I’m talking about the love women have for sharing their birth stories and tales from the delivery room. There is something innate about a woman’s need to share her labor and delivery experiences with other women. It is as natural and necessary as little girls chasing little boys around the swing set, telling someone to smell something gross, or looking both ways before crossing College Ave. (IT’S A ONE WAY – JUST CROSS).
I am so guilty of this. And especially since I’ve had a captive audience to enthrall with my tales for about a year now. By captive audience, I don’t mean interested, I mean that I’ve held them against their will to talk about birthing. I’m lucky enough that I’ve had two pretty normal, non-traumatic experiences and I’ve regaled my sister and cousin with these fables for months and months. We’ve talked about birth plans, medicated vs. un-medicated, unexpected turns of fate – you name it. Continue reading
Hint – it’s more Casper than Bronzed Goddess.
The Environmental Working Group (EWG) released their 2011 Sunscreen Results today, confusing consumers with the multi-level rating system and scaring the bejesus out of paraben-fearing Moms.
Here’s my sisterly advice, with a little dose of chemical engineer and environmentalist, but mostly sisterly. First, I am not a doctor. Second, I am not a doctor. Continue reading
Show me a Mom with perfectly coiffed and colored hair, groomed eyebrows, manicured nails, smooth legs, and no panty-lines, other than a Real Housewife of Wherever or Reese Witherspoon. Go ahead, I dare you. Find her and bring her to me. So that I can prove that she’s a Stepford-Robot-Wife. (Guilty pleasure folding laundry movie.)
This is one part of motherhood that I am seriously failing miserably at: keeping after myself in a way that wouldn’t make Tim Gunn say, “Oh, HONEY”.
There’s a part of me that longs for my pre-husband and pre-baby days of spending upwards of $200 on a haircut, highlights and blow-out. There were days of yore when I had a standing bi-weekly appointment with a favorite manicurist, followed by a trip to Hollywood for a warm, bronze glow. There were times when I didn’t have to wear pants for weeks on end in 80 degree weather, because, well – if I am lucky enough to get a 10 minute shower – I am going to shampoo my hair, not bust out the Venus.
I most definitely look back on those days longingly – missing the indulgent and carefree aspect of my past life. But more often than not, my gut says – OH MY GOD. YOU IDIOT. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY DIAPERS THAT ONE HAIRCUT COULD BUY??!!
These days, I’m faced with “budgeting for beauty”. Continue reading
(**I didn’t really mean to talk only about drinking in this post. Maybe I should think long and hard about that. Or maybe I should just have a drink.)
In honor of the annual spring football game at my alma mater, I’d like to address a common problem affecting the large majority of my newly-parented friends: The Art of Tailgating: With Children It’s no secret that I’m an alumna of Penn State – a very large and storied University with a legendary football program and an even more legendary tailgating and game-day culture. It’s also no secret that I spent five football seasons at Penn State, and only missed one home game (that’s 31 out 32 possible games attended – I counted – thanks Wiki!). It’s also no secret that as soon as I was legally able (oh who are we kidding here) I tailgated like a champion before each and every one of those games. As we grew more dedicated and experienced with our tailgating habits, as we morphed from freshmen, to seniors, to distinguished alums, we moved on from embarrassingly cheap and watery beer, to less cheap rum (but still cheap – I didn’t say good rum) and cokes, to better beer, to boxed wine, to bloody mary’s complete with garnishes… and the food improved too.
And lo and behold, Continue reading
Our first Q&A from a long-time and extremely loyal reader:
**disclaimer: As she may or may not be related to me, she may or may not have the distinct “choice” to be anything but a long-time and extremely loyal reader. Choice is such a strong word…**
Dear Awesome Big Sister:
I, of course, need some. What else is new?!
This time regarding pumping after the baby is born… I’m trying to decide what I want to do about buying a pump now that the various baby showers are all done. One thought I had was to buy a single electric pump (I found a highly rated Medela one for $120) and start pumping right away, in the hopes that I could store enough over the summer to not have to pump at all when I come back to work but still give the baby breast milk for an additional 2-3 months. Does that seem like a dumb idea? Should I just go with something like the one that K got and consider it less expensive than formula anyway? I feel like if I want to dedicate myself to this once I go back to work, I need to buy the double electric expensive one otherwise it won’t be efficient enough.
**disclaimer #2: I may or may not have assigned a permanent Blog Identity Disguise to this person. Again, “disguise” is such a strong word…**
When you bring home a newborn baby, you are so freaking overwhelmed and obsessed and in love and nervous and terrified and happy and emotional and more than a little psycho – that you can never imagine a day when the helpless little bundle squawking in your arms will ever “grow up”. But they do. They grow into 2-year olds.
I know there are a thousand million books about parenting 2-year olds. I haven’t read any of them. Maybe I should. In all of my spare time when I’m not parenting a 2-year old.
So my Big Girl is 2. And she is super smart, and willful, and happy, and energetic, and talkative, and defiant, and stubborn, and so.much.more. She is also addicted to her nukkers*. Which is code for pacifier. Nukkers is so much cuter. She LOVES – and I mean big.fat.puffy.hearts. LOVES. her nukkers. Crack-head crazy love.
And today I took it away from her. I thought about weaning her from the nuk months (and maybe, quite possibly, a year. I don’t know.) ago, but I chickened out. And recently, I noticed that my very eloquent and talkative sweetie wasn’t “using her words”*. And the words that she was using, didn’t sound quite right. So this morning, when I pulled her from her crib, and she smelled like sleep and sweetness and princess-like – I BURST HER WORLD OF MARSHMALLOW DREAMS AND TOOK IT AWAY. I told her that it had to stay in the crib all day long and she could have it again at night-night-time*. And she sobbed. She sobbed the whole time we were getting ready to go, and the whole car-ride to school, and then miraculously – she got over it and lasted the whole day! No nukkers!
But when she lay down to sleep, and discovered her dear nukker-friend – she was so.happy. Bless her sweet heart. I am the meanest mommy ever**.
(* – future blog post on mommy-phrases that i thought would never leave my mouth)
(** – future blog post on the meanest mommy EVER. – it’s me, in case you’re wondering)
So I’m not going to get all GLOBAL WARMING IS REAL YA’LL on you – but have you noticed that the past few years, we’ve had very little spring? As in, one day it’s March and raining and cold, and the next day feels like the middle of August, all hot and muggy and gross and you feel like you missed spring?
Is that just me?
Anyway – tonight was a spring-like evening. Very bright and mild. We had a nice dinner, where the Big Girl ACTUALLY ATE FOOD and the Little Girl wasn’t screaming like a maniac – and there was enough daylight left to go outside and play!! And there is one thing that never fails to keep everyone entertained, one thing that makes both girls shriek with joy, one thing that never gets old: BUBBLES.
I wish I videoed it. I wish I could remember to get out the little camera-thing in the middle of a massive two-baby giggle-fest with bubbles everywhere. But I don’t. I just enjoy it.
But seriously, bubbles. Everyone loves bubbles.
So now, my two magic moves in parenting:
1. When in doubt – take their socks off. It distracts them and calms you down. What’s cuter than baby feet?
2. When in doubt – bring on the bubbles. It distracts them and calms you down. Seriously, don’t you love bubbles?
Filed under Baby, Fun, Mom