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)

A True Artist, Indeed.

Two toddlers were drawing with sidewalk chalk today at the park.
They had to have been about 2 years old. Not much older. Maybe 2 1/2.
Me and Cub were watching.

One of the little boy's nannies suggested the boy draw Cub a picture. She actually said a "smiley face" but he decided to draw a snake instead. A very abstract snake.

Shortly after, it was time for the snake drawer to go. His nanny took his hand and tried to lead him away. But before they could take one step, the other little boy started drawing over the abstract snake.

The snake boy started panicking. He grabbed at his hair, in serious distress and shouted,
"That's my art! My art! Don't touch my art!"

The nanny kindly but firmly tried to pull the little boy away but he continued,

"That's my art! My art!"

He was truly devastated.

It was absolutely hilarious. The boy didn't say, "Don't draw on my snake." Or "That's my snake!" Or anything else an average 2 year old might say. But this boy was truly concerned about his art.

We were flattered since Cub had commissioned that snake drawing. Perhaps in the years to come we'll commission more of his abstract art.

This Week In Baby... Maybe

I set out to do a This Week In Baby for you with some quick snippets on what's going on in the world of babies and parenting in the news. But as I researched the news, I got utterly depressed. Most of the news I found was on infant abuse, remains found, crib deaths, sickness, etc etc.

Why depress you more when there's enough depressing articles on our local evening news?!

So instead, I'll brag about how cute Cub is "this week"!! Haha...

This week Cub started doing this funny little squint smile. I don't know where he picked it up from. He's only 7 months old!! Do they already start imitating facial expressions this young? Neither my husband or I do this funny squint so he had to pick it up from either a reading video we've been watching with him or someone totally random. Whenever he smiles and laughs now, he scrunches up his face and closes his eyes really tight. What's even more hilarious is he knows it's funny. So he keeps on doing it cracking himself up. Gotta love the kid!

He Doesn't Smile

This evening I took Cub on a little stroll to kill some time before his bath. We walked past a nursing home. I paused in front of the facility; Maybe someone in there is lonely and a cute baby will make their day, I thought. Heck, we've got some time. Why not?

We go inside and immediately a few elderly are drawn to him. One woman in her wheelchair came over to us and was very eager to play with him. But Cub was more interested in looking around the strange place we've entered into. The woman kept trying to interact with him but Cub kept looking away, checking out the ceiling, walls and everything but her. Cub also had on his game face since it was getting close to bedtime. Not very interested in playing.

I said, "Cub, can you give the nice woman a smile?" Tickling his cheeks to get a response. He just looked away. Then the woman said acrimoniously, "No. He doesn't smile." And wheeled off.

Guess we didn't make her day. Lol.

Update: We're back on track

Boobifier has been put on the shelf. We're back on track now with sleeping. Hallelujah! Thanks for support!!

Sniff Taste Crawl

Sniff, Taste and Crawl. That's what we do now as mommies with babies.

I just got back from the park with Cub. He fell asleep on the way home. Which is a delicate scenario if I want him to continue his nap. Do I let him stay in his car seat? Do I carefully try to remove him and then quickly put him in his crib? It's always a toss up. I used to be able to do a total martial arts move. I'd quickly unlatch him from the car seat, twirl him around in one swoop, then slam him down (lightly of course) into his crib while sliding his snuggy over to him simultaneously all in 15 seconds or less. Pretty impressive. Oh and without him ever seeing me! I suppose it was a martial arts magician move of sorts. But then he caught on and would immediately open his eyes and make eye contact with me, daring me to put him down. I'd then be stuck taking him on a late afternoon walk for forever until he fell back asleep. Unless I felt up to letting him cry for centuries, which isn't always a guarantee he'll fall asleep if it's a nap and turns me into a nervous wreck.

But now, I've learned I can take him out of the car seat delicately and quickly bounce him on my shoulder putting him back to sleep, then gently lay him down in the crib while simultaneously sliding snuggy into his arms and then -- DUCK! Yes, duck down so he won't open his eyes again and catch me in the act. It's very crafty. Then I sit on the floor for a few minutes waiting to make sure he's asleep asleep. Then CRAWL across the floor like a jaguar creeping up on his prey until I'm out of the room. Exhale.

A fellow blogger, Another LA Mom Blog, wrote about her crawl of shame a few weeks back. Pretty funny. I guess it's pretty common. Check her story out here.

Today while I was squatted down waiting for him to be asleep asleep. I felt something wet on the floor. Just a small little droplet. The room was dark so I couldn't see what it looked like so I dabbed my finger in and smelled it. Smelled like spit up. Hmm, did that just happen when I did my bounce bounce slam move? Or was it from this morning? And as I sat there investigating, I thought to myself, Wow, I'll really touch anything now and smell it or taste it. Welcome to Motherhood.

Another example: Cub had someone's bubble wand today at the park. The mommy said it looked like he could be swallowing some of the old soap in the wand because his mouth looked sudsy. So what did I do? I swiped the drool off of his chin and tasted it! Nah, didn't taste like bubbles. Proceed. Another wow mommy moment.

What are you guys doing out there that warrants a wow mommy moment? Maybe we should call them WMMs. I like that. Holla back!

Boobifier

Cub's back to crying again. And it's my fault.

I've created a suckling monster.

He was doing so well with sleep training and then I stepped in with my Super Mom cape and tried to save the day a few nights ago by nursing him to sleep.
We have now regressed, temporarily...

Not because I did this once, but because I've done it, oh, let's say a few more times too. I know, I know. But he's teething! So when he woke up crying at 11 PM the other night, which is unusual considering he's been sleeping through the night for over a month now, I was concerned. But a little too anxious to run in and offer him boob.

We also recently switched his formula and he's been trying out new solids, so there's no telling what could be going on with him. Any of the above could be keeping him up.

Technically, I believe you're not advised to reinforce sleep training while a baby's teeth are cutting through the gums or if the baby is sick, and neither are the case for him. So there was really no reason for me to run in to the rescue, other than he was crying pretty hard and I just couldn't stand to lay in bed for longer than a minute (literally one minute) and let him suffer! Yeah, I know, he's not suffering, but that's what it feels like to me!

So here we are now, day 1, 2 and 3 of the boob. It's no wonder why he's SCREAMING when I put him down in the crib and then leave -- without the boob!

A little crying is bearable. But these screams sound like "MAAAA MAAAAAAAAAA!" Which makes it even worse! Of course he hasn't officially spoken, "mama" yet. (Although he does babble off lots of "Dada's" -- go figure!) But whenever he's REALLY upset he whips out this "MAAAA MAAAAA!" Just to break me down! And it works. It's that shaky voiced, "MAAA MAAAAA". You know the one that quivers and gasps for air?! The Mom-Get-Your-Butt-In-Here-Right-Now-And-Save-Me-Or-Else-I'll-Be-Eaten-By-Green-Martians-And-You'll-Never-See-Me-Again Mama!!

The problem really is me. Ugh, humility is so over-rated!

You see, a big part of me LIKES being the boobifier. It calms him. Which calms me. Which makes me feel like a good mama. And what mommy doesn't want to be a good mama?! I also get to watch him fall asleep. Which is a rare special treat these days since he's all "grown up" now and usually falls asleep on his own. And hey, I have limited time left on this nursing clock! I want to cherish every little last moment.

But the bigger problem is, I've now confused him. Instead of being a good mama, I've become a confusing mama. He doesn't know whether he has to put himself to sleep or if mama's going to come in with the boobifier. So now he just keeps on crying... excuse me, SCREAMING, "MAAA MAAAAA!"

My husband reminded me that I can't always try to be Mommy-Fix-It. Cub has to learn to do things on his own and his confidence and comfort level will build as a result of it. Afterall, we definitely don't want a needy mama's boy.

And I get that.

But in the meantime, what am I to do with the MOMMY-GET-YOUR-BUTT-IN-HERES?! What if Green Martians really are eating him? Wouldn't a good mama go in and save him?

Pathetic

By the way, for those of you that just read the That Lady post, I actually got up from my computer after blogging and checked the fridge again, expecting to find something new. But of course it's still empty so I opened up Cub's cabinet and seriously considered eating one of his jarred foods! How pathetic is that?! You'd think I was a third-world mother. I promise to go grocery shopping tomorrow -- for the 5th time this week!

That Lady

I was that lady today. After writing about that kid yesterday, I guess I deserved a little humbling...

It all started with hamburger patties. I was asked to pick up about 50 burgers for a church event. My husband suggested I go to Smart and Final. I'm not a S&F or Costco frequenter. I'm one of those people that ends up at the grocery store 5 times a week because I don't plan ahead and buy in bulk. Then I usually complain about how many times I have to make runs to the grocery store or how we don't have any food in the fridge. Like right now, I'm starving. But the good 'ole ice box is near empty. Thank God my kid is drinking formula and breastmilk. Pray for my husband!

So I go into Smart and Final and of course I'm totally overwhelmed and giddy. I want to buy everything. I'm a sucker for the sensationalized great deals. Those flashy red stickers screaming buy buy buy! Buy NOW! I have the baby with me and it's almost nap time. Which means I have a very short window. But I can't stay focused because all the red stickers are screaming at me to buy buy buy! So after pulling myself away from the avocado section where I'm stalling for like ten minutes deciding whether or not I want to start Cub on avocado yet, I park in front of the meat section. And there they are, fresh fat hamburger patties packaged in 10's. Easy enough, I buy 5. But dang, they're expensive! Is S&F really that great of a deal? I don't think so. But we need the patties and it's for charity, right? Gulp. Fine. I'll chalk it up as a donation.

After cruising through the check-out, I manage to lug these heavy fresh patties to my car, baby and all, and the random items and avocados I've managed to bring along because they were a "good deal".

Flash-forward to this morning. I'm told we needed to get the FROZEN burger patties not the fresh ones. The tube-like kind in the plastic bags. You know, the inexpensive, thin ones? Nice. Here we have these big, beautiful, plump, fresh and very expensive charity patties, and I got the wrong ones. I was not looking forward to convincing the store manager to accept these fresh patties back after they've been home with me for 24-hours. But so be it.

Long story short, I drove back to S&F this morning with my big, beautiful, plump, fresh and very expensive patties. I explain to the manager and he's surprisingly cool and accepts them. I then hurry over to the frozen inexpensive aisle and I'm good to go.

Here's where I became that lady -- the "Return Lady":

With the thin, inexpensive patties in cart, I'm able to slide to the shortest line. A few people follow me, hoping to move through the line quickly. Then it's my turn. I have to explain to the checkout clerk about the return and the manager, yada yada. She then has to punch in all these codes, re-scan my receipt, and all this other stuff I won't bore you with. But the point is, now everyone in the line is giving me the evil eye, bouncing on one hip, sighing and what not. Then Cub starts crying and to make matters worse my signature won't take on the little electronic pad.

Then it happened as if in slow motion...

I look behind me at all these irritated, grumbling faces and I realize it -- I'm her. I'm that lady. Everybody hates the Return Lady. In high school and college working retail I couldn't stand the Return Lady. She slowed down the lines, hogged the registers, blocked the potential commissions and always had some annoying, long and drawn out story about why the items didn't work for her. And today, that was me. I was her.

Does this mean the next time I'm behind that lady, I have to be more patient and forgiving?!!

That Kid

Everybody knows that kid.

That Kid is the kid that's acting a fool, out of control, showing out, throwing tantrums and just being that kid.

I saw a that kid last week. We were at a function and this kid was a true wild child. Breaking things, all up into everything, making a complete mess and spiraling out of control. But the interesting part about it was that the kid's parents were enjoying their time, socializing, having cocktails, etc. (I guess one might need a cocktail or two if they have that kid.) But every time that kid did something crazy, the parents kind of glanced over, smirked, and then went about their business. Or poo pooed it like it was cute.

So my question is, do you know when you have that kid? I'm assuming you'd have to. But some parents act as if they're truly blind to this. And everybody knows they have that kid but them.

I was with a girlfriend the other day and her little baby was being that baby. Just a fussy-poo. And she recognized it. She even asked her little baby, "are you going to be that bratty kid today in the park?" We laughed it off. But at least she tried to do something to calm the poor child.

I've seen many parents just let that kid melt down right there in the grocery store, mall, bank and many other public places. I'm not talking about the occasional sleep deprived melt down. I'm talking about that kid. You know what I mean!

So please someone tell me if I ever have that kid and try to front like I don't. Because I definitely don't want to be that parent!

Chicken & Breast at Chick-Fil-A

Ok, I get it, but c'mon? What are we going to do next, March on Washington, boycott buses??

There's nothing wrong with demonstrating a little modesty while nursing in public. Is it really necessary to chomp on some chicken breast while someone's chompin' on yours?

What's up with the fast food establishments and mommy's lately?!

Birds Nest

I had a birds nest as a baby. I'm referring to the fuzz that sat upon my head. It was a perfectly rounded, interwoven nest. Now Cub has the makings of a nest. And if I'm not diligent about combing it out, he even lays eggs -- little nest naps (for those of you not hip to ebonics "naps" = tangles).

A Wise Woman, Pt. 2

Another short and sweet "words of wisdom":

The husband should not deprive his wife of sexual intimacy,
which is her right as a married woman, nor should the wife
deprive her husband.
1 Corinthians 7:3


ENJOY!

Stuffed.

I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I did it. I stuffed my bra. Don't ask me why I waited until I'm 30-years-old to finally stuff my bra -- ok, actually, do ask me, and I'll tell you why.

Other than the secret thrill of actually stuffing tissue into my bra, I stuffed out of necessity. I was at a baby shower. I had on a cute little sun dress. Problem: I'm lopsided. Not naturally, but conditionally, temporarily -- oh, God, I hope temporarily!

It all began when I started supplementing formula. Shame on me. Not because supplementing formula is bad, especially if it's absolutely necessary. But because I really didn't need to at the time. I was tired of pumping. And I needed a solution for when I drop Cub off with someone a few hours once a week to run some errands. I had been pestered many times to just give the baby formula by well-wishers who had NOT breastfed their babies back when bfing was considered taboo or for the hippies. But I had held my ground for a while, until I gave in.

One day I left a small can of formula over at someone's house as a just in case policy, and low and behold Cub was fed formula that very day by eager hands as soon as I left! Many of you might say, weren't you livid? And yes, I was. But a very small part of me was also relieved. Maybe supplementing wouldn't be so bad? At least it would give me a little break from pumping!

And then started the shift. The left side has always been a little slower with the supply. But as soon as that formula was brought on board, Leftie, well, uh, left. I was determined to keep on nursing, even if I had to only do it from one side. Now I'm lopsided. Attractive, huh? Try putting on a bathing suit!!

So back to stuffing... normally I just wear shirts that don't make it obvious or make sure to nurse before going anywhere so Righties not like, "Hello, world! Look at me!" While Mr. *deflated* Leftie sits there and pouts. But that day in my little cute sun dress, I wanted to feel a little more confident. I was in the bathroom at the shower and carefully examining my cleavage, or rather, lack of -- on one side. Then I saw it. Nice fluffy facial tissue. The kind in the commercials. Oh, so soft and delicate. Hmm...

How do you do this anyway? One tissue? Two tissues? Do I have to shape it?

I wasn't sure if there was a bra stuffing technique. So I just popped a few under Leftie. It was very anti-climaxtic. Not how I imagined it in Middle School. Like sudden boobs, tuh-dah! But it did help. A little. Leftie didn't look as sad. He wasn't chirpy and showing off like Rightie. But let's say he perked up a bit.

And that's my stuffed bra story. Tuh-dah!

Best Thing Ever?

I hear quite often this question from mostly my single or kid-free friends, "Is being a mom the best thing ever?" They ask with the same hopeful smile. Their voices almost hesitant, afraid of hearing otherwise. And right now, I am happy to be able to give them the answer they so desire, with a resounding, "yes!" At which point they get that dreamy look in their eyes. As if they're imagining what it will be like one day for them.

Right now my "status" on various social networking sites is, "truly the happiest time in my life."

However, I remember not so long ago being in the doctor's office waiting room when Cub was 2 months old and talking with another mom. Her kid was a little over a year and full of active personality. She smiled at us as we walked in with our little bundle. Still new and yummy. Then said, "I promise you it gets better. I remember when my guy was about that age. I kept waiting for the "best thing ever" to kick in. I was exhausted. He was definitely not the best thing ever at that stage." My husband smirked. But I felt like breaking into sobs!

Hearing her say those words lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders. Up until that point I had privately had moments where I really feared not experiencing the best thing ever -- EVER -- and being exhausted and overwhelmed for the rest of my life!

At that time I was trying so hard to get into the groove of nursing. Little Cub was feisty. He would kick and actually punch me as I tried to nurse him! Many times he'd kick right into my cesarean wound! I'd look down at this little feisty baby and think, "uh oh. I'm really in for it." But I kept silent and tried to hold my fears at bay.

Prior to Cub's arrival, my husband and I had had discussions on how some women just don't get the "mother bug" and never bond with their children. I was TERRIFIED this would happen to me! Where was the gushy, mushy mother love that was supposed to eat me up?!

Now, as I'm totally smitten with Cub, totally in love, totally head over heels, totally totally in every way -- I hardly remember those overwhelmed moments. And he truly is the BEST THING EVER!

So for all of you out there asking, "Is being a mommy the best thing ever?" I'd say, "absolutely yes, and there are moments where it might "feel" like the worst thing ever too!" But thank God those moments are just MOMENTS. And the best thing ever lasts a LIFETIME.

No Booty, No Service

Did you guys hear about this incident a few days ago? A mom getting kicked out of the royal palace of BURGER KING for her baby not having shoes on her feet?! The manager claimed that it was against health code. Now I'm all for keeping to health code. And I commend this manager for being a stickler especially at a fast food establishment where many throw health codes right out the window (I have found many uh, unwanted specimens in my fast food to-go orders!).

But come on! A baby? Let's get real. What could possibly be on a baby's foot? Let me think about this one... drool, dust, dirt, maybe dog or cat saliva if they own one, spit up, possibly particles of feces and/or urine -- ok, well, maybe a baby's foot could have some yuck on it, but it's still a BABY for craps sake!

Guess Cub wouldn't be nibblin' on a Whopper then, either!

The Milk Man

He's leaving me. There's nothing I can do about it. I cannot beg him to stay. I cannot grab onto his ankles and try to keep him. He's going.

I can't plead with him. Can't tell him all the things I did wrong. How I took him for granted. How I should have been more welcoming. How we could've worked it out for longer.

He was good to me. Came right on time. Never failed me. He gave a lot. Sometimes too much, and I couldn't take it.

He is good to my kid too. Cub loves him. How am I going to break this sad news to Cub? They bonded. Cub looks forward to him. Cub smiles after seeing him. Cub needs him.

I'm sure there are a few more last minute tricks I can do to get him to stay longer. But I know the day is coming soon that he will be gone. What a sad day that will be.

My milk is drying up, yall!! Sniff, sniff...

A Wise Woman

Today's post is short and sweet... at least sweet if you're a wise woman, which I am not all too often.

Someone once said, "Eat your words now so you won't have to swallow them later."

I'm still chewing on that one!

So here's the sweet message for you today:

The wise woman builds her house,
but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.

Proverbs 14:1

Ouch!

I Am

I admit it. I am the mom of an infant. A mommy aka mama aka walking burp cloth aka life-sized soothie aka human bottle aka mother of my husband's child.

I wear ponytails and cut-offs everyday. Fashion no longer exists. I eat Lean Cuisine during nap times and fantasize about cheap coffee. I think drool is cute and inspect poop.

Tonight my husband urges me to sneak out for the evening. It's a pleasant night. Warm and welcoming. People are out. People that don't have children. Or at least children under 3. Or at least that know better not to be out with children under 3 at this time...

I acquiesce, and go. Armed with my laptop but still donning the cut-off jeans -- my new staple. I look forward to getting some stuff done in an environment bubbling over with non-baby-related chatter. The evening is plump with potential. The city is my big fat Pacific Oyster!

I end up going to my favorite coffee shop on the west side. I go in, snag the best seat, get a decaf earl grey and pecan tart and I'm set. They are playing some really good reggae. The scene is hip. I am feeling great... until it kicks in: The Mommy Clock.

Just as I settle in to my evening alone, I feel the tick... tick tock tick tock... time for bed! time for bed! It sounded like a loud obnoxious talking parrot in my head. I try to hit the mental snooze button but it gets LOUDER. The parrot starts popping out every five minutes, time for bed, time for bed. "Noooo! I must stay out!" I tell myself. For the sake of freedom, creativity, women everywhere, world peace, starving children, and for ME!

Ten minutes later, I'm behind my steering wheel. Fighting to keep my eyes open as I drive home. "Hi," I say to my husband as I walk through the door. He looks up, "Hi?"

Lights out.

I am now truly a mom.

Dirty Water

Cub loves trying to suck the water out of a dirty washcloth.

I kind of remember that taste. I think I did that when I was little too. If I remember correctly, it's kind of sweet. The soap and water mixture soaked in the cloth makes for a yummy suckable treat. Of course being the awesome, health-conscious mommy that I am, I deny him this dirty privilege and quickly try to grab it from his He-Man grip. At which point he immediately starts searching the tub for it again, determined to snatch it back. We have had all out tug-of-wars with this. He usually wins.

I was sharing this with my mother-in-law yesterday. She told me that in her country (Jamaica), there's actually a superstition that says a little dirty bath water will actually make the baby strong and healthy. She's seen women cup their hands with dirty bath water and offer it to their babies. Now make note: this is the baby's dirty bath water not someone else's! As if it makes it better, right?

So that explains Cub's He-Man grip.
Who needs milk when ya got dirty bath water?

Let him splash

I've been trying to teach Cub how to splash. We were in the pool today and he splashed a few times after some persistent egging on. We got out of the pool and took a bath. He splashed once in the bath. We get out of the bath. And he spits up... major. A big ole' pool of creamsical-colored puke, remains of his squash, formula, stomach juices and God knows what else. All over my shoulder. Then... he splashes. Yep, right on my shoulder to his hearts delight. Splash splash -- spit up down my back, spit up in my hair, spit up probably in my mouth. Cub's expression: Look, mom, I'm splashing! Guess he's getting the hang of it.

Payback

Ok, I confess, I was one of them in college...

I used to make some cash here and there as a babysitter. But what I'm confessing to is being "a sitter"-- somebody who literally sits around disengaged with the child. I wouldn't say I was totally disengaged, but the truth is I preferred sitting around, checking my cell phone, going shopping, getting my nails done, anything I could do with the baby without having to put much energy into the baby. Terrible, I know. Hey, that's why this is a confession! Grrr!

Today I'm at the mall and see this kid screaming. He was with a sitter. There she was in the food court eating her food and talking to a friend while the baby cried out for attention. Cub looked over at the kid and then to me like, "Mom, is she just going to let that baby melt down?" Me: "Yes, sweety. It's very sad."

The sitter and her friend continued eating and talking until finally her friend suggested they leave for the baby's sake. While they packed up, the baby started to calm down as if to say, "it's about time!"

As I watched this go down I was first appauled. Then convicted. Then totally freaked out. What if I get a sitter for Cub?!

Craigslist Baby

Cub is sleeping in a hand-me-down crib thanks to his nice Aunt and Uncle. I was reluctant at first. Being a first-time parent, I read all the books and articles, most of which said to NEVER use a hand-me-down crib, stroller or car seat. Safety issues. I was really nervous. This crib had been used by both his 7-year old cousin and then his 3-year old cousin after that. Now Cub would use it for its third run? Um... not so sure about that.

Finally, I gave in. But not without me insisting that the screws were double and triple-checked and the crib was super washed down. I trust this was done... hon?

In today's flaky economy, many of us have no choice or end up choosing to make major cut-backs on our spending. As a first-time mom, I thought I'd want everything brand spanking new. The fabulous nursery all decked out and brag-worthy. But with our current living situation, it made the most sense to maximize the space we have and to be more practical, especially with me staying at home for now.

The funny thing is, most of the items Cub and I really like are the hand-me-down ones! He has lots of new clothes. But the clothes I think are the cutest are the ones that were passed down from friends, family and neighbors. Now he has this awesome push car our neighbor just gave us. His girls outgrew it. Used is the new NEW! It's hip like vintage clothing!

The NYT wrote an article about this recently here, called "For Firstborns, Secondhand Fits."

So if any of you out there have any super cool things that a 7-month old baby would dig, bring it on! And for any of you out there that need toys for a baby under 7-months, we got it!

Guess it doesn't feel so bad to be USED afterall!

Baby Talk

For a few months now we've see them. Strolling by. Them, an elderly Chinese grandfather and his Chinese-American grandson, about a month older than Cub. Us, just me and Cub out for our daily walk.

The boy is always bundled up into a sort of tootsie roll, laying flat in one of those bassinet-type strollers. He is round and cute. The same stoic expression on his face every time we pass. The grandfather does not speak English. But he is jovial and quite demonstrative, smiling and nodding his head at us as we pass.

I look forward to seeing them. And to the little "dance" we do. Me, trying to speak slow silly English. Him, [the grandfather], not having a clue as to what I'm saying but nodding and smiling. And then we both resort to gesturing. Big happy gestures, attempting to share with one another the joy of spending this time with our little guys.

A few weeks ago I saw the baby with his parents. They are American and speak perfect English. I was glad to meet them and to actually find out more about the baby, his age, name, etc. But as nice as it was to speak English with his parents, I missed speaking with the grandfather.

Today we saw them again. Boy and Grandfather. And we danced.

Laughing with Cub is one of my greatest joys. Not at him. Not trying to make him laugh. But both of us laughing together like old friends.

A Drop of Luck?

I came across a shocking article and video this morning. It's about an Indian baby-dropping ritual. This 700-year old ritual is performed at Baba Umer Durga, a Muslim shrine, and is believed to be practiced by both Muslims and Hindus to "ensure good health and prosperity" for the babies and their families.

Click on this link to witness the ritual. It is disturbing, but I assure you there's no "visual" harm being done to the babies in this video other than some crying.

The article comments on the lack of good health care in many rural Indian villages which encourages parents to go to irrational, superstitious extremes in the hopes of ensuring a healthy future for their children and family.

You can click here for the full story.