This Is Not A Pat Situation

Today Bitty and I went to the carwash and while we were waiting for our vehicle to be finished, one of the worker guys came strolling through and waved at Bitty.

"Hi little guy!  Hi!"  he said.  "How old is he?  Does he know how to wave yet?" 

Bitty was wearing a pink onesie and a little denim scooter skirt. 

I mean, I know she doesn't have much hair, but really?

Tella Me About It

Well we survived The Great Hurricane unscathed;  no flooded basement,  no wind damage, and we didn't even have our electric power flicker a moment.  But that certainly didn't stop me from making short work of my hurricane snacks and booze. 

I usually don't buy Nutella because it's sort of like crack in a jar for me...one hit and I'm addicted.  I just get out a spoon and go to town.  This afternoon as I was gobbling up one spoonful after the other, I started to wonder if they really do put crack in the jar.  I turned the label around to look at the ingredients list and saw this:

Hmmm.  An example of a tasty balanced breakfast, eh?  Now I was really curious about the ingredients.

The first two ingredients are sugar and palm oil.  Balanced breakfast indeed.  But at least there isn't any crack in it. 

My spoon was scraping the bottom when there was a knock at the door.  One of the neighbor kids was on the porch with her mom and sister, delivering a couple of cupcakes--today is her birthday.  I chatted with the mom and the girls for a few minutes before wishing her a happy birthday and closing the door.  Bitty starting crying, awakened from her nap, and as I went upstairs to get her I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror.  I had chocolate all over my face.  Nutella, to be precise. 

I threw the rest of the jar in the trash.  Addict is not a good look for me.

Disaster Preparedness

Hurricane Irene is upon us....

I hope we are prepared for a power outage...

Sustainance for Hurricane Irene, in case of a power outage.  I think we have the basics covered.

Daddy Love

It's confession time. 

So, you all know I've **temporarily** given up my teaching career for the SAHM gig. 

P.S. You'll probably hear more about this in later posts because I'm feeling sorta weird about it as it's back-to-school time, except I'm not going back-to-school and it's REALLY REALLY weird....but I digress....

Ok, back to so.....So, I'm home with Bitty all day, all the time, and I'm considering it my new career to enrich and stimulate and facilitate and scaffold and all those words that mean I'm trying to be the best mom possible.  Ever.

This means that I spend most of my waking hours researching, thinking about, prepping for, and *implementing* (I star* this because it seems way too official for a SAHM, but whatever, I'm obsessive and crazy and you should know that by now).

Like, for example, I have been reading a lot ways to best support and encourage infants` and toddlers` play, (which again you'll hear more about in later posts).   I mean, my B.S. specialization (I mean Bachelor of Science, not the other thing, you jerks), is in Early Childhood Development, so I should know this stuff, right? 

Except I've been teaching sixtoseven year olds the past seven years.  I have no embarrassment admitting that I need to brush up on a few things when it comes to the under-two age range.  My excuse is that even Issac Newton was known to be somewhat forgetful.  So I've been reading up on the 0-2 info lately.  Lots.

Bitty is a very socially-tuned little baby.  She is always more interested in interpersonal interactions than toys,  and will spend much energy and many minutes trying to get a person's attention than she will spend trying to figure out a toy.  This means that a significant portion of my day is one-on-one time with Bitty.

Considering all of this research and energy and time that I'm devoting to my daughter, you might assume that she would think that the sun rises and set around me.  Despite my efforts to be the best mother in the entire world, I'm pretty sure Bitty is not appreciative. 

I'm convinced because of the level of enthusiasm and delightment she has when daddy walks in the door.

OmigodOmigod DADDY'S HOME!!!!

I may have spent my day encouraging repetitive play, stacking blocks, singing songs, doing sign language, counting links, reading books, gabbing my mouth off with vocabulary, DEAR GOD EVERYTHING YOU CAN IMAGINE, but when daddy walks in the door after work?

Suddenly, it's as if she's seen Justin Timberlake.




holy crap jesus god he's hot

 Giant grin.  Giggles.  Racing to the front door faster than a thoroughbred . . . Daddy's home.

I love the fact that she loves her Daddy.  It's so sweet that she's a daddy's girl.

I'm the one who thinks of her and plans for her every moment of every day, but when daddy gets home, I'm chopped liver. I'm jealous, you guys.  I am devoting the entirety of my life to her well being, but she loves daddy most???  Are you kidding me?

Secretly, this has been eating away at me like an ebola virus.  That is, until today.

I left for my weekend long run before Bitty woke up.  I had a good run today, but was best was when I returned home.  Bitty was, of course by this time, awake.  When she saw me?  ELATION!!!!  SQUEALS!!!  GIGGLES!!!!  

MOMMY'S HOME!!

That felt good. 

"Hair-orist"

Meema and Peepa live in the Chicago suburban area of Illinois.  Bitty made her first visit just last weekend!

I love the Chicago metro area.  Mark and I often daydream about what it would be like to be like to live there. . . cheaper cost of living, big-town ameneties with small(er) town pace . . . but, alas, Mark has a job in Northern Virginia, and not in Illinois . . .

On our trip home, an extremely nice young Indian woman took a liking to Bitty.  The woman stood in front of us in the looooooong security line.  The young lady waved "hello" to Bitty, smiled, and pinched Bitty's little chipmunk cheeks.  Daddy held Bitty as she laughed and grinned in return, and Mark and I were grateful for the distraction.

After awhile, entertaining a baby gets old.  REAL OLD.  The nice young woman went back to her business, and still we stood in the security line at O'Hare.

I turned to notice the check-in line at American Airlines, and note to my husband that we had checked-in just in time, when I heard my husband yelling "No!  No Sophie, No!

 Bitty had a death grip on the hair of the nice young woman standing in front of us, and had jerked this poor girl's head back wrestling-style.

Picture this, but an infant yanking a kindly Indian girl's hair



Ok, so this girl's head was cranked back about 90 more degrees than this picture shows.  I pryed Bitty's hands away, unsuccessfully, for what seemed like an eternity.  People were staring.  The girl kept repeating "It's totally fine, it's totally fine," but I felt totally humilated.    It took several minutes to pry Bitty's hands away, and much, much longer for the flushed redness to leave our cheeks.  We apologized profusely, but still felt like a couple of major assholes.

Later, as we boarded our flight, I noticed my husband left quite a bit more space between he, Bitty, and the preceding person.

Group Exercise

The weather has been in the low 90s more than usual this summer, and in Virginia that means it is niiiiiiiiiiiice.  I've been trying to get outside to run with the baby often, and the dogs have made it clear that they don't appreciate being left behind.

Taking pity upon them I decided to bring them along.  I think the story is best told in pictures, so I have taken the liberty of making a photographic recreation for your viewing pleasure.

Oh boy, it's a lovely day, I think I'll go for a run.  Let me get out the stroller. 

Can we come too?

 Ok, the dogs can come.  Let me get all situated....

And they push past me to run out the front door as I'm taking the baby out to the stroller.

Stop.  Wait.  Come back.



Immediately they began  sprinting around our "front yard," ready to accost any living creature in sight.  Our dogs do not listen to me whatsoever, so I lured them by telling them we were going to go bye-bye on a car ride.

Riley thinks his role is pressing the gas pedal

Falls for it every time



Before I know it I'm running with two dogs and a jogging stroller . . .

It was rough at first.....this one had the poop, the other one had to pee.  Then this one had to poop some more.  Eventually we fell into our stride.  But then Riley got tired.

Riley rode like this a mile and a half.  I am not joking.

So how is your summer going?

A Little Jazz Makes the World Go Round

Have you read in your baby books and websites to try adding herbs and spices to baby food?  You definitely should do this.  As it turns out Bitty, is a **picky** eater.  Ok, so actually, she hates almost everything the first twelve times I offer it to her, with the exception of apples and pears.  But she can't exist on apples and pears.

I'm persistent because I don't want her to end up like her father, who's culinary dream world would consist of chicken tenders and french fries.  I, on the other hand, eat almost anything, which actually is sort of a problem because I eat EVERYTHING IN SIGHT.

I have discovered, that lo and behold, adding some herbs or spice to Bitty's food makes her eat it!!!!!!   Hallelujah, it's a miracle!!!!!   Here are some of her favorite early combos:

• green beans with garlic and thyme
• broccoli with garlic
• carrots with apples and cinnamon
• butternut squash with apples and cinnamon
• chicken with lemon and rosemary
• pumpkin with yogurt, oatmeal, and pumpkin pie spice (ginger, allspice, nutmeg, cinnamon)
• black beans with cilantro

I make most of Bitty's food at home.  This very particular little one rarely likes single-ingredient foods, and I look to the commercially-produced baby foods ideas.  Bitty especially likes the Plum Organicsand Ella's Kitchenbrands, and I'm sure it's no coincidence that these are the most expensive baby foods on the shelves.  I try to reproduce these combos at home.  Spinach, peas, and pears is a favorite and so is Turkey with Veggies.  I buy these brands when traveling or for when we eat out-and-about.

Does your wee one have any other favorites?  Please comment and share with me, because it is a daily battle to get Bitty to eat solids around here.

I hope that your baby is easier on you when it comes to eating that Bitty is on me.  :-)

I'm Going To Complain and You're Going to Listen To It

I have a big pet peeve when it comes to running in the neighborhood. 

Before I even became pregnant, I used to stew over the moms with strollers who hogged the sidewalks. 

I'm talking about when there is oncoming traffic, I didn't expect people to have eyes in the back of their heads and see me approaching from behind during my runs.  I wondered if this would change when   I   became a mom pushing a stroller.

It hasn't.  Yesterday I was doing a pace workout when I came head on to a mom (and a dad) pushing a stoller---a BOB Revolution, identical to the one I have.  This mother made no attempt to slide one way or the other, she kept plowing down the middle of the sidewalk, clearly expecting me to move. 

And that's what really gets under my skin.  Just because you have a baby in a stroller does not give you sidewalk ownership.  It may seem easier for a single person to move onto the grass than for you, with your stroller, to slightly incovienence your trajectory, but you know what?  It's rude. 

I guess I don't mind as much when I'm out for a recovery jog, but when I'm running fast  trying to run my version of fast, I don't want to run in the grass because it's uneven and it throws off my workout and I've sprained my ankle too many times to risk the hidden bumps and pits in the landscaping.  I'm not saying you have to get totally out of the way, but at least make an attempt, for Christ's sake. It's the thought that counts.   Plus, SO MANY strollers are made for a little off roading, a little bumpy grass action isn't going to hurt a bit. 

I get the "it's a big stroller" thing.  I have a big-a** stroller too, remember?  And lately, I usually have two dogs with me.  And I have no issue moving on to my side of the sidewalk when someone is coming. 

So, since this is my blog, I'm going to give some unsolicited advice---when you're out strolling the neighborhood, move your ass over.  It's the polite thing to do. 

That is all.