From the category archives:

life with baby

Ahhh, motherhood. Sure, it’s fantastically rewarding…but am I alone in periodically finding it absolutely infuriating? This has been a particularly tough day (and one that started at 4:30 a.m.), which means that I’m feeling less protective about my daughter’s future feelings  than I usually am.

So here, for her future embarrassment, are a few things that I’m sure will mortify her as an adult.

She is obsessed with bras. When she was an infant, she wanted nothing to do with boobies. But now? She does a bra check about 50,000 times a day. I have to be reeeaaal careful about what kind of neckline I wear in public, because she routinely tries to pull my shirt down to reassure herself that I am, indeed, wearing a bra. And if she finds that I’m not? Well, she just won’t leave the topic alone until I address the problem. There’s only so many times I can stand hearing, “Mommy’s bra?” Before I give up and go put one on.

She likes to hide when she’s pooping. Despite early potty training success, we are firmly in the domain of all diapers, all the time (and likely will be until she’s five). If I catch her with that peculiar, red-faced stoop, I will try to put her on the potty. So she’s taken to hiding behind furniture or running for another room when she feels the urge. And if I follow her? She stops what she’s doing and pushes me out of her line of sight.

She has an unhealthy obsession with hair. I’m guessing that her boyfriends will all have gorgeous long hair, because my girl? Likes nothing better than a handful of hair to pull. It’s a comfort thing, I think. She reaches for my hair when feeling insecure, or tired, or worried. That’s not all that weird. But you know what is? She likes to eat it. Seriously. She’ll latch onto a chunk at the roots and suck on it as she pulls it through her teeth. If she could, I think she’d wrench it from my head and swallow it whole.

There’s more, but I think I’ve embarrassed her future self enough (and I am really frigging tired). So why don’t you tell me what you look forward to telling your children’s future partners?

{ 8 comments }

Six-Legged Balls of Fun.

by Amber on March 27, 2011

Bugs. I don’t know about you, but I’m not a big fan of them. I’ve even been known to run screaming from the sight of a particularly icky Nasty.

Still, I’m determined to keep Tori from being a screechy little girly girl. Which means, of course, that we have to spend time exploring the insect kingdom.

I’ve let her put her hands in spider webs (shudder). Watched as she let ants crawl over her hands (double shudder). Even let her pick up one of our arachnid friends (I deserve some sort of award for that one).

But I’ve never enjoyed doing it. Until today.

This afternoon we were puttering around outside when she pulled me by the hand over to the rock border around our front garden.

“Bugs Home?”

I looked at her blankly—until I remembered the events of the night before. An ant had been ambling across the floor of her room and without thinking twice, I squished it. But not before she saw it. So since I didn’t want to have to admit that I’d killed it,  I told her the bug went home. To his house outside. In the rocks in front of our garden.

She bought it.

So now she wanted to see the bugs at home.

Sighing, I knelt down in the grass and flipped the biggest rock upside down. Sure enough, there was an army of the little suckers milling around under there. As my stomach flipped in protest, she squealed in delight.

“Bugs!”

Seeing how happy she was, I decided to put my disgust aside and get into the spirit of things. So I took another look. And attached to the slab of limestone were 15 or 20 rolly poly bugs.

Yummy pill bugs

Tori's newest friends.

“Wanna see them do a trick?” I asked Tori.

She nodded.

So I reached out and touched one. He, of course, obligingly rolled up into a little ball. She shrieked with laughter—the excited peals echoing off the nearby houses.

Hearing it made me giggle too, so we did it again and again and again until every single one of the poor little bugs was curled up in a defensive ball. Then I hefted another rock over and we did it all over again.

Eventually I had to tell her that the bugs needed to go night night, or we’d probably still be out there (although I’m sure that won’t be the last time I torture pill bugs this summer).

The moral of the story? Everyone should hang out with a two-year-old every once in a while. The world’s a whole hell of a lot more fun.

{ 11 comments }

Is The Perfect Potty Out There?

March 1, 2011
Fisher Price Cheer For Me Potty

A few months ago, I got just about the best news a diaper bag-toting mom can get. My daughter, her teacher told me, was showing an interest in potty training! So I did what any overly enthusiastic first time mom would do. I ran right out to Target and got my  precocious 18-month-old daughter her [...]

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Baby Weight.

December 27, 2010

Today, I’m thrilled to bring you a guest post by my friend Erin of Reluctant Momma. If you don’t already know all about her fabulous blog, you should, so rush over there and visit. Just not before you read her post here. After giving birth to my first son, the thing that shocked me the [...]

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Oh, My Conflicted Ovaries.

October 29, 2010

I always assumed I’d have two kids. I mean, if you’re going to totally disrupt your life to pop out one of the little buggers, you might as well have another to keep the first one company, right? Then I had Tori. And man is she a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong. On [...]

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Top Five Daycare Induced Insecurities

September 28, 2010

When I switched Tori to a big daycare center, I expected to worry about the quality of care she was getting. I knew I’d worry that she wasn’t getting enough attention. I thought I’d have to work to erase bad habits she picked up there. But I didn’t think I’d worry about being judged. But [...]

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