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. 

Crib Olympics

Do milestones count if  Bitty only does them in her crib when she thinks I'm not looking?  Little does she know I've been watching her on the monitor.  I caught her pushing up from her stomach into a sit, rocking on all fours, and grabbing on to the crib slats and looking up--I just know she was thinking about scaling that thing.  Today I heard her singing "mamamabada."  First of all, she NEVER says mama despite my intense coaching---it's always dada dada dada.  Secondly, she's never strung together different consonant sounds when I've been within earshot.  Then she pretends to be helpless and whines to be rescued when it's playtime in the living room.  I'm on to you now, Bitty.

How To Be An Extreme Couponer: Rule #1--Remember To Give The Cashier Your Coupons

Sometimes I just have to learn the hard way.

I just got started on this couponing thing.  I've been watching that Extreme Couponing show and realized I am such a sucker for paying for stuff when these hoarders masters of frugality are getting it all for practically free.  Ok, I don't actually intend on doing what those people do, I mean, come on, unless you plan on existing on raman noodles and cereal you're going to have to spend some money.   And plus, our house is small so I'm not stockpiling a thirteen-year supply of disposable razors.  But if I can save some money on stuff like toilet paper and body wash, that means I don't have to feel so guilty about my Starbucks.

I spent hours over the weekend pouring over couponing blogs, newspaper inserts, and signing up for various rewards programs online, just trying to get a handle on all of this.  There are like a million different ways to save money on items, and you have to piece it together just right to get the best prices.  I'm still trying to figure that part out.

So I had everything written down and planned so I could get the best deals on the products we could use.  I had my coupons paper clipped together and in my purse, ready to go.  On the way home from my shopping trip, I realized that I never actually gave those coupons to the cashier, and to make matters worse, I also didn't actually have a purchase total to qualify one of the big coupons.  Worst.  Couponer.  Ever.  Let's hope next week goes better.

What Does Bitty Have In Common With the Guys From Jersey Shore?

Creepin'!  

Bitty, Thanks For Finally Making Me Look Like a Good Mom

Do any of you parents ever read magazines, books, websites, etc. about parenting?  Yeah, thought so.  It's likely that you've frequently encountered the recommendation to read to your baby or child daily.  Good advice, since reading aloud to children is the single most important way to foster early literacy development.

All through pregnancy, I so looked forward to reading to Bitty.  While teaching, read alouds were my favorite part of the day.  I've got to say I'm pretty good at it.   And kids usually think so, too.  I love to ham it up and add sound effects, character voices, and insert dramatic pauses.  I use props and have even been known to get into costume.  Children's literature is a guilty pleasure of mine, and our book collection reflects that.  Presently, Bitty has 42 board books, five soft cloth books, two crinkle books, and I have ten file-sized boxes in the attic filled with picture books that I have accumulated over the years.  I counted one of those boxes, and there were 92 books inside.  Which means....dear god, there are nearly 1,000 children's books in this house!  I could start a lending library!

Now that you know this, you can imagine the irony that for the first seven months of her life, Bitty HATED being read to.  As soon as I sat down with her and pulled out a board book, she would scream and twist and squirm until I gave up.  I pulled out all my usual tricks, and even tried singing the words to her, as she is the only person on the face of the earth who doesn't cover their ears and cringe when I sing.  I could not get this child interested.

We had a turning point when I purchased a new book for her, called Moo Baa La La La!It has animal noises and lots of opportunity for silliness.  I read it to her for the first time in full performance mode, and she laughed!  Hysterically!  She turned the pages!  She went back to her favorite page where the sheep says "Baa" and whined for me to read it again!

So now we can get through two or three books in a sitting and I am relieved that I will not have to suffer the humiliation of having a child that despises reading.  That would be embarrassing, you know?

Terror On The Plane

We recently returned from a week long trip to Cozumel, Mexico, where we celebrated  the nuptials of my little sister.  We brought Bitty along with us because (a) this trip was so dang expensive there is no way that we are taking any sort of family vacation this year, and (b) even with brainpower combined, we have the foresight of a sea sponge.

The amount of actual in-air flying time wasn't so horrible, it was the time spent getting to the airport, during the layover, going through customs, and getting to the resort that was consuming.  Our outgoing trip was eleven hours door to door, and the return thirteen.  We really didn't think this whole thing through.

The engagement party in Colorado a few weeks prior provided us with a sort of trial run.  It was a three day trip, but from the volume of luggage we had you would have thought we had brought all of our worldly belongings.  Car seat, stroller, diapers, wipes, bottles, formula, baby spoon, baby bowl, baby food, hair bows, sunscreen, lotion, baby wash, baby brush, hat, socks, shoes, clothes in case the weather is hot, clothes in case the weather is cold, extra clothes in case she sh*#s herself.

And then there are the toys.  This was Bitty's first flight and I had no idea how she would handle it.  I wanted to be sure to have enough toys to transition to something new every five minutes, which is about how long her attention span is.  The flight was four hours.

My two worst fears were that she would poop on the plane and I would need to change her in that tiny disgusting bathroom, and secondly that she would scream bloody murder and we would be "those" parents.   As it turned out, Bitty was WONDERFUL on both the outgoing and return flights.  She actually didn't want to  play with ANY of her toys.  She just needed a paci for take-off and landing, and other than that, she was only interested in people watching and napping.  She took a two and a half hour nap both ways.  The passengers seated nearby remarked that she was the best baby they had ever seen on a plane;  the only sounds she made were soft little baby coos.

It couldn't have gone any better except for one little thing.  Forty-five minutes before we touched down, she decided to take a big giant messy poop (here I am talking about poop again...sorry, but it's just a big part of life when you have a baby).  Ok, backtrack a little bit....historically, Bitty has never been a big pooper.  For the longest time she was on the once-a-week plan, but what she lacked in frequency she made up for in volume.  Around the time of our Colorado trip, we were starting to add more of a variety of solids to her repitoire, and that kept things moving a bit more often.  During the three days we were in Denver she hadn't pooped at all, apparently waiting for a grand reveal on the airplane.  Changing a poopy diaper in the airplane bathroom is as bad as I had imagined.  I think it would be easier to change a diaper while skiing downhill on one foot.  In a blizzard.  It is IMPOSSIBLE to keep the baby from touching anything in that tiny space.  Which is so revoltingly gross, read this if you don't believe me.

So aside from the poopy incident,  the Denver flights couldn't have gone better.  Mark and I were so smug.  We couldn't understand what the problem was with all of those babies shrieking and carrying on during flights.    Our angelic child was the model passenger.  This Mexico thing was going to be a breeze.  In fact, I only packed one toy in the diaper bag this time.  Probably wouldn't even need it.

Bitty made us pay for our arrogance shortly after we buckled our seat belts.  A switch was turned during the weeks that elapsed between trips in which Bitty went from a content little princess simply entertained by novel surroundings to an avaricious little monster who must obtain each and every visible object for immediate tasting.  As I'm sure you can picture, on an airplane everything is either bolted down or in the seat pockets, neither of which make acceptable teething devices.  Bitty was underwhelmed by all of our attempts to entertain her and expressed her displeasure in such a way that would rival the temper of Alexander The Great.

I know we weren't the only ones who were relieved when we got off of that plane.

Dirty Jobs

Feeding a baby is so disgusting.  I really dread this part of the day, and now that Bitty is getting older, I'm supposed to be offering her solids for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  The drill is:  I give Bitty a spoonful, she follows up by shoving her hand in her mouth to swish the mush around, then takes her dirty hand and smears it all over her face, in her hair, on her legs.  Those little hands are fast and I can't stop them.  Not that I should, I guess . . . I know that she needs the opportunity to explore her food and the eating process, that's how babies learn, but dear lord, I can't wait for THIS stage to be over.

Ok, Bitty, you've shoved broccoli puree up your nose for the zillionth time.  Still mushy and slimy.  Are you over this yet?

It's For the Greater Good

Bitty participated in a study called the Georgetown Early Learning Project this week.  A graduate research assistant came to our house armed with a video camera, two puppets, a barnyard play set, and various paperwork.  First, the researcher showed a pink bunny puppet to Bitty, which she of course loved because Bitty is obsessed with puppets.  The bunny had a pink mitten on one hand which the researcher took on and off a few times to show Bitty that it could be removed.  Then, we were both videotaped playing together with a barnyard play set for a few minutes.  In the final part of the visit, the research assistant took out a grey bunny wearing a mitten.  The purpose was to see if Bitty would generalize what she had seen from the pink bunny to this new grey bunny, and try and remove the mitten.  Initially, she went for the mitten, until she caught a glimpse of the person behind the puppet, and then spent the remainder of the time trying to get that grey bunny out of the way so she could see the researcher.  It was interesting to see her interactions with the puppets and the new person, and I wasn't surprised by her reaction since she always prefers studying people and eliciting their attention to toys.  Although, I'm not sure if her reaction was helpful to the study!

This project is in its 10th year, and children aged six months to two and a half years can participate!  Here is the link.

Playing With Balls

Daaammmmn, Girrrrrrrrrrrl

I just got Bitty this new toy that she loves and it's called the Croc Block Wagon.This, of course, amuses me immensely because croc block sounds a lot like another choice phrase.  Mark and I just laugh and laugh when we say "Bitty likes to croc block.  She is such a crocblocker."  Sometimes it's the little things.

Surprise

This afternoon Bitty had a mini photo session at a little garden park, and since it's a nice day we strolled the grounds a bit afterwards.  Getting ready to leave, I hoisted the stroller into the trunk and noticed some mud stuck to the tires.  I just had the car cleaned, so I attempted to brush it off with my hand.  Turns out it wasn't mud.

Probably Only Runners Will Care About This

"Are you still running that race next weekend?"  Mark asked me the weekend before Mother's Day.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"  I replied.

"I haven't seen you run at all this week."

True.  I hadn't been out for a run since the last weekend, and when I did my "long run" of a mere 6.5 miles.  I remember when that used to be the weekday standard workout.  Those were the days.  I took this as a cue that I'd better lace up and forced myself to trudge through nine and a half.  It was raining.  Why, oh why, did I sign up for this?  Like New Coke or a Donovan McNabb Redskins jersey or french-rolled jeans...it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Race day arrived and five minutes before the gun went off I found myself staring at the starting line...in my car.  I planned to arrive an hour early, but Lucy, the big bad dog, was just so darn cuddly that morning that I couldn't get out of bed, and left 45 minutes later than I had intended.  So I put the pedal to the metal and 50 minutes before starting time I was just two and a half miles from the race.  I felt relieved--I really hate rushing around before a race, and now I would most definitely have enough time to get parked and settled.  Then, with the exit ramp in my sight, the traffic STOPPED.  Moving at a pace that rivals my grandma's, I eventually approached the crowd of runners, but still hadn't parked the car.  I was frustrated, but still not too anxious, because I thought surely all of these other people in this traffic would be late the begin the race, too.

Not so.   Apparently these people were all runners' chauffeurs, because I was the only one getting out of the car wearing a race number.  I hurried to the starting line and crossed just as the MC announced "One minute! The starting mat will be picked up in one minute!"

Phew, I made it across in time.  I looked around and I saw volunteers picking up cones and "no parking" signs from the road side and piling them into vehicles.  I was actually chasing the slow poke van that scoops up participants who cannot keep the minimum race pace (which happens to be 16 minute miles).  And then I had a terrible thought--what if the water aid stations would be packed up by the time I reached them?  The only thing that I was running with was the visor on my head and a shoe walletcontaining my car key on my laces.  I picked up the pace out of sheer panic.

I ran alone for the first mile before I encountered any other runners.  Well, they were walkers, actually.  It made me feel better that I wouldn't be lost and forgotten about.  By mile two, I was among quite a few other participants.  I relaxed and started to take it in.  The back of the pack is really quite enjoyable, I thought, so much more laid back and the intensity keyed way down.  I saw runners jogging against the flow, returning to check on slower-paced friends, before speeding ahead again.  I saw so many running the race in memory of a lost loved one, or in dedication to an friend or family member who was ill.  I saw costumed runners and I even saw a guy skip roping the entire race!  From their front porch, several dogs "cheered" on the runners.  Jogging for enjoyment rather than to "PR" allowed me to take in the scenery and enjoy the crowd--and especially read the posters.  My favorites included Don't stop, people are watching!  and Smile if you're not wearing underwear.  The most amusing was It's not sweat, it's liquid AWESOME! 


I finished the race in 2:02:29, which wayyyyyy exceeded my expectations.  Running sporadically and averaging 15 miles a week is not usually the way you want to prepare, so I was just hoping to finish in under 2:20.  By the end, I was pretty spent and just wanted to go home.  I headed towards the car, thinking about nothing but collapsing on to the couch when I got home.  Soon I realized that I didn't actually know where the car was, after all.  The race began and finished at a fairgrounds, and thousands of cars were parked in identical grassy fields.  I wandered on tired legs for nearly an hour, pressing the panic button on my key before finally hearing the car alarm call out to me "Here I am!"  


Checking this race off the to-do list, I returned home and naturally logged on to my favorite local race website---What's next?

This Post is About Poop. Sorry.

If that bothers you, read no further.  See you next time.

We lost a onesie today.  Bitty had a poop that defies reality.  A poop that has traumatized me.  When I started to open her diaper, it didn’t look so bad from the front.  And then I got to the back.  The poo exploded out the rear of her diaper all the way to her shoulder blades.  So then, I’m of course wondering how I’m going to get this thing off of her, the back of the onesie was completely saturated in poop.  Eventually I decided I was just going to have to go for it.  Bitty ended up with poop in her hair, on her arms, and even on her cheek.  I had to throw the onesie in the trash, I just couldn’t even deal with it.  RIP.

I Can't Help Myself--I Must Post More Laughing Videos

The sweetest sound . . .

Just In Case This Whole Teaching Thing Doesn't Work Out . . .

Yesterday, I took Bitty to Whole Foods with me.  It has been a while since we have been grocery shopping together.  During my maternity leave, we made weekly trips, but nowadays...well, we get a lot of take out.  Don't judge.  I'm tired and busy and don't have time to cook so why bother grocery shopping.

I had almost forgotten how much I enjoy our grocery trips.  I plop Bitty into the ERGOand away we go.  She likes to look around wide-eyed and I like to tell her about all of the different foods we're buying.  We always get LOTS of attention.  Everybody loves a mother with her baby.  Especially when she's strapped into one of those baby carriers.

Knowing that we would probably attract more attention than the average grocery shopper, I thought maybe I should wear something that can NOT be mistaken for pajamas, and changed from one of the three pairs of yoga pants that I rotate during the weekend into a pair of jeans.  A pair of my old jeans.  Yes, it's true, I can finally fit into a couple pairs of my pre-pregnancy jeans.  The big ones.  If I suck way in and squeeze my butt cheeks together, then do ten squats and ten lunges to stretch them out a bit, there are two pairs that I can zip and button.  I'm aware that my thighs probably resemble stuffed sausage casings, but three weeks ago those pants weren't even close to buttoning so I'm going for it.

As usual, Bitty worked the crowd by flashing flirty, toothless grins at the strangers and shouting out her food requests at the top of her lungs.    We were the target of many smiles and "How old is she?"  "She's beautiful" comments.  I was just soaking it up and basking in the glory of my baby's cuteness.

Eventually we made our way to the checkout line.  I always get one of those double-decker shopping carts that look like this:

Because it's easier to maneuver through the aisles

I squatted down to remove the items from the lower basket and no fewer than three people asked if I needed some help!  Wow, it is unbelievable how much attention a baby will get you.  And then, a fourth person offered assistance!  This one a somewhat elderly lady.  I should be asking her if she needs help, I thought.  "Oh no, that's OK, I've got it!"  I cheerfully answered.

"But dear, I think you need to pull up your pants a bit,"  the old woman replied with a look of concern upon her face.

Embarrassing.  Completely, utterly humiliating.  Then I started to wonder if those other do-gooders were actually trying to spare me the shame of having my a** crack peeking out for the world to see.  Indeed, I have been trying to figure out a way to obtain part-time employment after this school year, but plumbing certainly wasn't on my radar.

A Few of My Favorite Things--Four Months

This post is not funny, but hopefully informative.  I am writing this because (a) This blog is not all fun and games and entertainment!  It's resourceful!  And (b) I think advertisers should PAY ME for my great advice and so I can quit my day job.  SHOW ME THE MONEY!

P.S. Message me with your tips, too!

1.  Winkel

Easy to grasp, chew and bendy.  Bitty's #1 fave.

2.  Sophie the Giraffe

Bitty and I both love this teething toy, and not only because it shares her name.  Every aspect has been thoughtfully developed.  It is made from all-natural cornstarch and food paint.  The neck and legs are the perfect size for little hands to grasp.   The ears, horns, and legs are the perfect size and placement for little mouths to gnaw upon.  The contrasting color of the light body and dark spots stimulate vision.  Baby Bear loves this thing.

3.  Trumpette Too Socks

Seriously, these are the only socks that stay on.  The "too" is the Target version, and smaller for newborns.  Once their feet are bigger, the regular trumpettesare good.

And cute, too!

4.  Peekaboo, I Love You

Bitty *hates* to be read to.  I know, as an elementary school teacher, this is embarrassing.  More on that later.  However, there is one book that she will tolerate.  I think she likes the bright colors and the yarnie hair on the cover.  Since this is the only book she is content with, we have read it MANY times.

 

5.  Fisher Price Cradle n SwingBitty doesn't use this so much anymore, but it was ESSENTIAL during the first two months when my little princess more closely resembled the dragon in the dungeon.  We have since purchased the Fisher-Price Take-Along Swing to take to the baby-sitter's house, and that one is terrible.  Made me appreciate the Papasan.

6.  Trendy Mobile

The mobile that goes with your nursery linen set is very cute and matchy-matchy.  But not very stimulating.  You should get this one instead.

Full disclosure:  The arm for this mobile does not fit many of the convertible cribs.  I purchased a traditional mobile, and use the arm and musical feature on it. I have attached the "umbrella" part of the stim-mobile to other arm.  A better idea would be to borrow or buy second hand an arm that fits.  Check baby consignment sales in your area.




7.    The Happiest Baby on the Block DVD

Changed our lives.  For realz.  Bitty still sleeps to the audio "Rain On The Roof" track all night.



Bow down to Dr. Karp



Going To Church Last Weekend Has Done Me Some Good

Hallelujah, Praise the Lord, Thanks Be To God, Bitty slept though the night!  BIG TIME!  I put her to bed and eight and she awoke at seven the next morning!  Naturally, I had a panic attack at five in the morning because (a) my four o'clock alarm did not go off, and (b) I feared for Bitty's life!

My eyes popped open at 5:15 and I awoke Mark, "Did you get up with the baby yet?"  He hadn't, so I bolted out of bed and ran to her bedroom with Olympic-worthy speed.  I place my hand upon her chest---up, down, up, down.  Phew.  Crisis averted, and now jubilant amazement set in.  Holy Moly!  Bitty typically wakes up twice during the night to eat--between midnight and one and between four and five.  Tonight will be telling...am I lucky enough to have two nights in a row of decent sleep?

still sleeping

How Big Is Baby? Four Month Edition

Bitty had her four month check-up today.  She is still long and lean with a little head.  She weighs 13.5 oz and is 25 inches long.  She was a trooper for her vaccinations and only cried a wee bit, then she was over it.

I talked with the doctor about Bitty's massive reflux which has just been out of control lately.  She'll be starting on zantac tomorrow, so hopefully this will no longer be the scene at our house:

no joke

I'm really hoping that this works because I am sick of doing so much laundry and Bitty's outfits just don't look nearly as cute when covered up with a bib.  And cute is what matters.

I Am In Over My Head

Tomorrow I am running in the national half marathon relay with two other friends from work.  Two of us run five miles and one person runs three.  I'm running the middle leg, which happens to be five miles mostly uphill.  I am so not ready.  For example, today I ran 2.5 miles and stopped to walk twice.

Back when I agreed to do this, I was having fairly decent workouts and running between 4-5 miles three or four times a week.  And then I went back to dumb work and any shadow of an exercise routine went to hell due to (a) no time and (b) no energy.  I can either run obscenely early or run ridiculously late (meaning 8:00 which is late when you're waking up at 4:00 AM).

Anyway, I am pretty worried that I am going to get scooped up in the little go-cart that collects the slowpokes who can't keep the minimum course pace.  I ran a PR at this half marathon last year.  Wow do things change.

Do Not Disturb. Seriously, Though.

Well, as you know, I've returned to work.  I am about two weeks in and still hate it.  I feel so detached from my baby and it makes me sad that I spend such little time with her during the week.  But, I have gained a new appreciation for working parents because it is pretty insane trying to balance everything.  For me anyway. Or maybe I'm just insane; the jury is still out.

To make matters worse, the custodian has walked in on me pumping twice.  Intentionally.  Maybe we have a little bit of a cultural conflict, but in my world, pumping is for private.

The first time, she knocked on my classroom door, and I called out, "I'm pumping!  Be done pretty soon!"  So what would that mean to you?  Come back later, right?

She did come back later...three minutes later...unlocked my door, propped it open, and proceeded to empty the trash cans and sweep the floors.  All while I am sitting there, boobs out and giving anyone in the vicinity quite an eyeful.  I sat stunned for a few moments, not sure where I had gone wrong.  I had the door locked!  I had the window covered!  I issued fair warning!  Then I heard the sound of children's voices coming down the hallway.  After school tutorial.

"Can you at least close the door?  I hear kids coming and I don't want them to see this!"

Thankfully, she did close the door.  And finished sweeping the floor.  Really?  Finally she exited, leaving me in peace.

The next day, I put my trash can outside of the door, thinking that would be enough of a hint . . .don't come in here.  I heard the custodian empty the can and walk away.  Phew, I thought.  Ten minutes later, I also heard the sound of a key unlocking the door, and sure enough, it was time to sweep the floors.  This time I had to be direct and requested that she return when I was finished.

I haven't had any incidents other than those two, thank goodness.  But I am still getting a deadbolt.  And chain lock.  And maybe even a Doberman.

Farts Are Funny

Heard Sophie's first laughs on two occasions this weekend. Both times it was right after she ripped a huge fart. My worst fears have come true. She has Mark's sense of humor.

This Is For The Birds

Maternity leave is over.  Yesterday was my first day back to work.
It's terrible.  The kids part is ok--I returned to lots of love notes,
we-missed-you-notes, and presents for Bitty.  It's the being-away-from-baby part that is making my heart ache.  Yesterday I was gone before Bitty awoke, returned at 5:15 with enough time to play  give her a bottle and then walk her around the house for about 30 minutes to keep her from fussing before it was time to get ready for bed.

Today, Bitty was again asleep when I left for work, and was sleeping for the night when I arrived back home at five (turns out the insomniac child only took three 30-minutes naps today). Which means I was able to spend, oh, ZERO time with her.  Unless you count the 90 minutes that I laid in bed with her just so I could hold her.
-sniff sniff-

I   **hate** work.


In other news . . .

The kids asked today if I was having another baby.

Me:  No, one baby is all I can handle right now.

Student:  Then why is your stomach still fat if there isn't a baby in there?


Looks like I need to step up the diet and exercise.

"Whir, Whir, Whir." What's That? Here Comes the Fashion Police

Well, Bitty is twelve weeks tomorrow, which means my maternity leave is drawing to an end.  And I am still two sizes larger than I was when this whole thing began.  I only know that because I decided to try on my work pants and they are not anywhere close to fitting.  Damn.  Now I need to buy fat pants.

But wait---maybe I should get some Pajama Jeans?  Function like fat pants without actually being fat pants?  Are these brilliant or too good to be true?  I need advice.  My wardrobe decisions for the past three months have involved contemplating which color velour tracksuit or yoga pants to wear for the day.  I don't trust my judgement.

Quinoa Salad

I am such a great hostess. ~tap, tap~ (that's me patting myself on the back).  I cooked so many meals while my sister was visiting.  She wanted the recipe for this Quinoa Salad that I made while she was here, so I said I would post it to the blog so it looks like I haven't been slacking on my February posts.

Quinoa Salad:
1/2 cup quinoa
1 cup water
1 diced green pepper
1 1/2 cups shredded carrots
1/4 cup minced sun-dried tomatoes
2 T. feta

Dressing:
2 tsp. dijon mustard
1 T. red wine vinegar
1 tsp. olive oil

1.  Rinse quinoa prior to cooking.  Combine water in quinoa in a saucepan and boil.  Reduce heat, cover, and simmer about 10 minutes until the liquid is absorbed.

2.  Whisk dressing ingredients together in a small bowl.  Season with salt and pepper.

3.  Combine quinoa with green pepper, carrots, and tomatoes in a bowl.  Stir in dressing.  Top individual servings with a bit of feta.

Tips:
*Red quinoa holds up better in the cooking process and is better for salads.

*Don't forget to rinse the quinoa quite well, even if the package says it's pre-rinsed.  This gets rid of the bitter-tasting saponins, which also cause sort of an unsightly soapy film when the quinoa is cooked.

*Use some oil from the sun-dried tomato jar for the dressing.

*I like to reduce the vinegar and add more mustard for the dressing; adjust it to your own preference.

You Know There's a Problem When Steve Urkel Would Tell You To Get A Life

Uh Oh.  I am sliding down a slippery slope in the world of facebook.  I never wanted to be one of those moms who *only* post about their baby, but that is EXACTLY what I have been doing.

Blog posts about babies=ok.  This is essentially a baby blog, after all.

Facebook posts about babies all the time=lame.

I really don't want to seem like I don't have a life outside of caring for my child.  But the truth is that I don't.  I don't have anything to say that does not relate to this baby.  This is a problem.  I need to do something about this.  I need to get a life, ASAP.  Which also happens to be extremely difficult with an almost-three-month-old.  Last night my sister, visiting from San Antonio, babysat while Mark and I had date night.  We went out to dinner and were gone for exactly one hour before returning.  Because we couldn't stand to be away from Bitty?  No, because we were tired and wanted to go to bed.  This "getting a life" thing is going to be harder than I thought.

An Old Friend

Well, hello there, Cabernet Sauvignon.  

So we meet again.

A Recipe For You!

I made this soup last night and it was so good (and healthy!  and easy!)  I did not invent it, just adapted a recipe from a magazine.  It was even better today (the second day).  Yum yum.

Beef & Veggie Soup


3/4 lb. lean ground beef
1 green pepper, diced
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1/2 package of frozen corn (5 oz?  6 oz?)
3/4 lb. green beans, ends trimmed and cut into one inch pieces
2 tsp. dried oregano
4 cups beef broth
olive oil
ground black pepper

1. Warm a bit of olive oil in a dutch oven or another soup pan and brown the beef.  Drain it on a paper towel and dab the fat drippings out of the pan.

2.  Warm a bit more olive oil if needed and saute the green pepper and onion over medium heat.

3.  Add the corn, green beans, broth, oregano, and beef back into the pan.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to med-low for about 10-15 minutes, until the beans are cooked, yet still crisp.  Season with black pepper and eat!

Namaste, Baby

When I was pregnant, I thought, November will be a good time to have a baby.  I probably won't want to go out with her much while she is itty bitty, and that will be during the chilly winter months when I won't really want to go anywhere anyway.

But I was wrong about that.  When you're home all day just you and the baby, you need to get OUT!  Which makes those chilly winter months problematic.  Cooped up indoors all day does not actually work for me.

Bitty and I went to Mommy & Me yoga this week.  It's supposed to be bonding and relaxing, right?  Sounded like a perfect mama-baby outing to me.

Everything started off just fine.  Bitty was content in her car seat during the drive (she has recently decided that she hates the car).  She was fed and appeared to be in a good mood, despite the pathetic excuse for a nap she took that morning.  I got a good parking spot, and I even made it there five minutes early.  I got us all set up--my yoga mat unrolled, Bitty's stack of blankies arranged at the top.  She laid peacefully kicking and punching away on her blanket as we waited for class to begin.  All of the babies were as relaxed as could be.

The instructor began class with a series of Oms as each mama held our babes seated in our laps.  That's when it got a little ugly.  Bitty did not want to be held in my lap.  She did not want to be held in front of me, or against my shoulder.  She only wanted to be cradled--left side only, definitely not the right--and rocked from side to side.  Once I got her calmed down, I tried to rejoin the class in the poses; baby on my belly, while doing a bridge; baby held in front, while doing a lunge.  Bitty, however, was having none of this.  And naturally, she expressed her displeasure with dire urgency.   This set off something of a chain reaction.  Soon, half of the babies were fussing and crying away.  The instructor shouted out directions over the wails, in vain, as the majority of moms could not do the poses while attempting to soothe their babies.

This continued throughout most of the class.  That is, until the very end, when the instructor banged the gong.  All the babies became silent, entranced by the vibrating sound of the gong.  It was amazing, and got me thinking that maybe I should get my own gong for home use.  It would be like a call to sanity when things get a little hairy around here.

The gong banging went on for about five minutes, signaling the conclusion of class.  Predictably, as soon as the ringing ended, Bitty made it clear that she was ready to go--NOW.  She apparently had things to do and there was no time to dawdle.  So we hightailed it out of there and I was once again reminded of who is in charge in this family.



P.S. As I am writing this post, Bitty is napping IN HER CRIB!!!  She's never slept in there before!  And she has been sleeping two hours!  I am feeling like a super awesome mom with this crib transition thing.

Dogs For Sale

Two dogs for sale, they will go to the highest bidder.

Riley and Lucy bark all the time and I'm sick of it.  These dogs insist on pure silence in the neighborhood.  They bark when they hear a car.  They bark when they hear a person.  They bark when they hear stuff that I certainly can't hear. 

It's crazed, vicious, rabid barking. 

What's that?  A door closed?  Better bark like we're going to tear someone limb from limb.   

Bitty isn't phased as long as she and the dogs aren't in the same room.  But, since the mutts follow me around like they have me on a leash, that doesn't actually happen all too often.

I tried to train them with treats.  No success.  I try to redirect them.  I yell at them.  I spray them with water.  It's all in vain.

I decided today that when if Bitty is napping, they were going to get locked up in the bedroom.  I can't handle them waking this insomniac child once more.

This should not be too dreadfully punishing; if the dogs aren't following me around, they frequently go on up on their own accord for a nap of their own.  In addition, we all sleep in there.  Riley, Lucy, and Marley sleep in bed with Mark and me, and Sophie in her Pack N Play.  The irony that our pets consume half the space in our bed each night while our first born child is soon to be banished to the crib in her nursery is not lost on me.

Yet, still, they hate being shut in there.  But that's what they deserve when they insist on psychotic barking for most of the day. 

During Bitty's nap today, the dogs were in the bedroom maybe forty-five minutes when I made my way up there with the vacuum.  This is what I found.



A school bag had been hanging on the doorknob since November 22nd.



Riley, at least, has a conscience.  He immediately hid under the bed as soon as I opened the door.

GUILTY

Lucy, however, lacks all morality.

No remorse