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...