Toddler Talk

Here's an excerpt from a conversation I had with my mom last week:

"Oh, by the way, I mean to tell you that it's going to rain tomorrow. Ding."

An outsider to this exchange would have thought she's nuts. But, I knew why she interjected a random verb after the weather warning. The toaster went off. Why would she need to express this during our conversation? Because every time an appliance makes a noise, MacBaby says "Ding," then we reply, "Ding."

Toddler talk has penetrated our home. It's surprisingly hard to leave it there while interacting with other adults.

When MacDad and I go out by ourselves (rarely) and get in the car, we don't remark how we're on our way somewhere, we just say "let's go go." Similarly, I point out a dog, at least in my mind, every time one crosses my path." No longer do we wish each other good bye, but "bye bye." We no longer use the bathroom. We "go potty."

I suppose as his vocabulary improves, my toddler talk will dissipate. But, for now, I'll continue to conclude my meetings with "all done."

Happy Thanksgiving!

We are having our inaugural Thanksgiving family feast this year.

I have been tasked with cranberry sauce. My trial run a few weeks back proved successful, so I'm hopeful that it will come out well tomorrow.

Here's the recipe I'm using. Let me know if you use it, too and how it works out!

Happy Thanksgiving!

A Day in the Life Vol. 2

The first Day in the Life Guest Post follows!

I am a mother of two beautiful, energetic, happy, exhausting girls ages 3 ½ and 10 months. I work as a consultant 3 days a week and I am at home with my daughters the other two days. I look forward to my two days at home with my daughters, but they are definitely “harder” than the days I am at work.

A typical day at home with my daughters starts around 6:30 a.m. I try to get up and shower before my youngest is awake and before my husband leaves for work. My youngest wakes up around 7 a.m. The three of us have breakfast together while my husband gets ready for work. He leaves around 7:30 a.m.

The morning is usually one of favorite times because I love eating breakfast (it is the one thing I can actually cook successfully!) and everyone is happy and excited for the day. We usually have pancakes or French toast but sometimes I try to mix it up by making scrambled eggs. We take our time in the morning- eating, talking, listening to music and dancing. After breakfast we have some play time and get dressed.

My youngest goes down for a nap around 9 to 9:30 a.m. Even though I try hard to limit TV time for my oldest, she LOVES TV, so I usually let her watch a show or two while my youngest naps and I get ready for the day or do some cleaning. Super Why and Word World are our favorites right now. I try to make myself feel less guilty knowing that she is watching something that is helping her with letters and reading.

Then comes rush time… my oldest does gymnastic one day and swimming the other day. No matter how early I start getting ready we always seem to be late. We must get my youngest up for her nap, bottle ready, snack for the oldest, oldest on the potty, shoes and jackets and finally out the door. After gymnastics/swimming we rush home to have lunch. I try to make the lunch earlier in the day so we can sit down and eat right when we get home. Lately it has been peanut butter and jelly for my oldest and I have started eating it too because it is just easier to make two at once. My youngest is still eating baby food and then will pick at some table food.

We rush through lunch because a physical therapist comes to our house to work with my youngest right after lunch. We discovered that my youngest had a stroke at or right before birth, and she is not able to fully use her left arm, hand and leg at this point. She is a left side hemiplegic. She has been getting physical therapy twice a week and we are seeing progress. She recently started sitting up and rolling over- we are so proud of her! The therapy session is about 45 minutes and is equivalent to an adult doing 45 minutes of cardio, so my youngest is usually pretty tired afterwards. She will then take her afternoon nap while my oldest and I have some special alone time. We might do Play-Doh, coloring, reading, cooking, puzzles, games.

My youngest will wake up by 3, have her bottle and then the three of us might go for a walk or run some errands. We start getting ready for dinner around 4:30 and my husband is home around 5:30. Then we have usually eaten and cleaned up by 6. Then it is play time, bath time, get ready for bed and stories. My husband usually puts my oldest to bed while I put my youngest to bed since I am still breastfeeding her at night. If all goes well, both girls are in bed asleep by 7:30. Phew! Then my husband and I have a couple hours to ourselves, which I usually spend doing work, catching up on email, doing laundry, going for a walk or maybe even relaxing every once in a while. Then it is in bed by 10:30 or 11. Love it!

Oh, Erica

Let me preface this post by stating that I am an Erica Jong fan. When I discovered Fear of Flying in college, it felt like a light bulb went off in my head. It was possible for a woman to be sexual and intellectual in a way that I had never encountered. Instead of just putting the book back on the shelf, I passed it around to all my friends so we could discuss the Zipless you-know-what. I referenced the book in my often-referred to college paper on Jewish mothers in literature. I even tried to get MacDad to read it, but that didn't go too well. I not only read Fear of Flying, but the two lesser-read sequels. So, I'm a bit familiar with her.

It seems my literary idol has created a brouhaha on the internet by slamming Attachment Parenting (AP) in a Wall Street Journal essay. She claims that AP imprisons motherhood and is creating a backlash to the feminist movement for which her generation of women passionately though.

My first thought when reading her article -- the things Jong complains about modern mothers doing are not that hard. Take for example, her issue with making your own baby food. MacDad and I made our own baby food. My reasoning was that I wouldn't want to eat my meals out of a jar, so why should he. Also, we make ourselves dinner almost every night, so steaming some peas and blending them is not so much more work compared to the rest of the meal.

Is making your own baby food such a big deal and something to feel angry about? That's just silly. Same goes for her issues with breastfeeding and reusable diapers. If you use formula and disposable diapers (which I do), fine. If you choose to take the AP approach, that's great too. These activities should be encouraged. It's hard to argue that they're not better for the baby and the environment. However you raise your child, ultimately, it's your choice. That, from my impression, is the point that Jong and her feminist compatriots were fighting for. And, therein lies the difference between her generation and mine.

I get the feeling that Jong didn't necessarily choose motherhood. Having children was the way of life when she was an adult. It was assumed that being a mother was the course your life would take. Now, though, I think that women consider their options more thoroughly. Even though I'm a parent, MacDad and I thought through our decision and intentionally created a family. I don't view AP, or parenting in general as a chore (for the most part), but as a privilege. I'm happy to spend time with my son and to provide for him to the best of my ability, whether it be emotionally, physically or financially.

So, Erica Jong, you have let me down. I do not feel as though I have given up my life for my child, I feel as though he has enriched it.

Everything on My DVR is Depressing

As referenced in my previous post, I watch tv for an hour per night. Because of an operator error on Sunday night, Dexter did not record at its regular time. It's been looming on my dvr since Sunday night at 10 p.m., along with an episode of Giuliana and Bill and Where the Wild Things Are. Each night since, I've scrolled through these options and passed, instead watching dreck like Top Chef: Just Desserts and the soon-to-be departed Life Unexpected (sad).

Why haven't I opted for more serious fare? Dexter creeps me out. I enjoy it, but not when MacDad is out of town. Ever since (SPOILER) Rita bit it in the bathtub, I can't sleep after watching Dexter wrestle with his dark passenger. And, after the Trinity build up last year, this season has been a bit of a let down. But, that's what I thought at the beginning of last season, so I'll stick with it. When MacDad comes home.

I don't generally watch Giuliana and Bill, but after learning about her miscarriage, I thought I would check in on them. The circumstances around her miscarriage were very similar to what I experienced this summer. I was curious as to how they would present the events and am glad the couple chose to address the miscarriage publicly. On last week's episode they announced their loss, and this week they're dealing with the emotional aftermath. In the preview, many of her emotions echoed my own. I'm fairly certain there will be tears when I watch. I'm too tired to cry at 9 p.m.!

Where the Wild Things Are has been on two dvrs for about two months. I fondly remember the children's book and am interested to see how Spike Jonze adapted the material. I watched the first five minutes of the movie after I initially recorded it and cried hysterically. An alarmed MacDad and MacBaby came inside after playing in the back yard to find a very weepy woman. Something about watching a lonely little boy made me sad. I projected Max into MacBaby, hoping he never feels that alone in his life.

Tonight I'm set wtih 30 Rock and Community. Right after that I'll get around to my stockpiles shows. . . as long as MacDad is in town to deal with the fears and tears.

A Day in the Life

Something I often wonder about is how other people get themselves and their children together, get to wherever they need to be, do a great job once they're there, then take care of all the evening duties, get a restful night sleep and get up the next day to do it all over again.

I'm going to share how I do it, or attempt to anyway. I'm hoping this will be a series of posts, with other moms (or dad's) letting readers know where they succeed and how their routines can improve. So, here goes.

Weekday

Usually, either my or MacBaby's internal clock goes off promptly at 7 a.m. Since I'm still nursing and MacBaby is still sleeping in the bed with us, he attaches himself to me. Around ten minutes later I detach. If MacDad is home, I leave the two to cuddle and gently remind the elder male to get the boy dressed. If MacDad is travelling, I take the boy into the bathroom and put him in the Pack 'n Play while I shower. Lately, I do so without any screaming involved.

When shower is over I take the boy out of the Pack 'n Play and plop him on the bed so he can watch Curious George/Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About That, depending on how late we're running. If MacDad is at home, I yell at him to get the boy dressed. Otherwise, I get myself ready, then go into the boy's room, get his clothes and come back into our room to get him dressed. This whole routine seems to take an enormous amount of time and I'm always running behind. Every day. Even when I skip washing my hair.

Once we're dressed, we go downstairs, where I surreptitiously sneak a banana into my bag. If MacBaby sees it, he'll want one too. We put on the necessary accouterments for the weather (shoes, jacket and hat) and walk to the car. Most of the time, he does not try to run away.

Drop MacBaby off at my parents house. Take him inside so he can see his eggs cooking. This is a very exciting development in his day. Whether or not he eats the eggs, he's very excited to see them and talk about them. Go to work. A few hours later go to my parents house to have lunch with MacBaby. Usually, he's very excited to see me. It's wonderful. Then, back to work.

Nighttime choose your own adventure style: When MacDad is in town, I pick up MacBaby after work and we head home for a well balanced meal (usually) and ice cream (sometimes). We used to eat out all the time before MacBaby, but now we never eat out during the week. When MacDad is home all week, we try to do all of our grocery shopping on the weekend and plan our meals, ideally with us rotating nights cooking. While one is cooking, the other is playing with MacBaby. Or, we watch him cook on his play kitchen, stirring spices and water in his pots. This can get gross.

After dinner, MacDad and MacBaby play for a while and then I give him a bath while MacDad cleans up the kitchen. No exceptions to this part of the night. I am always in charge of the bath. I think it's because I somehow always leave the big pots in the sink, which annoys MacDad, so he figures he may as well get the washing out of the way. After the bath, I put MacBaby in his pjs and MacDad comes up for book reading. Depending on how tired MacBaby is, there are one to many books read. Then, I nurse him till he falls asleep.

When MacDad is out of town, MacBaby and I have dinner at my parents house. Mostly because I'm lazy about cooking, plus he's already there. After dinner a family member will usually come over to help me with the above routine, plus the weekly taking out the trash and the nightly feeding of the dogs. Sometimes my sister will sleep over to assist with the morning duties as well.

Regardless of who's in town or sleeping where, my routine after MacBaby falls asleep never fails. I watch tv for an hour. If MacDad is out of town, we chat on the phone. Sometimes by the end of the week I fall asleep somewhere around 9:30, but usually I make it to 10, then call it a night. Usually MacBaby will wake me up a few times in the night requesting a drink of water, then he'll go back to sleep a few minutes later.

There you have a full 24 hours in the life of the MacFamily unit during the week. I'll save our weekend activities for another post. Any suggested ways we can cut down on the chaos and find more down time to enjoy?

More on Baby Names

Here's what denizen's of NYC are naming their kids. Guess it's a slow news day for the Journal?

On Choosing a Child's Name to Avoid Grammar Controversy

Picking a name for your kid is a daunting task. Conventionally speaking, he or she will be stuck with it for this rest of his or her life. I was pretty sure that MacBaby's name would be a variation on one specific names. One name ended with an "s" the other did not.

While MacDad and I were a both big fans of the name that ended with "s," let's say it was Aloysius, I could envision confusion looming in his future. Let's say he's in first grade and is writing a paper about his favorite cartoon character. Would he say "Aloysius' favorite cartoon character is Mickey Mouse?" Or, would he opt for the newly fashionable, "Aloysius's favorite cartoon character is Mickey Mouse," which I hate.

Not wanting to seem old-fashioned in in my use of apostrophe's following an "s," I opted to avoid the controversy by choosing the version of the name that ended with a less contentious constant. Perhaps that is a silly reason for picking a name, but I tried to have my bases covered with simple possessive usage.

Did any (seemingly) strange thoughts led to your child's name?

Prolonged Blog Absence Explained

In contemplating this blog, I've wondered how to strike a good balance with topics. In everyday conversations, parents often brag or complain about their children, neither of which interested me for the purpose of this blog. I've struggled with how much personal information to disclose, what constitutes TMI.

This summer, MacDad and I experienced a few situations that left me thinking: why have I never heard of anyone else going through this? In an effort to help others realize that these events are more common than suspected, I'm going to share.

In mid-July, I found out I was pregnant. The first few weeks developed similarly to my pregnancy with MacBaby. I was hungry and proceeded to eat constantly. Two weeks after confirming the good news, I felt nauseous all the time. Because I had two early miscarriages before MacBaby, my lady doctor monitored my HCG levels, which progressed as expected. Also because of the previous miscarriages, we went in for an early ultrasound.

Miraculously, I went into the doctor's office right on time, but MacDad was running late. I had an preview of my uterus, which appeared empty except for a placenta. He explained a phenomenon I had never heard before, the missed miscarriage. At this early stage, it would have meant that the pregnancy did not take, but my body proceeded as though I were pregnant. He suggested we continue monitoring my pregnancy hormones, then scheduled a follow up ultrasound for the next week. He gave us a 10 percent chance that perhaps I was pregnant, and that, for some reason, the fetus was not yet visible by ultrasound.

MacDad went home immediately to Google, alerting us of another trend, the misdiagnosed missed miscarriage, a topic recently covered in Babble. Trigger-happy doctors impatient to wait until the next week (or weeks) to determine if the pregnancy is indeed viable abort fetuses based on the immediate diagnosis. We learned of one woman who didn't see her baby on the ultrasound until her 12th week!

Needless to say, I was not in the mood to write about any of this. We had told a few people about the pregnancy, but didn't continue sharing. Meanwhile, my stomach grew and I continued to feel like crap.

Determined to wait a reasonable length of time before deciding our next steps, we went to our appointment a week later (MacDad was on time for this one). Hopeful to end our anxiety, we were relieved to see a tiny bean with a heartbeat on the screen.

That weekend, I swapped my maternity gear for my regular clothes, continued trying not to vomit, spread the good news and proceeded as expectant parents. MacDad traveled for work almost every week, I let the laundry pile in heaps.

With MacDad on the road and my mom watching MacBaby, I ventured to the doctor solo for my 10 week visit. In the car, I remembered feeling excited for my appointments during the previous pregnancy, but now I felt, anxious, almost dreading going to the office. Later, my doctor shared that maybe my body was trying to tell me something.

My feelings, it turned out, were justified. On this ultrasound a heartbeat was absent. The baby measured only at 7 weeks. It had died only days after our last visit.

My parents met me at the doctor's office and we looked for a more hopeful result on a secondary ultrasound. Unfortunately, the diagnosis remained. I arranged for a D&C, not wanting to spend more time looking and feeling pregnant with no positive outcome. MacDad drove home at 3 a.m. from out of town to be there for the procedure.

The doctor assured me that I suffered only from bad luck and nothing I did caused the miscarriage. But you still have to wonder. Did my anxiety make the baby feel unwanted? Was it the glass of wine I had before I knew I was expecting? If 20 percent of pregnancies turn out this way, why didn't I ever hear anyone talk about it happening to them? No celebrities who announce their pregnancy have to say never mind. It didn't make sense. Why did it seem like the only person who suffered miscarriages?

It's not that I wanted everyone I know to have the same experience, but if it happens to two out of ten pregnant women, then they must be out there. Within a week, I learned of two other women who had miscarriages the same week that I did with a D&D to follow. And then, there were celebrities talking about similar issues.

With these events six weeks behind us, I'm left with an extra ten pounds and the annoyance of having to answer questions about my due date. One particularly sensitive fellow asked if I was sure when I told him there was no baby. I'm pretty sure, dude.

MacDad and I have done a pretty good job of keeping the miscarriage in perspective. Yes, it was sad, but it could have been worse. Not to mention, we have our good egg at home who's eager to hang out with us. Even at 5:45 a.m. I welcome his first "mama" of the day.

With a little distance, I've realized that it might help me to write about it. And, it may help others who have also had miscarriages to realize they're not the only one. We'll probably try to conceive again, but this time I'll probably keep the news to myself for awhile, even if a baby bump is obvious. When the time's right to share, I will.

Why I Love Amy Bloom

Because she articulates my beliefs on this topic, I'm posting below an excerpt from Slate.com's conversation on who gets to be a feminist by Amy Bloom:

On one hand, I feel about this the way my father felt about Jews. If you want to call yourself a Jew (God help you), who are we to object? Mazel tov. You're a Jew; here's an eggroll. Unfortunately, feminism requires a better standard.

Being a feminist does not mean "I'm a woman who has accomplished things in the non-domestic world." Being African-American and on the Supreme Court does not make Clarence Thomas a Civil Rights activist; it makes him a product of the Civil Rights Movement. Feminism, I'm pretty sure, means a commitment to equal opportunity, equal ability, and equal potential for all women. It doesn't mean (and I realize that reasonable women differ on the definition of feminism—that's why it's feminism and not algebra) that a possession of a womb brings with it a special spiritual gift, or that women are avatars of goodness, entitled to yell, "Misogynist!" whenever it is to their advantage.

I like my feminists witty, dignified, left-leaning and short on self-aggrandizement—but they don't always come that way. If Sarah Palin explicitly supports equal pay for equal work, subsidized day care, Title IX, and the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, she's a feminist. If she understands that she is a product of feminism and is prepared to pursue its goals, I can give her a pass on abortion because there are, apparently, honest-to-God feminists who believe that abortion is murder and even though I think that that's not true, I have to respect that (I guess.) But there is no such thing as free market/anti-legislation/I've-got-mine feminism.

I admire Sandra Day O'Connor and Eleanor Roosevelt and their dedication to the cause of feminism. And I admire Sarah Palin's way with a soundbite. But I know and she knows that she's not a feminist; she's a Palinist.—Amy Bloom

Choo Choo Time

Some might think that living two blocks away from train tracks could be a disadvantage. But for MacBaby, it's produced a love of trains, more commonly know in our house as the choo choo. This choo choo obsession led to nightly walks to catch a glimpse of the train and a major investment in Thomas the Train paraphernalia.

But, most importantly, MacBaby's interest in trains led MacDad to develop his first iphone app! Inspired to create something that would capture MacBaby's attention when we missed the train on our walks, his game incorporates a train that encounters many animals, all which the appropriate sound when you press them.

Needless to say, MacBaby has a great time with the app. He frequently carries our phones around asking for choo choo. When he plays the game, we always see a big smile on his face. Here's a review and a video clip of the game.

If you're interested in downloading the app to your phone, you can check it out here. Let us know if your kid has fun playing the game! Also, feel free to leave other suggestions on other iphone apps for kids. We'll put MacDad to work!

He Screams for Ice Cream -- Literally

Our pediatrician tells us that MacBaby (now MacToddler, but I'll stick with MacBaby for consistency purposes) is a good eater. He loves his fruits and veggies and has been known to snack on noodles at all hours of the day.

But the kid's got a serious sweet tooth. Since his first birthday, I knew we were in trouble. He learned to say "ice cream" soon after his first bite. His love for cake and cookies know no bounds. We mistakenly picked up a birthday cake for my brother in the middle of the day, and the kid screamed in the store. He was not about to wait until after dinner for the opportunity to smear icing all over his face.

While I've been known to sneak MacBaby the occasional sweet treat, I turn a request down at the same time everyday -- bedtime. You would think that favorite children's books would bring pleasure to parent and child as they wind down their day. But, these innocuous stories end up with the boy running town the stairs begging for cake.

Take, for example, The Very Hungry Caterpillar. There is one page in this book that MacBaby immediately turns to. Not the page listing the caterpillar's fruit intake for the week, but the page filled with junk food. He points out the cake, pie and ice cream followed by a "yum." At least the watermelon and cheese bring us back to healthy.

Good Night Little Bear is no better. The story comes to a crux when father bear sneakily eats a piece of chocolate cake to find little bear. Sometimes the reading of this page ends with tears when MacBaby realizes there will be no cake for him. Don't even get me started on The Poky Little Puppy, but least favorite children's book ever. Not only is the book long and boring, but it is all about dessert. MacBaby has never had strawberry shortcake, and yet he knows he would like it. Clearly, there was no childhood obesity epidemic when these books were published.

Our compromise seems to be Sammy the Seal. Like his impressionable father who must have a Whopper after seeing a Burger King commercial, MacBaby demands a banana when he sees what the monkey in the zoo are consuming. So, he gets a banana before bed.

How do you balance sweets and good treats? Are you surprised about the number of bad food influences lurking in the pages of your kids' books?

I'm Going to Start Wearing a Sign

The sign shall read:

*Yes, I'm still breastfeeding.

*No, he's not walking.

*That's cereal under his nose, not snot.

My Child Needs Nothing

My child needs nothing. He has two rooms full of toys at our house and one additional room full of toys at my parents house. He has toys to entertain him while in his stroller and while in his car seat. He has ample clothing, hat and coats.

Yet, we still by him crap. Why do we do this when he would be just as happy playing with pots and pans as he is a set of blocks?

I don't have a good answer, except to think that maybe we're starting to build his nostalgia pile of crap that he will one days leave in our basement, look at occasionally, say "aw," then put it back until he buys his first house and we either force him to take the box of crap with him to his own basement or pitch the contents.

But until then, every time we go to the Science Center, or the zoo or some other child-friendly tourist trap we will likely continue to buy him crap. He now has a green stuffed monkey that will always remind him of the time we took him to the zoo when he was almost one year old and he finally remained awake enough to notice the bears, gorillas and gift shop.

Blah Blah Blah

Thanks to MacDad for providing me with this graphic illustration of the things I yap about on this blog. It's like looking at a reflection of yourself in words.

When to Wean?

When MacBaby was one month old, I thought "I am one twelfth of the way done with breastfeeding."

Eleven months later, I no longer have such thoughts. Now that he's well on his way to becoming a foodie, the nursing is more supplemental and not at all bothersome to me.

I'm wondering, do I stick with my plan on stopping at a year, or keep it going?

On one hand, it's really not that big of a deal to keep breastfeeding. MacBaby and I still seem to enjoy the bonding it bring us, and he's capable of enjoying other beverages from bottles, sippy cups and even regular cups. And, when else in our lives will we be able to be that close? When else will I be able to provide for him nutritionally directly from my body?

On the other hand, he's still nursing to go to sleep at night, and I could have a little more freedom during the 7 p.m. hour for all that fun laundry that needs doing.

When do you decide to wean and why?

A Wife Swap Between Me and Myself

I have had the good fortune recently to have some time off of work and spend quality time with MacBaby. The juxtaposition between working mom and stay at home mom (even for a few days) reminds me of a television program I watched a few years ago.

One night I couldn't sleep and while channel surfing, I found a program where a stay at home mom switched places with her working husband. There were tensions in their marriage because he didn't understand why he never had clean work shirts. Why couldn't she manage a daily load while staying at home with their three children? He warned her of the perils of his taxing job, but they forged ahead with the switch for a week.

At the end of the experiment, the mom revealed she had a great time entering the working world. She enjoyed meeting the dad's clients and spending some time in a professional setting. The dad, on the other hand, looked like he ran through a tornado. Not only did he realize while his laundry wasn't done in a daily basis, but he had a heck of a time adhering to the kids' schedules, making play dates and hosting a neighborhood get together. Then, he took the whole fam to Disney world as an apology for being such an a-hole.

I feel fortunate experience both sides of the situation. When time allows, I love being with my baby and taking care of him. I also like the fact that I can contribute to my family's well being through financial security. Both have their challenges and their rewards. But, it's a lot cozier to cuddle up next to my baby then my computer.

Food Chart by Food Type

Wholesome Baby Food has posted a food chart by food type, as opposed to child's age. I think this will be helpful for our little guy, who is now enjoying a good steak accompanied by peas and sweet potatoes, with blueberries (his favorite) for dessert.

MacDad's Advice for New Dads

A friend of the MacFamily Unit just had a baby. Follows is an email from MacDad to this new dad.

Congrats. My only advice is, don't turn to your wife after the first sleepless night and say "You better figure this shit out, I gotta go back to work." She won't likely forget it very quickly. Or perhaps ever.

Other items:

• Eastern europeans have uniquely domainant genes; I'm not surprised that she is more Hungarian-flavored than Korean. In the formation of our son, MacMama's russian jew genes crushed mine like a line of T-72s plowing through Prague. But he turned out to be pretty cool anyway.
• C-Sections are wild. Did you get to be in the OR? Did you get a clean suit? I accidentally peeked when they did MacMama's. Fucking gore everywhere. Something that looked like pork tenderloin, slathered with jelly; I think it was the placenta. Brings a new level of respect for the mama.
• Get out of the hospital as soon as you can. Don't let the nurses or doctors give you any shit. Everyone has advice and it's often conflicting or wrong. Once you get home things get substantially more sane.
• OK, one more tip: Nobody comes in or out of your house without bringing you something (food, baby shit) or taking something away (garbage, baby shit.) No casual sightseers.
  

Now you just have to spend the rest of you life caring for, feeding and nurturing that girl. And keeping her off the pole. Really, that's about it. Congrats again.

LOL.

I Can Take a Hint.

I just choose not to in this case.

MacDad just sent me this article.

I think he thinks it will motivate me to make dinner tonight.

Wrong!

Drive By Diapering

My child is on the move. This means the changing table is out since he tries to stand up on it while getting his diaper changed.

We change him now on the floor in his room. To say this is a challenge is an understatement.

Frequently, when MacDad is in charge of changing and I'm in our bedroom, adjacent to MacBaby's room, I'll see a streaking baby crawling across the floor. Yesterday, MacDad was charged with changing MacBaby's diaper while I did dishes after lunch. I heard yelling and came upstairs to see a screeching baby standing on his box of diapers and pounding on it, with his diaper half assembled and hanging off his butt. The proud parents just stood there laughing.

Just lying on the floor while we change his diaper, apparently, is not high on MacBaby's priority list.

Any suggestions to make the process more seamless? Or do we just continue to chase after him and pin him down to fasten the diaper?

On the plus side, MacBaby's cruising is proving to be good for my waist line.