BFF

Tonight is the last night of 2010. It has been an amazing year. So many wonderful things, but the one that sticks out the most is my Oliver. Oh how I love that baby. I will admit in advance, wine has been consumed tonight, so while this isn't exactly the same as the drunk emails I made in college, I will confess to a small amount of inhibition in this post.

I have become lax in my posting. I thought I was going to be one of those people who love to blog. A fair amount of narcissism accompanied by a genuine amount of love and pride for my children seemed to be a perfect blend to create a blogger. It seems to not be the case. I like to watch them get bigger. get smarter. get taller. get sillier. get better. Every time I go to blog, I stop to watch, and then I don't get a chance to post.

It would be preferable to have a record, a memory of that moment my heart stood still while Oliver precariously balanced by himself for the first time while Zoe clapped and shrieked alongside him. A written recollection of when Zoe looked at Oliver and told him that he was her BFF.

That was 2010 for me. The year my kids became BFF, and Rich and I became BFF with them.

March 24, 2010 brought me a 7 lb 8 oz boy. I didn't think I cared if I was having a boy or a girl until I found out he was a boy, and then I realized how much I wanted a boy. A little man. Someone to dress in jerseys and jeans, and to roll my eyes at "what a boy" he was. Zoe and I made up this song that we sing to Oliver. "Oliver Nathan, the king of the world, you are so cute and we love you so much." And we do. Zoe and I love Oliver so much that it drives us crazy. Sometimes she squeezes him too hard because of the love, and I understand. I squeeze him too hard sometimes also. He does that to us. Oliver Nathan.

Thank you 2010, on behalf of all of us.

A House Full of Sick

Is there anything worse than a house full of sick? I'm not REALLY complaining, since it's a house full of just a little sick. First Oliver had this random fever that went away within 24 hours, then Rich got a cold, then Zoe sort of got a cold, and I was the last one to fall. Luckily everyone is pretty much okay, but nothing is harder than being a sick mama. It takes an inordinate amount of energy and stamina to parent on a good day, and to manage to pull it together when you feel like crap, well, there should be an award somewhere. Or a cookie.

So in order to make it all work, I've got Zoe watching TV right now, and Oliver roaming the kitchen under my feet. I know he will eventually make his way over to the oven because the big Viking sign is his favorite toy these days. Perfect, the kid is drawn to the oven on a regular basis. He gets locked up when I'm cooking, but otherwise he loves nothing more than pulling up on the stove and playing with the bumps of the letters (or at least I'm assuming that is the appeal, but really who knows).

Oliver said "Bye Bye" yesterday to Alejandra (our amazing nanny). She has been telling me for the past couple of weeks that he is talking to her, but I sort of blew it off, but I witnessed it myself yesterday. She went to kiss him good-bye and he started waving at her and said "ba ba." Nothing was clearer or cuter.

Then there is Zoe. She figured out that she can open the refrigerator and freezer. Somehow that now means, in her mind, that she has full ownership over all meals. I will say "okay, dinner time." She asks what we are having, and if it isn't what she has in mind, she opens the doors and starts looking for better options. I'm not a short order cook, so she is often disappointed. We do the best we can right?

Beauty and the Beast

So... do you think she was excited to go to her first movie? We went to El Capitan to see Beauty and the Beast. She LOVED it, and all went great. She did decide she wanted to leave about 5 minutes before the movie ended, and there was no changing her mind. Still, a very successful outing!

Ma Ma

Having a baby is not a picnic. It definitely has its fun moments, but there are times when the monotony of watching a little person simply be, can be tedious. It helps to have an extremely non-monotonous 2 1/2 year old to break up the time, but as a parent I want to make sure that I am giving attention to Oliver as well.

For the past couple of weeks Oliver has really been getting his "words" out. Ga Ga, Ma Ma and the occasional Da Da. I remembered how sweet those words were coming out of Zoe, and the joy was no less great the second time around. The past three days we've progressed!

Starting on Thursday Oliver has been calling "Ma Ma" when I leave the room. If you ask him where mama is, he will turn to me. He calls it from his crib when he wakes up, and as I type he is calling it right now from baby jail.

What an intense feeling it is to think, "Wow, this little person that I've been staring at for 6 1/2 months gets it. He knows that I'm his person." One of my friends told me that she was so excited to hear her little ones say her name, and then once they started, and never stopped, she wanted to take it back. I know it was said in jest, but it made me very aware about not taking these little things for granted. It is so hard to be "present" at all times (I realize the irony in writing this while I'm on the computer as my two littles play on their own). As moms we work hard to balance getting things done for ourselves and getting things done for our kids (and hubbies too!). I definitely spend too much time on the computer, but I make it a point to not do anything on my phone while I'm sitting with the kids. It is a balancing act. Everyone has their own tightrope, or teeter totter, but we create our own balance.

A Messy Kitchen

I think I've written about this before, somewhere. I may have been on Facebook or just in my journal, but this is a bridge I've crossed before, many times. I hate having a messy kitchen, let alone a messy house. But somehow, that is just the wake I leave behind me. My intentions are pure, and clean, but the result doesn't seem to measure up. I leave behind a stray plate, an unwashed pot, or a lone spaghetti noodle that didn't make it into someone's mouth.

I have friends (two in particular, T and E) who could be cooking a 10 course meal in their kitchens while remodeling the living room, and the house would look impeccable. It is a gift, a gift I am desperate to have. The ability to just be tidy. My hubby says that it can't be that hard, and maybe it isn't for some, but it is a challenge for me. It has nothing to do with two kids or any of the other excused I've come up with. It just is a gift, and like any other skill, it is one I have to work at. I will persevere. Now I am going to go get that spaghetti noodle.

2 1/2 and 6 months

Photos courteous of the amazing Mikey Siegel

"Oliver is 6 months old" "Why?"

The title of this post sums up so much of what is going on in our home. Our little baby has turned 6 months old. This is so significant to me on so many levels. After Oliver was born, and I was feeling overwhelmed with the idea of caring for newborn (which, let's be real here, is tedious) and a 2 year old, I kept telling myself that once he hit six months it would be amazing. Luckily for us, it hit amazing earlier than 6 months, but I am so enjoying our little man as he reaches this milestone. He is doing all sorts of amazing things: sitting, rolling, crawling, babbling, laughing, holding a bottle, and so much more. But most importantly, he smiles. He smiles at his family, at strangers, at animals, at the ceiling, at his hands, at his feet, he basically smiles at everyone and everything, and he is a joy to behold. I am constantly turning around because I hear giggling behind me, only to find out that it is because Oliver is flirting with the nearest person. A joy. This video will show you what I mean.



And Zoe, my BFF. She likes to tell me, "Hi BFF." And I like to say it right back. She should be in the dictionary under precocious, and sassy, and cool. She is so cool, this kid of ours. She is fun to be with, and such a pistol. She is very into asking "Why?" Tonight at dinner was no exception. She asked Rich what he does at work. After everything he said, she said, "Why?" He was a total trooper and just kept coming up with answers for her. Much more patient than I am. I usually end up telling her that is enough with the why questions and we need to move on.

I'm starting to drop feedings this weekend, and I can't believe the time is already here. I am definitely excited to drop the daytime feedings, and will keep the morning and night feedings as long as I want. I'm ready.

Letting Go: Part 1 of Many

I have been nursing Oliver for 5 1/2 months. It has been five months since I have had dairy or soy, but that doesn't really matter to me anymore.



I am not some LLL (La Leche League) nazi, or an earth mother; I'm actually as far from those two things as one could imagine. I just like to nurse my kid. I like to connect with the one who often gets lost in the bustle of the day. My baby boy who just sits and looks around with his gummy grin. The little man who makes everyone's day just a little big brighter. He doesn't fuss or cry or complain. And unlike his sister, he doesn't request, demand, inquire or usurp. So we go about our day and he goes from place to place, until it is time to eat. Then it is our time.

I can connect with him, and apologize for the time he spent in an exersaucer or a bouncy. I can whisper quietly to him and tell him all the things I wish and hope for him without any interruption. Zoe respects his nursing and respects his time. She'd rather play or, if I'm feeling particularly generous, watch tv.

It is getting close to 6 months, which is the length of time I said I would nurse Oliver. My body must have been listening, because my milk seems to be drying up, and Oliver is getting more and more frustrated when he nurses. I don't know if I'm completely ready to give it up, and I'll try to hold on to the morning and night feedings as long as I can, but I can feel it slipping away from me, and I am much more sad than I thought. I'm not sad to stop nursing, because frankly it is getting annoying, but I am going to miss that time. The time when it is just the two of us and we are doing our thing. My little man, the perfect boy.

The Big Girl Bed

After saying multiple times that I would keep Zoe in her crib until she climbed out or moved out, I changed my mind. Although I'm quite confident she could climb out, she never did and she is certainly no where near moving out. We moved her to avoid some potty training regression we saw sneaking in on our territory.

Regression is a word that as parents we are confronted with regularly. Following the recent (thoroughly debunked) autism/vaccine scare, we watched our children like hawks post-vaccine, particularly the dreaded MMR. Are they talking a little less? Walking more slowly? Less eye contact? I will admit that I am not a worrier, so this applied less to me and more to many of the moms around me, especially the mamas of boys. I'm happy to say that so far all of our kids appear to be okay, but at multiple times all kids have shown, and will show, different signs of regression.

I expected a big back lash after Oliver was born. I'm not sure what I expected. Jealousy? Hitting? Anger? I didn't get any of those things. I got a child who had started to potty train and then could not be less interested. Okay, I'll take that over hitting, etc... Well, she pulled it together, potty trained herself (which is a separate post) and here we are today.

She is (or was at the beginning of this saga) still in pull ups for her nap and for night time, which I am okay with. She didn't want to wear them, but agreed when I told her that her body wasn't quite ready yet for sleeping in big girl underwear. That is the full title. They must be called "Big Girl Underwear" or a look of utter disdain is focused in my direction. I digress...

I noticed that she went from protesting the pull up and demanding I take it off the minute she wakes up, and generally even taking it off herself, to happily leaving it on and even using it after she had woken up. To me, that was regression, and I wasn't having it.

After a discussion with the the hubs, we asked Zoe if she was ready for a bed, and she was thrilled. I ordered the bed with some nervous anticipation. Would she sleep in the bed? Would she be scared? Would she leave the bed and start making grilled cheese sandwiches at 3 am?

So far, the answers are yes, no, no.

She loves her bed and looks forward to bedtime even more than before the bed arrived. She likes to play in her room and "pretend" to sleep. She is so proud of her bed, that when I accidentally called it a crib the other day she looked at me and practically growled, "I sleep in a big girl bed, NOT in a crib!" So far, although she knows she can get out and does occasionally to get a dropped doll or blanket, she stays put and waits for us to get her out of bed. She still plays happily in her bed, which is hands down my favorite tv show (god bless the video monitor). She is content.

I know this can all change, this is a honeymoon period, blah blah blah. But guess what, oh wait, she is trying to open her door. Gotta go!

Doing Things For Me

I forgot to do stuff for myself.

Not how to do things, I still manage to take care of myself on a daily basis, but somewhere along the way I forgot to do things that aren't for the family. I'm not trying to be a martyr or win any points here, it is just a fact. I enjoy doing things for my family. I don't mind using my precious hours alone to go to the market or run other errands. It's my job. I'm a stay at home mom. I'm so happy to have that as my job and would never want it any other way, but I realized recently that it can by my job and it can be my life, but I need something else to break it up. Nobody can be at work 24/7.

So today, which is one of the two days of the week I have part-time help, even though I had several errands to run I grabbed my knitting bag and went to Aroma Cafe. I spent an hour and a half sipping coffee and knitting. I relaxed my shoulders when they got tense (which they tend to do when I knit), I took some deep breaths just for fun and I relaxed.

For the first two minutes I felt a little guilty. I did have errands to run... I pushed the thoughts away and focused on my knitting and purling. It was such a wonderful morning and I need to do it more often.

So, I started a sweater for Zoe last week. I know the basics of knitting, but have never made anything other than scarves. I wanted to go back into knitting with a bang, and went down to La Knitterie Parissiene, a local knitting shop, with no intention other than leaving with a challenging project that will force me to do something for myself. Yes, I realize that I am making a sweater for Zoe, baby steps... The owner of the shop, Edith, was so helpful and supportive. I was worried she was going to talk me out of undertaking such a big project as a novice, but she told me it would be easy!!! and that she would take me through the steps. Well, it hasn't quite been easy, and I just had to pull out 4 rows of a painstaking stitch, but I've loved every minute of it.

I am making Zoe a purple sweater, since she tells me multiple times a day that purple is her very favorite color. I made the mistake of telling her that I was making her a sweater, and now every time she sees me with the knitting she asks if it is done yet. This afternoon I showed her the progress, she told me it didn't look like a sweater, and that I'm so silly. Then she wanted to help, so I gave her a set of knitting needles and an old ball of yarn and my baby girl and I sat and knit together. Watching her poke the needles into the yarn, and her joy while playing with the ball, tangling her little fingers inside and feeling the material, made me remember why I love my job. I love my job so that I can sit and make my baby girl a purple sweater while she plays with yarn and rests her head on my knee. My job will always overlap with my life, but now that I'm learning to do things for myself again, I appreciate the overlap.

I don't know how you do it, can you please help me?

I just heard this from my 2 1/2 year old while she was trying to turn on Oliver's toy for him. Yes, she is officially 2 1/2 as of the 5th. The time, which seemed to stand still while Oliver crept through his first few months, is now starting to fly while I watch my two little ones play and interact. If I squint, I can see the future. I'm pushing out the future that includes fighting and hair pulling and tattling, and I'm only looking at the future I see now.

Zoe is handing Oliver a shaker and saying, "It's ice cream Oliver. You like ice cream. Do you want red Ollie or green? You can have green and I can have red. Here you go, we can share. Okay I'm gonna eat mine now Oliver, you can eat yours. You'll like it."

She loves him so much and I can only hope that it will continue on like this. She loves to entertain him, and us.

4 Months Old

The little man had his 4 month check up today. He is 15 pounds and 25 inches. And perfect. Love that face.

Rollin' on a River

Milestones are supposed to be a source of pride for parents, but right now at 4:17 in the morning all I can think of is "Holy crap Oliver why did you learn to roll over?"

Both my kids were early rollers, rolling from tummy to back before they were 4 weeks old. Go them! It's not going to get them into a better college, but it's still a small source of pride. Zoe followed a more traditional path of going back to tummy at 6 months, but Oliver took the plunge at 3 1/2 months. Now at 4 months he's stopped dabbling in the roll, and has taken it into the crib with him. There's just one small problem: He's not entirely sure how to sleep on his stomach. He's confused, he's scared, he's frustrated, he's having complex emotions thrust onto him by his tired mother, you get the idea. Essentially he can't figure it out. We flip him onto his back, he goes right back to his stomach and cries. Dr. Jena (shout out for Boulevard Pediatrics!) told me to let him cry it out because he has to figure it out for himself. I agree and that's what we've been doing, but it is so sad.

Zoe had an angry cry. Even at the depth of her crying she still just sounded pissed off. Oliver, whenever he cries, sounds as if his cat was just run over by the person who told him there was no Santa Claus on the day everyone forgot his birthday. Needless to say, it is a pitiful and heartbreaking cry. And it's even worse at 3 a.m.

I know with sleep training it gets a little better each night, and I'm crossing my fingers that tomorrow night is better for him, and for us.

Finally...

On Testing

No one likes tests. We hated them in school, we hate them when we get a ticket and have to be tested in driving school, and as parents we hate it when our kids test us. Lately many of the conversations I've had with Zoe look like this:

"Zoe, please don't put your hands on the glass window."
"I'm not mommy, I'm only putting my fingers on the window."
"Please don't put any body part on the window, you are leaving fingerprints."
"Look Mommy, I can touch it gently and not put any fingerprints."
"Zoe, I'm not kidding, do not touch that window again."
"Okay Mommy, I'm not touching it." (With her hand hovering on top of the window"

Seriously?

I don't know whether to laugh, or to beat her (kidding, obviously). Part of me is secretly proud of her. Many of these conversations end with her outwitting me in some way that I didn't think of, and I have to either acquiesce or pull the mom card. The dreaded "because I said so." Now that I'm a parent I realize the "because I said so" is really just what you say when your kid outsmarts you and you are too tired or too irritated to come up with a better reason.

Another recent conversation went like this:

"Mommy, I want gummies for breakfast."
"No Zoe, we are having eggs for breakfast."
"You can have eggs for breakfast, I'm going to have gummies."
"No, I don't think you are."
"You can have eggs with Daddy and I can have gummies. Sit down Mommy, I can get them by myself."

At which point she drags her little stool over to the pantry and opens up the door. Luckily, I had previously moved her beloved Annie's gummies to a high shelf because she was becoming a little too preoccupied with them.

"Mommy, I can't reach my gummies. You can reach them. I will eat two bites of eggs and then I will get my gummies. Okay?"
"No, there will be no gummies. Gummies are not a breakfast food in this house."
"Is cake a breakfast food in this house?"

Well, at that point I simply walked away. Who has the energy for this at 7:30 in the morning?

Love these faces

The painting is improving...

Besties

Nothing makes me happier than having kids who love each other.

What Type of Parent are You?

Zoe comes home from preschool looking as if she has taken a paintbrush and literally painted her body. Well, her preschool teacher sent some pictures home and I found out that she actually is painting her body in preschool. Apparently they are teaching them creative self-expression, and will be focusing on painting paper and canvas in the coming weeks. Ummm, okay, I guess.




So what type of parent am I? Am I the parent who is thrilled that my child is expressing herself through paint? Or am I the parent who is irritated that the adorable clothes that I've sent her to school in are ruined? I've decided that I'm both of those. I'm glad she's expressing herself, but I'm not sure she needed to do it for two weeks, particularly when I caught her trying to express herself at home, with dot paint, in my living room.

I went to Target and bought her some not so adorable plain t-shirts and shorts that I am happy to throw away once this paint expression is under control. Now when she comes home with a plastic bag full of painted clothing I can smile and ask her how her day was. "I painted myself Mommy! I used orange and red and white but not blue Mommy."

Eight is Great

Here is a video of Zoe playing with the giant piano that Rich brought back from New York. Zoe has most of her numbers down, but apparently she found a few more eights than the rest of us!

Coughing, Sneezing and Ear Infections oh my!

Poor Oliver has caught Zoe's cold. Zoe, of course, had it for about 5 minutes. She used those five minutes to kiss Oliver on the lips and probably licked his fingers right before he put them in his mouth. Now he has to suffer through this cold, which came with the added bonus of double ear infections. This is all new to us. Zoe managed to evade illness like a stealth bomber. She didn't get sick until she was over a year! I guess this is what it means to be a second child.

He is doing much better already now that he has been diagnosed, and I currently have two kids napping. Yes, the nappers have returned. Hallelujah.

The Little Man

Where have all the nappers gone?

No one in my house is sleeping. I'm not complaining, because no one in my house is bothering me either. Zoe is in her crib putting on a play with her dolls. She has two of the exact same dolls. I bought one as a back up, but as soon as she realized there were two of them, she wanted them both in her crib. It was not a battle I chose to fight. Now Target no longer carries the doll, so if something happens I now have to find two replacements instead of one. A replacement for the replacement, is that irony? No, it's just annoying. Her plays are always interesting, mostly revolving around reliving her day at school, with her bossing people around. She is now only napping 3 or so times a week. I decided this afternoon that I don't care if she never naps again, but she will have a strict "quiet time" every afternoon until she is 4. Maybe that is a lofty goal, but it is my plan.

On to number two... 45 minutes ago I put Oliver in the swing to go to sleep. By the way, I will sorely miss that when he hits three months and "motion naps" are outlawed. So I put him in the swing, which generally knocks him right out. I checked on him about five minutes ago and he was wide awake and looking around. Again, not complaining because he is happy as can be. But the question remains, where have all the nappers gone?

The Naked Chef

The Naked Chef

Always Wear Your Seatbelt and Never Buy Precut Fruit

Growing up I was adamant that I would never turn into my parents and I am here telling all of you (or no one, not totally sure who is reading this)that I am slowly turning into them. Some of you might say quickly, some of you might say it happened a long time ago, but I'm sticking with slowly. It's like peeling off a band aid.

I find myself with an increasing need to insert myself in stranger's conversations because I KNOW that the information I have to add is vital and they will not survive without it. This was one of, if not THE, most embarrassing things that my mom did/does and I fight the urge to do it all the time.

When I was around eight years old, we were pulling out of a parking lot next to another car and my mom rolled down the window and started yelling to the other driver "Put your kid in a seat belt." I was so mortified that I wanted to fling myself into the other car and take my chances with the driver who in my mother's mind, by not putting his child in a seat belt, was akin to a serial killer. Now I look back, and say "Go Mom!" Interestingly, I don't remember what happened next, I only remember the embarrassing part. I'd like to think he pulled over, put a seat belt on the kid and always remembered the kindness of a stranger. It's more likely that he flipped off my mom, recklessly pulled out into traffic and then bred a plethora of seat belt averse children.

I am different from my mom. I would never do what she did, BUT I would roll my eyes, grumble under my breath and then turn around and have a discussion with Zoe about the importance of wearing your seat belt. I learned from these experiences.

Buying precut fruit, you know in trays or little containers, is just about the worst thing you can do in my mother's eyes. She (with a little help from her trusty sidekick Marta) spends hours cutting fruits and vegetables for parties when you can very easily, and in under 5 minutes, purchase all the cut items you need. Growing up this was discussed at great length in our house, particularly when we became old enough to be required to help with the peeling and cutting. We accused her of being cheap, mean, basically any adjective that could possibly apply, but she didn't care. "There is no reason to spend that much money when it looks nicer to do it yourself."

This leads me to last week. I was at Whole Foods with my brother. He wanted to buy fruit, so he ran off while I was in line and came back with a container of watermelon and a container of cantaloupe. Okay, in all fairness to me, we were at Whole Foods, which is ridiculously expensive, and he had picked two of the cheapest fruits you can buy. So each of those containers were about $15.00 and I calmly looked at my brother and said, "You can make fun of me, you can call me Mom, but there is not a chance in the world that we are buying those." He rolled his eyes at me, but went and got the whole fruit to cut up. Then he reminded me that my dad had given us money, so it wasn't like we were paying for it. Then I reminded him of the most important part, I got to keep the change. Our reasoning may be different, but the idea is the same.

from 6 to 7

I realized a couple of weeks ago that if I get up at 6, feed Oliver, and put him in his swing (or give him to his dad) I can have about 45 minutes to drink coffee, eat something, and play on the computer. Prior to this I was frantically trying to sleep a few more minutes before going to get Zoe. The energy I get from my "me time" (and let's face it, the coffee)is huge.

I'm starting out this morning on a positive note. I'm getting used to the rice milk, and am actually enjoying my morning coffee again. I got these great vegan muffins from Whole Foods, and I feel like I'm having a real breakfast. Oliver aka "The Noisiest Child on Earth" is peacefully squawking and squeaking in his swing and Zoe is either still sleeping or playing in her crib. Either one works for me.

Happy Sunday!

Really really sweet things done and said by Zoe, in no particular order

1. "It's really great having a baby bruver."
2. Taking a sponge and cleaning her kitchen then telling me, "Mommy, I'm helping you."
3. Holding Oliver's hand and exclaiming with glee, "We're holding hands."
4. Repeatedly bringing me decaf lattes from her kitchen. I haven't the heart to tell her that I can no longer drink lattes, and the word decaf has long been extinguished from my vocabulary.
5. When given the choice to spend a morning alone with me and go anywhere she wants, she chose Target.

I love this girl. I will add to this post as more things come up.

Another beautiful pic by my very talented brother.

Sleep

If babies were born knowing how to sleep properly, I'd be willing to have a lot more of them. If I wasn't frantically trying to sleep when he was sleeping, I'd love to spend more time just watching Oliver sleep. He is so peaceful, as illustrated by these beautiful pictures taken by my brother.

Poop in the tub is grosser than it sounds: Warning - not for the faint of heart

Oliver pooped in the tub. It was disgusting. Any parent who tells you that their child's poop, vomit, pee, etc... isn't gross is lying. You deal with it, you are okay with it, but there is no poop out there that isn't vile. I mean, it's poop.

Let's start by saying that in two years Zoe only pooped in the tub once, and it was when she was older so it was normal poop. By normal, I mean it was not breastmilk poop. It is also important to note that Zoe hated the tub, from birth.

Here is her very first bath at home. It never got better.



I don't use the term hated lightly. She hated it with a visceral passion. She hated it so much, that we really only bathed her when necessary. Before babies can really move, bathing is not necessary, so she got a bath once a week, maybe. It's a little better now, but requires some serious song and dance.

So needless to say, we weren't chomping at the bit to give Oliver his first bath. I would even say that we were excited when after the bris the Mohel told us we had to wait 7-10 days for a bath. We wanted to be extra cautious, so we waited two weeks. Finally, we could wait no more. Our three week old deserved to be bathed at that point. Plus, his little hair was starting to look strange and greasy. Not cool.

Rich had to work late, and I'd already been putting it off, so I decided to save Rich and take this on myself. I got myself all psyched up, some motivational words in the mirror and some motivational words to Oliver. Well, he loved it! Oliver just cuddled in his little sling and stared at me with what I took to be pure relaxation. He was happy and comfortable, and quiet. I was excited because it was one more thing to do at night. Let's face it, 3 1/2 week old babies are not known for their stimulating conversation, and there is only so much leg bicycling one can do. I was glad to be able to add "bathtime" to our repertoire.



This all brings me to last night. My fabulous brother Mikey (shout out!) came over to give me a hand while Rich was at Andrew and Ashley's wedding (another shout out). After Zoe went to sleep, I was giving Oliver a bath and Mikey was getting ready to leave. As he was walking out the door, Oliver exploded. All over the bath, and himself. Luckily (for me, not him) Mikey only had one foot out the door, and came running to the rescue. My favorite part was when Mikey asked me if I was feeding Oliver seeds. (This will only make sense to someone familiar with nursing babies' poop. If that is not you, you are better off for not knowing). The end is not that interesting. The bathtub got rinsed out, Oliver got a new bath and all was right in the world. Other than the fact that in the last week I've been peed and pooped on. Yes, other than that...

Friends

Nothing is more important than friends. I feel so lucky to have joined a mom's group when Zoe was 3 weeks old. Two plus years later we still get together once a week, and the kids in the group are Zoe's dearest friends. Here she is with two of them, Emma and Magnolia, playing dress up and making silly faces.

Very tired picture, and why I love television

My kids. I have the bags under the eyes to prove it. I'm not even embarrassed of this picture; I earned this picture.

I can honestly say I've never been so tired in my life. Why? I did the exact same thing with Zoe. I was actually up even more with Zoe since Oliver is really a better sleeper than she was. The difference is that when I had Zoe, there was no big Zoe. Does that make sense? I'm not sure since I'm so flippin tired. "Sleep when the baby sleeps" is what I keep getting told. Really? Are you going to watch my two year old while I'm sleeping? Because it is pretty challenging to sleep while a two year old is asking you to play with her and read her books. This is where television comes into play.

Maybe I'm a bad mom, but I'm okay with that. I love the television. 20 minutes a day, okay, sure. That is what I'll tell my pediatrician, if she asks. When I've finally got Oliver asleep in his bassinet, Zoe curled up next to me watching Yo Gabba Gabba and I'm heading towards a nice little nap, the best thing I can do is just let the tv keep on going. "Sure honey, one more show is fine." In my mind all I hear is "30 more minutes of sleep for me." That's assuming Oliver doesn't wake up...

Zoe and Her Baby Brother "Ahver"

I was warned by everyone that my beloved two year old would turn into a she devil upon the birth of our second child. The potential was incredible. She might start biting, peeing on the bed, hitting the baby, hitting us, throwing raging tantrums, the list went on...

"She is so excited at the idea of her brother", I would tell anyone who asked. "Oh, but you just wait," was the reply I always got. Or my other favorite, "Yes, but she doesn't really understand." Guess what, she understands. My kid's smart, she gets it. Crying person living in our house, it never phased her.

Oliver moved in, and Zoe's world now revolves around him. Yes, yes, to all you naysayers out there (or to me, since I'm not sure yet if I'm going to tell anyone about this blog), I know it has only been three weeks and things can change. I'm sure they will change. Might she start biting? I don't know. Will she throw huge tantrums? For sure, but I'm more likely to blame that on being a two year old. Will she hit us? Only if she wants to be hit back (kidding!).

She wakes up in the morning and first thing, wants to know where is "my baby, my baby Ahver." Perhaps it was cruel to name her brother Oliver, a name her little mouth can't articulate, but I like the way she says his name. She runs into the bedroom to see him, and wants to kiss him. Sometimes on his keppie, but she is really aiming for his little lips. "Hi baby Ahver, hi baby Ahver." If he makes any sound, she wants to know what is wrong. "It's okay baby Ahver, I'll help you." She laments to me multiple times a day, "He doesn't talk. He's too little." I know she is desperate for him to respond to her, and hopefully when the eye contact and the babbling and smiling start she will feel like she is getting more bang for her buck. The other morning she turned to us in bed, where the four of us (five including Rufus) were hanging out together and said, "It's great to have a baby brother." And that, is all I ever wanted to hear.

Gummy Bears, Horchata rice dream and other things that make me happy right now

For the past eight days I have cut dairy, soy, eggs and nuts out of my diet. I can't believe it has only been eight days, it feels like eight years. I am starting to make my way into the world of "allergy eating" and find it to be somewhat of a dark place. You know you are in a weird spot when a recommendation from a website is to eat fast food; apparently McDonalds hamburger and french fries has no allergy causing ingredients (for me at least). I might keel over from a heart attack, but at least no soy will leach into my breast milk. I had been eating gummy bears, lots of gummy bears. Some salad, but that hasn't sounded very good, tacos from baja fresh and the fajita plate from sharky's.

Two nights ago, after eating a rice krispie treat made with butter that sent Oliver into a vomiting frenzy, I committed to this diet change. I went to Whole Foods and bought some vegan muffins, some protein bars, fruit and veggies, and Horchata Rice Dream. That was the game changer. It is delicious! I would buy it even if I could eat all the dairy in the world. It tastes like something a normal person would consume, unlike the rest of this food which is very clearly just replacement food.

I love my son, but I really miss Starbucks lattes. The good news is that my pediatrician says most babies outgrow this by six months. Eight days down...