of kindness just because.

And don't be afraid to put yourself out there even when it feels like no one's watching or paying attention. There's always someone. Even if it's just one. But guess what? That one can make all the difference. Thanks, DB's Mama!!

Here's another encouraging scripture that keeps me going,

So is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
Isaiah 55:11

Cub Hug

We move day to day like fall leaves scattering across busy sidewalks. We're in motion. Sometimes with purpose. Sometimes just floating. But on the go. It's called Motherhood, and even before we were blessed with such a title, it could be known as womanhood.

It's innate. To go. To keep moving. Even when every cell in our body is boycotting for us to be still.

Sometimes we just go because if we stop, we just might crumble. Or cry. Or stop forever. Or be completely puzzled by what to do with ourselves. So the appointments pile up. The meeting over here, play dates there, this errand and that one, push push pushing...

Then something extraordinary happens. Something so simple and lovely that forces us to stop and smile. Something so beautiful that only a moment can capture, too great for time.

I was driving all over the place. A to-do list of errands. Brushing past crowds of people, grabbing this off of that shelf and sliding my credit card here and there. Hopping in and out of my car. Watching the clock as if I actually could control time. And hurrying, because that's what I do.

When I finally got to the birthday party where I was headed, gift in hand, rushing because I was already late and Cub and my husband had been there for a while already, I opened the door and saw him. It was my boy. Cub. And he looked up at me with the biggest, happiest eyes, and my heart gushed. Not that it doesn't always flutter when he looks at me. But because amidst my goings and comings, moving through space and too focused to notice what's important in life, he stopped time. Made me inhale love and exhale all the nonsense and senseless stuff we often pile up in our minds.

Being a stay at home mom right now, Cub sees me every day. I know he loves and appreciates me. But because he sees me all the time, I don't get that same demonstrative welcome that daddy gets when he comes home from work. Legs kicking in the air, arms jolting up and down, etc. But that birthday party day, I got it. And it was everything I needed.

His little arms clung to my neck, legs wrapped around my waist like a koala bear, complete with a big slobbery teething bite on the cheek. And I was puddy in his little hands.

I gently folded up that moment, amidst the birthday party cheers and laughter, into the inner pockets of my heart and promised to keep it there forever.

No Sex

Wow. Surprise discovery. I did the sex test to see if my readership would go up and when I checked it on google's analytics this morning, it actually went plummeting! Which is quite surprising but also a relief. I've never had a big fat goose egg for my readership until now. Yep, I had "0" readers after posting the sex tirade. I find this a sign of encouragment to stick to what I know, haha, Cub and me!

So dear readers, we will continue to share our little world and hope you continue to get something out of it!

Please do holler if you're out there. It's been so quiet lately!!

Role call?!!!

SEX!!

SexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSex
SexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSex
SexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSex

This is a test. It's only a test. A sex test. A sexy sex test.

A sexy sexy sex test to see if if people want to read about sex.

Ever tried saying "sex" really fast a bunch of times? Try it:

SexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSexSex!!

Does sex get more readers?

sex words:
sextuplets
sexual
sexy
sexier
sex
more sex
sexy sex
big fat sex.
big fat man having yucky sex.

Are you laughing yet?

pregnant sex
postpartum sex
bored sex
fun sex
married sex
missionary sex
maintenance sex
tired sex
adventurous sex
crazy sex
quick sex
exotic sex
what the??? sex
ridiculous sex
insecure sex
needy sex
mind-blowing sex
pretentious sex
sweatin out the perm sex
nerd sex
birthday sex
birthday suit sex
over the hill sex
who cares sex

Doesn't SEX look funny when seeing sex written all over the place? Like some weird computer code language. Maybe it is!

Are you over SEXed now?

Thanks for reading this SEX tirade.

Please enjoy sex responsibly.
In your own home. (or wherever else you have sex)
With your own sexy husband.

Hush Hush

The baby knack readership has been very quiet lately. I'm lead to wonder are the latest articles too dull, unrelatable, lacking pizazz, or should I stop being so self-conscious and assume that folk are just busy?! They got lives!

Talk to me...

I'm listening.

8 Months Going on 14

I'm raising a teenager now.

We go to the park and Cub gives me that look like, "Uh, can you give me some space? I've got friends here." Or the goofy faces that used to make him laugh now get an eye roll. Like, "Mom, stop being so dorky, gosh."

When I used to be the apple of his eye, now he flirts with sales ladies, little girls on the playground, and any and everybody else, gushing over, batting eyes, and what does Mom get? The "here, hold my bottle." Thanks.

Before long I'll be dropping him off at daycare a block away, just so the other toddlers don't see him pulling up with mommy.

It's Raining Cheerios!

I used to work in restaurants as a hostess. It was my teenage gig. A fun little job to meet people, make a little cash and hang out. And of course check out all the cute older boys too!

But there was one particular group of creeping, crawling individuals that I couldn't stand -- the Cheerio kids!

The little stinkers that spread and shed and mushed and gushed, and crunched and munched Cheerios all over the tables, inside the booths, and of course deep into the carpet.

It was always when the restaurant was jammed pack and I was anxiously looking for an open table for some impatient, irritable, hungry couple, that I'd stumble upon the trails left by a Cheerio kid leading me to the one table that was now open but covered in slimy Cheerio-saliva gunk. And since the bus boys were too busy, being that we were slammed, guess who had the privilege of wiping the salmagundi down? Yep, mois.

But now, I have a Cheerio kid. Gulp.

And now I will forever be associated with the secret, or rather, not so secret, Cheerio society.

This afternoon Cub and me were getting fro-yo. (Me eating a tub full of fro-yo covered in goodies I had no business eating, him eating mushed bananas from the toppings section) I brought a safety stash of the big C's in case the banana wasn't going to do it for him. As soon as he caught sight of the flimsy ziplock bag he went nuts! Thrashing and kicking and knocking everything out of the way that stood between him and his Cheerios, pushing the cute, little, devious whole grain snacks all over the freshly mopped floor.

I immediately averted my eyes from the young store clerk that just finished mopping up. I knew her eyes were probably narrowing down at us, concocting some evil scheme to ban all the Cheerio kids from the establishment forever. But there was nothing I could do.

Then there was the CRUNCH.

My official initiation into the Cheerio society. My flip-flops accidentally crunched those little boogers on the floor and I knew it was over.

Sorry, clerk.

The best I could do was clean up the mushy yuck from the table and pray she would forgive me for leaving the trail of Cheerio debris all over her nice shiny floor.

Double-Dog Dare

Remember the Double-Dog Dares?

I don't know where kids ever came up with that, but to double-dog dare someone was the ultimate challenge! (If you click on DDD above, I did find a kinda cool site that tries to speculate and dig back to the origins of it)

Everybody remembers in the movie, A Christmas Story, where a kid double-dog dares character Flick to put his tongue on the frozen flagpole. Of course Flick had to do it. He couldn't dodge a double-dog dare. He'd be a total punk! So Flick ends up stuck to the flagpole like an idiot.

I'm starting to think we need more double-dog dares in adulthood. Not trivial, petty, peer pressure. I'm talking about double-dog dares that propel us to GREATNESS!

As I've been dishing lately, I'm working to overcome a few challenges. One of them is the ultimate LOVE challenge. I've double-dog dared myself to love beyond measure. To stretch to new heights in the love arena. In every aspect of life.

Everybody knows one should never pray for patience. As soon as you do, you'll get hit with every scenario that will test your patience. Same thing happens with LOVE. Once you seek to love harder, you will immediately find loving -- much harder! Like that guy that cuts you off on the freeway, the neighbor blasting music at all hours of the night, your co-worker, family members, etc, etc...

So over the last 24 hours, I've looked my spirit self right in the eye, woman to woman, and double-dog dared her to nail this love thing.

And I'm actually quite surprised by how invigorating it's been. Like preparing for a marathon. The competitor in me is ignited. Ready to kick some double-dog dare butt! (We'll see how long that lasts when I'm stuck on the 405 right smack dab in rush hour!)

I don't like losing. And as much as I pretend to like pouting at times and, yes, whining. I am a true winner. I'm persistent. I'm motivated. I'm a double-dog darer! Like a sniffing police dog on a mission. So when I set out to conquer this challenge, I want to bring it home, baby! Even if it takes a lifetime.

Now don't be going up into your imaginations trying to figure out where I'm challenged with love or with whom, nosy Nellies! Because the love I'm talking about is,

Patient, is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. It does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. It never fails.

Now ain't that something?

What will YOU double-dog yourself to do today?

Introducing Guest Mama "Dawn"!!

Hey, Mamas, it affords me great pleasure to introduce our first guest mama, DAWN, to the Baby Knack!

Dawn is a mother of 3 (God bless her soul!) -- 9 months, 3 and 6. Her stories really belong on a reality series. These beautiful children are a -- Dawn, dare I say, a hot mess?? In a hilarious way, of course!! Lol.

Dawn's stories always have my stomach hurting from laughter. Her girls, the 3 and 6 year old, are brilliant, sassy and pickled with a sense of humor. They definitely keep Ms. Dawn on her toes!

Here are some of her stories... (apparently her kids are fixated on the derriere!)

BABY PHAT

Today, I was out shopping for new jeans to celebrate losing more baby weight. While pushing the basket, my 6 year old daughter came up behind me, put BOTH hands on my butt and made my booty shake! All I could say was, "Why?" In which she replied, " I like to see it jiggle". Of course after that I wasn't in a celebratory mood and tried to get out of the store as fast as I could just in case anyone heard her.

BUTT CHEEKS

The other day my 3 year old was undressing with her back toward me. She had on a dress with lots of buttons down the back. Her dad helped with the buttons. When she was able to slide the dress down, she pulled down her undies, exposing her little 3 year old booty and grabbed two handfuls, squeezed, and then looked over her shoulder and said "butt cheeks"! Then started laughing hysterically. All I could do was shake my head. I could see her doing that in front of company!

Apparently Dawn's already preparing to be a grandmother in this story...

DA' KIDZ

So, last night during dinner out of nowhere, my 6 year old daughter asks, Mom what days are you going to be open to watch my kids? I'm thinking Friday will be good for me 'cause I'm going to need to do things like, get my nails done and like my hair. Soooo, how does that sound to you? Are you, like, going to be available or should I bring them another day? She then turns to her dad and says, Dad, if Mom is not available can you watch them for me?

Of course, I was sitting there speechless. I think I told her that I wasn't going to be around because I had my own hair and nail appointment. So my husband replies to her, You can drop the kids off anytime.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks, Dawn!!

All you other fun mamas out there, please feel free to send me a funny story or two if you have one at HindsWriteProds@gmail.com. I can't post every one, but I'll do my best!!

Love.

The Sleep Sack.

The last few nights I've been sacked!!

Like a Quarterback.

I'm in the middle of a nice, peaceful sleep, probably dreaming about something lovely, then BOOM out of nowhere -- I get sacked!! The gang on Monday Night Football would even be impressed.

Allow me to explain...

For some odd reason over the last few nights my husband has been in this unconscious protective mode.

(Remember when you used to ride in the front seat while your mom was driving and suddenly she'd throw out her arm across your chest to keep you from falling forward at a stop even though you were like 18 years old? Well, this is happening with my husband in his sleep.)

He keeps thinking I'm going to roll off the bed whenever I turn over -- even though we have a CALIFORNIA KING BED and I haven't "rolled off the bed" probably since I was two, if even then, -- and he immediately grabs me up and pulls me to the middle of the bed in his sleep.

The first time this happened I almost peed my pajamas!
I didn't know what happened!

There I was in a deep sleep and all of a sudden I'm being grabbed up out of my sleep by these big, strong arms, like an intruder had broken into our home, only to hear my husband say a foggy, you were about to roll off the bed.

Initially when this happened, I thought, that's strange. I've never rolled off this bed or any adult bed for that matter. What's going on in my sleep? I thought it was ME.

But now this has been happening over the last 3 nights!

Last night when it happened yet again, I quickly defended myself and said, Babe! I'm just turning over! At which point his body went limp and fell back into a deep slumber.

I asked him about it this morning, and if this is going to continue to go on. And if so, maybe I need to start wearing football pads to bed. He had no recollection of even doing it! He chuckled.

He has a lot going on at work lately and different things on his mind, so it makes since that his subconscious is a little on edge. And most likely, we think he's thinking I'm the baby for some reason in his sleep. Even though Cub hasn't fallen asleep in our bed in months!!

I'm certainly glad his protective reflexes are on guard and stand alert, but can a girl get a good-night's sleep without being tackled? Geesh.

I Ate Poop.

This evening Cub, me and daddy were all sitting together at the dinner table. It was a lovely Sunday evening. We had just returned home from a Sunday afternoon cruise along Malibu and were feeling pretty darn good.

I decided to mash up some avocados for Cub's dinner since he hasn't had any in a while and I had these perfect plump organic (ooh lala) ones from the natural food store. Yum.

So we're all sitting there, just big fat happy campers. And I say to my husband, I don't think he's pooped yet today. Because you know that's the only topic of discussion these days. Forget what's on the news, the injustice and poverty happening around the world or anything else of adult interest and content.

My husband makes a comment about hopefully he'll get something out before his bath. And I agree. Definitely before bath or tomorrow morning -- NOT in the middle of the night.

We carry on, enjoying feeding Cub. Laughing at every little smile, expression, chomp and what not. Just doing what all silly new parents do. Then Cub starts making "the face". That red hot poop face. We're trying not to laugh because his face is literally beet red. Almost purple. If I didn't know any better, I would've called an ambulance because it was so ridiculously red. The poop face by itself is very unflattering, but all the more hilarious. Anyway, we don't want him to see we're cracking up, because our little munchkin is trying really hard to focus.

Then it's over. Just like that.

Cub's back to chomping down avocado and some butternut squash I threw on the side. Easy enough. I can definitely smell the results but it seemed like a pretty uneventful poop.

I start wiping down Cub's face preparing him to get out of the high chair and I notice there's some avocado on the chair. I swipe it off. Licking the remains from my finger. Then -- STOP!! What the ??... it's EVERYWHERE. Avocado EVERYWHERE. WAIT -- that's NOT avocado!! I just ATE poop!!

I'm in shock. Not just because I ate poop, but because this crap (pun intended) is ALL over the high-chair, on Cub's little chubby legs, feet, and now my sundress and thighs, which he's rubbing his poopy heel all up and down on.

I just sit there. Frozen. My husband's telling me to do something. But I can't. I'm poop paralyzed.

My husband then jumps up and gets some wipes. I manage to somehow get Cub out of the chair and to the changing table only to find MORE poop mysteriously popping out of random folds and crevices. Where did all of this come from??? My husband's enjoying every moment of this. (Side note: he was with Cub all weekend, so this is my turn to handle the diaper change. Great.)

Cub's finally clean. We get him into the tub. All is well. But to top it off, as daddy continues to laugh at mom getting poopified, Cub does a nice fountain of urine all over daddy's jeans. Now that's my boy!

As I sit here recanting this story to you, I'm suddenly remembering... I STILL haven't washed my mouth out! Quality.

Puff the Magic Snack-on

I've been in the FI-AH, ladies!

When it rains, it pours, right?

Remember a few postings ago I was talking about being in the "fire" when life presents situations that get HOT and force us to persevere? Well, I'm in that fire right now. The Refiner's fire. I can't wait to come out of this GOLD! Nothing life-threatening or major, just the little stressors in life that force us to our knees. Fun.

That being said, today my life was saved by Baby Einstein and Baby Puffs, you know those little dissolvable cheerio-like snacks? Cub recently discovered these treats and now he can't get enough of them. What are they hiding in those things, anyway?! They should have a WARNING on the label.

So I was feeling super overwhelmed and exhausted. Wishing moms could take a "sick" or "personal" day. Yeah right! Not because I didn't want to be with Cub. Just to take a tiny moment for myself to collect some of my thoughts and, ok, I'll say it -- pout! (There's a situation I'm dealing with right now that's extremely frustrating and unfortunately nothing seems to be moving it into a better direction, except prayer!)

Anyway, so here I am, overwhelmed, emotional, trying to keep a smile on my face for the little guy, while also trying to cling to every last bit of patience I have, and nothing seems to be satisfying him. The toys he has so much fun with are suddenly boring and stupid. All he wants is mama's attention. Which would be awesome if I didn't have -- dishes piled up to the ceiling, laundry that hasn't been done in centuries, homemade baby food needing to be jarred, not to mention business stuff to handle, and the list goes on and on. Also Cub's been a little more needy lately as he's learning to crawl. He gets easily frustrated and then just wants me to do everything for him. Of course I fall into that trap every time!

So back to Puffs...

Here I am at my wits end, trying to distract Cub with every toy imaginable then I come to it. "Give him puffs and plop him in front of a Baby Einstein video!!" Now before you start throwing rattles at me and telling me what a terrible mother I am -- that's the problem with kids today, their parents use food to manipulate them and the television to babysit them!! Yes, I know! And I agree! It is terrible. But I was desperate, ladies!! Cut me some slack!

And guess what? It worked!! Cub sat in his high chair as content as can be smashing puff snacks into his little mouth and giggling with the Baby Einstein puppets. Voila!

And mommy got to put away all the dishes, jar up the food and... breathe. Ahhh.

I promise not to make a habit out of it!

Ouch.

So you guys always hear about my various sleep solutions and or, er, rather blunders. Here's another one...

This morning Cub went down for a nice, deep sleep nap. It was perfect. Until the garbage truck came in all of his splendor, thrashing and crashing around right behind Cub's window. Nice. Good Morning to you, too!

Ok, no problem. We'll catch up on nap #2...

Flash-forward to this afternoon, we're out and about having a lovely day. It's about that nap time. Cub falls asleep in the car. When we get home I have to do my famous transfer to the crib. I put his snuggy blanket in my chest for him to nuzzle into. He does. All is going well until for some reason I have to adjust him and since I don't have any free hands, I use my teeth to pull the snuggy away -- only his fingers were wrapped in the snuggy!! Nice quality love bite from mommy!

Luckily it only came with one momentary half-asleep shriek, then back to sleep.

Exhale.

Snob Mom.

Yesterday I was at a natural food store buying Cub some fresh produce. Lately I'm all about cooking my own baby food. It's such a pat on the back to whip out a jar of freshly cooked veggies that I've prepared! I saw another mom there with a boy a little older than Cub. I asked her advice on what foods to prepare since I'm a novice. She gave me some suggestions then mentioned a grain I had never heard of before. I asked her about it and she almost laughed in my face. She was floored that I had never heard of this special grain. She looked at me as if I had been serving Cub Cheetos all his life. I kindly smiled and reminded her I'm new to all of this "natural" stuff so she told me just to stick with what I know, the basics -- mushing up the regular veggies.

I saw another mom outside. I decided to ask her for her input too. She looked a little embarrassed and then confessed to always giving her baby store-bought jarred food. We both laughed with relief. She had never heard about that special grain either. I wish I remembered the name so I could tell you guys. Maybe then you could laugh at me too!

I've noticed a lot of other snobby behaviors amongst moms. And I know I've been one too.
We get snobby about what types of toys are bought -- are they imported? Natural wood? French?! The brands of clothes they wear, etc. What pre-schools we're considering, and the list goes on.

I've also seen the compartmentalizing of friendships amongst moms. I've been a friendship boxer myself. By this I mean specifying where and how certain friends fit into my life. Putting these friends into a "box". I used to always say "my church friends" to non-church friends. As if to devalue the importance and closeness of the friends I've gained at church vs. the friends I make in the "real world". Stupid. One time I was invited out to a park date with a "friend". She had other moms coming that I didn't know. When we got there, we were introduced as her "[blank]" friend. I don't want to bust this mama out, so I won't say which box she put us into. I remember my feelings being slightly hurt. Why did we have to be the "[blank]" friend? Why couldn't we just be her friend? It was almost as if she had to justify being friends with us. This was a rather snooty group of women. But we're no charity friend either!

I'm not sure why we do this. I suppose we all just want to fit in. And being a snob makes us feel better about ourselves. Ew.

At the end of the day, if our kid doesn't get into the top daycare, pre-school, prep school, wear only x-brand and play with french toys, they won't be lesser human beings. Perhaps they'll even be COOLER human beings. Ha!

The Capacity to Love

I've always wanted more than one child.
I wasn't an only child and I love the dynamic that siblings bring to a family.

I still want more than one child, God willing.
Yet staring down at Cub at times makes me wonder if it's really possible to love another child as deeply as I love him. Intellectually, I know it's possible. Yet in my heart it seems so foreign and strange.

I understand mothers love every child differently, not more or less. But it's still mind-blowing to me.

I took a yoga class last night. Our instructor started off the class by talking about "fierce determination". How we must approach these poses with fierce determination, in honor of all we've lost, specifically pertaining to 9-11. But she also spoke about love and the fierce determination we must have in order to love harder, and push beyond our limits, like a seemingly impossible yoga position achieved over time.

I suppose that's what happens every time we add another child to the mix. Our hearts stretch and expand, twist and turn, and make room for more love. Maybe we need a yoga pose called Loving Mother. Imagine how advanced that pose would be!

Parents magazine recently had an interesting article about spacing your children. The pros and cons of age differences, waiting vs. knocking out one by one, etc. I found it pretty interesting. Check it out here.

The Evolution of Friendship

I have friends. Quite a few actually. Some are married. Some are not. Some have children. Some don't. Some are super successful in their careers. Some are super successful in their personal lives. Some are very encouraging. Some just make me laugh. Some truly inspire me. Some make me mad. But each have their own place in my life. For whichever season we're in.

A lot of times I find myself "mothering" some of my friends. The part of me that is genuinely concerned about them is real. But when I take a really good look at this habit, often times it's a little laced with judgment and even more humbling... jealousy.

I spoke with an old friend last night. She wanted to address a few of my "mothering" comments made to her last time we were together. I couldn't argue with her. She was right. I was being too nosy and judgmental about her relationships. When I took a step back to see where I was coming from, I realized, even though it had been apparent deep down, that I was envious of her freedom. She is single and very successful in her career. She has hopped on planes around the world on romantic excursions. She's a NYer!! A jet-setter. So much cooler! And yet I remember the time when she used to think the same of me.

I realized I envy her freedom not because I'm living some demure life of bondage. Quite the opposite in fact. I'm LOVING life right now. My life as a mother is new and exciting, fulfilling and enlightening! I cherish every wonderful moment I get with Cub. The new heights I'm reaching in my marriage. The creativity overflowing in me. And many other great occurrences peaking at this time in my life. So why would I be envious? Because there are parts of the old me that I'm still hoarding away. The me that could get up and go at any given moment. The me that could spend some ridiculous amount of money on a PURSE that nothing fits in. The me that could book a ticket to some exotic place just because I felt like it and could. The me that had very little responsibility and a whole lot of SELF.

I was thankful me and this old friend had the conversation we had because it forced me to do some mental housecleaning. And reflect on my friendships in general. How they've changed throughout the course of life. Like a river pouring into and out of the Caspian Sea.

They changed when I was single and running wild. They changed when I got married and started taking life and my Spirit self more seriously. They changed when I got pregnant with Cub. And they've changed with Cub's arrival. Sometimes these changes have been really hard. And other times really refreshing. But I'm so thankful my friendships continue to evolve. Whether into something far greater or when they have to take a bow and part ways.

But most of all, I'm grateful that they've changed me.

Friends Shouldn't Let Friends' Toddlers Spill The Beans

From my friend's three-year-old daughter, while watching me change Cub's diaper:

"Like one time, I couldn't get my poopy out, so, so my mommy had to stick her finger up my booty to get it out. Then it all, like, came out."

Classic.

Ego Punkd

I'm a punk. Really, I am. Tonight I left the gym with my tail between my legs. Actually, more like dipping and dodging the people that were in the class I was supposed to be in. Let me explain...

So I got this free trial gym offer at a really high end gym. I'm totally psyched about it. I haven't been a gym rat in YEARS. And it's encouraging being around other sweaty, out of breath people. But this is one of those gyms you feel like you have to shower BEFORE going to, like cleaning up your home before the housekeeper comes to clean. It has a bit of that "scene" to it. (On a side note, I saw Dr. Phil working out there a few days ago. Like most celebs, he's much shorter in person. Go figure. I almost stopped him for some quick advice. But I was late for a class. ;-)

Anyway, I'm really digging the place and I've been trying to take advantage of all the classes while this trial membership lasts. So tonight I decided to try out a funkercise class. You know, one of those funk, hip-hopish classes. Don't ask me why. Well, the obvious answer is it would be fun, right? But who was I kidding? Did I really expect to keep up? Uh, yeah. I mean, this is a gym class, not some pro dance class at Broadway Dance NYC.

So I strut my little self right into the class. Quickly surveying the room. Making sure I wouldn't be the only one embarrassing myself through these dance moves. And afterall, I am half-black, which makes me an easy target for onlookers. Everyone wants to see if the black chick can keep up. Like we're supposed to be born with super-power rhythm. I guess it might be true for most of us, but hey, I only have half the rhythm! After sizing up my classmates, I felt pretty confident. They all looked like normal, everyday people. Not too in shape, not too out of shape, not too anything. Just right. There were even a few women in there who had to be knocking on 50, 60 and 100! I kid you not. Oh, I can definitely keep up with Granny, I thought. Uh, think again.

Then the music starts. Great bass pumping beats. I giggled to myself. This is going to be a blast!!

Until the choreography started.

Everybody in the classroom busted out in these MTV video moves. And there I stood like the geek at the high school dance stumbling over my feet. I tried to play it off for a little bit. But it only got worse. I then found myself watching GRANNY!! I was trying to follow after HER moves!! But I couldn't even keep up with her! As soon as the instructor turned his back to change the song, I was out of there!! I ran out of that classroom so fast, I could have beat Usain Bolt!

I decided to hide in the cardio area until the class was over. But either way, I'd eventually have to pass the classroom, running the risk of bumping into someone from the class. I couldn't bear to hear them laugh, haha, you're the half-black chick with no rhythm!!

So I spied on the class. Yes, I hid in the corner and spied. Watching all the everyday people, dancing like Janet and J-Lo. Once I saw them packing up to leave, I did another Usain Bolt to the locker room. Where I bumped into Granny. She really must have been at least a foot shorter than me and I'm only 5'3". Our eyes locked. Shame all over me.

Next time I'm sticking with Yoga.

Knock Me Up!

Will somebody please knock me up?!

No, seriously. Just kidding.

I've always had bad PMS. Since I was a teenager I've struggled with that fierce beast within that rears her ugly head around the same time each month. Somehow it seems to have gotten worse with age. You'd think it would have mellowed out by now. But I feel crazier the older I get. Or maybe I just am crazier?

Contrary to most women I've spoken to, I was much more even keeled during pregnancy. I was more patient, calm, peaceful and generally more pleasant to be around. While my pregnant girlfriends were driving their husbands to Timbuktu, my husband was probably admittedly enjoying me more during pregnancy! One of his buddies joked that he should just keep me knocked up. That'd be great if we lived on an Amish farm.

So here I am trapped in this loony house, waiting for the hormones to subside. Wishing I were pregnant again. Not literally. But wishing I felt as calm and peaceful as the pregnant me. Instead of this crazy, tired, emotional roller-coaster me.

And on that note, me and the beast are headed to bed. Good night, and good riddance!

Ready or Not

I hear people say a lot, when I'm ready, about things.

And I say it too.

We say, I'll step out of this dead end job, when I'm ready. I'll start living my life more devoted to God, when I'm ready. I'll start this new diet, when I'm ready. I'll be more honest about my situation, when I'm ready. I'll forgive this person, when I'm ready. I'll reach out to that person, when I'm ready. I'll stop being sad about xyz, when I'm ready. I'll shake this depression, when I'm ready. I'll confront my past, when I'm ready. I'll start healing from my emotional scars, when I'm ready. I'll stop smoking, when I'm ready. I'll give up this addiction, when I'm ready. I'll get pregnant, when I'm ready. I'll stay pregnant, when I'm ready. I'll have baby number 2, 3 or 4, when I'm ready.

But is there ever a RIGHT time? In some instances, yes.
But in most, no.

If we're honest with ourselves, there's always something getting in the way of us doing the right thing or preventing us from being ready.

Pregnancy and raising children freaks a lot of us out. It's like, WOA. That's why many of us go running in all different directions when it stumbles upon us... when we're not ready.

Although I think it's funny that I hear so many of my friends say, "All my life I tried not to get pregnant, now that I'm trying to get pregnant, I can't!" So what happens when we think we're ready for something, but that thing or scenario isn't ready for us?

I thank God Cub was born when I was not ready!
Sure we were "planning" on getting pregnant and starting to put everything into place. I'm not talking about logistics, etc. I'm talking about ME. The big fat self-centered me.
Sure, I believed I was ready. But the core of my being was not. And I'm STILL not...

Now, now, before you start thinking I'm doubting my ability to mother or spiraling into some deep, dark place, let be clarify. By not being ready, I mean I am relieved I don't have all the answers. That I'm still in a vulnerable enough place to be open to growth. See, if I was ever fully ready to be a mother, I would be perfect. Which we know is not possible.

Motherhood, just like marriage and any other strong relationship, acts as a mirror. It shows us a true reflection of our self. It's like a reflection of our self in High-Definition. We see every little flaw, freckle, mole, blemish, pore, glistening drop of sweat, and of course also the minute details that make us so unique and beautiful too!

In being a mom, I can no longer be stuck in the YOUTUBE. I can't make it always about ME. Even as much as I'd love for it to be! In reality, we should never be in the YOUTUBE, but I tend to crawl up there and get cozy way too often!

Someone once said motherhood is the greatest sacrifice a woman will ever make. Sounds great. I don't know if it is or not, but I do know that it's WAY up there. But I think more importantly, it all really boils down to LOVE. Love is the greatest sacrifice. Love is about putting someone else above yourself. Ouch. Self-denail is not fun. At least not for me! It's easy to do when I feel like it or feel ready to do it. But unfortunately, it's usually when most of us are right smack dab in the fire when love is needed the most. When it BURNS!

I am so grateful motherhood hasn't required that real burning from me yet. I've felt the heat here and there, but not the FIRE. But one day, I'm sure I will. If I don't, I'll never grow. At least not to my potential.

However, LIFE has required this of me. And trust me, there have been MANY times where I've yelled up at God about various scenarios, I'm not READY for this! Or, Hey! I wasn't READY for that!

And guess what he's yelled back at me?

Then GET ready!

Gee, thanks.

If you wait for perfect conditions, you will never get anything done. - Ecclesiastes 11:4

Typical.

Came across this very funny cartoon site: http://www.everydaypeoplecartoons.com/index.php

Thought this particular cartoon was perfect for the Back to School season...

A Note to the Twins

Dear Twins,

Next time you decide to jump ship and leave me hanging (literally), can you please give me warning? First it was the Milk Man, now it's you.

I understand you feel used. You've been raw, sore, sucked, pulled, tugged, bitten, inflated, deflated, pumped and lumped. It's been a lot in a very short period of time. I get it. But do you really have to abandon me all together? We weren't working with a lot to begin with, but we got by. We were cool.

Remember back in the day, it'd be you and me struttin' around like we were somethin'? I never just had you all out there like some women. I gave you some freedom, but you also had boundaries. I tried to frame you well without being too obvious. I even dressed you in fine linen and sorts. We had it pretty good, right?

Even when you first came out, I was so proud of you! We weren't the envy of all women, but you were mine. Petite, cute and mine. We were a good match. True buddies.

But now I might as well start boarding up the windows. It's an empty house here. A breast foreclosure.

So don't be mad if one day you happen to come by and see that you've been upgraded and replaced! Hey, it's fair game.

For now, I'll leave the light on and hope that you come back. Pleassssseee come back!

Got Stories?

The Baby Knack will be opening up our proverbial doors to GUEST MAMAS!

If you have some fun, heartfelt, informative or plain goofy stories to share about motherhood, we want to hear from you!!

We're hoping to publish a bi-monthly featured GUEST MAMA.

We're also looking for a few Guest DADDYS!!

Stories don't have to be novels, so don't be shy!

If you'd like to participate, please send your story to: HindsWriteProds@gmail.com

Happy Writing!!

Heat Depression

It's hot. And muggy. More hot that usual for LA, I think. Although I've only been an Angeleno for about 6 years.

I'm starting to get depressed. A temporary depression of course. Aside from there being a lot going on other than the heat outside, I'm discouraged because I don't know what to do with a 7-month-old baby in the heat. We do go swimming, we do play inside under the cool breeze of AC, we do drive around in a cool car, we do go to the library, we do quite a few things that help keep us comfortable while the sun is frying eggs outside on the pavement. But after all that running around, I can't help but to wonder if Cub is bored. Furthermore, I'm sure he's not jazzed about getting in and out of the carseat constantly. It feels like we're always on the go. And I'm watching the clock for the next nap.

But maybe it's just me.

I'm feeling the weight of the back-to-work struggle. As a creative person, I feel totally un-creative right now with my child. I can't help but to wonder if he'd be more inspired and entertained with other children at a daycare or with a nanny. I know he LOVES mama time. But that doesn't mean he doesn't get bored staring at my same ole' face day in and day out. And I want to be able to provide more for him also. Such a tug-o-war.

And of course there's that secret guilt that bares down on all of us on occassion when we actually admit at times that we'd want to go back to work. So unmotherly, right?

Funny how it seems like we hurry hurry and wait for different milestones, transitions, changes, etc., in our lives, then after they occur we're like HUH?!! Where did time go?!!

And that's all I have to say at this moment. Ha. Sorry for such a random post.

Sneak peak into my stream of conciousness. You should feel very priviledged! ;-)

Nightmares?

Cub must be having nightmares tonight.

He woke up the first time this evening with a fussy cry. I waited to see if it would escalate. It didn't. And then there was silence. Then I figured it may have been the TV that stirred him. Even though I have the TV on near mute and his white noise is BLASTING. So I turned off the TV just in case. It's the end of the summer anyway and nothing good is on. Waste of time. I digress...

Then a few minutes, maybe 10 minutes later, I hear this frightful outburst. As if he's in pain. But not exactly common pain like a gas cry. It was a scared cry.

I threw sleep training out the window (yet again, *smile*) and rushed to his crib-side. I swooped my precious yummy boy up and held him close. He settled down immediately, in that in-between sleep state. I was about to whip out the boobifier -- yes, I know! I know! I did give it up and I have given up nursing, kinda. But he wasn't interested anyway, to my chagrin -- see! So I rocked him a little and off to sleep he went. He's now sleeping as if nothing ever happened. Silence.

As I left his room I was mad. Who made up these stupid rules and theories about children sleeping in their own rooms and beds anyway?! I know there are major supporters and proponents out there for the "Family Bed" and Co-Sleeping. And I would be one of them but I also do value the sleep both parents and child get when they have their own space. And I'd still be a nervous wreck that I'd roll over him, even though I know most parents don't really do that unless intoxicated, yada yada. But just not my comfort zone.

Yet still as I left his room, wondering if my cutie-patoodie was having a nightmare, I wanted to crawl up into his crib and fall asleep with him. I hate sitting out here in this living room while he's alone in that dark room all by himself. So you say, then do something about it. Go get your boy! Join the Family Bed! But that's not going to happen. Instead I'll just look forward to the upcoming days in the near future when he's a toddler and has a "big boy" bed that I can climb into and fall asleep with him in. Or sneak into in the middle of the night to cuddle so he won't get attached with me going to bed with him.

For now, I'll just keep finding excuses to throw sleep training out the window and run to the boy's side. Just kidding. But I wish! :(

Hello, Good-Bye

Today I shall wear black in mourning.

I really would if it wasn't so hot out.

My friend came this morning. She's been dropping hints that she was coming by soon but after no sign of her, I figured she was bluffing. I haven't heard from her in over a year, then just like that, she shows up this morning. Like, "Hey, Girlfriend! I'm here!!" Luckily, I was at home and not at work, or at the grocery store or somewhere trying to look cute.

Now that she's in town, I decided that it's probably fitting to officially kiss the Milk Man good-bye. Remember, he was starting to break up with me a few weeks ago anyway. So why not break up with him first? Isn't that how we like to roll ladies?

But I'm sad. I really didn't think it would be this hard. There were so many times months ago where I wanted to boot him out the door and slam it behind him. And here I am now, softly breaking up with him with a heavy heart. My own Dear John letter.

And of course since my girlfriend didn't give me proper warning, I don't have the house ready for her stay. Like clean sheets, for her to fall on, etc. ;-) I do still have the massive hospital "pillows" left over from her cousin. Guess those will have to do until I can run to the store.

My girlfriend's return is a nice reminder that more Cubs are possible... and even more possible than ever now if careful precautions are not taken. While more is merrier, I think we'll try to enjoy THIS CUB for a while longer!

Welcome home.

(By the way, do you like the "abstract" portrait of my friend?! I was inspired by Snake Boy)