Sunday, August 29, 2010
One of "Those" Moms
Would you put one of those yellow "Baby on Board" magnets on your car? I have been contemplating this the past few days. Okay, I'll be honest. I bought one. A moment of weakness at Babies R Us. In that moment, I had mental flashes of those insane highway drivers who weave in and out of traffic and tailgate and erratically merge in front of you when clearly there isn't enough distance between yours and the preceding car. This magnet would work, I thought. This magnet will tell people to drive cautiously around me because, I've got a Baby on Board.
That's what I thought at Babies R Us, but then I came home and skepticism set in. I used to think these magnets were ridiculously stupid. As cliche as pocket protectors and cell phone belt clips and BMWs. What happened to me? How could this have seemed like a good idea? Am I destined to become one of "those" moms? One day it's the Baby on Board magnet, the next I'm wearing a pair of Jordache mom jeans?
But, I still had a nagging feeling of protectiveness lingering, so I decided that I would do an internet search to look for any statistics as to whether or not the magnets actually helped to promote safe driving. If they were effective, I would proudly slap mine on the back of my car, abandon any hope of being a "cool" mom, but assured that I have taken every known safeguard to protect my baby. If not, well, I'll have to find something else to do with that magnet.
My search turned up nothing but a host of tirades from people angrily ranting about how much they despise these signs. One person even said he felt more inclined to ram into a vehicle displaying one. No one had a positive comment about them, unless you count the companies that manufacture them. All of this made me seriously question my judgement. I am going to have to be much more cautious if I am to avoid turning into one of "those" moms.
A few days ago, while watching one of the many Bravo reality shows that Mark and I are obsessed with, a commercial came on and my dear husband remarked "That is exactly how you are going to be as a mom." It was one of the Toyota Sienna commercials, the one with the diaper bag. I'm not sure how I should take that.
Incidently, if you haven't gone on YouTube and watched the Sienna Family commercials, you probably should. They have lots on there that I haven't seen before, and they are hi-larious. My favorites are Meet the Parents, Swagger Wagon, and Mommy Like Versatility. Oh, and you should probably watch Daddy Like Bonding Time. Actually, maybe you should just watch them all.
I've decided that I'm not going to use my Baby on Board sign on the car. I'm a little concerned that there may be more negative implications than positive ones. Like, if I'm on the road with that guy who is one magnet away from ramming his vehicle into mine like we're in a demolition derby. But, luckily, I've found another use for my sign.
That's what I thought at Babies R Us, but then I came home and skepticism set in. I used to think these magnets were ridiculously stupid. As cliche as pocket protectors and cell phone belt clips and BMWs. What happened to me? How could this have seemed like a good idea? Am I destined to become one of "those" moms? One day it's the Baby on Board magnet, the next I'm wearing a pair of Jordache mom jeans?
But, I still had a nagging feeling of protectiveness lingering, so I decided that I would do an internet search to look for any statistics as to whether or not the magnets actually helped to promote safe driving. If they were effective, I would proudly slap mine on the back of my car, abandon any hope of being a "cool" mom, but assured that I have taken every known safeguard to protect my baby. If not, well, I'll have to find something else to do with that magnet.
My search turned up nothing but a host of tirades from people angrily ranting about how much they despise these signs. One person even said he felt more inclined to ram into a vehicle displaying one. No one had a positive comment about them, unless you count the companies that manufacture them. All of this made me seriously question my judgement. I am going to have to be much more cautious if I am to avoid turning into one of "those" moms.
A few days ago, while watching one of the many Bravo reality shows that Mark and I are obsessed with, a commercial came on and my dear husband remarked "That is exactly how you are going to be as a mom." It was one of the Toyota Sienna commercials, the one with the diaper bag. I'm not sure how I should take that.
Incidently, if you haven't gone on YouTube and watched the Sienna Family commercials, you probably should. They have lots on there that I haven't seen before, and they are hi-larious. My favorites are Meet the Parents, Swagger Wagon, and Mommy Like Versatility. Oh, and you should probably watch Daddy Like Bonding Time. Actually, maybe you should just watch them all.
I've decided that I'm not going to use my Baby on Board sign on the car. I'm a little concerned that there may be more negative implications than positive ones. Like, if I'm on the road with that guy who is one magnet away from ramming his vehicle into mine like we're in a demolition derby. But, luckily, I've found another use for my sign.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Product Quality Tester II
Thanks for the buggy,
Sarah and Marty! Riley gives it a thumbs up and will be breaking it in for Bitty.
Sarah and Marty! Riley gives it a thumbs up and will be breaking it in for Bitty.
Our neighbors think we're crazy. They're probably right.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Mederma Isn't Going to Work on This Scar
I had such a productive week. My classroom is nearly completely set up. I made record time this year. I love productivity. A day that I can get some things crossed off my list is a great day for me. To extend this streak of efficiency, I decided to stop into the Wal-Mart down by my school to pick up a few things.
It was pleasantly quiet inside Wal-Mart on this particular day. Normally, I try to avoid the store. It seems that whenever I'm there, the child-to-adult ratio is about 15:1; and the majority of those children are running through the aisles, playing hide-and-seek, tag, and otherwise screaming like banchees. And their parents are either clueless or pretending to be clueless. It makes me crazy. The teacher in me is compelled to reprimand these little fiends, and if the mood strikes me, I do. "No Running!" "Your mother told you to come over there, and you need to listen." I can't help myself. Especially since probably half of these children are students at my school, so it sort of just seems like an extension to the school day.
But, as I mentioned, this visit was quite the opposite. I calmly perused the aisles in peace. I picked up the items that I came for, and a few things that I didn't. Walking past the women's section, I spotted a display of underware. I have recently grown to have an affinity towards the comfort and coverage of granny panties. These days, when it comes to undergarments, the bigger the better. I stood there, inspecting the color and sizes, when to my right, I heard a voice say "Hi, Mrs. Bittenbender!"
I glanced over to see one of the students from my school. I did not have him in my class, and I am unsure of him name, but I recognized him--I think maybe a fourth or fifth grader; a nice one, the kind that holds the door open for you and says hello in the hallway.
Any teacher can imagine the look on a student's face when they spot you out in the "real world" doing regular stuff. They are so shocked and excited to see you outside of the school environment. Like in disbelief that teachers actually go grocery shopping, or to a restaurant. The younger, the more astonished they are.
The next moment passed quickly, but it was seemingly slow-motion. The nice boy had that familiar excited expression on his face when he first saw me, but then he noticed what I was holding up in my hands--a set of gigantic granny panties. His expression changed from excitement...to surprise...and then utter disgust.
I decided to play it nonchalant. I placed the undies in my basket and said,"Oh, hi. I hope you're having a good summer!" He nodded and then we both spun about face and carried on in opposite directions.
Retrospectively, I probably should exercise more prudence when it comes to shopping for unmentionables. Like, not do it anywhere in the vacinity of my school. But, truly, I am not the victim here. The memory of one of his knocked-up teachers purchasing an enormous pair of underware will surely scar that poor child for life. I can only pray that time will heal the wounds.
It was pleasantly quiet inside Wal-Mart on this particular day. Normally, I try to avoid the store. It seems that whenever I'm there, the child-to-adult ratio is about 15:1; and the majority of those children are running through the aisles, playing hide-and-seek, tag, and otherwise screaming like banchees. And their parents are either clueless or pretending to be clueless. It makes me crazy. The teacher in me is compelled to reprimand these little fiends, and if the mood strikes me, I do. "No Running!" "Your mother told you to come over there, and you need to listen." I can't help myself. Especially since probably half of these children are students at my school, so it sort of just seems like an extension to the school day.
But, as I mentioned, this visit was quite the opposite. I calmly perused the aisles in peace. I picked up the items that I came for, and a few things that I didn't. Walking past the women's section, I spotted a display of underware. I have recently grown to have an affinity towards the comfort and coverage of granny panties. These days, when it comes to undergarments, the bigger the better. I stood there, inspecting the color and sizes, when to my right, I heard a voice say "Hi, Mrs. Bittenbender!"
I glanced over to see one of the students from my school. I did not have him in my class, and I am unsure of him name, but I recognized him--I think maybe a fourth or fifth grader; a nice one, the kind that holds the door open for you and says hello in the hallway.
Any teacher can imagine the look on a student's face when they spot you out in the "real world" doing regular stuff. They are so shocked and excited to see you outside of the school environment. Like in disbelief that teachers actually go grocery shopping, or to a restaurant. The younger, the more astonished they are.
The next moment passed quickly, but it was seemingly slow-motion. The nice boy had that familiar excited expression on his face when he first saw me, but then he noticed what I was holding up in my hands--a set of gigantic granny panties. His expression changed from excitement...to surprise...and then utter disgust.
I decided to play it nonchalant. I placed the undies in my basket and said,"Oh, hi. I hope you're having a good summer!" He nodded and then we both spun about face and carried on in opposite directions.
Retrospectively, I probably should exercise more prudence when it comes to shopping for unmentionables. Like, not do it anywhere in the vacinity of my school. But, truly, I am not the victim here. The memory of one of his knocked-up teachers purchasing an enormous pair of underware will surely scar that poor child for life. I can only pray that time will heal the wounds.
Another Obsession
A few weeks ago, at the end of July, I went to Michigan for a few days to attend Sarah's baby shower. Sarah is one of my oldest friends (well, oldest in terms of how LONG we've been friends, not in terms of age), and she is expecting a baby girl in September. Look, here is a picture of us, aren't we cute?
Sarah, 34 weeks & Me, 23 weeks
While I was there, I admitted to Sarah another one of my newfound obsessions--baby leg warmers.
No, not THAT kind of leg warmer... Adorable, charming ones, like these...
Okay, maybe it was less about coming clean and more about trying to convince Sarah that HER baby was going to need this wardrobe staple as well. I was a pusher. A baby leg warmer pusher. Bitty has had four pair since the age, oh, gestationally 17 weeks.
Sarah tried to convince me that these were no less kitschy than the switch flops that I had teased her about last summer, but clearly the two are in completely different leagues.
Baby Leg Warmers--delightful, precious, and functional. They keep the babe's limbs toasty, while you change a diaper without needing to remove a pair of pants.
Switch Flops--matchy matchy, and I think that's all I need to say about that.
Sarah, 34 weeks & Me, 23 weeks
While I was there, I admitted to Sarah another one of my newfound obsessions--baby leg warmers.
No, not THAT kind of leg warmer... Adorable, charming ones, like these...
Okay, maybe it was less about coming clean and more about trying to convince Sarah that HER baby was going to need this wardrobe staple as well. I was a pusher. A baby leg warmer pusher. Bitty has had four pair since the age, oh, gestationally 17 weeks.
Sarah tried to convince me that these were no less kitschy than the switch flops that I had teased her about last summer, but clearly the two are in completely different leagues.
Baby Leg Warmers--delightful, precious, and functional. They keep the babe's limbs toasty, while you change a diaper without needing to remove a pair of pants.
Switch Flops--matchy matchy, and I think that's all I need to say about that.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
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Dumb Things I've Read
My extra-curricular reading as of late has revolved around the topics of (surprise!) pregnancy and babies. I read pregnant lady books. I read baby development books. I read parenting books. I read pregnancy and baby magazines, blogs, websites, etc. etc. etc. Lots of reading, and mostly because this is our first baby and I really don't know what the hell I am doing. And, being the obsessive and anal planner that I am, I need to be prepared.
Right now, I am reading several books on sleep training so that I can compare approaches and decide which I want to follow. Just in case our baby has sleep issues down the road. Like, ten months from now down the road. As I said, I need to be prepared.
I've read some good things, but I've also read some really dumb things. Here are a few of my favorites:
1. These are the two most common cravings among pregnant women:
33% crave chocolate
20% crave sweets of some sort
Well, luckily for us pregnant ladies, Your Pregnancy, Week by Week has a recommendation for combating these sweet cravings. The authors write, "When you crave something sweet, eat a cherry tomato or some broccoli pieces to help curb your sweet tooth." Really? Seriously? A tomato and some broccoli are supposed to take my mind off of a giant hot fudge brownie sundae topped with Oreos and whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles? Riiiiight. If this has ever worked for you, please let me know. Dumb.
2. And that reminds me, there is the issue of weight distribution during pregnancy. Here is a typical breakdown for a woman who gains 30 pounds during pregnancy:
7.5 lbs. is baby
1.5 lbs. is placenta
4 lbs. in increased fluid volume, and another
4 lbs. in increased blood volume
And then, two pounds each can be attributed to the mother's uterus, big boobs, and the amniotic fluid, for a total of 6 pounds.
The rest of the weight? Oh, the books account for that as maternal stores; also known as, all the fat you've packed on to your hips and ass. I cringe every time I read the words maternal stores. No need to sugar coat it (pun intended), just label those extra lbs. for what they are. Cottage Cheese. Dumb Dumb.
3. There is no shortage of unnecessary PC-ness found in the baby genre. Take Dr. Sears, for example, who coined the term "high needs baby." Ech, this one drives me crazy, too. To me, this is of the same caliber as referring to an old person as "chronologically gifted," and incompetence as "unique proficience." Why not just keep it literal? Fussy baby! High-maintenance baby! I know that Dr. Sears has a devoted following, especially in regard to this issue, and I don't intend to offend anyone; my husband, for one, is convinced that if Bitty's temperment resembles that of her mother's she will surely be a fussy, demanding little creature. If this is the case, you will never hear me refer to her as high needs. High-maintenance, yes. Screaming, blithering la creatura, maybe. But not a high needs baby. That's just dumb.
4. A website I recently encountered listed some interesting facts about babies that are likely unknown to most people. This one caught my eye: Babies and toddlers are, pound for pound, stronger than oxen. Oxen? Who uses THAT word anymore? I think the only place I've heard anyone even utter the word oxen was on an episode of "Little House on the Prarie." Is that really the best comparison that they could come up with? Now think about this amazing baby-strength fact and look at this picture and tell me that isn't a weird visual.
If this is truly the case, then shouldn't babies be "pulling their own weight," so to speak, around the house a bit more? Dumb.
5. I guess this one might not be characterized as "dumb," but it is kind of weird to think about. At 19 weeks gestation, the female fetus has already produced 6 million eggs in her ovaries, though by the time she is born she will only have about 4 million. My first thought was, "Wow, that's a lot of eggs." And secondly, "what happens to the other 2 million in utero?" Seriously though, where did they go? Are they in my belly? Weird. I relayed this interesting piece of info to Mark, who immediately covered his ears insisting that he did NOT want to hear about the ovaries and eggs of his unborn daughter. Fair enough.
Right now, I am reading several books on sleep training so that I can compare approaches and decide which I want to follow. Just in case our baby has sleep issues down the road. Like, ten months from now down the road. As I said, I need to be prepared.
I've read some good things, but I've also read some really dumb things. Here are a few of my favorites:
1. These are the two most common cravings among pregnant women:
33% crave chocolate
20% crave sweets of some sort
Well, luckily for us pregnant ladies, Your Pregnancy, Week by Week has a recommendation for combating these sweet cravings. The authors write, "When you crave something sweet, eat a cherry tomato or some broccoli pieces to help curb your sweet tooth." Really? Seriously? A tomato and some broccoli are supposed to take my mind off of a giant hot fudge brownie sundae topped with Oreos and whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles? Riiiiight. If this has ever worked for you, please let me know. Dumb.
2. And that reminds me, there is the issue of weight distribution during pregnancy. Here is a typical breakdown for a woman who gains 30 pounds during pregnancy:
7.5 lbs. is baby
1.5 lbs. is placenta
4 lbs. in increased fluid volume, and another
4 lbs. in increased blood volume
And then, two pounds each can be attributed to the mother's uterus, big boobs, and the amniotic fluid, for a total of 6 pounds.
The rest of the weight? Oh, the books account for that as maternal stores; also known as, all the fat you've packed on to your hips and ass. I cringe every time I read the words maternal stores. No need to sugar coat it (pun intended), just label those extra lbs. for what they are. Cottage Cheese. Dumb Dumb.
3. There is no shortage of unnecessary PC-ness found in the baby genre. Take Dr. Sears, for example, who coined the term "high needs baby." Ech, this one drives me crazy, too. To me, this is of the same caliber as referring to an old person as "chronologically gifted," and incompetence as "unique proficience." Why not just keep it literal? Fussy baby! High-maintenance baby! I know that Dr. Sears has a devoted following, especially in regard to this issue, and I don't intend to offend anyone; my husband, for one, is convinced that if Bitty's temperment resembles that of her mother's she will surely be a fussy, demanding little creature. If this is the case, you will never hear me refer to her as high needs. High-maintenance, yes. Screaming, blithering la creatura, maybe. But not a high needs baby. That's just dumb.
4. A website I recently encountered listed some interesting facts about babies that are likely unknown to most people. This one caught my eye: Babies and toddlers are, pound for pound, stronger than oxen. Oxen? Who uses THAT word anymore? I think the only place I've heard anyone even utter the word oxen was on an episode of "Little House on the Prarie." Is that really the best comparison that they could come up with? Now think about this amazing baby-strength fact and look at this picture and tell me that isn't a weird visual.
If this is truly the case, then shouldn't babies be "pulling their own weight," so to speak, around the house a bit more? Dumb.5. I guess this one might not be characterized as "dumb," but it is kind of weird to think about. At 19 weeks gestation, the female fetus has already produced 6 million eggs in her ovaries, though by the time she is born she will only have about 4 million. My first thought was, "Wow, that's a lot of eggs." And secondly, "what happens to the other 2 million in utero?" Seriously though, where did they go? Are they in my belly? Weird. I relayed this interesting piece of info to Mark, who immediately covered his ears insisting that he did NOT want to hear about the ovaries and eggs of his unborn daughter. Fair enough.
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