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SuperBoy eating compost, a few summers back. Wowzer! He is going to tell it like it is: dirty & fun. But first, a more recent post of 5 essentials I LOVE having as a mom. And the nine BEST toys for baby before 1 year. 1) Apparel a) Wrap, sling, carrier, baby backpack–I really only use my Sakura Bloom and my Ergo or Boba. For hiking I use a phil&teds. b) Clothing, layette, pacifier chain or holder I have my infant capsule wardrobe here, my tot one here, and my pre-k one here. My kids live in cotton onesies + leggings with maybe a sweater tossed on top! c) Sleep sacks, swaddlers, wearable blankets, swaddle blankets d) Socks You only need two kinds of socks for infants. Triple roll socks and Smart Wool baby socks. The rest fall off and are useless. 2) Bath a) Bathtub, bath toys, bath mat, bath stool A tub that has both an infant compartment and a toddler one is good. See example here. A bath mat for outside the tub is nice for laying your baby towels on (a little extra padding when you lay her down, kicking and screaming to be leaving the water). Toys! Our SuperBoy loves his toys in the bath. He’d probably stay in there all day if we let him. A stool (can double as a nursing stool) is great for when you’re leaning over the tub, or observing play as she gets older. b) Towels, washcloths, a mini-robe I thought baby sized towels…
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Is it almost worse to criticize your spouse in your head? I can get on a real roll doing it there. No interruptions. No reality checks. No actual communications with him. Just me and my imagination. 1) Stop Thought. Literally. I block the cascading scene in my mind. I stop it and I tell myself you love him. It’s easy for me to feel the litany of not only what I saw him do “wrong”–as in, not my way, but playing the scenario out and getting my blood pressure up with it. Now you’re probably a really tranquil and balanced person who always sees all sides and doesn’t ever have irrational fits of self-righteousness. Good for you. For me, I’m the self-righteous one. Yikes. That lady. It’s almost soothing, comforting, this deep well you can go to to dip your cup in to feel like yes, i’m right; i’m the martyr mom; he just simply can’t blah blah blah. Board up the well. Go to a new homestead. Move on. 2) Acknowledge there are other valid choices beyond the one we’re attached to. As our kids grow and need more room for their wings (and for riding their bike or listening to books on tape!!!), I’m surprised to find that I am more set in my ways. What works for me. I know it. I live it for these long days when it’s just us four sans Dada. My methods are tried and truer than they used to be. Perhaps this sureness is a false sense…
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It’s Friday. That means you get a seven point chop up of my life for the week. And hop to Kelly’s blog to see a ton of other blogger’s 7 Quick Takes too! Highlight of my week? Seeing Haley and her family and then watching our kids enjoy enjoy enjoy themselves. She’s embarked on a wild adventure #crosscountrycarrots on social media. Look at our kids demolishing their popsicles <– new fav makers of them! The kids have no idea it’s all fruit and vegetables and very little juice. 1) Deodorant. Let’s talk about a paste you apply swiftly to your stinky underarms when you haven’t showered for a day or three, and need to go another day. I get in the bath regularly with the baby but that really great scrub & shave in the shower? It can be too long. Too long for the likes of those around me, too long for my baby’s head when he snuggles with me and then smells like me. Too long for everyone involved around here. I have the solution. Really, truly. Pitty Party. Molly’s organic skincare line just released deodorant. Of course, she knows me of old. It works. It WORKS. It WORKS!!!!!!!!! For a long time. And it’s so delicious and easy to put on with your fingers because you just rub it on your hands & knuckles afterwards–no post-application wash required. Not too grainy. Not too thin. All around da best. Buy now. 2) Raising kids with special needs. Did…
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Brace yourself for an avalanche of cliches. And one grainy iPhone pic. My freshly-minted, five-this-summer, clever and bold son learned to ride his bike this week. We were talking on Saturday and I said, “You want to ride your bike without training wheels? I think you’re ready.” His response? “Let’s do this thing!” Can you tell he listens near daily to Twins Sports Talk on the radio? He occasionally demonstrates a broadcaster voice subconsciously. This was one of those times. AA pealed off the training wheels and the gaggle of us five struggled and strutted down the driveway. I kept saying things in a low, confident voice like Balance equal weight on both feet and handle bars or a random where you look is where you go or to my husband DO NOT LET GO OF THE BACK OF HIS SEAT!!!!! My husband, on the other handlebar (hardy har har), was all easy confidence. He succeeded in hushing me up a bit and swatting away my overly protective handy-hands that wanted to dive in and grab the wheels. He walked behind him holding the back of the seat for a while, uttered a few guy-tone phrases (AKA mama couldn’t decipher from this distance), and before you know it, SuperBoy was flying. Fledgling birds got nothing on their mamas’ hearts like my son had on mine in that moment. I actually choked because I inhaled so sharply. The baby was on my back and I nearly smashed his chin into my shoulder blades when my…
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I was dubious. Couldn’t I teach my children everything? (including how to pick up trash as shown above?) I mean, come on. I am a devoted mother. I am an educated woman. I’m at home with them. Clearly I’m their only-ever teacher on every-thing-except-Calculus-don’t-ask-me-how-I-survived-AP-Calc. Another big wrong-o lesson for this insufferable woman over here living at my house and wearing my favorite target pj dress with built in bra that’s not fit for wearing all day like I do. This summer we had the extreme fortune of a handful of dedicated and lovely young lady teachers for the kids. I couldn’t love them more. And neither could the kids. From my little feisty lady’s music class wherein she daydreamed before class about how she and Teacher Julia could somehow play the instruments–JUST US, MAMA–for the whole class instead of sharing with the other kids, to a myriad of swim coaches at the two-week boot camps that we ran back to back to back to back to back, I was floored. We indulged in plenty of sewing JUST YOU AND ME, MAMA this summer too. But I’m not the best teacher. I can’t get this machine to really work. The magic of the teacher who isn’t the mother is deep. She offers an outside voice that somehow my selective-hearing-syndrom children could hear and heed. She captured their trust and their hearts and encouraged them with the energy of a 20 some year old (oh, those days gone by) whilst I’m concerned about…
Read MoreWell it’s the dog days of summer. I have no idea what that means. But I do know that I look around and think wowweeee I’m blessed. Not only because I have this rowdy fun family. But also because our seemingly overwhelming days of nonstop whining and tantrums are paired with blissful afternoons playing at the park, in the pool, reading books, and rushing off exactly no where. Except to catch that baby who insists on trying to emulate his naughty brother. (I do find myself repeatedly exclaiming “do not encourage bad behavior” because the big kids cheer him on whenever he’s being ambitious, shall we say.) The kids are taking greater risks and presumably experiencing more joyous rewards? I was on the phone in the Library when I heard a strange grunting noise. I had no child in eyesight (probably a real classy mom move there, novice nell) but when I stepped into the Entrance Hall, I beheld a car seat that had previously been stationed in the Dining Room, a whole room away mind you, now parked in front of the mail table that centers itself in the Hall. With an occupant. And a chauffer. Let’s just say he was elated and I was chagrined. How she dragged him + the base + the carseat I have no clue. Real buff girl here. Best part of summer? We had all the cousins together for a special event. The kids mauled their littlest cousin. I mean, there were outright scuffles…
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