Milkshakes and Margaritas — a blog for the modern mom

Is it Bribery or an Incentive?

We're not unlike many families with young children in our A.M struggle to get out the door and to school on time. There are many factors involved... sleepyheads (all 4 of us), losing things, sibling squabbles, cereal in the ear. I could go on, but you know the drill. Instead I'll tell you about my terrible little secret. (whispering) For the past 3 days my boys have gotten themselves up and dressed, shoes on and teeth brushed without a word from us, and only a little help on tie shoes and twisted shirts. (knock knock) Amazing, right! 

How did I do it? What's the secret...

Virginia, It Was All a Lie

My kid is the Christmas Scrooge. Last summer during a BBQ at our house, he came running up to me and said, "I think it is time Ava knew." "Knew what?" I asked. "That Santa doesn't exist!" he said. Yikes!!

Yup, my kid is the one who will ruin it for the rest of you -- thanks to my mom. She told him last year when he was 5 years old that there was no Santa, "because he asked," she said. Ok, how about a little creative thinking here. You don't have to just outright say he's a farce, a big fat lie, an illusion. She could have asked what he thought and go from there. Santa exists -- in our hearts so you can still say it with a straight face.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Santa-eop2.jpg
 

But now that he knows, he feels like it is his duty to set the record straight for the rest of the world. He talks about it constantly. He even asked me if he could tell his friends if he got the go-ahead from their parents first. Envisioning him yelling out to my friend Sophia, "Can I tell Ava that Santa doesn't exist?" I put the kibosh on that too.

I don't actually remember when I stopped believing in Santa but I'm pretty sure it was later than five. I guess I didn't ask! And once that cat is out of the bag, it opens the floodgates to all sorts of doubts about the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny. They're all out of the closet too in our house.

I know someone whose teenage girls still believe in Santa because their uncle dresses up as the big guy every year and puts the presents under the tree, sneaking out the back door just as the girls are brought around the corner by their parents to see him slip out. That might be taking it a little far and I could imagine Cash getting his butt kicked on the playground if he had still been a believer at age 12. But five was a little young to take the magic out of Christmas. Although it has made buying presents a little easier. It is easy to say that "Santa can't afford that motorized car you want" when your kid knows you are Santa. Show him the checkbook.

Do your kids still believe? Share your tales of Santa with us.

Sleep Like a Baby-Wise Baby

I'm passing my copy of "Baby Wise" to a friend and I'm feeling nostalgic about it. It may be controversial but I'm standing by it.
 

 

The book, "On Becoming Baby Wise," which advocates placing newborns on a schedule in the first few weeks, is a lightning rod for controversy. A nurse practically hit the Code Blue button after a friend of mine mentioned she was planning to use the book's techniques with her newborn. A team of lactation  specialists rushed in and warned her that it is a dangerous book.

Maybe they are assuming parents are morons. The book is careful to caution that you should always feed a hungry baby, it just assures parents that babies cry for other reasons than hunger, and helps you get through the first months without going insane.

I am a huge proponent of the book and I send it to all my friends who are having babies. Not only did both my children sleep through the night at around 10 weeks, we never had to do the cry-it-out technique to get them sleeping basically 10-12 hours straight nightly. I have friends who ignored the book who either finally turned to the cry-it-out technique, often with the help of expensive sleep consultants, or who just threw up their hands and slept with their children for what seems like well into the elementary school years. But everyone I know who used the book, has happy, well-rested babies -- and are able to get sleep themselves.

Parting with the book is a concrete reminder that my last baby is no longer an infant, that he is growing up. Catcher just turned one and he is sleeping like, well like a baby. Like a baby trained through Baby Wise, that is.

With both our children, people looked at us with amazement and jealousy when we said that our babies were sleeping through the night at 10 weeks (and the long stretches of six to eight hours started much earlier). It wasn't luck. It was the book.

The technique is very simple. You put your infant on a three-hour feeding schedule. With my older son, we waited probably as long as two weeks to start that. But Catcher basically put himself on that schedule from the start. The important part is not to nurse the baby to sleep. So you feed baby and then "play" with him for at least 20 minutes before putting him down for a nap. At first it seems like a struggle to keep the baby awake and there is no reason to torture him if he really wants to sleep. Even keeping the baby awake for a few minutes by changing his diaper can work at the beginning. The main point is to teach the baby to fall asleep on his own without having to be soothed to sleep every time. That way, when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he can fall back asleep on his own.

First Birthday Theme is a Favorite

My son Cash starts planning the theme of his next birthday party literally as the last guests are out the door of the current party. Although he loves characters like Mickey Mouse, Spiderman and the like, he's mostly shied away from traditional commercial themes and we've thrown some pretty creative parties over the years. Ok, the first few years were my ideas because he was too little to participate, but he's jumped onto the creative bandwagon. Last year we had an "I Spy" party where we had to make everything, including the pinata, because you can't find I Spy birthday party supplies anywhere. We even made a cake that was like an "I Spy" page with literally dozens of different types of gummy candies, from penguins, sharks and spiders to a gummy egg. His birthday is in April but we are already talking about it at least weekly, planning what we will need for the party — a carnival theme. The only thing not on the table at this point is a backyard roller coaster.

So needless to say, I'm one of THOSE parents when it comes to parties...

There's a New Sheriff in Town

Today, just before his first birthday, my sweet little baby took a turn. After I cleaned out the "trough" (see previous postings on "Fast Food") of his Bibbity bib, he turned to me with a mischievous look and picked up some spaghetti and dropped it slowly back in. The look on my face must have been what he was looking for because he did it again. Then I couldn't help but laugh. Oh no, he is his brother.

When Cash was about the same age, he kept touching the stove and I kept saying no. Finally, we came to such a standoff that he would stand straight bodied about an inch from the stove and just turn around and just look at me as if to say, "Ha, ha, ha." Either that or he'd rub his butt on the stove and laugh.

Since Cash has maintained that defiant and mischievous streak, sometimes driving me absolutely to the end (see Wild Things posting), I'm hoping to nip it in the bud now. Time to pull out, "Raising a Happy, Unspoiled Child," by Burton L. White. While I had the book when Cash was a baby, I never read it. This time I'm going to be an A student and do the reading! But if that fails, I always have a second chance with "1-2-3 Magic, Effective Discipline for Children 2-12," which gives you a technique to help you to stop trying to rationalize with your kids when they are doing something you don't like.

I don't need another "King" in the house.

iPod Apps for the Wee Ones

Once you get over freaking out every time your child touches your iPhone, there are some great iPhone applications to educate and entertain your kids. This comes in particularly handy in instances such as, mmm, at a restaurant when they bring the kids food out first, the kids are done eating and now you are trying to have your dinner but they just want to go and run around... But I digress.

Cute Math: games that teach math basics
Peek a Boo Barn: behind the barn doors an animal makes a sound and the player has to guess.
Jirbo Match: a super cute memory game (that you can catch me playing once in a while).*
ABC Animals: interactive flash cards that aid in teaching letter recognition and pronunciation.
First Words and Word Magic: the player drags in the letters to spell the right word. 

There are also apps for learning spanish, story and entertainment games and more.

And for Mom and Dad...
Babyphone: turn your iphone into a baby monitor.
Mom Maps: find local parks, kid friendly restaurants and more.

*Dillon (3 yrs) has better scores than I do on Jirbo Match!

The New Baby Book By Gmail

I had big ambitions for my son Cash's baby book. My mother-in-law had passed down the baby book she kept for my husband, chronicling everything from his first foods and when each tooth came in to the time he got the gold ring on the carousel (yes, he's that old). It was overflowing with minute details about his first years. Hoping to capture the moments of Cash's life as carefully, I bought a charming hand-made book from a crafty friend. I bought dozens of scrap booking pages and little accents for them. I never did anything with any of it. And I've uploaded thousands -- literally like 6,000 -- photos to Shutterfly. But I stopped ordering them after Cash's first Christmas. They are just there. What I regret most about the gap between my ambitions and reality is that I constantly thought, "Well, I'll remember that because it was so sweet...or so funny" and didn't take the time to write things down. So many memories lost.

My friend Kate has come up with the perfect solution for the mom who is too busy (or lazy or whatever) to do a baby book or even a journal. She set up a gmail account for her son and she sends him e-mails detailing his life and the memorable moments. That way, there isn't the pressure to carve out time. She can just whip out an e-mail whenever she has something to say. You can even attach photos.

Where the Wild Things Are: In My House

The New York Times had an article recently reporting that “shouting is the new spanking”. Parents who wouldn't think of spanking their children are instead yelling their heads off. And the experts think it might be just as harmful. Apparently my kid is going to be seriously screwed up because this week I did both. Talk about guilt.

 

I'll admit that we tried spanking a few times a couple years ago because no punishment seemed to work with Cash. But we never had the heart to hit him hard enough to really hurt him and he just mocked us. "I liked it, I liked it, spank me, spank me," he would say, shaking his booty at us. I quickly realized that it just wasn't the way to go and as we all know, it sent the wrong message. We were saying that he shouldn't ever hit anyone and yet we were hitting him.

But on Wednesday, I had to take both kids across the bridge to Ikea to buy new mattresses for Cash's bed. 

Got Glass?

I've been obsessed with replacing all of our plastic food containers since I sat across from The Chronicle's environmental reporter during a meeting a few years ago and she held up a note reading, "STOP, put that down, don't drink!!" and pointed to my Nalgene water bottle. She told me that the hard plastic bottle was not  safe. A couple years later, the uproar over BPA erupted and that sealed it. I threw away virtually all of our plastic cups, plates and containers.

 
When Catcher was born last year, I vowed to use all glass bottles to feed him. That meant throwing away all the plastic Advent bottles I had saved from when Cash was a baby (that poor kid is clearly filled with toxins).

Initially I was obsessed with the WeeGo baby bottles because of the attractive silicone sleeve. They were designed with asthetics in mind and were even sold at the SF MOMA because they look so cool. I registered for them but didn't get any at my baby shower - probably because they are really expensive. And I realized that I could get cheaper regular glass bottles and buy a protective sleeve separately. They wouldn't be as attractive but I couldn't be THAT choosy. So I have been using the Born Free bottles to feed Catcher. Truth be told, I ended up staying home with him and he rarely had a bottle so it was a bit of a moot point anyway. But I digress.

The Lifefactory company, which produces the WeeGo glass bottles recently sent Milkshakes and Margaritas a sample of their 9 oz. bottle. It certainly looked good. In the name of testing the product's durability, I gave it to Catcher with water. He immediately started sucking on it even though his normal bottle has a much different nipple. And even though he threw it down repeatedly during the day, even onto pavement, it never shattered.

Even more importantly, I found that it fits on the breast pump attachments for the Madela Pump In Style. I have been using Evenflo and Medela glass bottles for pumping and I was pleased to see that the WeeGo glass bottle worked as well. What is the point of feeding your baby from glass bottles if the milk you are giving him is pumped into plastic and stored in plastic? I bought about 20 Evenflo glass bottles from another mom and use them to store and freeze my milk. While you would spend a fortune doing that with the WeeGo bottles, in blue, yellow, orange and pink, they are a great accessory to your baby.

Go glass!

hmmm...

No Room for My Boobs

I just got back last night from a work trip to Washington, DC, without the baby and my boobs were the size of Pamela Anderson's and as hard as a rock. I had been pumping all along during breaks in my meetings but I didn't get a chance to do a last pumping session before I headed to the airport with my bag full of milk bottles. Because San Francisco International Airport has a nursing room, I figured that I could at least find a family restroom where I could hook up. Nope. No such thing, at least in the United terminal of Dulles airport. And I was turned away when in desperation I went to the elite traveler's "Red Carpet Club" to ask if they had a private bathroom or area where I could pump. The woman at the front desk had no sympathy. "This is a club for paying members," she sneered at me. So my pumping options were to sit on the floor in the terminal and pump in front of everyone or to stand at a sink in the shared bathroom and pump. After walking through the entire terminal in an attempt to find just a corner of privacy, I had only a few minutes left before boarding. So I opted to go for the big boobs.

http://www.peta.org/crueltydoesntfly/default.asp

You can bet that the officials at United Airlines and Dulles International Airport are going to hear from me tomorrow!

When Mommy is Sick

It's so hard, when mommy is sick. It seems the whole house falls apart. Baths get skipped, lunches go unmade, clothes stay dirty. Or do they? Do we do it all anyway even though we need to rest. Partly because we have to. They need lunch, right! So I have an idea. Anyone want to take it on? How about a service for sick mommies. They come in, clean, make lunches, pick up the milk, whatever you need. And when you are all better, poof they are gone. Any takers?

Don’t Drink the Kool-Aid

When my 6-year-old son Cash came to me during a playdate recently and asked me for a "pollute the earth water bottle", I realized just how completely I have brainwashed him. He wanted the bottle for a magic trick but he knows that we don't buy plastic water bottles except in "emergencies" because, well... they pollute the earth.

But the mind control doesn't stop there. I feel a little like Morgan Spurlock, who in his movie "Super Size Me" about the dangers of fast food, said that if he had kids, he would punch them in the face every time they passed McDonald's so that their association with the restaurant would be negative.

My Protective Bubble: Repels Children and All Others

The other night my mother came over to watch the kids because I had a doctor's appointment late in the day. When I was finished, it was nearly 7:30 p.m. I walked down to a coffee shop to get a Chai Latte and retreated to my car.

I wasn't planning on driving. I just wanted to be alone to relish a rare moment to relax and read. I turned on the overhead light and pulled out the previous Sunday's New York Times.

Thank You, You Tube

Do you remember the Ladybug picnic song from Sesame Street? 

“One two three... four five six... ladybugs... at the ladybug picnic...” 

Well it popped into my head the other day but I couldn't quite remember it, so I looked it up. My kids and I had a good half hour of fun on You Tube after that. Here are few other "oldies but goodies" from Jim Henson to check out...

Ladybug Picnic, Alligator King, Swedish Chef, Pigs in Space, and this one is for both the kids and the parents. I think it's a little... mmm... suspicious what he's selling. What do you think?

Live a Little: Throw Out The Instructions

The New York Times recently had a story about the rebirth of the Lego company. The 77-year-old company had slumping sales for years but has recently been doing gang-busters. The secret to its turnabout has been commercial tie-ins to movies and television shows, like Indiana Jones, Star Wars and Toy Story, the New York Times said.

It really bummed me out. The article notes that there is a loss of creativity in kids with the new Lego kits that direct you step by step how to build a particular thing. It said that you'd have a hard time finding just a big box of random Legos these days.

My Little Chatter Box

The other day Dillon was so excited to have me all to himself, he was just chattering away. In fact, I looked at the clock and he talked for 45 minutes straight. He's 3, so of course he was all over the place. From movies to vacations, to something he and his brother were doing. We were on our way to a class, and at one point I had to ask him to please be quiet for a few moments, so I could concentrate on finding a parking spot. He then pronounced  “No one likes a chatter box, momma.”

“What?”  I asked 

“No one likes a chatter box. That's what Bigweld says.”

“Oh!” Realizing he's repeating something from a movie. 

A moment of silence and then he says...

“What's a chatter box, momma?”

The Next Stage: Mom as Chopped Liver

Milkshakes and Margaritas is welcoming another contributor, Michelle Truelson, to the blog. She is starting off with a post that pulls at the heart strings but reminds us what we are striving for in raising our children.

It used to be that I couldn't even leave the house for a run without the cry of the wild.  I would literally have to pry my kids off me to get the smallest of breaks.  Entire date nights were ruined by my fear I had done lifelong mental damage to my kids by leaving them mid-scene.  The visual of the sitter holding them back from wanting, "one more hug," dominated our dinner conversation.  And the bitterness that my husband, "just didn't get it," would fill up what time we had left.  And to add insult to injury, all this anguish would cost us $150 minimum.  I longed for a guilt-free break - a seamless transition to "me" time.  And yet, even in the peak of it, I knew to hold tight.  I knew that those years were fleeting and someday I would long to be needed.  I just didn't know how much or how soon.

 

I’ll Take the Cheese

My husband has always considered visiting Walt Disney World or Disneyland as one of those things that is a burden when you have kids. Something low-brow to be endured. I've always sort of agreed. It is like celebrating Valentine's Day, American commercialism shoved down your throat. When we told people we were going to Florida on vacation to visit the in-laws, it was always with a bit of an eye-roll that we added that of course we were going to hit Disney World while we were there.

 

But now my eyes are more likely to tear up at the mention of Disney World, because as corny as it sounds, the day I spent there with my 6-year-old son Cash was one of the best of my life. As we explored the park, he was literally skipping and clicking his heels in the air because he was so happy. We spent more than 12 hours there, and for us that day, it really was the "Happiest place on Earth."

Cash is a very sensitive child so he had very little interest, or really no interest, in the traditional rides. He made a list of the things he wanted to see and the most adventurous ride on it was Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin. And he ended up being too scared to do that. The animatronic Buzz Lightyear was enough to make him sweat and the thought of a talking and moving Zurg sent him screaming out of the building. I tried once to coax (OK, carry) him back in but he was having none of it. After that, I decided that it was a day for him and I didn't care what we did. Whenever I called my husband, who stayed at the hotel pool with the baby, he asked whether we had gone on rides like the Pirates of the Caribbean, the Haunted Mansion or Splash Mountain. I know it drove him crazy that Cash refused to do any of that. He kept saying what a waste of money the day was. But I knew differently. I was there. And I was happy to give in to it completely. I giggled with Cash during our three visits to the Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor even after we had heard the jokes repeated. My heart swelled with my love for my child as we sang along with the dancing dolls and shouted out the different countries on our two boat rides through "It's a Small World.". I gamely reached into the air with him to try to grab the characters flying at us in the 3D show of Mickey's Philharmagic.

I embraced the experience. We both got Mickey Ears and wore them the entire day. We walked around holding hands and singing "It's a Small World" in falsettos constantly. And we stood in countless lines to meet the characters. I didn't mind because we talked and joked and sprayed each other with our squirt bottle as we waited. And Cash was so thrilled to meet the members of the Disney gang live. He knows at some level that they aren't real but for this day at least he suspended disbelief. So he was on a mission to  fill his new autograph book with the scratchings of the big mouse, the dog, the duck, and even a few random characters. I was so glad we didn't waste $20 a head (about $10 for kids) on the Disney Character breakfast at the hotel because all the same characters were available for meet and greets in the park. Although we had to wait in lines, most of them moved fairly quickly. Even Mickey took only about a half hour. And I was surprised at how much time the characters took with each child. They didn't rush them through. With every character, Cash handed over his autograph book and then stood for a few photos. And then the characters still were up for a little goofing around (Donald Duck kept trying to take of Cash's Mickey Mouse ears and others offered hugs or high fives) before saying goodbye. I was impressed that when we were looking for a particular character, almost any employee could tell us where he was. And if you go to "City Hall," the clerks can tell you the exact times that each character will appear and where to find them. Cash has been showing off his book to everyone who will take a look. He loves to talk about each signature -- that Mickey had huge hands, that Pluto made a funny squiggle at the end of his name, that Stitch wrote crazy and that Pluto put the book on his nose when he signed because that was where his eyes are, and it was a good platform for writing.

In general, I was amazed at how well the park ran despite the sheer number of people there every day. It was spotless. Every bathroom was clean. The streets were free of litter of any kind. Even at the end of the day, when there was a crush of people leaving, the lines for the Monorail were orderly and quick. And the workers were friendly beyond anything I had ever seen in a low-paying job. At one point, when we were waiting to get my funnel cake (my favorite amusement park treat!), Cash snapped the elastic on his mouse ears into his eye and started crying. But when the woman behind the counter asked him why he was crying, he sobbed, "I wanted chocolate ice cream." He had seen someone get vanilla ice cream and had just asked me if they had chocolate. I didn't know and we were past the ordering counter. The woman smiled and said, "Well, I can get you some chocolate ice cream!" and briskly went to the ice cream machine and handed Cash a towering bowl of swirled chocolate ice cream -- for free! She just wanted him to smile again. Because, as I said before, it IS the Happiest Place on Earth.

Although we had to get up the next morning at 4 a.m. to catch our flight home, I refused to listen to my husband when he said we should just tell Cash that we couldn't go to the SpectroMagic Parade at 9 p.m. We had looked at the Disney World website so Cash knew about the parade. I knew it would be a long time before we visit any Disney park again and I didn't want Cash to miss the incredible glowing floats.  It did not disappoint. I had never put Cash on my shoulders before but that was the only way for him to get a good view of the parade at first, so had someone hoist him up. Sweat was literally pouring down my face and body as I struggled under his 42 pounds. But it was worth the effort as he pointed and shouted out descriptions of different floats. And as the crowd thinned, I let him down and we made our way to the front row. But the real thrill came when the last float went by and they opened up the street behind the parade. We quickly jumped into line behind the floats and marched in the parade as its tail past the hordes of people still lining the route to the castle. It was truly magical.

We then sat down on the street for a spectacular fireworks show over the castle. Cash has a special connection to the castle because it is modeled on Neuschwanstein, King Ludwig's castle in the small German town where his grandfather Jeff (my dad) lives. We spent two months there when Cash was four, living in an apartment with a view of the castle. Watching the brilliant display over the castle was the perfect way to end the day.

However cheese-ball it is, there is nothing more magical than seeing your child experience the wonder and delight that I saw on Cash's face the entire day.

Beep Beep, Whaaaaa!

If your kids are anything like my two, they have an internal timer for errands. They let me get through two stores, 20 minutes each. We strap into the car, spill some Cheerios, whine about an unshared toy, reach our destination, get out of the car, shop, back to the car, drive, out of the car, back to the car. Tick, tick, tick … kaboom!

Their nuclear meltdown sends me rushing home for cover, even though I have a dozen more errands to run. That means I often spend my weekly mommy’s-night-out (meant for exercising or meeting friends) rushing to stores before they close at 9 p.m.

Enough is enough. I need more drive-thrus! Imagine driving up, ordering, paying and driving away without once waking a sleeping baby, fiddling with a car seat or cramming an unwilling little shopper in a cart. Ahhhh.

I live in car-culture California. You can drive through a tree here. So why can’t I find a drive-thru market, drug store, hardware store or restaurant that doesn’t sell French fries? Even if I wanted some salty, greasy goodness, my local In-N-Out in Mill Valley doesn’t have a drive–thru. What the hell?

I found a few essentials: drive-thru coffee, dry cleaners and pharmacy (for prescriptions only). But I need more. When I was growing up in Southern California my mom would take me through the drive-thru dairy for milk and cheese. How about a drive-thru deli with fresh sandwiches? Post office? Flu shots? Produce mart? I really need some carrots and celery for dinner tonight but I already used up my two errand limit. Grocery deliveries to home are okay, but only if you plan meals ahead. I’m incapable of planning ahead, ask anyone.

I live in an extremely eco-conscious part of Northern California, so my crusade for more drive-thrus won’t make me popular with my neighbors. Who cares? I drive a hybrid, my veggie garden is organic, I recycle and compost, and I carpool when I can. I deserve more convenience.

Got a favorite drive-thru? Let us know! And tell us what kind of drive-thru would make your life easier.

photo credit: I K Block, Flickr

A Sign That Mommy Needs a Break

It's a small thing. The boot in the hallway. How did it get there? I don’t know. That doesn't really matter. The real question is - how long is it going to stay? As of now, that boot has been in the hall for two days. It is an important hallway, we can't get anywhere in the house without going through it. Yet, I continue to step over it daily, (and clearly others are too). Don’t get me wrong - other things are getting done. My work is done, laundry's done, dishes r done. But the boot continues to stay there. I take it as a sign that I need a break. Margarita’s anyone?

Amish Unfriendship Bread

My mom gave me a starter batch of "Amish Friendship Bread" in a Ziploc baggie thinking that it would be a fun activity for me to do with my son Cash. Knowing that I am very social, she thought I'd enjoy handing the starter out to friends. I ended up cursing her and pissing off my friends.

By the end, when we were driving around delivering the squishy packages, Cash quipped, "Maybe they call it Amish Friendship Bread because you lose friends."

He wasn't kidding. I'll concede that it is something like a chain letter. And my friend Ted called me out on it immediately, sending me an e-mail saying, "Thanks for the Amish Ponzi Scheme Bread" after we left it with his wife. Danielle, my friend and co-conspirator on the blog, tried really hard to lose her batch, leaving it in my car overnight after I gave her a ride home, and then temporarily "misplacing" the recipe. And I'm pretty sure my friend Naomi just ignored the package.

The idea is to follow the Amish traditions, which do not allow the use of metals or refrigeration. You begin with a bag of "starter," a mix of yeast, water, flour, sugar and milk, and follow what would appear to be simple instructions but require you to at least read ahead and plan for the final steps, something that is not my strong suit. At the end, you take out three cups of the starter to separate into three bags and then bake your own bread.

I fell down on the job by Day 2. It would have been on Day 1, except that on the first day the instructions say, "Do nothing." Done!

But from Day 2 to Day 5, you are supposed to mush the bag. I wanted Cash to do it, but I kept forgetting to remind him. The bag of starter looks and smells a bit like vomit so my husband kept trying to throw the bag away. I had to stash it away in the pantry, where it was always out of sight. That meant out of mind. Finally, we managed to mush the bag a few times. Maybe because of the yeast, the bag kept bloating and I'd go into the pantry to find it nearly ready to burst. That would be nasty, so try not to ignore yours as much.

We were a little late -- OK, maybe about a week late -- on following the instructions for Day 6, which calls for adding one cup of flour, one cup of sugar and one cup milk to the bag. Cash loves measuring so he got involved after his initial reluctance to come along on this journey to a simpler life.

After that, you have a few more days of mushing the bag.

The Magic of Age 3

I'm never quite sure about why they call it the terrible two's. I know they throw themselves around and have incredible emotional fits, but those don't bother me so much. Really, I feel bad when they are going through them. Children don't know what's going on or why they are doing it. They feel really out of control during the whole thing. I equate it with a bad bout of PMS, and try my best to get them through it. Three on the other hand, now that age I find a challenge.  My once agreeable and care free little two year old has now become an opinionated, stubborn, incredibly loud little “know-it-all”. He hits his brother, fights over toys, refuses to clean up or wash his hands, and is constantly telling me what to do and how to do it. He even tells me how to drive.

But then while I write this I think of the last couple of days that we just spent at a beach with a friend. She has a 6 year old boy (John Carlos) and a 4 year old girl (Fiona). And the most adorable things happen when Dillon and Fiona get together. They run off and have their little playdate love affair. Playing house, building forts (piles of pillows), and chatting about the world — which is THE CUTEST thing. It sounds like baby daffy duck and elmer fudd discussing the pros and cons of cheddar bunnies, and whether the baby should get her pj's on now or after she has dinner.

So now while I gush, I realize, 3 isn't so bad. It's easy to forget how old he really is and I need to remember what to expect of him. And that the baby will be gone soon enough, and I will long to have that time back. Our preschool gave us a good handout that reminds us of these expectations. Here are a few good points. 3 year olds often:

- Love potty humor (pee pee, poo poo, farts). It's one of the funniest things around.

- Have A LOT of energy

- Are starting to figure out who they are separate from their parents

Don't Bite The Hand That Feeds You, Baby!

I know it is easier for babies to say D than to say M, and I've read that they put together random syllables at first, but it still grates on me every time I hear little Catcher say "Da-da." It is "Da-da, Da-da, Da-da," all day long.

I keep telling him, "Nooo, Mama. Mama. Mama is the one who nurses you every three hours and gets up at 4 a.m. to pump, the one who spends hours on end baking and steaming and pureeing your food, the one who reads to you, the one who changes 99 percent of your diapers, the one who gets up to turn you over when you get stuck on your belly in the middle of the night..." Well, you get the picture. I just wish Catcher would!

It's "Mama," baby!

When we first talked about having kids, my husband Terry said he would get involved when they could play soccer. He quickly that learned they actually need a little attention before then. So he's stepped up in the past few years in many ways and he has evolved into a good dad. But most of the time, he's the fun one. He goofs around with them. He takes Cash to ice cream before dinner. He throws out the bedtime story ritual and lets Cash stay up to watch his shows (which I found out because Cash asked me, "Are you going out tonight so I can watch the Daily Show?") until the kid falls asleep on the couch. When I ask him whether Cash has eaten lunch, he says, "He ate a ton of turkey," which translates to Terry tossing him a few slices of deli meat. All of which of course makes me the bad guy when I enforce bedtime, make Cash eat his broccoli before dessert and police the television viewing.

If Catcher says "Da-da" now when he can't even enjoy those wonders with dad, what is he going to say when he can partake?!

The “You Time” Dilemma

My 3 year old, Dillon, has been really tough lately. I mean — he's really acting, well...3. And one of the joyous and sometimes tough part of 3 is that he is incredibly mommy focused. He wants to be with me all the time, and if he's not getting my attention, he usually does something under the category of "acting out" to get it. Usually my morning shower (when I get one), is a solid 10 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids get up. But Dillon has caught on and now rises early and sits on the toilet seat chatting away while I shower. It's really cute and sweet, but mommy does need those 10 minutes. So I had to laugh at myself the other day, when I realized how I was buying myself some personal time. 

I'll let you in on the fact that I have... well... a “bad tummy”. A bit of IBS to be straight. Ever since I was a kid. So most who love and live with me know to leave me alone when the bathroom door is closed and locked securely. A couple of nights ago I was doing some primping that was long over due. When it suddenly dawned on me that I had been in there for a while, and no one had come after me. So I... flushed! And thought,“OK. Good. I have a few more minutes.” Finished exterminating the caterpillar that was living across my forehead and joined the gang in the living room. My husband gave me a sympathetic nod and all was well. I don't think it is something I've done before, but who knows. 

Anyone else have a little secret of how they steal a little personal time? We'd love to hear it, and I promise we won't tell! 

photo credit: douglemoin via flickr under creative commons usage rights.

Mommy’s New Drug

At a recent party, a friend asked me how I managed to have so much energy even though I have a 7-month-old baby and a lively 6-year-old boy. I reached into my purse and pulled out the secret behind my wide-eyed look and seemingly endless energy – chocolate covered espresso beans. I keep them in a baby food jar and carry them with me everywhere.

 

I’m totally a pusher too. I hand them out like…well, like candy.

“Twenty years ago, you would have been handing me an eight ball,” joked the father of two as he eagerly accepted my offer of a quick high. I was a bit of a goody two shoes when it came to drugs even back then, but still the analogy was a reminder of how much life has changed.

 

The espresso beans are my lifeline. When I had a regular job, I managed to make it through the day without coffee. I almost never needed caffeine. And it isn’t like I didn’t have a demanding job. A newspaper reporter is always on deadline. I even worked a late night shift, covering breaking news from 4 p.m. to midnight on Sundays, and still managed to be up with Cash at 6:30 a.m. and back at my desk at the Chronicle at 8:30 a.m. without coffee. But somehow, being a stay-at-home mom has kicked my butt.

Between the kids, keeping the house clean (ok at least not filthy), the late-night pumpings, and the occasional writing I am doing when the opportunity comes up, I am so tired and overworked that I fall asleep at inappropriate times and do weird things. I was flossing my teeth while watching TV a few weeks ago and the next thing I knew, I jolted awake. I had fallen asleep – with a floss sword stuck in my teeth.

Good thing my husband wasn’t home. Talk about a turnoff. Nothing could be as un-sexy as that – except maybe putting your thong underwear on sideways. I did that too in a haze one morning. I wondered all morning why my underwear seemed to be riding so high up on my back. But we were out for most of the day and I was wearing the baby in the Ergo carrier so I didn’t get a chance go to the bathroom for about four hours. That’s when I finally discovered the problem.

And last week, I feel asleep during one of my son’s doctor’s appointments – and the doctor called me out on it. I didn’t say that I had been out drinking. I blamed it on the 4 a.m. pumping. Ooops. Should have popped some of those magic pills.

 

I get mine at Trader Joe's but they are also available at your local Peet's Coffee. Tell us your secrets for staying awake!

Summer with the Kids & Memories of a Rat

I have cut down my work schedule this summer. It was largely because work has slowed down and it wasn’t making sense to add more babysitting. So my husband Jeff and I decided that between summer camps and family visits, we’d only end up with a few weeks of no childcare and I’d try to juggle keeping a small amount of work with having my boys. I am really glad for this time with them, especially as I see the baby leaving them both so quickly. (Dillon just turned 3 & Liam 6). This new situation also worries me a bit because, well, “Mommy just isn’t that fun for more than 4 hours. I’d like to say I have all these crafts and projects planned. But I don’t. I am working on it. So far I have a standing weekly play date with a group of families, library afternoon — and Chuck E Cheese.

Yep I said it, and did it. Something I always swore I wouldn’t. But Liam got Chuck E on the brain. Asked, and asked, and asked. I found out Cash had the same idea, so Tanya and I went together. It actually wasn’t too bad. The kids had a great time. We got to visit a while between games. I do think we had a few things going for us that helped the trip: We got there when they first opened, and on a weekday. It wasn’t nearly as crazy in the a.m., than it was starting to become in the afternoon when we left. I went with another Mom that I like to hang out with. We found coupons on their site and saved a bunch on the food and tokens. A bonus was that I signed up for their Chuck E Club and was emailed even better deals. I think we had about 100 tokens, one pizza and salad, and five drinks by only spending $30 a piece. For three boys. The other nice thing is they have a child-to-parent check at the door so you feel a little more secure that your kid won’t go out the door with a stranger, or on their own. One quick warning if you go to their web site — they have loud music playing with no off button. I had my volume up a bit and nearly jumped out of my seat when the site loaded.

 

The downside is the pizza is not good. If you eat meat I suggest you get pepperoni because the cheese pizza is really dry. Even Dillon, who is an eating machine, wouldn’t eat it. I am glad I got a salad because I was able to stock up on veggies for him. I also remember from when I worked there back in high school, the sandwiches weren’t that bad. Oh yeah. I worked there in high school. I was a birthday party hostess. It was fun... ball pit, helium balloon tanks, pizza. Tips and a $4.25 hourly wage. What more could a 16-year-old girl want in a job? Oh, and there was that time I got mauled. Which I completely forgot about until we were there. 

Normally, the same kid would come in to dress up like Chuck E. for the birthday parties. Keep in mind that Chuck E was much, much shorter back then. And much less hip. Anyway. The Chuck E kid didn't show up that day, and we had all these birthday kids waiting for the rat to come out. The parents paid for this and were getting impatient. There were four girls that hostessed the parties. The manager said one of us would have to wear the suit. Next thing I know, everyone had disappeared and he asked me to dress as Chuck E. I was worse at saying “no” then, than I am now. I agreed... reminding him that I was way too tall for the suit. We all were. That’s why they hired a kid just for that job. 

 

So I put on the suit and of course it didn’t fit right and my neck was sticking out between the head and the suit. I went out there, waved a little bit, and then a family asked me to hold their baby for a photo. Like a 4 month old baby. I go to hold the baby and I’ve never worn this suit before so I forget that there is a big, long nose... I bump the baby on the head with the nose. After that, I head for the front of the room. To get there I had to go up the ramp, around the birthday pit to the stairs. There was about a five stair decent and then you are in the pit. About three stairs down some kids yelled “There’s a person in there!!!”. Suddenly, all these kids were attacking me! I’m lying on the ground and a bunch of kids are trying to pull of the head off the suit. Another kids pulls off one of the gloves. I was completely helpless and the manager had to pull them off me and escort me to safety. 

 

So this latest trip to Chuck E. Cheese wasn’t nearly as traumatic, even with the bad pizza. I suggest you try it. The trip, not the rat suit.

photo credit: http://michellewright.wordpress.com