AUTHOR ARCHIVES :

Time Out

 I love timeouts. Not for my daughter, but for me, and not in the context of getting punished or anything like that. Just a good old time out for relaxing. Which, by the way, needs to happen more often I’ve decided. Easy you say. Wrong I say. But that’s what weekends are for, you say. Not always, I say. That’s what extra days off are for, I say. I finally had one that wasn’t taken over by a “to do” list. The only thing “to do” was to go to the beach. Mission Accomplished.

  It may sound dumb, but the beach day was just what I needed. I packed up my daughter and all our paraphernalia and off we were. I used to go to the beach with just a chair and one bag. Now there’s a chair, a beach bag, a diaper bag, a bag of beach toys, and a cooler for those GoGurts. That may not sound relaxing, but I’m getting there.
  Once we got everything settled and met up with our friends, my daughter and I were in our glory. She played with those sand toys for nearly four hours! She didn’t even know I existed, until she wanted to walk to the water. I really couldn’t believe it. Usually she gets bored with a toy in no time. Her obession with the sand allowed me to get some sun, chat it up, and just relax. There were no dishes in the sink calling my name or crumbs whispering to get picked up. There was just the sound of ocean and the breeze. I definetly like those sounds so much better.
  Listening to the those sounds and pretty much doing nothing took up most of the day. My daughter didn’t want to go home and neither did I. But when we did leave, my head felt a lot clearer on the ride home. I felt refreshed, My daughter felt tired, she fell asleep in two-point-two seconds! I wasn’t agitated and didn’t feel like I was going to scream like a raging female dog (which is usually the case these days, but I’m blaming the pregnancy hormones!). I simply felt calm. Time for another time out!

Too Much Too Soon?

  We all know kids grow up too fast, but from some of the things I’ve seen lately, I think we’re giving them no choice, and it’s really starting to bug me. First of all, some call them cute, but I don’t think toddlers and pre-schoolers need to wear two-piece itsy bitsy teenie-weenie yellow polka dot bikinis. You can say I’m a prude, but I think little girls don’t need to show so much skin. If they’re showing that much at 3 and 5, what are they going to wear at 13 and 16? With so many pervs out there, I think you’re only fueling the fire. On the practical side, if they wear a one piece, that’s just less sunscreen to put on. If you’ve ever tried to put sunscreen on a kid, you know it’s not a fun experience.
  Another thing that’s been getting under my skin is this report I saw on designer clothes for babies and toddlers. Call me cheap, but does a 6 month-old need to wear Dior or Versace? It’s still going to stain when they spit up on it, poop on it, or smear sweet potatoes all over it. The difference is, when the stains don’t come out, you’re not going to be out 10 or 15 bucks, you’ll be out a couple of hundred. But, hey, atleast your kid looks cute, right? Wrong! Kids grow out of clothes so fast, why would you want to waste your money? I don’t get it.
   I will be the first to admit I buy my daughter’s clothes on sale and use coupons whenever I can. And I’ll let you in on a big secret, I even buy some of her clothes and shoes in Walmart! I know, the humanity! Right now, she has the cutest pair of Walmart brand Garanimals sneakers that she loves. Does she know they’re not Puma or Nike? No. Does she care? No. Do I care? No. Am I saving money? You betcha! These days what’s wrong with saving a few dollars? Here’s an even bigger secret, if I see a cute shirt or something that I like in Walmart I may actually buy it for myself! I know, the fashion gods would have a field day with me!
  I just think that if you teach your kids to be into labels at such an early age, you’re only opening up the door to disaster down the road. If they’re used to designer now, there’s a good chance that’s what they’re always going to want. If you can support that kind of lifestyle until age 18, God bless you. But, I think these days most of us can’t.
  There are so many things that are making kids grow up fast these days, I could go on for hours and hours. This is going to make me sound so old, but when I was growing up, we didn’t have smart phones and internet access at our fingertips. We didn’t text, tweet, Facebook…or God forbid sext! Somehow I survived. I did play video games, I did talk on the phone, but I also read books, and even kept Barbie driving around in her pink metallic corvette for as long as I could. If you couldn’t tell, I didn’t wear high fashion clothes and can’t remember wearing a bikini (but that was probably because I could never really get rid of that baby fat!). Despite no Versace, no phone, and one piece bathing suits, I think I turned out pretty good.  
 
 
 

Props to the Pops

  So we all know how important a mother is in a child’s life, but let’s not forget the Dads. Since Father’s Day is approaching, it’s time to give props to the Pops out there. Unfortunately, a lot of kids don’t get to grow up with their Dads for a variety of reasons. But for those who are lucky enough to have their Dads around, it’s really a bond you can’t describe. I can tell you from experience that it all starts at birth.

  From the second my daughter was born, my husband was in love. She had him wrapped around her tiny finger. I could tell that he would move heaven and earth to give her all this world has to offer. He would protect her from all the evils, soothe her when she has a nightmare, and teach her right from wrong. Wouldn’t all Dads? That’s their job. Dads are there to keep a watchful eye. Dads are there to try to make sure no one hurts you. Dads want the best for you and want you to be the best. They brag about your accomplishments and encourage you when you don’t quite make the mark.
  While Dads express pride about their kids, kids are also pretty proud of their Dads. When it comes to those career days at school, you can hear kids say, “My Dad does this…my Dad does that.” Kids take bragging rights when it comes to their fathers. That’s why being a Dad is not something that should be taken lightly. Unfortunately though, there are some bad ones in the bunch. I always say you need a license to do a lot of things, but anyone can become a parent. My heart goes out to those kids. Hopefully they have someone else in their life that can help fill the void.
  Dads certainly do have a special place in a child’s heart. I know when I tell my daughter “Daddy’s home”, she drops me and everything else like a hot potato and runs to the door. Although I hear this changes as they get older, it really is the most precious thing to see these days. Dad is definitely the hero in her eyes. No doubt about that one. In our house, Dad is also the more fun one, so there’s always plenty of giggles and smiles. Sure I can make our daughter laugh, but not quite like Daddy. There is something magical there that just can not be put into words.
   I know as she grows up and reaches all those milestones, our daughter will always be looking back to make sure Daddy is there to watch and he’ll be looking forward to warn her of any bumps in the road ahead.
   So this Father’s Day instead of buying another tie or tool set, just give props to the Pops. They truly do deserve it.

Milk Money

    Back in the day, kids used to get milk money from their moms. Nowadays, moms are making their own milk money, so to speak. They’re cashing in on their excess breast milk. Perhaps you’ve heard, moms are selling their breast milk and pumping up their bank accounts in the process.

  This stuff really freaks me out. Anyone who knows me can tell you I’m in favor of breast feeding. I’m not a member of “La Leche League” or anything like that, but I think it’s great for the baby, good for bonding, and not to mention a fabulous way to lose that baby weight quickly without much effort. But I think your breast milk, should be for your kid, not for some random babies across the country.That’s just me.
   I’ve been doing a lot of reading about this because I just find it intriguing and completely odd at the same time. Apparently, some women are earning hundreds of dollars a month. Now I get it. It’s just that when you’re breastfeeding you kinda already feel like a dairy cow, now some women are really becoming one. While some produce just cups a day, others can produce gallons. As many of you may know, even if you freeze it, breast milk does have a shelf life. So these women have found a way to not let anything go to waste.
   Besides the fact that the whole thing just creeps me out, you gotta think about the health factor.Your breast milk has nutrients YOUR body makes for YOUR baby. Some babies are already allergic to their own mother’s breast milk, so why would you want to take a chance with a stranger’s? In fact, even the FDA is not recommending people buy breast milk on the open market because it could lead to disease. Why would you want to put your baby at risk? I say if you can’t make it, breast may not be best, and formula should be the way to go.
  I’ve heard some people say selling breast milk is no different than accepting donated blood or going to a sperm bank. If you look at it as if you’re just taking another bodily fluid then I guess you could make your case. But, I’m not convinced. If breast milk were something that should be shared with everyone and bought by anyone, I would find it in the dairy section at Stop & Shop. But I don’t. Who knows though, someday that could be coming! Never say never!

The Real Deal

   You’ve heard the saying, you have to see it to believe it. Well, I kinda feel that way when it comes to pregnancy. Now that I’m five months along, although it’s round two,  I think I’ve finally realized it’s the real deal. It may sound dumb, but it’s true. For some reason, the second time around is different, both mentally and physically. When you first find out you’re pregnant, you can’t see the proof. Sure you may feel it with the morning sickness (yeah, never had that! ha ha) and other aches and pains. You may feel a little run down, but your clothes still fit and for the most part people can’t even tell. Although there are the few who always say they can. They either have some kind of spidey sense or they are great BS’ers. Some people may tell you you’re glowing, but I think that’s a crock too.

  As you notice your body start changing, a little light bulb starts to go on. There’s someone growing inside. In the beginning, it may just look like you’ve hit the McDonald’s drive-thru one too many times. I kinda felt like I had a beer gut, although I haven’t had any alcohol in months. Then a little pouch forms and you notice it’s different than just fat. It’s a little rounder and a little more formed.
  The months start going by and of course you get bigger and bigger and you start to notice it. And so does everyone else. And they’re not shy about telling you. I love when people tell me, “Oh, you’ve gotten so big.” Gee thanks. I already feel like a Tell-a-Tubbie. Now you’re just confirming it. Not only are the signs visible from the outside, but you can also see them from the inside during the ultrasounds. Those are the best part. It’s amazing to see a little head, arms, legs, and everything else constantly growing. It’s mind-blowing to think such a little person is inside with their own heart, their own lungs, their own everything. . It makes all the weight and swelling worth it. I have to admit I get a little misty during those ultrasounds. There’s just something about knowing that that little person on that monitor is your baby. It may sound corny, but it really is the miracle of life
  So now, I sit ( a lot by the way) at the more than half-way point, wondering what he or she will look like, wondering what the next 18 weeks will hold. A lot of wondering, but knowing inside (and out)  that this is the real deal.

Calgon Take Me Away!

   It’s been a long day. I’ve been up for almost 18 hours. I just want to lay on the couch and catch up on my three episodes of “Glee” that are in the DVR. But, that’s just not going to happen. It’s the witching hour. Moms, Dads, you know what I’m talking about. It’s the time just after your child’s bath, just before bedtime, when they have somehow gotten their second wind and are ready to party like Steven Tyler from Aerosmith. It’s the time when your speed is set more like Barry Manilow’s “Mandy.” It’s time for bed…A.K.A. mom’s chill time.
  I try to give the “let’s chill” signal by dimming the lights and getting my daughter a little snack. We do a little reading which is always the same book because that’s what she loves. I wish she would realize it’s no longer Valentine’s Day and Elmo has figured out who sent him “this beautiful valentine.” But that’s o.k. It’s really cute the way she gets excited each time we read it like she’s never heard the story before. Sometimes this works, other times, I try to lay down while she tries to pull me off the coach with all her little might. She gets frustrated. I get frustrated. She starts to cry. I feel like I want to cry. What on God’s green earth could you possible want? You’re clean. You’ve being fed. Most times, you’ve had a pretty good day with lots of playing and attention. Can’t Mommy just chillax? Ha! Yeah, No.
  Since I wake up for work when most people are enjoying their sleep, my couch/DVR time is really limited and precious.Sometimes I get up to see what she wants, other times I just let her work it out herself. Meantime, I’ve paused “Glee” on the DVR for the third time. If my husband is home, he can see the frustration building. I can feel horns coming out of head and the female dog inside me is barking to come out. It kinda feels like Michael J. Fox in “Teen Wolf.” (but not nearly as funny) You just can’t control it. And bam…it happens. I start yelling like a crazy woman. My husband sometimes just sits there, other times tries to take control of our daughter and tells me to calm down. My daughter usually just stands there and looks at me, probably wondering what my problem is. There just comes a time of the day/night when you can’t take much more. Then of course, I feel bad for losing my temper. But, I just wanted to watch my “Glee”.  Is that too much to ask?

  Some parents have told me they just put their children in their bed or crib and let them lay there and cry it out until they get so tired they pass out. Different strokes for different folks I guess. If I do that, I still have to hear her scream. I still can’t watch my “Glee”. Problem not solved. Oh Calgon, Take Me Away! (or just let me watch my “Glee”) 

It’s a Boy! It’s a Girl! It’s a ….

    Surprise! You hear that word a lot if you go to a party where someone is celebrating some kind of milestone birthday. You hear it sarcastically when you’ve just heard something you really wish you hadn’t. I’ve noticed the majority of the surprises in my life aren’t things I really want to remember. But there are a handful that I hold near and dear to my heart. One of those is the surprise of not finding out the sex of my daughter before she was born. I remember everyone saying, “Oh my God! How could you wait?” “Don’t you want to know?” Of course I wanted to know, of course I was curious. But my husband and I thought the element of surprise would far outweigh the benefit of knowing months before the baby was born. We were right. I remember the second my daughter was born and the doctor said “It’s a Girl!”. My emotions were already at their highest peak, and that just made it all the better.

  Despite the feelings of euphoria of not finding out the sex of my child during my first pregnancy, I swore I would find out with my second.Why? Simple, it would be more convenient. If I knew I was having another girl I could just start washing clothes and I would be all prepared when the baby arrives. If not, I could start going shopping for everything blue I could find. But, the more I talked with my husband, the more I began to realize I really wanted the surprise again. It kinda felt like if I knew, it would be one less thing to look forward to on that special day. There would be no more surprises, except for the whole going into labor thing! 
  So when we went for the mother of all ultrasounds and the tech asked if we were finding out the sex, we said no. She told us to look away for a second and I can honestly say I did. Although during the whole thing I was looking in that area to see if I could see any sign of a third leg. I couldn’t help myself. It was like Adam and Eve and the whole forbidden fruit thing…okay maybe not that dramatic. Even though we decided not to find out, I was still so curious. I looked. I couldn’t detect any male parts, but then again, I’m sure the tech wasn’t focusing down there too much.
  As she left, she asked if we wanted her to write the sex down on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope and give it to us. She said then if we changed our mind, we could find out. We just had to open the envelope. We both said no way. That’s like leaving a crack pipe on the counter for a recovering drug addict…you know just in case you change your mind. No thanks. From what I hear, we are in the minority for not finding out. But that’s okay I usually like to do my own thing anyway, so it’s kinda fitting.
  So this time around, I won’t be prepared for blue or pink and that’s o.k.  Instead I will be thinking of another gender neutral theme for the new baby’s nursery and looking for those yellow and green clothes.  During the next 20 weeks my husband and I will start to think about possible boy and girl names and probably argue, just like the first time around. But, in the end, it will all work out. The nursery will be perfect. The name will fit, and with God’s help we’ll have another healthy surprise.

The Perfect Present

   Many men search and search for the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Where do I go? What do I get? What does she really want? Jewelry, flowers, a fancy dinner…they’re all great gifts, but not really what I’m looking for this Mother’s Day. Although if they did come my way, I wouldn’t say no! (Mama didn’t raise a fool!)
   Although I’m only about to celebrate my second year of this joyous holiday, I’ve quickly come to realize being a mom can sometimes be a thankless job. Don’t misunderstand me though, the rewards are great. Seeing your child do something or say something for the first time, or just getting a big old hug and smile are heart-warming. But sometimes, you just need a little something extra.
   As mothers, we do so much besides take care of our children. Often times, we’re the cooks, the maids, the organizers, the financial planners…etc. And those jobs are just ones that have to do with the house. Many of us work outside the home, which brings on a whole other dimension of responsibilities and headaches. We do all these things with hardly ever getting a “thank-you” or a “good job” or a “hey, can I help you with that?”. I’ve learned all the hats we wear as mothers just seem to come along with having a uterus.
   So this Mother’s Day, it would be great to actually hear the appreciation through words, not just gifts. They say actions speak louder than words. But, not when those words are never spoken. Although you may know you are appreciated, it would be nice to hear it once…and really it probably will only happen once! I’m not talking about a sappy litany of appreciation and love sponsored by Hallmark. A simple, “Thanks, you’re the best” would really be the perfect present. Guys, if your little ones can’t the words out yet, it’s your job to be the spokesman. Those words will never rot and smell bad in a vase in a week. They’ll never be forgotten at the bottom of the jewelry box or be spent on something foolish. They’ll actually be something remembered, something treasured…the perfect present.

I Just Want to Enjoy a Movie!

   I just want to watch a movie. Period. Plain and simple. I wish. Perhaps I should clarify by saying I just want to enjoy a movie. That is actually the task at hand that is turning into mission impossible these days. Because of my nutso schedule, the only nights I can stay up to do this are Friday and Saturday. Wouldn’t you know those are the nights my daughter wants to party likes its 1999. Ironically, the movie I have been wanting to watch is “Little Fockers”. We’ll just leave it at that, you can make your own jokes. The last time my husband and I actually went to the movies we tried to watch it, but it sold out while we were in line. Figures. (That will tell you just how many times we get out to the movies these days)

  So for the past two Friday and Saturday nights, I’ve dreamed of just sitting on my couch with my husband, enjoying a movie and some snacks. Instead, we’ve been battling with my daughter to go to sleep. During the week, she’s down at a reasonable hour. The trouble is, so am I! We’ve filled her with food, locked up all the toys, and even laid her on the couch to make her relax. Sounds pretty good, right? Wrong. She climbs up and down the couch, bouncing back and forth between my husband and I non-stop. I’ve even taken her downstairs and tried some old school tactics like rocking in the chair. When that doesn’t work, the hard-core tactics take effect which include putting her in the crib and letting her cry. That last time until I get so frustrated, I called my husband in for back-up. I yell, he tells me to calm down, he takes over. She eventually falls asleep and so do I. By this time it’s 11:00 and the last thing I want to do is watch a movie. Forget about enjoying anything.
  My husband asks why we just can’t put the movie on while she’s up. Really? Have you met our daughter? Have you just not witnessed what has happened over the past two hours? Like I said, I could easily watch a movie. But, I want to enjoy a movie. It seems like I’d have better luck winning the lotto these days. Movie? Lotto? Odds are looking pretty slim for both!                    
 

Front Seat Rider

   I really thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Nope, I did see a woman holding a baby in the front seat of a minivan while approaching the toll booth to go over the George Washington Bridge. There was tons of traffic. People switching lanes everywhere, horns beeping, hand gestures flying. In the middle of all this chaos, that little baby unprotected in the front seat of that minivan.  In fact, everyone in the SUV along with me saw it too and had the same reaction I did. What was she thinking?
   When you become a parent, you take on a major responsibility whether you want it or not, and whether you’re ready for it or not. You are now responsible for another life. Period. That means it’s your job to protect that little person and be there for them in every way that you can. In my opinion, protecting them is not putting them in the front seat of your minvan with no seatbelt and no protection.
   We all know kids are supposed to ride in the backseat (or atleast most of us know that). The American Academy of Pediatrics now recommends children stay rear facing in the back seat of the car until they’re two or until they’ve met the height or weight requirements of the car seat. Many states also have laws. Interestingly enough, I went to look up the laws in New Jersey, which is where we were when we witnessed this front seat ride that almost made me have a heart attack. Wouldn’t you know, New Jersey, like many states, requires kids up to age 8 or 80 pounds ride in the back, unless the car has no rear seat. Trust me there was plenty of rear seats in that minivan.
   I would love to know what that woman was thinking. She was no spring chicken, so I would assume she was familiar with the law, or atleast with common sense. Was she the mom? Did she bring the baby in the front because he or she was crying, hungry, lonely, what? Couldn’t have she just gone in the back with the baby? Why didn’t the driver say something? I don’t know. I’ll never know. What I do know is that I said a little prayer for that baby. I hope that minivan got to its destination safely so that little baby wasn’t the victim of someone’s stupidity.