Annie was helping me fold clothes today, and after handing me her pile of surprisingly well folded dishrags, I smiled at her and said, "Good job. Thank you, Annie." She responded, "Thank, no . . . you are welcome." And just beamed at me.
She's done it. I have succeeded as a Mother. For the first time, completely unprompted, she said "You're welcome." My child has now successfully mastered the triumvirate of polite phrases expected of one raised to fully acclimate in society.
Today we were leaving a restaurant where our family had just gone to lunch (Greg had a very cool 'free day' from work, so we went to Mimi's Cafe), and Annie called out from the backseat about a block into our drive home, "Thanks, you guys!" Melted my heart.
And she's always asking, "Please?" Usually though, it's just because she thinks she has a greater chance of success acquiring something like candy if she says 'please'. She also uses the "let's share" technique, bringing me something she's pretty convinced I wouldn't normally go for and asking if we could share it. I'm a sucker for sharing.
Plus, like I mentioned, she helps fold laundry. And vacuum. And sweep floors (that one isn't actually all that helpful). My favorite, because of its potential, is that she helps me unload and load the dishwasher. I'm thinking this whole motherhood thing is really starting to pay off. Once she's able to unload the dishes totally on her own, I'll be completely convinced.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Spelling Things Out
Now that I have more television stations than one knows what to do with, in the rare instances where the girls nap, I find myself occasionally watching something really, really stupid. Take "Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood" for example. Tori Spelling, of "90210" and 'being a daughter to a ridiculously wealthy TV guy' fame, and her spotlight seeking husband have a reality show chronicling their lives.
Watching it, I had a thought. She really isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, is she? The weird thing to me is that I haven't pretty much seen, thought of or noticed Tori Spelling since "90210" went off the air like a decade ago. But she recently wrote a book dishing all about her crazy upbringing and so she's back in the public eye, and besides on her reality show today, I've seen her on "The View" and the "Tyra Banks Show" recently (I realize confessing to this isn't making me look much better than her.)
Apparently when her Dad died awhile back, he left her $200,000 in his will. Although I could do a LOT of things with two hundred grand, you have to admit it'd be a bit of a slap in the face for someone whose Dad was worth like $500 million and hired snow making machines to fill their L.A. backyard with snow for Christmas and for someone whose childhood Halloween costumes were created one of a kind by famous designers. Especially when you figure that he left $25,000 in his will for the family manicurist.
She talks about getting ready for a family portrait when she was 12 years old, and getting frustrated with her bangs not cooperating. She says, "I couldn’t get them to do whatever a twelve-year-old in 1985 wanted bangs to do." Remembering the '80s, even her family probably couldn't afford the necessary hair spray. Anyway, she went into her parents’ bathroom, all dressed up, her hair done to the best of her ability, and asked her mother, “Am I pretty?” Her Mom looked at her and said, “You will be when we get your nose done.”
How much would that screw a person up? Around that same age my Mom once told me I needed to put on deodorant before I left the house for school, and I didn't get past it 'til . . . well, I'm sure I'll be over it soon. Even if growing up as a pampered multi-bagillionaire, working with Shannen Doherty and the chemical effects of that many hair bleaching incidents didn't mess you up, you wouldn't stand a chance with a Mom like that. I kinda feel sorry for her.
On her reality show I watched today, Tori was really freaking out about her husband's new masseuse. Her friend is all reassuring, "He's married to you, he's not going to fall for some other girl." Tori points out that that isn't all that reassuring when both her and her husband were actually married to different people when they originally hooked up. If that doesn't cause some serious trust issues, I don't know what does.
But if there was one topic Tori could've commented on that would've annoyed me enough to ignore the little pangs of pity I have for her, and cement my view of, "Well, now I have no choice to see her as anything but an idiot," she picked it on "The View" a little while back. The heavy estrogen and a couple of recent mothers on stage made it impossible to avoid the topic of breast feeding. Tori said (and I had to watch the stupid clip like 10 times to get it all, since I couldn't find it anywhere online already all typed out. What good are you Google?!), "There's all these studies now that they say you really only need to give the baby [breast milk] for the first two weeks, where they get the essentials . . . they're showing that it's less and less time that the baby really needs the breast milk, now there's so many, like the Enfamil, that really mirrors the breast milk."
And nobody corrected her or commented or anything. Stupid suck up co-hosts. They all just nodded, like they were fascinated by the wit and wisdom of Tori Spelling.
Even though this country is seeing a much needed increase in breast feeding and breast feeding-acceptance, the idea that 'as long as the baby gets colostrum, that's all that is important' is still thrown out there as if breast feeding past three or four days (and later, six weeks, and then six months) was all that it takes to get the full benefit of breast feeding. Despite the fact that multiple health organization in our country and throughout the world encourage breast feeding through at least a year, and as long as it is mutually desired by mother and child.
OK, I'm grateful for how amazingly far formula has come. Mothers have the option of feeding their baby a healthy, nutritious substitute for breast milk when their bodies, schedules or personal preferences make breast feeding anywhere from undesirable to impossible. But don't give me the whole 'they're the same thing', or worse, the idea my Grandmas' generation was fed, that 'science can one up nature' on this. If formula was so perfect, then why are they constantly 'perfecting' it with each new version. Things like DHA, which is all the rage in being 'more like mother's milk' wasn't in a single formula how recently? (And even in that, there's a segment of the medical community claiming that babies react negatively to this additive and it should me removed.) If formula was 'just as good', why do many mothers have to go through formula after formula after formula, trying to find one that is actually tolerated by their baby's body. Every so-called 'improvement' of formula doesn't make it better than breast milk, it is merely correcting a deficiency that formula has always had.
It annoys me that anyone, blonde ditzes included, can get up and spout off 'facts' about breast feeding that make absolutely no sense, and nobody does or says anything in way of correction. It annoys me even more that doctors, trying to be PC I guess, don't even try to encourage breast feeding in new mothers. And even more that doctors will actually encourage mothers to stop breast feeding at the slightest sign of trouble. I've talked to multiple new mom's lately who's doctors decided their babies weren't gaining fast enough, so they 'prescribed' supplementation with formula. Rather than encouraging increased time at the breast, more frequent feedings, pumping to increase supply, changes in diet, change in positioning, herbs, any number of things that will increase milk supply and naturally help bring a baby up to a more appropriate weight. It bugged me that my daughter was given formula in the nursery at the hospital a mere hour after birth without me even being asked if that was OK. It annoys me that the medical community as a whole doesn't seem to have the respect and trust in a woman's body that 95% of the time will work perfectly if the woman has confidence in and dedication to breast feeding her child.
Breast feeding won't work for everyone, but that doesn't mean it's not the best of the positive options.
Does formula adapt to the nutritional needs of your child as he/she grows? Nope.
Does formula give your child the immunity benefits of mother's antibodies? Nope.
Does formula give a mother and baby the close physical contact that promotes additional bonding? Not unless you're incredibly dedicated to bottle feeding in a 'as much like the breast' fashion as possible.
Protein in breast milk is mostly whey, which is much easier for humans to digest than casein (the main protein in cow's milk). Breast milk protein also contains high amounts of amino acids that play a big role in brain and eye development. Something that only more recent generations of formula are even trying to replicate.
Fats in breast milk are pretty much self-digesting, due to enzyme's in the milk that's sole purpose is to break down fats. Breast milk also contains ample amounts of certain omega-3 fatty acids, long before they were all trendy.
Vitamins and minerals in breast milk are bioavailable -- meaning they get well absorbed.
Immune Boosters are delivered to the baby through millions of living white blood cells that fight off diseases. My favorite part, these antibodies are 'custom' . . . each time the mother is exposed to a germ (like if their two year old brought a bug home from nursery), the mother's significantly more mature immune system kicks in and the specific antibodies are fed to the baby. Even cooler, if the baby gets a bug that the mom hasn't been exposed to, the baby's saliva basically infects the mother, and her body starts to produce the necessary antibodies. The idea that only colostrum contains this is completely false. Pre-milk (colostrum) contains the highest concentration of immunoglobulins, during the first three to five days of life; but after that, for at least a year, the milk produced contains Secretory IGA, which attaches to the lining of the nose, mouth, throat and GI tract to fight the attachment of specific infecting agents. The levels of IGA against specific infections and bacteria increase on demand, based on what the mother is exposed to in her environment.
"There are 4,000 species of mammals, and they all make a different milk. Human milk is made for human infants and it meets all their specific nutrient needs," says Ruth Lawrence, M.D.
No matter what Tori Spelling has to say on the subject.
Watching it, I had a thought. She really isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, is she? The weird thing to me is that I haven't pretty much seen, thought of or noticed Tori Spelling since "90210" went off the air like a decade ago. But she recently wrote a book dishing all about her crazy upbringing and so she's back in the public eye, and besides on her reality show today, I've seen her on "The View" and the "Tyra Banks Show" recently (I realize confessing to this isn't making me look much better than her.)
Apparently when her Dad died awhile back, he left her $200,000 in his will. Although I could do a LOT of things with two hundred grand, you have to admit it'd be a bit of a slap in the face for someone whose Dad was worth like $500 million and hired snow making machines to fill their L.A. backyard with snow for Christmas and for someone whose childhood Halloween costumes were created one of a kind by famous designers. Especially when you figure that he left $25,000 in his will for the family manicurist.
She talks about getting ready for a family portrait when she was 12 years old, and getting frustrated with her bangs not cooperating. She says, "I couldn’t get them to do whatever a twelve-year-old in 1985 wanted bangs to do." Remembering the '80s, even her family probably couldn't afford the necessary hair spray. Anyway, she went into her parents’ bathroom, all dressed up, her hair done to the best of her ability, and asked her mother, “Am I pretty?” Her Mom looked at her and said, “You will be when we get your nose done.”
How much would that screw a person up? Around that same age my Mom once told me I needed to put on deodorant before I left the house for school, and I didn't get past it 'til . . . well, I'm sure I'll be over it soon. Even if growing up as a pampered multi-bagillionaire, working with Shannen Doherty and the chemical effects of that many hair bleaching incidents didn't mess you up, you wouldn't stand a chance with a Mom like that. I kinda feel sorry for her.
On her reality show I watched today, Tori was really freaking out about her husband's new masseuse. Her friend is all reassuring, "He's married to you, he's not going to fall for some other girl." Tori points out that that isn't all that reassuring when both her and her husband were actually married to different people when they originally hooked up. If that doesn't cause some serious trust issues, I don't know what does.
But if there was one topic Tori could've commented on that would've annoyed me enough to ignore the little pangs of pity I have for her, and cement my view of, "Well, now I have no choice to see her as anything but an idiot," she picked it on "The View" a little while back. The heavy estrogen and a couple of recent mothers on stage made it impossible to avoid the topic of breast feeding. Tori said (and I had to watch the stupid clip like 10 times to get it all, since I couldn't find it anywhere online already all typed out. What good are you Google?!), "There's all these studies now that they say you really only need to give the baby [breast milk] for the first two weeks, where they get the essentials . . . they're showing that it's less and less time that the baby really needs the breast milk, now there's so many, like the Enfamil, that really mirrors the breast milk."
And nobody corrected her or commented or anything. Stupid suck up co-hosts. They all just nodded, like they were fascinated by the wit and wisdom of Tori Spelling.
Even though this country is seeing a much needed increase in breast feeding and breast feeding-acceptance, the idea that 'as long as the baby gets colostrum, that's all that is important' is still thrown out there as if breast feeding past three or four days (and later, six weeks, and then six months) was all that it takes to get the full benefit of breast feeding. Despite the fact that multiple health organization in our country and throughout the world encourage breast feeding through at least a year, and as long as it is mutually desired by mother and child.
OK, I'm grateful for how amazingly far formula has come. Mothers have the option of feeding their baby a healthy, nutritious substitute for breast milk when their bodies, schedules or personal preferences make breast feeding anywhere from undesirable to impossible. But don't give me the whole 'they're the same thing', or worse, the idea my Grandmas' generation was fed, that 'science can one up nature' on this. If formula was so perfect, then why are they constantly 'perfecting' it with each new version. Things like DHA, which is all the rage in being 'more like mother's milk' wasn't in a single formula how recently? (And even in that, there's a segment of the medical community claiming that babies react negatively to this additive and it should me removed.) If formula was 'just as good', why do many mothers have to go through formula after formula after formula, trying to find one that is actually tolerated by their baby's body. Every so-called 'improvement' of formula doesn't make it better than breast milk, it is merely correcting a deficiency that formula has always had.
It annoys me that anyone, blonde ditzes included, can get up and spout off 'facts' about breast feeding that make absolutely no sense, and nobody does or says anything in way of correction. It annoys me even more that doctors, trying to be PC I guess, don't even try to encourage breast feeding in new mothers. And even more that doctors will actually encourage mothers to stop breast feeding at the slightest sign of trouble. I've talked to multiple new mom's lately who's doctors decided their babies weren't gaining fast enough, so they 'prescribed' supplementation with formula. Rather than encouraging increased time at the breast, more frequent feedings, pumping to increase supply, changes in diet, change in positioning, herbs, any number of things that will increase milk supply and naturally help bring a baby up to a more appropriate weight. It bugged me that my daughter was given formula in the nursery at the hospital a mere hour after birth without me even being asked if that was OK. It annoys me that the medical community as a whole doesn't seem to have the respect and trust in a woman's body that 95% of the time will work perfectly if the woman has confidence in and dedication to breast feeding her child.
Breast feeding won't work for everyone, but that doesn't mean it's not the best of the positive options.
Does formula adapt to the nutritional needs of your child as he/she grows? Nope.
Does formula give your child the immunity benefits of mother's antibodies? Nope.
Does formula give a mother and baby the close physical contact that promotes additional bonding? Not unless you're incredibly dedicated to bottle feeding in a 'as much like the breast' fashion as possible.
Protein in breast milk is mostly whey, which is much easier for humans to digest than casein (the main protein in cow's milk). Breast milk protein also contains high amounts of amino acids that play a big role in brain and eye development. Something that only more recent generations of formula are even trying to replicate.
Fats in breast milk are pretty much self-digesting, due to enzyme's in the milk that's sole purpose is to break down fats. Breast milk also contains ample amounts of certain omega-3 fatty acids, long before they were all trendy.
Vitamins and minerals in breast milk are bioavailable -- meaning they get well absorbed.
Immune Boosters are delivered to the baby through millions of living white blood cells that fight off diseases. My favorite part, these antibodies are 'custom' . . . each time the mother is exposed to a germ (like if their two year old brought a bug home from nursery), the mother's significantly more mature immune system kicks in and the specific antibodies are fed to the baby. Even cooler, if the baby gets a bug that the mom hasn't been exposed to, the baby's saliva basically infects the mother, and her body starts to produce the necessary antibodies. The idea that only colostrum contains this is completely false. Pre-milk (colostrum) contains the highest concentration of immunoglobulins, during the first three to five days of life; but after that, for at least a year, the milk produced contains Secretory IGA, which attaches to the lining of the nose, mouth, throat and GI tract to fight the attachment of specific infecting agents. The levels of IGA against specific infections and bacteria increase on demand, based on what the mother is exposed to in her environment.
"There are 4,000 species of mammals, and they all make a different milk. Human milk is made for human infants and it meets all their specific nutrient needs," says Ruth Lawrence, M.D.
No matter what Tori Spelling has to say on the subject.
About The Author
I just found my dream job.
I'm sitting here reading the back of the box of my new super cool all organic flax seed granola cereal from Costco, when I notice a big ol' "About the Author" blurb right there next to the thing about whole grains and natural fiber. The dude got an "About the Author" blurb for writing the back of a box of cereal! I am so jealous. I now have cereal box aspirations.
I'm calling General Mills right now to set up an interview. Heck, if they'll throw in a picture of me in my "About the Author" blurb, I'll do the job for free!
I'm sitting here reading the back of the box of my new super cool all organic flax seed granola cereal from Costco, when I notice a big ol' "About the Author" blurb right there next to the thing about whole grains and natural fiber. The dude got an "About the Author" blurb for writing the back of a box of cereal! I am so jealous. I now have cereal box aspirations.
I'm calling General Mills right now to set up an interview. Heck, if they'll throw in a picture of me in my "About the Author" blurb, I'll do the job for free!
Monday, September 29, 2008
You Go Girl!
With all the talk of feminism and equality here, and here, I just wanted to add that my two year old little girl just got back from a "Tiny Einstein's Science Class." She's been babbling about air pressure, fast, balls, balloons, up, down, bottles, shooting and loud, ever since her and her Daddy got back from 'school.' Next week they're going to be learning about water. Being raised to be a firm believer that a girl can become anything she wants to be, I'm hoping she follows in her Dad's footsteps and becomes a geek.
Greg, of course, is our resident engineer. But he's not the only one in the family who aspired to be one. From a very early age, my sisters and I were raised to believe (probably too much) that we could be anything and everything we set out to become. I think each of us at one point was pretty much positive we would be President one day. When I was young, a little older than Annie, I told my Mom I wanted to be a nurse when I grew up. My Mom responded, "You could be a nurse, but you can be a doctor if you want to." I responded, "Girls are nurses." She assured me, "No, girls can be doctors too. You can be anything you want. You can be a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer . . . the important thing is that you are able to earn lots of money to support your Dad and I and take us on lots of trips all around the world." My eyes lit up, "OK Mom, I'll be an engineer! Than I can take you and Dad on my train!"
Greg, of course, is our resident engineer. But he's not the only one in the family who aspired to be one. From a very early age, my sisters and I were raised to believe (probably too much) that we could be anything and everything we set out to become. I think each of us at one point was pretty much positive we would be President one day. When I was young, a little older than Annie, I told my Mom I wanted to be a nurse when I grew up. My Mom responded, "You could be a nurse, but you can be a doctor if you want to." I responded, "Girls are nurses." She assured me, "No, girls can be doctors too. You can be anything you want. You can be a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer . . . the important thing is that you are able to earn lots of money to support your Dad and I and take us on lots of trips all around the world." My eyes lit up, "OK Mom, I'll be an engineer! Than I can take you and Dad on my train!"
Sunday, September 28, 2008
A Short Confession . . .
So, during my hospital stay after Ellie's birth, I became a little too accustomed to the individual serving packages of Lorna Doone Shortbread Cookies. They were possibly the single greatest tasting food I've ever eaten in a hospital (I guess that's not too terribly noteworthy, but still, I loved them more than words can express.) I realized at one point I'd just eaten like 7 packs of them in lieu of lunch, which makes for a healthy postpartum meal of nearly 900 calories of shortbread. I figured I'd earned them at that point, having just given birth and all. And a few days later when one of my friends had a baby, I went to go visit her and made sure I snuck into the 'patient support' room to snag a couple packs for the road.
So, newly addicted to them, one of my first postpartum trips out to the grocery store, I checked the cookie aisle. Only to find they cost something like $4.00. For a small box. My cheap self can't handle that kinda thing! I mean, they were more expensive than Girl Scout Cookies, the pinnacle of overpriced cookies! So, for a long time (well, four months now) I've gone without. Until yesterday when I randomly broke down and ordered some from Amazon. A lot of them. Like enough to qualify me for free shipping. When I was too cheap to initially spend four bucks. Weird. Oh well, in like another 4 to 6 days, I'll be in shortbread heaven!
So, newly addicted to them, one of my first postpartum trips out to the grocery store, I checked the cookie aisle. Only to find they cost something like $4.00. For a small box. My cheap self can't handle that kinda thing! I mean, they were more expensive than Girl Scout Cookies, the pinnacle of overpriced cookies! So, for a long time (well, four months now) I've gone without. Until yesterday when I randomly broke down and ordered some from Amazon. A lot of them. Like enough to qualify me for free shipping. When I was too cheap to initially spend four bucks. Weird. Oh well, in like another 4 to 6 days, I'll be in shortbread heaven!Saturday, September 27, 2008
They're Out to Get Me
What have I possibly done wrong to my children to deserve such treatment?
Who told Ellie that 5AM is the new morning? I was considering myself lucky last night, 'cause we had friends over to play "BANG!", and Ellie slept through the entire evening and I didn't have to leave the game once to feed her, change diapers or get her ready for bed. After everyone left, I got her up to feed her, figuring it would buy me several more hours of sleep. Not so much. She ate at 11PM, woke up at 1AM, 3:30AM, then 5AM . . . and that was when she decided it was morning and she just stayed up for an hour and a half. I know she loves me, but she sure has some twisted ways of showing it. She was super cute though, just smiling at me in the dark (I refused to acknowledge her awake time with light) and cooing and babbling.
Then Annie, also out to 'cause me grief, is getting better and better at getting out of naps. For what is unfortunately not the first time, Annie planned the perfect escape. Yet again, she waited until she'd been in there long enough to eat up any possible nap time (I think she knows I won't put her down after 4PM, 'cause then it's too close to bedtime), then she took off her diaper. Then pooped on her bed. Then smeared it on all the slats and bars of her crib. Can't make a kid go to sleep like that; so there was washing down of the toddler, changing & washing all the bedding, scrubbing down and disinfecting the crib. Voila, too late for a nap. She won this round . . .
And, you'll have to learn how to hear these things without dry heaving Jamo, you're gonna have one these soon :-)
Who told Ellie that 5AM is the new morning? I was considering myself lucky last night, 'cause we had friends over to play "BANG!", and Ellie slept through the entire evening and I didn't have to leave the game once to feed her, change diapers or get her ready for bed. After everyone left, I got her up to feed her, figuring it would buy me several more hours of sleep. Not so much. She ate at 11PM, woke up at 1AM, 3:30AM, then 5AM . . . and that was when she decided it was morning and she just stayed up for an hour and a half. I know she loves me, but she sure has some twisted ways of showing it. She was super cute though, just smiling at me in the dark (I refused to acknowledge her awake time with light) and cooing and babbling.
Then Annie, also out to 'cause me grief, is getting better and better at getting out of naps. For what is unfortunately not the first time, Annie planned the perfect escape. Yet again, she waited until she'd been in there long enough to eat up any possible nap time (I think she knows I won't put her down after 4PM, 'cause then it's too close to bedtime), then she took off her diaper. Then pooped on her bed. Then smeared it on all the slats and bars of her crib. Can't make a kid go to sleep like that; so there was washing down of the toddler, changing & washing all the bedding, scrubbing down and disinfecting the crib. Voila, too late for a nap. She won this round . . .
And, you'll have to learn how to hear these things without dry heaving Jamo, you're gonna have one these soon :-)
Where Did She Get That From?
After some family time all cuddling in our bed this morning (we try to convince the kids it's still time to be all calm and sleepy for as long as possible in the morning so we don't have to get going for a little while longer), Annie suddenly decided she'd had enough. Going for the edge of the bed to leave, she cried out enthusiastically, "Let's go Ladies! Vamos!"
Greg's not quite sure how to take that. I haven't stopped laughing.
Greg's not quite sure how to take that. I haven't stopped laughing.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Talkin' Two Year Old
I don't know if I can allow Annie to spend much more time with my Mom. Annie, having recently turned into the toddler equivalent of a parrot, repeats absolutely everything she hears. Often. So, now my poor little two year old has been walking around all day after an outing with Grandma saying totally dorky things like "Holy Moley!" or "Holy Hannah!" It's sad.
Of course, last night she repeated the word 'crap' for several times, but I'm denying any responsibility for that.
~
I asked Annie when we got home if she needed her diaper changed. "Nope," she responded. "Are you sure?" I asked, "It kinda smells like you're poopy." "Nope Mom, I'm just fart-y."
Then she added, "Maybe you smell Mom. Are you poopy?" "No, Annie, I'm not poopy." "Oh. Wet?" "No, I'm fine." "Oh yeah, 'cause you use the potty. That's good for you." Although I can't seem to convince her of the benefits of potty training in her own life.
~
Taking a bath this morning, Annie was taking her toy fish, holding it upside down in the water, pouring water all over its head and murmuring, "It's OK, close your eyes, it's OK, we're almost done. There, we're done. You did so good Fish. Oh no, now we have to do conditioner." Poor Fish. The torture never ends.
~
Unsolicited Advice From Strangers:
My friend Steph and I were talking about it the other day . . . why is it anytime your baby screams in public, you'll have several complete strangers come up and 'remind' you to feed your kid? I get it all the time with my loud screamers. Every time Ellie starts screaming in public (or at family parties for that matter), I'll have at least one person come up and ask, "Oh, when did you feed her last?" or "She sure sounds hungry." Like Steph so wisely pointed out, "Babies cry for more than one reason." Why would people assume that a mother would take a starving infant into the store, only to let them cry, in apparently near fatal hunger the entire time, 'cause it seems easier to just feed them and enjoy your outing. My favorite was when an Aunt of mine turned to me at a family party, and in a seething voice angrily scolded, "Hilary, I can hear your baby outside just screaming. You go get her THIS instant and go feed your child, how dare you let her go hungry." My mom and I just stood there in complete shock, then simultaneously said, "She JUST ate!" A few moments later I whispered to my Mom, "You distract her. I'm gonna go key her car."
I did have a nice lady, with an Eastern European accent, approach me in the store the other day. She looked at Ellie and gushed, "Oh, she is gorgeous!" "Thank you." "Don't let ANYONE tell you she's too fat!" "Um, OK." "Fat babies are good. Not like fat people. Fat babies need the fat, and babies shouldn't be too skinny. When they get sick they need fat to fall back on. Don't let anyone tell you to make her lose weight. It is good she is so very fat." "Um, thanks?"
Of course, last night she repeated the word 'crap' for several times, but I'm denying any responsibility for that.
~
I asked Annie when we got home if she needed her diaper changed. "Nope," she responded. "Are you sure?" I asked, "It kinda smells like you're poopy." "Nope Mom, I'm just fart-y."
Then she added, "Maybe you smell Mom. Are you poopy?" "No, Annie, I'm not poopy." "Oh. Wet?" "No, I'm fine." "Oh yeah, 'cause you use the potty. That's good for you." Although I can't seem to convince her of the benefits of potty training in her own life.
~
Taking a bath this morning, Annie was taking her toy fish, holding it upside down in the water, pouring water all over its head and murmuring, "It's OK, close your eyes, it's OK, we're almost done. There, we're done. You did so good Fish. Oh no, now we have to do conditioner." Poor Fish. The torture never ends.
~
Unsolicited Advice From Strangers:
My friend Steph and I were talking about it the other day . . . why is it anytime your baby screams in public, you'll have several complete strangers come up and 'remind' you to feed your kid? I get it all the time with my loud screamers. Every time Ellie starts screaming in public (or at family parties for that matter), I'll have at least one person come up and ask, "Oh, when did you feed her last?" or "She sure sounds hungry." Like Steph so wisely pointed out, "Babies cry for more than one reason." Why would people assume that a mother would take a starving infant into the store, only to let them cry, in apparently near fatal hunger the entire time, 'cause it seems easier to just feed them and enjoy your outing. My favorite was when an Aunt of mine turned to me at a family party, and in a seething voice angrily scolded, "Hilary, I can hear your baby outside just screaming. You go get her THIS instant and go feed your child, how dare you let her go hungry." My mom and I just stood there in complete shock, then simultaneously said, "She JUST ate!" A few moments later I whispered to my Mom, "You distract her. I'm gonna go key her car."
I did have a nice lady, with an Eastern European accent, approach me in the store the other day. She looked at Ellie and gushed, "Oh, she is gorgeous!" "Thank you." "Don't let ANYONE tell you she's too fat!" "Um, OK." "Fat babies are good. Not like fat people. Fat babies need the fat, and babies shouldn't be too skinny. When they get sick they need fat to fall back on. Don't let anyone tell you to make her lose weight. It is good she is so very fat." "Um, thanks?"
Here's pics of the chubbo herself. :-) Notice that tongue. In almost EVERY single picture now. Funny thing is if you watch my Dad or my little brother Cody do just about anything that requires full attention or a great deal of effort, their tongues will be sticking out just a little too.
Here's Annie "feelin' the burn" on the BowFlex. If you look closely you can see my sister's handwriting in the dust. It says, "USE ME."
This one just shows how miserable Annie's felt lately. She's so sick. Coughing all night, and more and more during the day now. She's coughing so bad in the morning that she hasn't slept much past 6:30AM any day this week. Which is way earlier than I want her up, and it makes for one grumpy, icky feeling toddler. And grumpy icky feeling toddlers are crazy and bipolar and tend to do uncharacteristic stuff like tip over the carseat with their 4 month old sister still strapped in. I can't wait 'til this virus has run its course. Than I think I'm gonna quarantine Annie and never let her near other people again. I can't take too much more illness. I think I'd rather her be completely socially awkward.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Can't Blog. Watching TV.
We just upgraded from basic cable to digital with DVR. First priority, I set it up to record every Daily Show with Jon Stewart that comes on. It's been about four years since I had Comedy Central. I've missed you, Jon.
What? You all didn't want to marry significantly older Jewish men with their own late night comedic political talk show?
We better stop talking about this . . . Greg gets so jealous . . .
What? You all didn't want to marry significantly older Jewish men with their own late night comedic political talk show? We better stop talking about this . . . Greg gets so jealous . . .
Feminism - Double Edged Sword
My sister-in-law Liz posted the other day about feminism. Although, unlike Liz, I never thought of myself as a 'feminist' per se, I can pretty much say 'amen' to the various conclusions she reaches in her post. So, y'all have to read that, 'cause I'm not retyping it all. :-) Her mathematical take on equality is spot on. But I did have some other stuff floating around my head about the topic.
There's obviously as many different kids of feminism as there are feminists. I'm gonna be talking about the old-school, hardcore feminists in this post. I believe there is a very ugly side to this type of feminism. A side that devalues the roles of mother, wife, daughter and woman. These are the roles I value most, and consider divinely appointed, gifted to women because of their unique and amazing attributes. I recently read a book called Prude: How the Sex Obsessed Culture Damages Girls (and America, Too!), that, in small part, talks about the role of feminism in the moral-lowering of our culture. Basically, the idea became, "If the boys can run around, sleeping with whoever they want, equality dictates we should do that too." Note, not should 'be able to', but just 'should.' (Although, I'd argue rampant promiscuity ain't good for anyone's well-being, emotionally or physically). Feminism became, if the boys do it, we should too. No difference in the sexes, no nuances to the genders, we were all equal. This is where Liz's math analogy comes in so handy (I'd feel bad stealing it, so just go check it out on your own.) In my opinion, this diminishes who I am as a woman. Heck yeah, I'm different than a man. For example, I can find stuff when people tell me exactly where it is. I also have several feminine traits, that, in my opinion, make me more compassionate, more understanding, more intuitive, more nurturing, and of course, able to bear children. I'm all for equality for men and women, legally and all, but that doesn't negate the fact that we're very, very different. And frankly, I've always liked what President Ezra Taft Benson of the LDS Church had to say about it, "The conventional wisdom of the day would have you be equal to men. We say, we would not have you descend to that level."
In my opinion, feminism should be about choices. Because of feminists who paved the way, I could choose which career I wanted to go into. I could choose which University I would attend. I could even get my company to pay for every cent of it while receiving the same pay and even better benefits (maternity leave) than my male counterparts. It's one of those 'look how far we've come' kinda moments when I look at the opportunities that weren't just available to me, but actually even expected of me as a women now days. An education, an informed decision about my future. Potential to earn a great income and support a family. But then I believe I have the right to choose to give that up to stay home with my children full time. This is where you lose some feminists (the hard core ones again). I have a very intelligent (like off-the-charts intelligent) sister who has her Master's Degree in Bio Chemistry. She currently works in the medical research field. Cool feminism at work. She wants to stay at home with her children when the time comes. Then the ugly side of feminism . . . those who would say her decision to do that would be stupid, even wrong. I had a woman I knew just rip into me once because it was 'irresponsible, possibly even evil,' that someone as gifted as my sister would squander her intelligence and skills staying home with children. She apparently has a 'higher responsibility to society and women' to excel in her field and grow the body of medical research and be a good example. She 'owed it' to the feminists who came before her.
Sorry society and women at large, on my list of priorities, y'all are below anyone who sprung from or is married to my loins. And frankly, I don't think I'm doing society a huge disservice by staying at home with my children. I think they'll benefit from the particular sacrifices we make to keep me in the home, and in turn will one day be their own little forces for good in society. Society could use a bunch more hands-on parents (working or not.)
No matter what else I accomplish in this life, there is nothing in this world that I am better designed for or capable of doing than being a mother to my two girls. Whether I go about that in the home full time, work part time, or maintain a home and a full time career, that's between me, my husband and God. I don't need input, or guilt trips, from any other realms of society.
The worst side of feminism I believe is an ever decreasing ability for women to choose. It is becoming more and more difficult for women to be able to stay home and raise children, if they so desire. Financially, after a couple generations of duel income families, the standard and cost of living has made having a parent at home full-time a sacrifice for most and an impossibility for some. Even worse is the view of some feminists that women who choose to stay home are somehow 'betraying' feminism, turning their backs on their working sisters, diminishing their own worth by not being an 'equal' part of society. Give me a break. A true feminist should look at my life and rejoice in my ability to choose what I want and what I feel is best for me and my family, and relish their role in earning me my right to choose.
I think my least favorite thing about feminism is that it has the destructive power to turn women against women, making them question one another's choices, priorities, decisions. Like I said, true and positive feminism, in my opinion, would be about freedom of life's choices.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Evil Librarians
You go to the public library on a weekday at 10AM and you'll encounter a bunch of stay at home Mom's far outnumbered by preschool aged and younger children, and a couple of darn crotchety librarians. Greg and I have recently had our share of run ins with these women. Who apparently hate all children. The other morning we were there and I've never been so tempted to backhand an old woman. After picking out some books and videos with Annie, Ellie was starting to get fussy. We immediately headed for the check out to get done and out of there as quickly as possible (since they frown on you walking out with books and DVDs that haven't been properly checked out.) I was quietly 'shushing' Ellie as we checked out the books, but she kept crying. I soon noticed a very annoying sound over Ellie's crying. The main librarian's office was right behind where I was standing and she kept loudly clearing her throat. Really Loudly. Obnoxiously. Every few seconds. You're kidding me woman?! I am trying my darnedest to quiet down my baby, get done and out of there as quickly as humanely possible, and you have the nerve to 'throat clear' me and my children. It's around 10AM, there's a "Toddler and Me" session of singing and dancing starting in 10 minutes in the next room. There are three kids using DVD cases like frisbees back in the kids area while their Mom is checking her email. And she's clearing her throat at me! I wanted to flip her off. You know, if we did that in my family.
Another time Ellie started crying while she was with Greg, and as he was trying to calm her down a librarian came up and told him, "If you can't keep your baby quiet, you will need to leave." I mean, I get the whole 'Shhhh! We're in a library!' thing, and I'm trying to teach Annie some respect for the institution, she's not allowed to run and yell and mistreat books. We do leave with Ellie if she's screaming and can't be calmed down, but apparently we're expected to preemptively leave the building before we even know she's going to start crying. But I don't think the place is sacred, or on the same level as a Church meeting (where people are far more forgiving of a crying baby, and usually chuckle when Ellie starts to scream mid-prayer). Especially since there's usually three to four people on their cell phones in the library, and our library has an entirely separate room for study with desks and partitions and sound proof glass or whatever for those who are looking for a secluded place to go for peace and quiet. And Greg and I will take turns walking Ellie around outside if she's fussy while the other one gets books or helps Annie find stuff, but sometimes an infant is just gonna start screaming with no warning (especially if they were born to me) and you can only exit a building so quickly.
So, the public library is apparently open to everybody. Except children who make any noise whatsoever.
Another time Ellie started crying while she was with Greg, and as he was trying to calm her down a librarian came up and told him, "If you can't keep your baby quiet, you will need to leave." I mean, I get the whole 'Shhhh! We're in a library!' thing, and I'm trying to teach Annie some respect for the institution, she's not allowed to run and yell and mistreat books. We do leave with Ellie if she's screaming and can't be calmed down, but apparently we're expected to preemptively leave the building before we even know she's going to start crying. But I don't think the place is sacred, or on the same level as a Church meeting (where people are far more forgiving of a crying baby, and usually chuckle when Ellie starts to scream mid-prayer). Especially since there's usually three to four people on their cell phones in the library, and our library has an entirely separate room for study with desks and partitions and sound proof glass or whatever for those who are looking for a secluded place to go for peace and quiet. And Greg and I will take turns walking Ellie around outside if she's fussy while the other one gets books or helps Annie find stuff, but sometimes an infant is just gonna start screaming with no warning (especially if they were born to me) and you can only exit a building so quickly.
So, the public library is apparently open to everybody. Except children who make any noise whatsoever.
Cookie Monsters
My sister-in-law Liz wrote on her blog recently about making cookies with her nearly-two-year old son. It got me thinking about mine and Annie's cookie making exploits. Annie LOVES making cookies together. The thrill of beating eggs, dumping flour into a moving Kitchen-Aide, sitting on the counter . . . there are few things that bring her as much joy as making cookies. Except maybe baths. And ladybugs. And legos. And playdoh. And stuff that is pink. OK, so it doesn't take a lot to make her deliriously happy, but I know making cookies is up there on the list. Greg and I both have great childhood memories of making cookies. We were recently sharing our similar experiences. "We'd double the recipe," Greg remembered fondly. "Us too!" I said. He continued, "and we'd half the chocolate chips." "What the crap!? You used less chocolate chips than it calls for? We'd double the recipe, then double the chocolate chips again, just for good measure! You poor deprived children!" (Knowing and loving my in-laws as I do, I'm positive this was the only form of blatant child abuse going on in their home during Greg's formative years. Still, I am surprised he turned out as well as he did. Oddly enough, he does seem to worry a lot less about his weight than I do. I always chalked that up to his 'maleness', but maybe the fact I apparently ate four times the chocolate in cookies than he did growing up has something to do with it.)
Annie will be raised with at least the called for amount of chocolate chips in a cookie recipe. Call it compromise. Annie doesn't seem to really care how many chocolate chips are in her cookies, as long as she can spend great deals of time rolling "cookie balls," as she calls them, in her little hands until they're nearly perfect, then take them and throw them onto a cookie sheet. All haphazardly. Then she picks half of them back up and eats them. (Note to anyone we've brought cookies to: Annie rolls her own cookies, that we cook just for her. I use the cookie scoop from Pampered Chef, and not toddler hands, to form the rest of the cookies.)
Anyway, I did want to share with everyone mine and Annie's all time favorite cookie recipe. I think I love them so much because they include everything that makes a great cookie, peanut butter, oatmeal and chocolate chips. It's like three cookies in one! Every time I've ever made these for an event I've been asked by no less than 3 or 4 people for the recipe.
Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookies
3/4 c. butter, softened if you already have it out, but feel free to nuke it if you need to, I always use melted butter in this recipe, 'cause we'll chill the dough later.
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar (darker brown sugar makes for a chewier cookie, this is true in all recipes)
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla (I've always over-measured vanilla by at least half, so I do more like 1 1/2-2 tsp.)
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour (I use whole wheat flour, and a couple tablespoons of flax seed).
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup (or more, if you've been raised right) of chocolate chips of your choosing (in my opinion, that'd be milk chocolate). Or chopped peanuts. Or raisins. Or whatever. I'm a chocolate chip person though. Always will be.
Mix butter & peanut butter at high speed for 30 seconds or until well combined. Add sugars, powder and soda. Beat in eggs, vanilla. Mix in all the flour well, then stir in oats and chocolate chips.
At this point we chill the dough for a little while. Either the whole bowl for a few hours, or sometimes we'll put rounded teaspoon size "cookie balls" on cookie sheets and chill them for 20-30 minutes in the fridge. According to Alton Brown (a Food Network host who's a little like Bill Nye the Science Guy with an oven), by chilling the dough first (and using melted butter instead of softened), this all changes how the cookies bake, and will leave you with chewier cookies. It seems to work, we do actually notice a difference between the chilled and non-chilled final results. You can put them straight into the oven without chilling though, the bake time is only like a minute different.
Bake the cookies at 375 for about 9-10 minutes (as few as eight minutes if you're like Greg and want them to fall apart when you try to pick them up, and as much as 11 if you like them crispy, but with my oven I set the timer for 9 minutes with them chilled, then by the time I've heard the timer go off and put down the baby and made it to the oven, they're perfect.)
While typing this I was struck by how small all the measurements seemed to me, then I remembered it's because I've never made a normal sized batch of these cookies, always having doubled it so I can keep half of the dough in the fridge for Greg to snack on, and half to cook with!
Annie will be raised with at least the called for amount of chocolate chips in a cookie recipe. Call it compromise. Annie doesn't seem to really care how many chocolate chips are in her cookies, as long as she can spend great deals of time rolling "cookie balls," as she calls them, in her little hands until they're nearly perfect, then take them and throw them onto a cookie sheet. All haphazardly. Then she picks half of them back up and eats them. (Note to anyone we've brought cookies to: Annie rolls her own cookies, that we cook just for her. I use the cookie scoop from Pampered Chef, and not toddler hands, to form the rest of the cookies.)
Anyway, I did want to share with everyone mine and Annie's all time favorite cookie recipe. I think I love them so much because they include everything that makes a great cookie, peanut butter, oatmeal and chocolate chips. It's like three cookies in one! Every time I've ever made these for an event I've been asked by no less than 3 or 4 people for the recipe.
Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookies
3/4 c. butter, softened if you already have it out, but feel free to nuke it if you need to, I always use melted butter in this recipe, 'cause we'll chill the dough later.
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar (darker brown sugar makes for a chewier cookie, this is true in all recipes)
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla (I've always over-measured vanilla by at least half, so I do more like 1 1/2-2 tsp.)
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour (I use whole wheat flour, and a couple tablespoons of flax seed).
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup (or more, if you've been raised right) of chocolate chips of your choosing (in my opinion, that'd be milk chocolate). Or chopped peanuts. Or raisins. Or whatever. I'm a chocolate chip person though. Always will be.
Mix butter & peanut butter at high speed for 30 seconds or until well combined. Add sugars, powder and soda. Beat in eggs, vanilla. Mix in all the flour well, then stir in oats and chocolate chips.
At this point we chill the dough for a little while. Either the whole bowl for a few hours, or sometimes we'll put rounded teaspoon size "cookie balls" on cookie sheets and chill them for 20-30 minutes in the fridge. According to Alton Brown (a Food Network host who's a little like Bill Nye the Science Guy with an oven), by chilling the dough first (and using melted butter instead of softened), this all changes how the cookies bake, and will leave you with chewier cookies. It seems to work, we do actually notice a difference between the chilled and non-chilled final results. You can put them straight into the oven without chilling though, the bake time is only like a minute different.
Bake the cookies at 375 for about 9-10 minutes (as few as eight minutes if you're like Greg and want them to fall apart when you try to pick them up, and as much as 11 if you like them crispy, but with my oven I set the timer for 9 minutes with them chilled, then by the time I've heard the timer go off and put down the baby and made it to the oven, they're perfect.)
While typing this I was struck by how small all the measurements seemed to me, then I remembered it's because I've never made a normal sized batch of these cookies, always having doubled it so I can keep half of the dough in the fridge for Greg to snack on, and half to cook with!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Four Month Check-up
Ellie sure is growing! She's now over 13 lbs. (13 lbs. 1 oz., to be exact) and measures at 24 inches long. That's 35th percentile weight and 42nd height. Her head circumference was 75th percentile. It's always been shocking to me that my kids don't resemble bobble-head dolls . . . at one point Annie was 2 percent on the charts in weight and 89th in head circ . . . I kept trying to figure out how she was able to even support her ginormous head. But somehow they can totally pull it off and look perfectly proportional. Everything else checked out perfectly normal too, and the doctor said 3-4 more ear infections, and they'll schedule surgery for tubes. I wish I knew of a way to fake 'em, so we could get her in even quicker, but I guess I'll patiently wait through weeks and months of torturous illness, fevers, antibiotics, diaper rash, pain and screaming, until we can legitimately get her the surgery she's needed since last month.
Annie proudly brought along her new purple Halloween Teddy Bear that Grandma gave her the other day. She had the nurse weigh and measure 'Pumpkin Bear', and she carefully mimicked everything the doctor did with Ellie on her baby bear (squeezing his tummy, looking in his ears, et cetera). Before the nurse could even give her the results though, Annie proudly announced her bear was "thirty and a half inch pounds!" Greg, being a geek, is pretty excited that we measure babies in torque in our family.
In the bathtub this morning I told Annie it was time to get out. "Two more minutes or ten more minutes?" I asked, encouraging her understanding of greater or less than. "Ten minutes," she smartly responded. Then added, "Um, no wait. Sixteen minutes Mommy." I guess she gets the concept even more than I thought. Then, awhile later, I told her bath time was over, she protested, I pulled the drain, and Annie dived to the end of the tub to stop up the drain again, crying out, "I taking a bath Mom, people just don't do that."
I was having fun looking at pictures of the girls and how much they've grown, then looking and comparing them to pictures of Greg and I when we were younger. So voila! A collage for all to enjoy!
Annie proudly brought along her new purple Halloween Teddy Bear that Grandma gave her the other day. She had the nurse weigh and measure 'Pumpkin Bear', and she carefully mimicked everything the doctor did with Ellie on her baby bear (squeezing his tummy, looking in his ears, et cetera). Before the nurse could even give her the results though, Annie proudly announced her bear was "thirty and a half inch pounds!" Greg, being a geek, is pretty excited that we measure babies in torque in our family.
In the bathtub this morning I told Annie it was time to get out. "Two more minutes or ten more minutes?" I asked, encouraging her understanding of greater or less than. "Ten minutes," she smartly responded. Then added, "Um, no wait. Sixteen minutes Mommy." I guess she gets the concept even more than I thought. Then, awhile later, I told her bath time was over, she protested, I pulled the drain, and Annie dived to the end of the tub to stop up the drain again, crying out, "I taking a bath Mom, people just don't do that."
I was having fun looking at pictures of the girls and how much they've grown, then looking and comparing them to pictures of Greg and I when we were younger. So voila! A collage for all to enjoy!Sharin' the Love
My sister-in-law Liz has a fantastic blog that for a long time I was one of the privileged few who was invited to read. Now she's opened it up to the public. Great for anyone who loves fantastic writing and great storytelling; bad for those of us who now have one less thing to feel special about. Enjoy!
http://thebookofarmaments.blogspot.com/
P.S. She's feelin' a little vulnerable right now, being public for the first time, so serial killers, child snatchers, or people who abuse the take-a-penny-leave-a-penny jar need not apply!
http://thebookofarmaments.blogspot.com/
P.S. She's feelin' a little vulnerable right now, being public for the first time, so serial killers, child snatchers, or people who abuse the take-a-penny-leave-a-penny jar need not apply!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
I'm Addicted
So, you upload a Mom, Dad & Kid picture to this website:
http://www.myheritage.com/look-alike-meter
And voila! They tell you who the kid looks more like, Mom or Dad. Ellie has been 12% more like Mom, and 3% more like Dad, depending on the picture. Annie has been 8% more like Mom and 13% more like Mom.
I've uploaded a dozen or so pictures, that I just already had in small .jpg format on my desktop, now I'm going to make the entire family take boring looking pictures, starting straight ahead, on a white background, and try again! Should be fun!
Oh, quick tip, if you have a family portrait or something, just upload the one picture and the website picks out all of the faces for you to choose from.
http://www.myheritage.com/look-alike-meter
And voila! They tell you who the kid looks more like, Mom or Dad. Ellie has been 12% more like Mom, and 3% more like Dad, depending on the picture. Annie has been 8% more like Mom and 13% more like Mom.
I've uploaded a dozen or so pictures, that I just already had in small .jpg format on my desktop, now I'm going to make the entire family take boring looking pictures, starting straight ahead, on a white background, and try again! Should be fun!
Oh, quick tip, if you have a family portrait or something, just upload the one picture and the website picks out all of the faces for you to choose from.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Are You There God? It's Me, Annie.
Time Saving Tip #2: Don't let Annie say her prayers in her own bedroom, surrounded by her own toys.
Last night Annie's prayer went like this . . .
"Heavenly Father. Thank you for this day. Thank you for, um, Eeyore. Thank you for Piglet. Thank you for the pink bear. And my white bear, Princess Bear. Thank you for the zebra. This one right here Mom, this zebra. And the other zebra, I non't 'member where it is. Thank you for Sophia. Thank you for my puppy dog. Thank you for Elmo."
About here I quietly prompted, "Please bless . . . "
"Oh yeah, please bless, um, this ball. And bless that blanket . . ."
And so it went.
The night before Aunt Star happened to be over in the evening, and got to be a part of nightly prayers. I think she was amused, and a little touched.
"Heavenly Father. Thank you for this day. Thank you for, um, everything. Thank you for Ellie's bouncy chair. Thank you for favorite aunts and for favorite uncles . . ."
The kid seems pretty convinced she has a lot to be grateful for. I know the feeling.
Last night Annie's prayer went like this . . .
"Heavenly Father. Thank you for this day. Thank you for, um, Eeyore. Thank you for Piglet. Thank you for the pink bear. And my white bear, Princess Bear. Thank you for the zebra. This one right here Mom, this zebra. And the other zebra, I non't 'member where it is. Thank you for Sophia. Thank you for my puppy dog. Thank you for Elmo."
About here I quietly prompted, "Please bless . . . "
"Oh yeah, please bless, um, this ball. And bless that blanket . . ."
And so it went.
The night before Aunt Star happened to be over in the evening, and got to be a part of nightly prayers. I think she was amused, and a little touched.
"Heavenly Father. Thank you for this day. Thank you for, um, everything. Thank you for Ellie's bouncy chair. Thank you for favorite aunts and for favorite uncles . . ."
The kid seems pretty convinced she has a lot to be grateful for. I know the feeling.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Babies in the Mist
Time Saving Tip #1: Sleep Annie in a room with a humidifier. In the morning her hair is so curly I don't have to do anything to it!
We've had multiple humidifiers blasting in our house, trying to keep our daughters breathing with relative ease. This morning I heard Annie coughing around 6:40 AM (actually, I heard her cough all night, I just knew this was gonna be the coughing to wake her up for the morning.) Then I hear her call out, in utter confusion, "Mommy? Mommy?" I walk in to find a misty swamp land, with such thick humidity that I can't actually see Annie in her crib. I had to fish around to find her among the blankets since I couldn't see a thing. That is one good humidifier!
I can't really think of anything else to write. Let alone anything funny, clever, amusing or profound. Ellie's sleeping worse than when she was 3 weeks old, so I'm kind of just walking zombie Mom right now. So, that's all you get. Probably for a few days. :-)
Unrelated, but here's pictures of Annie attempting tether ball.
We've had multiple humidifiers blasting in our house, trying to keep our daughters breathing with relative ease. This morning I heard Annie coughing around 6:40 AM (actually, I heard her cough all night, I just knew this was gonna be the coughing to wake her up for the morning.) Then I hear her call out, in utter confusion, "Mommy? Mommy?" I walk in to find a misty swamp land, with such thick humidity that I can't actually see Annie in her crib. I had to fish around to find her among the blankets since I couldn't see a thing. That is one good humidifier!
I can't really think of anything else to write. Let alone anything funny, clever, amusing or profound. Ellie's sleeping worse than when she was 3 weeks old, so I'm kind of just walking zombie Mom right now. So, that's all you get. Probably for a few days. :-)
Unrelated, but here's pictures of Annie attempting tether ball.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Yellow Light Means "SLOW DOWN!"
Annie, Ellie and I attempted an early morning shopping trip. Like 8:30AM. We won't be doing that again anytime soon, Ellie was late for her morning nap and wailed most of the time we were there. But on the plus side, I was able to get 30 boxes of Quaker oatmeal & granola bars for less that $18. I told Greg in event of a natural disaster, we're completely stocked on oatmeal products now (since I also got $225 worth for $40 the day before, and $75 worth for $9 the day before that. I love coupons.) Assuming we could find water to mix with the oatmeal, I guess. Without water we may still starve to death. But then again, we'd die of dehydration before that anyway. Which means I just blew $80 on oats and we're all gonna die anyway. Great. Anyway, Annie was a little chatterbox the whole way there and back, and I made note of some of my favorite things she said:
"Green light means 'Let's go!', red light means 'stop, and yellow light means 'SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!!" This cracked me up, so I asked her, "Where did you learn these things Annie?"
"From Papa."
"Grandpa taught you that?"
"Yep, G-Bob." (My Dad's self-appointed grandparent name.)
"Wow, your Grandpa is pretty smart."
"No, not really. I a genius."
Later, on the drive home, Annie suddenly exclaimed, "I'm going to tell you a story about a puppy Mommy! Once upon a time there was a puppy. His name is Dah-dah. He sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. Ever. Then he fell down. On the floor. On his head. Oh, I can't tell a story now, my baby Rosie is crying. It's OK Rosie, don't cry . . . shhhhhhhh!"
I'm still trying to figure out if Annie is two-year old prodigy in sarcasm, or if she was just trying to make me feel better about myself, but the other day, coming home from a store I had to turn into an unfamiliar neighborhood and pull into a driveway to turn around. Annie cries out, "Mommy, this is not our house! We don't live here!" As I pulled out and headed back the direction we'd come, she said, "Yeah, Mommy's a genius."
On the illness front, Ellie's fever was explained, in part at least, when Annie woke up the other night at 3AM burning up. So, they're sharing some kind of bug. I brought Annie into bed with me for a little bit while I took her temperature and gave her tylenol. Then I let her cuddle up with me. Which is foolish. Anyone who knows Annie knows she doesn't sleep anywhere but her bed. Ever. She has laid in bed with me in the middle of the night for over an hour and never fallen asleep. And the other night was no exception. After about 40 minutes of quietly cuddling, she turned to me and cried, "I want to go sleep on my floor with all of my babies!" So, we made a little bed up on her floor with about 7 different baby dolls, and she fell asleep almost immediately. I went back to my bed and realized I was sweating profusely anywhere the 100+ degree toddler had been laying next to me. It was like having my own little furnace. Which sounds good except when your house is above 70 degrees. I might start letting her sleep on the floor though, 'cause she slept 'til 8AM, instead of the 6:45-7:00AM she's been waking up lately.
"Green light means 'Let's go!', red light means 'stop, and yellow light means 'SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!!" This cracked me up, so I asked her, "Where did you learn these things Annie?"
"From Papa."
"Grandpa taught you that?"
"Yep, G-Bob." (My Dad's self-appointed grandparent name.)
"Wow, your Grandpa is pretty smart."
"No, not really. I a genius."
Later, on the drive home, Annie suddenly exclaimed, "I'm going to tell you a story about a puppy Mommy! Once upon a time there was a puppy. His name is Dah-dah. He sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. Ever. Then he fell down. On the floor. On his head. Oh, I can't tell a story now, my baby Rosie is crying. It's OK Rosie, don't cry . . . shhhhhhhh!"
I'm still trying to figure out if Annie is two-year old prodigy in sarcasm, or if she was just trying to make me feel better about myself, but the other day, coming home from a store I had to turn into an unfamiliar neighborhood and pull into a driveway to turn around. Annie cries out, "Mommy, this is not our house! We don't live here!" As I pulled out and headed back the direction we'd come, she said, "Yeah, Mommy's a genius."
On the illness front, Ellie's fever was explained, in part at least, when Annie woke up the other night at 3AM burning up. So, they're sharing some kind of bug. I brought Annie into bed with me for a little bit while I took her temperature and gave her tylenol. Then I let her cuddle up with me. Which is foolish. Anyone who knows Annie knows she doesn't sleep anywhere but her bed. Ever. She has laid in bed with me in the middle of the night for over an hour and never fallen asleep. And the other night was no exception. After about 40 minutes of quietly cuddling, she turned to me and cried, "I want to go sleep on my floor with all of my babies!" So, we made a little bed up on her floor with about 7 different baby dolls, and she fell asleep almost immediately. I went back to my bed and realized I was sweating profusely anywhere the 100+ degree toddler had been laying next to me. It was like having my own little furnace. Which sounds good except when your house is above 70 degrees. I might start letting her sleep on the floor though, 'cause she slept 'til 8AM, instead of the 6:45-7:00AM she's been waking up lately.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Co-pays Are My Middle Name
Have I mentioned how much I hate ear infections. We had Ellie to the InstaCare, again. It's a good thing that we see a different doctor each time or I'd have some poor doctor convinced he had an obsessed stalker suffering from Munchausen by Proxy. Ellie's two weeks out from the initial ear infection, but we have yet to go more than a day in between major displays of pain and illness. Today's appointment was the worse, because I'm really starting to feel like they can't do anything for her. My poor baby screams until she's hoarse, working herself up into this high pitched, frantic wail that is heartbreaking. It's the worst feeling in the entire world, and just thinking about it makes me start to choke up a little. Today she was running a fever, despite no apparent infection left in the ears (there is no redness or signs of infection anymore, just fluid pressing against the ear drums creating pain and pressure). She's also screaming like a banshee, despite being a full three days past the 10 day course of antibiotics. So, nobody really knows why she's crying, or why she's over 100 degrees, or why she was up every two hours all last night. So, one option is to get a urine sample to check for a UTI. The doctor kept talking about 'how much she hates putting a small baby through this.' And then basically asking me if I really wanted to do it. What am I supposed to say to that? "Um yeah, I really enjoy putting her through painful and intrusive examinations and procedures, let's go for it." On the flip side, now that the idea's been brought up, I have to have to rule a UTI, or I won't be able to sleep at night. Fortunately, a nurse who was much more compassionate to my frazzled-mother-self, told me it really wasn't so bad and baby girls seemed to be over it before the procedure was even done, and that it's what she would do, since my three month old is obviously running a fever and has some infection somewhere in her body, and it wasn't looking like the ears, she'd have to rule it out too. So, we they did the cath. Not the most fun ever obviously, but once it was over, Ellie really did calm down almost immediately. Unfortunately or fortunately (I don't know which at this point, since I really wanted an answer but didn't want my daughter to be dealing with a painful UTI) the test came back negative and we can't blame the fever on the urinary tract. Which means we still don't know why she's sick, but the doctor told me I should probably come back in two days to have her ears checked again to make sure the fluid hadn't caused another infection. Which is great, 'cause if I'm not going to InstaCare at least three times a week, I really don't feel like I'm getting my money's worth on my insurance.
What kills me though, is that this is just her first ear infection. Annie had nine or so, and we're only one in with Ellie. Just that prospect of a long, hard winter of pain and screaming and infection after infection makes me a little nauseous. It was never easy to listen to Annie scream in pain, but ear infections were easier than this. First of all, Annie would start antibiotics and pretty much be back to normal within 24-48 hours (normal for Annie still included lots of screaming, but not the 'in pain' kind). Second, she was my whole world. If Annie was in pain and crying, I held and rocked her, nursed her and cuddled, sometimes all day long, never leaving our comfy glider chair if that's what she needed. With Ellie, this ear infection just seems to be causing pain long after the infection is gone, and then to top it off, it constantly feels like one of my two kids is getting the shaft. If I cuddle and soothe Ellie while she cries, pacing the floor as I sing quietly into her ear, Annie is left on her own for the most part. It feels like Annie has watched more videos this last week or two then in the rest of her life combined, and I hate that I feel like I'm neglecting her. Or when I make her a lunch of carrots and peanut butter and some yogurt or string cheese, because with the screaming baby I can't manage to actually get something cooked and on the table. I hate that I feel like Annie's being abandoned because Ellie doesn't feel well. I miss my time playing with Annie, enjoying her creativity and humor. Instead I'm putting her in time out because her two year old self couldn't keep herself entertained without smearing my makeup, some lotion or some Butt Paste all over her face and carpet when I was too busy to spend time with her. Plus Annie is having to deal with the screaming too, but is even less capable of doing anything about it then I am. You know what it's like when a baby is screaming in pain, how every cell in your body is crying out for you to act, to do something to make it stop. Obviously human babies cries are designed to elicit extreme discomfort in those around them, so that those around them do whatever it takes to make it stop. Can you imagine then, what it must be like for a two year old, who often feels powerless in the world around them, to listen to their younger sibling scream for sometimes hours with little to no breaks? Annie sometimes just loses it, and starts crying and yelling, "Stop crying Ellie, just please stop crying!" It breaks my heart. I can't even type about it without little sobs escaping my throat. On the flipside, there have been times I've had to just leave Ellie, crying, in pain, alone for awhile while I tend to Annie's physical or emotional needs. I have never felt so torn, or ineffective, as when I can't help my girls when they need me. Drat my inability to be in two places at one time! I want nothing more than for my little girl to feel better, but there's nothing I can do but sit back and let this run its course. In the meantime, trying my best not to neglect Annie and leaving her to her own devices for huge portions of the day (which always just means more housework later on in the day for me). But what do I do? How do I juggle this? I feel like no matter what I do, someone is missing out on something they need from me.
Then to further aggravate me, it turns out that Walgreens is the crappiest 24 hour pharmacy on the face of the planet. Yet again, we have gone to Walgreens, in desperate need of drugs for our three month old, only to find out it is closed. And this time at 5:00PM. Seriously, five o'clock! Give me a break, I know it's a Sunday, but you're a pharmacy! Stupid Walgreens. Of course, we wouldn't have even had to try there if we hadn't already been to one other pharmacy that was closed, and one that was out of the medicine we needed. So apparently all pharmacies suck. But mainly Walgreens.
On a lighter note, I jotted down some of mine and Annie's conversation from breakfast:
"There's peanut butter on the floor."
"Yeah," responds Annie, "that was my fault."
"It's cold in here," I complain.
"So cold," Annie agrees, "like a hundred degrees!"
"That's so cute, I need to go get the camera."
"OK! You go get it and I'll say 'cheese'!"
What kills me though, is that this is just her first ear infection. Annie had nine or so, and we're only one in with Ellie. Just that prospect of a long, hard winter of pain and screaming and infection after infection makes me a little nauseous. It was never easy to listen to Annie scream in pain, but ear infections were easier than this. First of all, Annie would start antibiotics and pretty much be back to normal within 24-48 hours (normal for Annie still included lots of screaming, but not the 'in pain' kind). Second, she was my whole world. If Annie was in pain and crying, I held and rocked her, nursed her and cuddled, sometimes all day long, never leaving our comfy glider chair if that's what she needed. With Ellie, this ear infection just seems to be causing pain long after the infection is gone, and then to top it off, it constantly feels like one of my two kids is getting the shaft. If I cuddle and soothe Ellie while she cries, pacing the floor as I sing quietly into her ear, Annie is left on her own for the most part. It feels like Annie has watched more videos this last week or two then in the rest of her life combined, and I hate that I feel like I'm neglecting her. Or when I make her a lunch of carrots and peanut butter and some yogurt or string cheese, because with the screaming baby I can't manage to actually get something cooked and on the table. I hate that I feel like Annie's being abandoned because Ellie doesn't feel well. I miss my time playing with Annie, enjoying her creativity and humor. Instead I'm putting her in time out because her two year old self couldn't keep herself entertained without smearing my makeup, some lotion or some Butt Paste all over her face and carpet when I was too busy to spend time with her. Plus Annie is having to deal with the screaming too, but is even less capable of doing anything about it then I am. You know what it's like when a baby is screaming in pain, how every cell in your body is crying out for you to act, to do something to make it stop. Obviously human babies cries are designed to elicit extreme discomfort in those around them, so that those around them do whatever it takes to make it stop. Can you imagine then, what it must be like for a two year old, who often feels powerless in the world around them, to listen to their younger sibling scream for sometimes hours with little to no breaks? Annie sometimes just loses it, and starts crying and yelling, "Stop crying Ellie, just please stop crying!" It breaks my heart. I can't even type about it without little sobs escaping my throat. On the flipside, there have been times I've had to just leave Ellie, crying, in pain, alone for awhile while I tend to Annie's physical or emotional needs. I have never felt so torn, or ineffective, as when I can't help my girls when they need me. Drat my inability to be in two places at one time! I want nothing more than for my little girl to feel better, but there's nothing I can do but sit back and let this run its course. In the meantime, trying my best not to neglect Annie and leaving her to her own devices for huge portions of the day (which always just means more housework later on in the day for me). But what do I do? How do I juggle this? I feel like no matter what I do, someone is missing out on something they need from me.
Then to further aggravate me, it turns out that Walgreens is the crappiest 24 hour pharmacy on the face of the planet. Yet again, we have gone to Walgreens, in desperate need of drugs for our three month old, only to find out it is closed. And this time at 5:00PM. Seriously, five o'clock! Give me a break, I know it's a Sunday, but you're a pharmacy! Stupid Walgreens. Of course, we wouldn't have even had to try there if we hadn't already been to one other pharmacy that was closed, and one that was out of the medicine we needed. So apparently all pharmacies suck. But mainly Walgreens.
On a lighter note, I jotted down some of mine and Annie's conversation from breakfast:
"There's peanut butter on the floor."
"Yeah," responds Annie, "that was my fault."
"It's cold in here," I complain.
"So cold," Annie agrees, "like a hundred degrees!"
"That's so cute, I need to go get the camera."
"OK! You go get it and I'll say 'cheese'!"
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Rub-a-dub-dub
You can't walk into the bathroom in our house without Annie chasing after you and asking, "Time for a bath?" She loves taking baths (hates her hair watched though) and dives into the tub, sometimes fully clothed, anytime she can convince someone to put water in there.
The other morning, trying to sneak in to enjoy a shower on my own, I had the water going for a minute before hearing my two year old book it across the house, come running into the bathroom, and say with a huge grin, "We take a bath Mom!" So, like any day I don't wake up and shower before 6:30AM, I ended up taking a bath with Annie. I asked Annie to sit to one side of the tub. "Why Mommy?" "I need to rinse out my hair under the faucet." "You going to lay down? Be brave Mommy! Be brave! You can do it! Be brave!"
As soon as my hair is washed, I get out and let Annie enjoy the wonderland of the tub, while I do boring 'Mom stuff' like my hair and makeup. Annie continues a running commentary the entire time she's in the tub. "I catch all my toys and put them in the boat . . . we'll have a race. Come on boat! Beat me to the end of the tub!" At this point she is laying on her belly in the tub, sliding around, making waves to push the boat to the end of the tub while she cheers it on, "Good job! You're going to beat me! You are so fast boat! I catching up! Oh, you are going to beat me!"
She also takes breaks from playing with her toys to engage me in her play, "I want to tell you a story Mommy! Once upon a time there was a little girl named Mommy . . . " I love this kid. She babbled on for several sentences, with me catching every few words. I heard the word silly a couple times. Then, laughing, she started a new story, "Once upon a time there was a puppy names Star . . . ha ha ha, I a genius!" I plan on retiring on the royalties derived from this kids' story telling talents.
The other morning, trying to sneak in to enjoy a shower on my own, I had the water going for a minute before hearing my two year old book it across the house, come running into the bathroom, and say with a huge grin, "We take a bath Mom!" So, like any day I don't wake up and shower before 6:30AM, I ended up taking a bath with Annie. I asked Annie to sit to one side of the tub. "Why Mommy?" "I need to rinse out my hair under the faucet." "You going to lay down? Be brave Mommy! Be brave! You can do it! Be brave!"
As soon as my hair is washed, I get out and let Annie enjoy the wonderland of the tub, while I do boring 'Mom stuff' like my hair and makeup. Annie continues a running commentary the entire time she's in the tub. "I catch all my toys and put them in the boat . . . we'll have a race. Come on boat! Beat me to the end of the tub!" At this point she is laying on her belly in the tub, sliding around, making waves to push the boat to the end of the tub while she cheers it on, "Good job! You're going to beat me! You are so fast boat! I catching up! Oh, you are going to beat me!"
She also takes breaks from playing with her toys to engage me in her play, "I want to tell you a story Mommy! Once upon a time there was a little girl named Mommy . . . " I love this kid. She babbled on for several sentences, with me catching every few words. I heard the word silly a couple times. Then, laughing, she started a new story, "Once upon a time there was a puppy names Star . . . ha ha ha, I a genius!" I plan on retiring on the royalties derived from this kids' story telling talents.
Now, completely un-bathtub related, here are pictures from the Utah State Fair from today.
Annie & Daddy
Annie & Daddy
Grandpa & Ellie
Annie trying on sunglasses
Ride 'em cowgirl!
There is a strange and unholy alliance going on at the fairgrounds.
They've apparently bred a poodle with a chicken.
That's just wrong.
Mommy & Ellie
Annie, with one of her many new cow friends
Cheesy Annie and a goose
Annie bravely (barely) touching the pig.
Annie & Daddy again
Friday, September 12, 2008
Don't Need to Worry About Her Self-Esteem
In the backseat of the car yesterday, Annie was talking to nobody in particular. Just kind of the stream of conscious babble that two years olds are so good at. "I am funny. I am smart. I am cute. I a genius." Self-confidence is not an issue with this one.
It's Official . . . No More Hanging Out With Family
While playing Memory, matching cute little animal playing cards, Annie would find a match and triumphantly shout, "Dang it! Beer it up!" Yep, Annie's no longer allowed to hang out with anyone who's blood related to me. Bad influences. Every last one of ya! :-)
Thursday, September 11, 2008
My Athletic Skills
Annie just chucked a ball right at my head, and when it bounced off she exclaimed, "Good catch Mommy!" Then came up to give me five.
X-Press Yourself
Infomercials tend to be pretty stupid. Addictive, but stupid. What is it about a paid advertisement with cheesy, second rate television hosts, that makes me convinced I need something I wouldn't even look twice at in the store? But they can be so oddly entertaining. Take the "Magic Bullet" infomercial. A batch of obnoxious neighbors, acting skeptical about everything you tell them, despite the fact you're making them all food and mixed drinks; in real life you'd want to kick them all out of your house and never attend another block party. Oh, and I'd so rip the unlit cigarette out of the old housecoat-wearing lady's mouth. You're in my freaking kitchen, don't even pretend to smoke. Go outside and imaginary puff away on your cigarette. And yet I watch it every so often, usually on a Saturday afternoon while I'm nursing and nothing else is on. Why do I watch it? I guess the lure of informercials is just that great. The "Magic Bullet" infomercial isn't completely effective though. I've watched it five or six (dozen) times, at least in part, and while I've had a passing, "That'd be cool to own" thought, I've never seriously considered buying one.
The GT X-Press 101 though. That's another story. I've wanted one of those for so long. I tell Greg every time I watch the infomercial (which is sadly fairly often, basically anytime I come across it) how much better and happier my life would be if I had one of those double welled cooking appliances. I'd be making tostada bowls and pita sandwiches and stuffed chicken and garlic bread and little miniature angel food cakes pretty much every single day. And clean up would be so easy. And everything would cook so quickly. And we'd make cinnamon rolls for breakfast at least twice as often. Where infomercials lose me though is the picking up the phone, giving them my credit card number and paying for shipping. I hate paying for shipping. And I'm much more of a hands on, see it in the store, impulse buyer. As much as I've been tempted by shrill hosts peddling their wares on television, it's never enough of a draw to get me to go find my purse, an charged portable phone, and make the call. So imagine the sheer joy of coming across the GT X-Press at Kohl's. On sale. While I was holding an additional 30% off coupon. It was all I could do to actually get the kids down for bed before running into my kitchen and starting my X-Press experiments. I made a chicken fajita stuffed tortilla concoction at 9 o'clock at night. Then I made individual chocolate cakes with snickers filling at 10 o'clock at night. Sure I went into this marriage knowing my husband wasn't much of a cake person, especially not chocolate cake, but he didn't even feign excitement as I was shoving bites of cake in his mouth last night. And again, not being a very supportive husband, Greg was against the idea of me making pineapple upside-down cake at 11 o'clock at night. So for now, I'm only two recipes into my GT X-Press cooking career, but I'm pretty sure it's going to change my life.
The GT X-Press 101 though. That's another story. I've wanted one of those for so long. I tell Greg every time I watch the infomercial (which is sadly fairly often, basically anytime I come across it) how much better and happier my life would be if I had one of those double welled cooking appliances. I'd be making tostada bowls and pita sandwiches and stuffed chicken and garlic bread and little miniature angel food cakes pretty much every single day. And clean up would be so easy. And everything would cook so quickly. And we'd make cinnamon rolls for breakfast at least twice as often. Where infomercials lose me though is the picking up the phone, giving them my credit card number and paying for shipping. I hate paying for shipping. And I'm much more of a hands on, see it in the store, impulse buyer. As much as I've been tempted by shrill hosts peddling their wares on television, it's never enough of a draw to get me to go find my purse, an charged portable phone, and make the call. So imagine the sheer joy of coming across the GT X-Press at Kohl's. On sale. While I was holding an additional 30% off coupon. It was all I could do to actually get the kids down for bed before running into my kitchen and starting my X-Press experiments. I made a chicken fajita stuffed tortilla concoction at 9 o'clock at night. Then I made individual chocolate cakes with snickers filling at 10 o'clock at night. Sure I went into this marriage knowing my husband wasn't much of a cake person, especially not chocolate cake, but he didn't even feign excitement as I was shoving bites of cake in his mouth last night. And again, not being a very supportive husband, Greg was against the idea of me making pineapple upside-down cake at 11 o'clock at night. So for now, I'm only two recipes into my GT X-Press cooking career, but I'm pretty sure it's going to change my life.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Postpartum Blahs
There's this myth that women are supposed to get this beautiful, long, flowing, healthy, vibrant hair during pregnancy (well, it's always been a myth in my case at least.) The downside is once you have the baby and your hormones go a different kind of crazy, all this extra hair starts to fall out. In clumps. In my case, I end up with actual bald spots hidden only by the fact I have pretty thick hair to start with, and strategically placed comb-overs. After Annie was born I lost so much hair that when it started coming back in I had a full mane of 1/2 inch hairs sticking straight up all around my face. I had a hair stylist comment that she'd never seen so much new growth on someone who hadn't had chemo. I don't know how I somehow managed to delude myself into thinking that it wouldn't happen again this time, but now there's no denying it. I'm very quickly going bald. I lose handfuls of hair every time I wash it. Like drain-stopping amounts of hair. My vacuum is picking up more hair than dirt, and even when I sweep the kitchen floor I end up with enough hair to make a wig for a small bald doll or something. And I hate hair on things. It grosses me out each time I notice one of my hairs stuck to Ellie's blanket, or on Annie's shirt, or all over my pillow. I can't possibly vacuum enough, because it just keeps falling out. I'm starting to think the only solution is shaving my head bald and starting from scratch.
On the flip side of thinking I wouldn't lose all my hair after this pregnancy like I did the last, I'd somehow convinced myself that weight loss after pregnancy would be just as easy this time around as it was after Annie was born. I don't know exactly why the weight just melted off after Annie was born (bringing me down to even 10 lbs. lighter than when I was married,) but it probably had something to do with the fact I had gallbladder problems throughout the last several months of pregnancy and wasn't allowed to eat more than 4 grams of fat at any one meal for fear my gallbladder would freak out and I'd need it and the baby taken out in emergency surgery. Most motivated I'd ever been to stay on a diet. So, with eating almost no fat my entire third trimester, I only gained 15 lbs. during my whole pregnancy. And I'd lost 25 by my 6 week check up. I was sure I'd stumbled on a great weight loss secret, and somewhere in the back of my head started formulating a plan to get pregnant in rapid succession, and right around the time I had enough kids to fill a mini-van I'd be a lean 135 lbs. Turns out though, pregnancy and child bearing are not the best ways to lose weight. Who knew? If you gain more like 40 lbs. during pregnancy, your body is much less forgiving, and I think as a form of punishment, tries its hardest to hold onto every single last pound possible. At this rate, if I stick with my 'not getting pregnant until I'm back to my pre-partum weight' goal, we may not have a third child until well into our thirties.
On the flip side of thinking I wouldn't lose all my hair after this pregnancy like I did the last, I'd somehow convinced myself that weight loss after pregnancy would be just as easy this time around as it was after Annie was born. I don't know exactly why the weight just melted off after Annie was born (bringing me down to even 10 lbs. lighter than when I was married,) but it probably had something to do with the fact I had gallbladder problems throughout the last several months of pregnancy and wasn't allowed to eat more than 4 grams of fat at any one meal for fear my gallbladder would freak out and I'd need it and the baby taken out in emergency surgery. Most motivated I'd ever been to stay on a diet. So, with eating almost no fat my entire third trimester, I only gained 15 lbs. during my whole pregnancy. And I'd lost 25 by my 6 week check up. I was sure I'd stumbled on a great weight loss secret, and somewhere in the back of my head started formulating a plan to get pregnant in rapid succession, and right around the time I had enough kids to fill a mini-van I'd be a lean 135 lbs. Turns out though, pregnancy and child bearing are not the best ways to lose weight. Who knew? If you gain more like 40 lbs. during pregnancy, your body is much less forgiving, and I think as a form of punishment, tries its hardest to hold onto every single last pound possible. At this rate, if I stick with my 'not getting pregnant until I'm back to my pre-partum weight' goal, we may not have a third child until well into our thirties.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Flying Elephants and 'Toucumbers'
Annie and I were looking through the ads today. She was pointing out everything that was "only eight dollars" (the price everything is in Annie-land.) Then looking at the Wal-Mart ad she excitedly called to me, "Mommy! Let's get a dog and a kitty for the backyard. I'll pet them. It costs only eight dollars!" Stupid dog food ads. I told her it was better to just go to neighbor's houses and pet their dogs. She seems skeptical.The girls and I went to the park to play on the playground. Annie was up and down the slides, laughing and running and playing like we were at Disneyland or something. It's amazing to watch her so thoroughly enjoy everything she does. I suggested we go roll down the grass hill. Annie thought that was a great idea and took off running for the grass. As soon as her feet exited the bark-filled playground area, she hit the ground and started to roll herself across the completely flat area 15 feet away from the actual hill. The whole time she was shouting, "Whee! Wheeeeee!" Imagine how much fun she had when I actually got her to the hill to roll down an incline! She then ran back to the swings for awhile, then over to the ride on animals. Which brings me to my current very favorite Annie-mispronunciation. You wouldn't think a two year old would have much need for the words 'Toucan Bird' in her day to day life. But Annie happens to have a toy, a watering pail in out bathtub, and this ride on animal in the park, that are all shaped like toucan birds. Annie always refers to them as 'Toucumbers." Cracks me up every time.
Earlier in the day Annie watched her first full-length Disney movie today. Well, full-length might be a bit of a stretch, since it turns out that Dumbo is only like an hour and six minutes long. Heck, watched might be a bit of a stretch since she'd get up and pause it and wander around the house every fifteen minutes or so. But we did actually get through the whole movie. When her Dad got home from work, I was having her recap the movie for him.
"Annie, what did Dumbo do?"
"Um. He pulled things. He sleeps. Um. He plays. There was a train."
"Annie, did Dumbo fly?"
"Oh yeah, that too."
Not like it's the point of the movie or anything.
Annie was sitting by her ride-on horse, putting on her shoes when she turned and looked at me and said, "Mommy, my horsy is so proud of me! I did it all by myself!"
We've started putting Ellie in the Exersaucer. It's amazing how teeny tiny she looks in it, like this little miniature person barely sticking out of it. Annie still likes to get in it occasionally, making Ellie seem even littler in comparison. I can't believe she's already old enough to be hanging out in an upright toy already though. Time flies!
Annie was talking on a toy phone with someone named 'Doh-doo'. She was telling him that Mommy was on the 'puter, and Daddy was holding Ellie. Greg asked who Doh-doo was and she said, "He's JUST a friend Dad!" That phrase will freak us out in another 13 years or so! Apparently Doh-doo is a 'nenius' (genius) and he is 'hiding at our house.' And she made a play date to 'play at your house later Doh-doo.' Then Greg spoke Spanish to Doh-doo, and Annie just stared at him like he was crazy. I don't think Doh-doo is bilingual.
Annie is currently standing on the bed next to me, dancing and singing, "Shake, shake, shake. Shake your booty!" She does this often. Most amusingly when she ran out in the front yard, bare naked, shaking her little tushie around and singing it at the top of her lungs. Greg asked, for like the millionth time, "What do you teach our daughter when I'm not home?!" Lyrics to KC & the Sunshine songs. Obviously.
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