My Wombinations

To Sam on your Third

2010-01-25T06:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Sammy,

I spent part of this afternoon going through old photos to send to your teacher so she can make a little booklet of your life. I was only supposed to send three, but I ended up finding more than 15 I wanted to send because there were so many I wanted people to see.

Your big blue eyes, the dress you used to wear everywhere, your silver shoes, your short hair that used to be straight. You have gone through many phases in your three years on Earth and even the other day when I pulled out the home movies, I was shocked by how much you have changed. Because to me? You are still a baby. Even though you are a big girl who speaks in full sentences and reads and uses a real bathroom, you are still the little infant I brought home from the hospital, so wrinkled and warm and I am still the mommy who has not made any mistakes or told you no or even raised my voice.

Sadly, the latter is not true and sometimes I feel bad about how frustrated I get with you. You are a spirited, high energy child and I am sure the very qualities that sometimes make me and daddy nuts are the same ones that will make you successful and well-liked later in your life. You are a constant fireball, making us laugh and making us want to cry 90 percent of the the time.

I understand so many of the things you do because I remember doing them myself. You are my daughter through and through, but you are sensitive like your daddy and you love him more than anything in this world. When he looks at you, I can tell just how gaga he is. And don't tell him I told you this, but I saw the way he teared up the other day when you and I left on a girls' weekend at the lake house. Make no mistake little one, your daddy is your biggest fan.

You are a fire, a constant ball of energy. You want to play with things NOW and you fall into dramatic despair when things do not work exactly as you planned. You rush away from me in museums because you can't see the exhibits fast enough. Keeping up with you is a struggle and sometimes I wish you would slow down, not just because I can't keep up, but also because I want to see you soak things up, learning and processing. It just seems like you are done before I even see things sometimes.

I admire so many things about you. You potty trained yourself at 2.5, you get dressed on your own ("All myself!") You want to put your shoes on, zip your coat and walk places all by yourself. It was a struggle just to get you to learn to hold my hand in parking lots. Sometimes I wonder if you even need me at all, but then there are times like the other day, when you just run up and hug me, pressing your sweaty little head into my thighs. "I love you mommy."

Sometimes I think the reason you don't always need me is that you have a natural security and confidence. You are bold and curious, marching up to everyone with the same excited "Hi!" calling every person you meet, "my friend." But these past months you have also started having nightmares (and one night terror). You are newly scared of monsters and dragons and ghosts (even though you also kind of crave and love them. And although I want you to be unafraid and bold, I also like it a little when you need us, when you want us to hold you and when you want us to assure you everything is ok. After all, that is our job. We are your parents and I am glad you let us do at least that.

You are also so imaginative, playing by yourself for up to an hour, making up stories with your dolls (and sometimes your hands). You find new uses for everything, sometimes a little table with a pillow on it is "Sammy's couch." Other times an envelope becomes part of "tinkerbell's house." You are into fairies and butterflies and sometimes princesses and always animals. ou put us to shame with the way you put puzzles together as though they are nothing. YYou love your paper doll game and your go fishing game and all your books, from Fancy Nancy to Tinkerbell and "We Eat Dinner in the Bathtub."And everywhere you go, you cart a little sack of books with you. I love that you love reading. I love that you read to your brother while I make dinner (yes, I really love this) and I love that you are so busy in your own mind.

You amaze me Sammy. And I don't tell you enough because we are so busy in the day to day. I often can't believe that this bright, imaginative, funny, clever, articulate little girl is mine. It is nothing we did. You were just born this way. And we are lucky, lucky, lucky to call you our own.

There are amazing things in store for you. I am your mommy. And I am sure of it.

Sam at 2 Years, 8 Months

2009-10-01T06:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we wrapped up our sessions with the psychiatrist who was evaluating Sam and I must say, it was a massive, massive relief.

She taped our family "play" session and in it, she found so many things about my bright, playful, precocious child that I had quite simply missed. For instance, Sam is trying so hard to be a good girl, she is working so hard at it that she often has meltdowns, but there are clues leading up to when a meltdown is coming and ways of heading them off at the pass. Who knew?

When she is headed in that direction, Sam pauses and she tries to redirect her energy. She looks around the room and uses her "immense creativity" to find something else to play with, but the problem is that this particular skill is years (literally years) ahead of where she should be developmentally. Her precocity is deceiving or, according to Dr. Blank, "She is really two children, the baby 2-year-old she should be and the astounding six-year-old she is capable of being."

In watching the tapes, I became very emotional because I think that in all of my worrying about Sam (and wondering if she would be a serial killer), I missed what a sweet little girl she really is. I think I missed how HARD she is working just to be a good girl and please us and how much of her still needs to be treated like a baby even as she tells me "Mommy! I a big girl, I can do it all myself."

The therapist said that we are to view Sam like a racehorse. That she is a little girl who is amazingly self-motivated, precocious and yes, very, very gifted. We should encourage her self-motivation and her interests in reading and making up stories and singing and math, but that we should also help her slow down. She is going to push herself so hard in life that we need to be the ones to reign her in and help her have a strong, loving base.

The danger with Sam is not that she will not succeed, but that she will push herself too hard. Even more, she is very sensitive, so my yelling and anger has the opposite reaction with her. "She needs a light touch," Dr. Blank explained.

In all seriousness, I found the whole thing to be enlightening. I think I had been relating to her so much that I forgot she also is half her father. He can't STAND to be yelled at and is super sensitive (to a fault, in my opinion). Turns out she is like me, but she is also like him. She also told us that when Alan is her age (poor little baby boy) we will realize just how very advanced Sam is (implying that Alan will be some drooling goon, I suppose. Ha!)

She said that all of the classes I have been taking with Sam are not only ok, that they are good for her. That part of the reason she is so advanced is that she has had so much and such varied stimulation at a young age. This was a relief for me because I had started to worry that I was pushing her too hard. The main takeaway message is that for all of her independence and precocity and intelligence, Sam is really only 2-years-old. "She needs to be babied and rocked and loved," said Dr. Blank.

She said that based on her decades of experience that Sam will grow into the kind of child who will want to (and probably can) "go into Harvard at 15." But that our job as parents is to remind her of her youth, to encourage her to slow down and to go to her in moments where it seems like she is acting too old for her age and to encourage her to be our baby just a little longer.

Honestly, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. So much of what I already thought about Sam was confirmed, but I have also learned so many new things and have so many parenting strategies to take away. I LOVE this doctor. If anyone in the Boston area would like her name (she is really well-known nationally and considered one of the top in the country), please email me privately.

In other news, it has been a good month for Sam. Her transition to school has been easy with very few road bumps. She seems happier with this schedule and she has become increasingly loving and adorable with her brother.

On Sunday, the whole fam will be out watching me run my marathon. I am very nervous since Alan is sick and I might be headed that way. But it is what it is.

I have also been hard at work on the ensemble Halloween costumes we will all be sporting on Oct. 31 and am quit looking forward to trick-or-treating. Sam is going to LOVE it this year.

Happy October!

Gratitude

2009-09-24T08:59:00.000-07:00

I hate when people use other people's tragedies as opportunities to count their own blessings, but I heard a couple stories last night that made me do just that. So I woke up with this radical new notion that maybe I should try to find more than just joy in my life, but also gratitude. Serious, serious gratitude. There is so much to be thankful for, including:

1.) My husband. Always. So, so lucky to have this man.
2.) My healthy pregnancies and healthy, energetic, happy children
3.) Children who nap and nap often
4.) My health and ability to run 26.2 miles no matter how fast it is
5.) Life
6.) I have few close friends, but the ones I have are world-class, truly amazing people
7.) A second chance with an old friend
8.) Enough money to be comfortable and a condo that I really do like even if it is a bit cramped
9.) Living in a city that is full of vibrant, interesting people who like to get out and do thing all the time. A city full of culture and all this while also being just a bike/short car trip ride away from the ocean, great beaches, apple orchards and skiing.
10.) Fall in New England.
11.) So much time with my babies while they are young

There is more, lots more. But this is a start. This is not to brag or to jinx myself (please not that), but is instead to remind myself that, even on the days where the little things are making me nuts, in the big picture it is a pretty fantastic life and I am happier than I sometimes think.

Hardest Job in the World?

2009-09-23T05:15:00.000-07:00

This piece on Babble is generating a lot of debate among my mother friends (and the occasional father and non-father, too).

The piece essentially says that motherhood, though difficult and exhausting and emotionally explosive at times, is NOT the hardest job in the world. It goes on to say that jobs like corn husking and working at Chuck E. Cheese (!!) are, in fact, more difficult and that all we moms need to calm the hell down. At least that is what I thought on my first reading.

On my second reading, I had a different takeaway. I think what she was/is saying is that motherhood IS difficult and taxing and exhausting, but that WE make it incredibly hard on ourselves and we need to let ourselves off the hook a little.

At first I was so angry that someone (a mother of five no less) had the nerve to suggest that motherhood was anything but the "hardest job in the world." And even though I loathe platitudes like I loathe Winnie the Pooh, Disney and Precious Moments, I also do derive comfort from the idea that when Sam is making me want to drown myself in a puddle out back, there are thousands of other moms feeling the same way. I did not (and still do not) need to read an essay from some super happy housewife who walks around feeling creatively fulfilled, intellectually stimulated and happy hanging out with squaking munchkins.

This was NOT that article. Let me be very clear about that since some people have misread it. The piece is NOT about that. In fact, it is it is the opposite: a call to moms to stop the madness and stop killing ourselves to make sure our children are properly stimulated, full of organic foods/breastmilk and happy at all times. That is where the misery comes in. And on this point, I agree with the author immensely.

Because I have been crazy in many ways with my kids. In addition to the constant guilt, I am always worried that Sam is not getting enough stimulation. On the odd chance we spend a day at home, I feel horribly guilty. I derive little joy from motherhood at times because I am always worried about what is next or whether Sam had enough intellectual stimulation that day. I try very hard to balance the play--the trips to the park, the long walks, the Children's/science museum/aquarium--with the intellectual--the helping her with her reading, art class, spanish class, ballet/gymnastics. It can be exhausting, though, that constant worry that I did not do enough, feed her brain enough, let her blow off steam enough. It is the conatant worry that DOES make motherhood so stressful.

So since reading the article (um, on Monday) I have tried to chill the eff out. To take it all a little less seriously (although, not that much less seriously, after all, what is more serious than motherhood?) I find people who can't laugh, who have little sense of humor and are wound WAY too tight to be tedious and annoying, so I was surprised to realize that in the realm of motherhood, I may have become like that.

I am trying to derive more pleasure from my kids and trying to look at it less as a job and more as a relationship, one that occasionally makes me laugh, cry and scream in frustration. By looking at motherhood as a "job," we do take some of the joy out of it and I find myself anxious for R to get home and relieve me. But motherhood is something totally different, an ongoing process, a 24/7 experience. It is probably the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life (meanwhile the author says her summer spent husking corn was more difficult).

She has taken issue with some of the comments in the comments section of her piece, insisting that she never once said motherhood was a cakewalk. And she didn't. She says repeatedly in the piece that motherhood is trying, indeed. But if husking corn is "harder" then I guess I would ask: what is your definition of hard? Because motherhood IS full of backbreaking labor. There are days where I have to scrub Alan's bum three times, dump Sam's old potty 10 more and also clean up after every meal (and try to stress when they don't eat). I am a maid, a referee, a babysitter, a dog walker, a laundress AND a writer (and runner) every single day. How on earth is corn husking or working at Chuck E. Cheese harder than that? No I have never worked in the rice paddies under the hot sun, but being a mom is not easy.

I say, if you think motherhood is easy, then you are doing something wrong. It is FAR from easy. But it does have moments of joy and fun (at times) and sometimes when I look at it like my day job, I forget that.

So, do I agree with the article? Yes and no. Mostly no. I actually think the writer has a dangerous lack of clarity in the piece that leaves it open to interpretation and misreading. I am not sure that even she knew fully what she wanted to say (and as a writer for Babble, I do sympathize). But I do appreciate the perspective it has given me and the insight that maybe I am "working" too damn hard at this. Maybe I should try to enjoy it a little more.

A Girl, Her Daddy and Some Apples on a Sunday Afternoon

2009-09-21T05:25:00.000-07:00

And p.s. the Pats were playing. Daddy rules.

Ani at 13 Months

2009-09-14T18:54:00.000-07:00

So my little monkey is the dreaded 13 months. And what a strange month it has been.

We started the month with the beginning of Early Intervention on the recommendation of our pediatrician. Because Alan was not yet pulling up to standing, she wanted to be on the safe side.

They came in, evaluated him in a million different ways and found that he is developmentally on track or advanced in every way... except gross motor skills. Even though we pretty much already knew this, it was a relief to hear. We set some goals for his development, booked the first appointment... and then he started pulling up. And getting to sitting from his back and tummy. Then he started cruising and then he even started taking some tentative steps. We have no idea if he heard us talking or decided just to develop at his own pace, but here he is, in much better shape than he was a month ago and I am left with that old familiar feeling: all children develop at their own pace.

Whenever people tell us that Sam is "gifted" or "exceptionally verbal" or any of the other compliments she often gets, I tend to take it with a grain of salt. Kids develop the way they develop and while it's true that Sam has the verbal/literacy skills of children almost twice her age, it really does not mean other kids won't catch up eventually (which is why it is super irritating when people get competitive about these things). The same is true of Alan. He might be a little behind physically, but I am not worried that means he is any less intelligent than any of his peers. There is no prize for reading at 3 and there is no prize for walking at 7 months. It all comes when it comes. So there.

I will say though that I am relieved. There were a couple weeks there where we were concerned, but the the physical therapist has pointed out that Alan is just a victim of the "Back To Sleep Campaign" combined with a vicious older sister who scared him off the ground and parents who carry him almost everywhere. "He is a perfect storm," she told us. Perfect, indeed.

Of course now, after all that stress, he has become a major pain in the ass. He no longer wants to sleep, after all, he has cruising to do! He no longer wants to be in the Ergo, after all, there are things to explore! Suddenly Ani is a toddler without the toddle, replete with all the demands and frustrations of the age.

He is a hard to please little guy, not unlike his sister in that way. But he is still a cuddle bug and yes, we are still nursing. Quite a bit. He will wean when he weans. I don't mind nursing him through this flu season anyway.

He loves animal crackers and blueberries and strawberries and bananas. He is a picky eater, although not nearly as bad as his sister (I am pretty sure anorexics eat more than her). He is obsessed with pretzel sticks and gatorade and the way to keep him happy in the car is to feed him about 2,000 pretzels or "feed the beast," as we say.

He has gone from saying simple one words to small phrases--"what's that?" (which he says all the time); "I want this," etc. He also says mama, dada, bye, hello, Rocky, more, no (which he says almost constantly) and a few others. He is fond of pointing his finger and shouting at you to "goooooooo!" Can someone please tell me how to live under TWO dictators?

He is a boy through and through, liking all the typical boy things like trucks and balls and rocket ships (not that Sam does not like those things as well). He has also gotten much more into the park and will rarely stay in my arms, now preferring to try to climb and explore on his own.

The kid is all right. I think we'll keep him. I wonder if he gets sick of my constant kisses and squeezes, but I can't help it. He is just that loveable and I want to squeeze every last bit of the baby out of him before it is gone never to return.

Some photos:

Sam at 2 years, 7 months

2009-09-10T10:46:00.000-07:00

Since I am late in writing this, some of these changes are going to me more like "Sam at 2 years, 7.5 months" but I can't pretend like I am not behind... So that's that.

The big news this month is... drum roll, please... we are fully potty trained. We were for a couple weeks and then she had a major setback weekend when we went up to the lake house, but since we have returned (knock wood), she has not had a single accident and it is all undies all the time now. I am very proud of her and happy to be leaving diapers behind. She is even keeping her nighttime pull-ups dry, so I suspect in a week or so, we can kick them to the curb as well. I can't even express how nice it is to only have one in diapers.

In other news, today was Sammy's first day of preschool, although it was not a drop-off day, but rather a parent participation day. I was very, very happy with the facility and the international vibe. There are gay parents and twins and diverse ethnic and racial backgrounds. Sam's teacher is Peruvian and seems very, very sweet and loving. Sam rolled into school, her sunglasses on in her boutique dress, acting like the coolest kid on the block. I was super proud, of course.

Sam's behavior this month has been a mixed bag. She is at once a polite and caring little lady, always worried about others and their needs, constantly asking if people are ok and offering to share, and a HOLY TERROR, screaming as loud as she can until she gets her way and generally causing a ruckus.

Her independence is unprecedented. Truly. Even today at school, almost every single parent and teacher remarked that she was "the most independent child" they had ever seen. Believe me, we hear it all the time. Everything is "all myself." She goes to the bathroom--no help allowed. She gets a treat--no help allowed. She buckles into her carseat, stroller, anything--no help. She puts on her shoes. You get the idea. And yes, I realize that every kid goes through this phase, but with Sam it is an extreme. We go nowhere and do nothing until she has satisfied her "all myself" urges.

She is still SUCH a daddy's girl, which is hard this month because, um, R's new job is crazy. Much longer hours, less time to devote to the kids. He no longer comes to doctor's appointments and even missed her first day of school. We are all still adjusting to the new regime, Sam especially. Sometimes in the middle of the day she will burst into tears.

"Why are you crying?" I ask.

"I just miss my daddy so much."

Ugh. Heartbreaking. For all of us.

On a lighter note, Sam is continuing her daredevil ways by always wanting to climb the highest and jump the most. She is almost always fired up and ready to have fun and I love her excitement this month. "OH MY GOSH!" she screams when something makes her happy. "You are my FAVORITE _____(fill in the blank)" she tells anything she likes. She has also become super social this month, making friends everywhere she goes. My child has zero shyness and marches right up to kids at the park, their parents, homeless people and their dogs. It is so cute and I love it and most of the time she makes friends, but it also sets her up for a bit of rejection and I have found myself getting a bit territorial lately when it comes to her and how people treat her. A 4-year-old who is mean to her? Well she could be shy. It's true. But she also earns my wrath. I can't help it. Mamma Bear is out in full force.

Sam has also taken to, um, swearing this month. Little Miss Potty Mouth stomps her little feet and says "Goddamit" when she is mad and called a fellow driver a "F'in B!#!" while we were in the car. Um, I have no idea where she gets this. I am mixed on how to handle it. Right now we ignore it, but we may need to try to curb it at some point. We'll see. I am not really that anti-cursing, but I do hope she understands the concept of time and place.

Each month I say that Sam is exhausting and each day she becomes even more so. She is a dynamo, always fired up about something, so, SO passionate, opinionated, bossy and funny as hell. If the "terrible twos" are a first adolescence then I have seen a bit of what we are in for with the real deal and I am scared. Excited and scared.

Some photos:

The Prodigal Blogger Returneth

2009-09-09T07:48:00.000-07:00

I have been remiss in blogging, tis true. I have no real reason except that between my Fit Pregnancy Blog and my marathon training, blogging has fallen by the wayside. But I am seeking to remedy that.

I need updates for both Sam and Alan who have made major strides over the past month. Stay tuned. Then I hope to return to blogging with some regularity.

She's back!

Ani-Bear Is One

2009-08-02T05:37:00.001-07:00

Dear Ani,

I think it has been really hitting me this past week that you are really going to turn one. Even though I have begged and pleaded and cajoled, you will not be deterred. And it is breaking my heart.

Oh, I know we have so much more fun in store and I can't wait to watch you grow and become a little boy and do all of the things you want to do and run and jump and play with your sister, but these past 12 months have passed so quickly and they have been such a blur. I wanted you to arrive so badly and now that you have, you are moving too fast.

I never knew how much I wanted a boy, never knew how little your gender would matter, really. I know that sounds insane, but I had this set of expectations and your birth (along with your sister's) has shattered them. I am so grateful to you for that. You are such a little man and yet such a unique person with your own unique interests.

We call you Ani because your sister can't say Alan and Ani-Bear because we dressed you like a bear all winter, but the name suits you so well. You are cuddly warm and always smell intoxicating. Such an Ani-Bear. My Ani-Near. Our Ani-Bear.

This past month I have been so delighted to watch your personality emerge and, like your sister before you, it is a strong one. You want what you want, which is very often me. You want to throw balls and chase them. You like to read (although cannot sit still for long), scoot all over the house on your bum leaving a trail of squeaks and sometimes flattened grass behind you. You love sandboxes and the beach and like to dig with your fingers and get messy. You growl (frequently), which is comical when you are in the Ergo and you laugh often as well.

You are aggressive and single minded and I have no doubt that soon enough you will be a force all your own in our clan of "forces."

But for now, you are my baby, my tiny infant and I can't believe you have made it to this milestone. It has been a crazy year, my baby son. We had a lot of trouble adjusting to our new family of four. It is not easy and I sometimes feel like your babyhood got lost in the shuffle. But I know that's not true. It has not been easy. But you are something so special and you round out our family in such an important way. I can't believe that I ever questioned how it would work. It just does.

Today I made cupcakes and a bunch of your friends will come to celebrate you (and I am hoping the rain hods off). But I celebrate you every day and feel so lucky that you are in my life.

Keep up the good baby work and you might convince us to go for it again my delicious little muffin boy.

Happy birthday. We all adore you.

Mommy

Ani-Bear Is One

2009-08-01T19:51:00.000-07:00

Sam at 2.5

2009-07-29T05:26:00.001-07:00

More and more it seems Sam is a little girl. The baby is disappearing so quickly, I hardly remember her. In her place we have a fun, albeit exhausting preschooler who is loud, boisterous, energetic and totally adorable.

Or, as R says, "I really feel like we are actual parents now, not just people with a cute baby."

For the first time we are encountering sleep problems with Sam. As I have said many times, she slept from 8-8 starting at about six weeks. Since then I could have counted on one hand the number of times we were up in the night with her. No longer. We put her to bed now and she is up and needs to be walked back about five or six times. She asks for her "DW book" and "another kiss" and "water" and "Daddy" and anything she can think of to avoid being put back to bed. Once she finally does fall asleep, she usually ends up in our bed around 3 a.m. at least three days a week. I don't really mind, I guess. It is so cute to wake up with her between us, but I do not like the fact that it is a very rare night now where we are not woken up by at least one of our children.

Potty training has been majorly, majorly derailed. I take the blame for this, really. R and I were too lazy to want to deal with accidents in public, so we kept putting her in diapers. Now it seems she has lost interest in potty training. I am not feeling too rushed about it, but it would be nice to have her completely out of diapers.

Sam has always been a voracious reader, but this month it has become kind of crazy. She has a little wagon she fills with books as well as two Lulu Lemon sacks. She insists on carrying at least one book with her everywhere we go. Favorites include, "To Market, To Market"; "Pony Books" (these My Little Pony books that came with a meal at one of our favorite places at the lake); "Brown Bear, Brown Bear"; "Dr. Seuss ABCs" and many, many more. She has most of them memorized word for word and can also read some of the smaller words. I am so happy she loves to read so much, but I worry that the reason is that, since birth (and this is no exaggeration) both R and I have spent/d at least two hours a day reading to her. With Alan? Not so much. I worry he will not be the reader she is.

Her behavior towards her brother is so much better to our immense relief. We are still following through on shrinkage because, really, she would not be my daughter without a professional analyst. My family loves us some shrink time. But also, I think it would be good for us to really learn what kind of kid Sam is so that we can best serve her. Honestly, she is such a dynamo and such a force and so damn smart, I just want to make sure that she gets the best possible encouragement and support.

Generally though she and Alan have started to play together and enjoy one another. In the car they make eachother laugh and talk back and forth. They conspire a bit to do things and she seems to enjoy helping her brother get toys he can't reach, go to bed and get out of his crib. I am sure when he walks we will go through another rough patch, but for now, this is a welcome change.

She loves, loves LOVES big kids. At the sitter's, her "fevorite friend" is a four-year-old named Molly who she talks about all the time ("Molly has a pretty necklace, but I don't want to break it"; " I so excited to see Molly!") Yesterday at the park, she met a big boy and just followed him all around, playing Firemen. If the big kids are climbing high, she wants to climb, too, but she is also starting to learn her limits. The big boy offered to let her use his bike and she said no. "I need my helmet," she explained. I wanted to kiss her.

Depending on her mood (and she is so moody like her mama), she can be so fun and sweet and solicitous or so dark, stormy and angry. I love both sides of her, but obviously find it preferable when she is in an easy mood.

She is really learning Spanish and at home says quite a few words, but in class she clams up. She also is really enjoying her art class, but seems to me more into the tactile activities--playdough, goop, jello painting--than the more paint-oriented ones. She does love to use her feet to paint, though.

Love this kid even though she exhausts me beyond belief. She is really something.

Some photos:

Happy Birthday to Me

2009-07-20T03:36:00.000-07:00

I am not typically a birthday person. I am not a huge fan of getting older and am generally disappointed in whatever the days brings. But I have to say, the last three birthdays (since turning 30) have become progressively better. But this weekend really takes the (cup) cake.

Saturday started kind of rainy and gray, but we had Sam's pre-school open house to see the new digs. It was great and we were very pleased, especially Sam who emerged wearing a painting of a butterfly on her face and feeling very excited about the school year to come.

After a short run for me (five miles) and a nap for the kids, we headed out to Revere Beach for the sandcastle competition. The beach is seven miles from our house, maybe a 30-minute bike ride, a distance I could easily run and yet we had never been to this particular one mostly because as an urban beach accessible by subway, its reputation has always been less than stellar. I was surprised to find it was actually pretty nice and was reminded why we pay so much to live in a city that offers the ocean, mountains and interesting city all in such close proximity.

We had a blast (especially Sam).

The next morning (b-day day) I woke up to a gift from the cat (a dead mouse) and a sunshine strewn 70 degrees (and climbing). So sweet. Since the kids get us up so early, we managed to make our way over to a new brunch place with a beautiful outdoor patio under hundreds of grape vines. And because it was so early, we got to enjoy our pumpkin pancakes, eggs, coffee, bacon, waffles and such in relative privacy. Then we headed over to a new (to us) park, since we were on the other side of the city. Not only did we have the whole place to ourselves, we also got to use the giant flower sprinklers that spray the equipment without worrying about soaking other kids.

At home for Ani's nap, R and Sam went to the park closest to our house while I watched Little Children. When Ani woke up, we headed out to meet them and fly our new kite. Then it was naptime so we went home, the kids went down and the doorbell rang.

24 CUPCAKES

To say these were "good" is not to do them justice. They were divine. I ate about 10 and then strapped on my new Garmin 305 (one of my birthday gifts from Rob) and ran a full 10 miles.

Soon after, we all went out to dinner where we met my parents, sister and a couple good friends. Total loot included a substantial Lulu Lemon GC, a book, jewelry and my training watch. But really, that was secondary to such a fabulous day full of good food, a city I love, spectacular weather and the people I care most about.

If all days go like this, 32 is going to be the best year ever.

Counting Our Blessings

2009-07-16T05:01:00.000-07:00

In the comment section of my latest essay on Babble.com, there seems to be a little argument about "counting our blessings." That, somehow, by speaking honestly about the difficulty of raising my two kids, I have discounted all the positives in my life.

I haven't.

I very much appreciate the ability to stay home with my children, to watch them grow. They are the best things in my life (along with their dad) and I am thankful everyday for their existence. I adore our family and feel so lucky to be able to do work I enjoy while simultaneously raising my kids. All that said, I am not writing Chicken Soup for the Soul, people. I am not so blissed out (or medicated) that I do not recognize that there are good days and bad ones. And most of all, who would read an essay about all the good thing about parenthood? Really?

(After all, I have counted my blessings before and been called a snob)

Because from firsthand experience I can tell you how quickly I tire of the blogs that seem to endlessly brag about children. I get nauseous when parents want only to show off how cute their kids are and say nothing about the truths and difficulty in raising them. I write my essays and stories and blog posts because they are the truth. I hope they speak to other mothers who are also interested in the truth. I refuse to be an upbeat, positive, chipper person all the time because you know what? I am not. I am a realist.

I see the world as beautifully gray, not black and white. I do not have a bible or a collection of Precious Moment dolls that dictate my behavior. I decide on a case-by-case basis how to react to situations. And, despite what you may read here, I am an extremely happy person, perpetually on a quest for "more" maybe, but also really pleased with the way my life has turned out so far. But I am not chipper. I am not going to regurgitate something from a motivational poster so I can effect a "happy" life. My happiness comes from truthfulness, from acknowledging how hard things are and sometimes lifting the rock to reveal the not-so-pretty things beneath it.

So, yes, my children are blessings. They are creatures of G-d and uniquely fabulous little people I adore with every ounce of my being. And yes, I am damn lucky to spend so much time with them and be married to a man I can't get enough of. I am lucky to have work that intellectually stimulates me and allows me to pay for my kids school (which apparently makes me a snob according to some bitter people), but I am not going to apologize for telling my truth. And judging from the number of positive comments, I am not alone. Some people do appreciate honesty over false chipper-ness.

Because you know what? It is the most chipper, perpetually cheerful people who keep the dirtiness of life well-hidden who actually suffer the most. G-d forbid they appear less-than-Hallmark-y, who knows what might happen?

Offending (Again)

2009-07-14T03:42:00.000-07:00

A few points of clarity with yesterday's post:

1.) I am in NO WAY advocating for private school over public. I am not sure why anyone would read this into the post b/c I did not even mention it, but to be simple and clear: I am not.

2.) I am merely stating my experience, one I will readily admit is not the norm and I was very lucky to have (and one I would like, if possible, to offer to my children). It does not mean I think everyone should have it or I am somehow better than anyone else b/c I had it.

3.) If my kids chose not to go to college, I would be tentatively accepting if they had a "plan."

4.) I think the way the university system in this country is set up is atrocious. It allows the wealthiest few the opportunity to attend the private schools while others cannot. It isn't fair. It needs to change.

Sometimes I am aware that what I write is offensive and I do so to be provocative. I think the best discussions come when people are honest and when they are willing to challenge the way they were raised to think. I am willing to do that and a lot of what the discussion yesterday (both here, on facebook and in offline discussions) did that for me. But I have to say, I am surprised by what a sensitive topic this is. I had no idea how many different things this topic would bring up (public versus private being a huge shock because I did not even mention it).

The reality is that if I tried to be sensitive to all different points of view, I would end up too paralyzed with fear to write. So sometimes I say things that are not well thought out or come out wrong. And sometimes people bring their own insecurities and preconceived notions to the table. I can't help that. But I can help clarify my points and make them as honest and real as possible. So, here it is.

I am glad for the opportunity to have a discussion and am attempting to keep an open mind to other viewpoints.

On that note, check out my new essay on Babble.

To Pay or Not to Pay

2009-07-13T11:13:00.000-07:00

A very interesting piece came out today on Babble.

Essentially, the author (who has five children) says that she will not pay for her childrens' education largely because she knows she will not be able to afford it, but also because she believes in some kind of bootstrap mentality where children appreciate it more if they earn it.

After reading the piece I have a lot of thoughts. Probably the first is gratitude. Because honestly, it never even occurred to me that there WAS another option beyond paying for my kids' education. So just the opportunity to consider this has opened my eyes quite a bit. for instance, my friend A said that her parents made her and her brother pay for the first year and then they covered the rest. Seems like that offers the best of both worlds.

R paid for his own school (almost) entirely. I will not speak for him, but let's just say that his philosophy is that he wants his children to have what he did not. He wants to pay for their education entirely. It has been hard for him to start life with so much debt.

My parents paid for my school and then they paid for grad school. During the time, I will absolutely admit I was not grateful at all. All of my friends were in the same boat, so the idea that I would thank my dad for all the hours he logged that paid my 160k*** "little Ivy" education was preposterous. It is only now, a decade later, that I am grateful for what his generosity afforded me: a debt free start to my life, the room to explore my interests and find my niche without the burden of debt and yes, a massive sense of entitlement.

I could not be honest without admitting that I was and have been spoiled by my upbringing. It is good for me to open my eyes to other thoughts and listen. This is one of the reasons R and I are so good for eachother. He challenges my expectations.

All that said, I expect my kids to go to college. And then grad school. I expect them to be lawyers/doctors/PhD academics/successful writers, etc. I don't even think I realized how pushy/upper middle class my expectations were until today. The idea that they would do anything other than college/gradschool seemed insane. I can't say that I have been awakened and now hope they will learn a trade and skip college, but I am considering some of my expectations of a toddler and a baby and wondering if they are too pushy.

Could I have created the life I have and love--the job, the family--by bootstrapping it? Maybe. R certainly did. But where I have an idealistic, "our kids can major in whatever strikes their fancy b/c they will go to grad school anyway" philosophy, he is much more, "what can they do to maximize their earning potential?"

Two schools of thought, both equally valid.

I have no answers today. I will say I want kids who are grateful and know what they have, not spoiled like I was. But I also want children who feel they can do anything they want, attend Ivy League schools and not have the pressure of finances holding back their dreams and ambitions. In the end, I am not sure what to think, but I am grateful for the opportunity to ponder it. So, thanks Babble and Meagan Francis.

Ani at 11 Months

2009-07-02T12:13:00.000-07:00

Ani-bear is now one month from his first birthday, a fact that will make me sob if I allow it to sit too long, so I am trying to avoid that reality and instead focus on how amazing he is right now.

Ani is the most luscious, sweetest, cuddliest little love-bug in the history of procreation. I am 100 percent positive about this. My baby has thick, soft thighs I can't stop squeezing, cheeks as pinchable as they are delicious and a head of hair that always smells of "lemons and spiced tea" (at least according to Auntie K).

This month he has started scooting and in the three weeks he has been on the move, has become quite adept at getting from point A to point B. He is also working on pulling up and can get himself into a kneeling position and will probably be standing very soon. when I pull him up, he can stand on his own (while gripping something) for quite some time.

Increased mobility has changed his personalty a bit. He used to only want to cuddle, now he wants to be on the floor most of the time (a fact that has given me a new and even higher appreciation for the work of our cleaning ladies). This presents a huge problem: his evil sister. Having grown accustomed to her cute, albeit boring brother who sat like a pile of steaming poop in the middle of our living room, Miss Sammy is not taking too kindly to his sudden interest in--and ability to reach--her many toys. She has taken to daily (actually, hourly) murder attempts. And no, I am not exaggerating. If they are left alone, my little hell cat of a daughter will wrap her tiny hands around her brother's neck and squeeze as hard as she can. Obviously, I would not dream of leaving the ROOM. But I can't even make breakfast on one side while he is sitting on the other, lest he be pushed, shoved or potentially strangled. Yesterday, I had to rush him to the ER after a very confusing stint in the gym daycare (a post for another day) where he ended up sporting two gooseeggs, some bruising and bleeding on the back of his head.

No more. We are hiring a pro. Starting next week we have a psychiatrist we are paying beacoup bucks coming in to help us. The shrink is less for her and more for us to strategize and figure out how to encourage good behavior and eliminate (or greatly reduce) bad all while helping her maintain her unique loveliness. This is not the job for hacks like us. We need a pro.

Ani is becoming much feistier. He no longer allows toys to be snatched without major protest. He will fight if challenged and can communicate pretty clearly what he wants through pointing, gesturing and the few words he knows.

Since motion is taking the front seat, verbal seems to be moving to the back. He has started saying "thank you" and "dog" and "ball" among some other new words, but mostly he is focused on movement. He continues to enjoy nursing far more than his sister did at this age. I will continue to nurse him for at least a little while.

We'll see how all this progresses and also we now begin our countdown to the first birthday. I can't believe it has been a year.

Some photos:

Weight, Marathon and Me, Me, Me

2009-06-30T05:41:00.001-07:00

Because my life was not complicated enough, I have decided to add weight loss to my list of goals over the next few months.

Let me preempt this by saying I know I am not fat. I wear a size four and my BMI is well within the "normal" range. I lost all the baby weight both times, but here is the thing: I am not where I want to be.

I had my full physical last Friday and I have put on five mysterious pounds. Now, granted I was in full period mode and also had not pumped my (very full) breasts for about seven hours, but just the same, I was horrified. Adding this to my already growing suspicion that my mid-section will never be as taut as it once was and the fact that lately a size six has felt a whole lot more comfortable than my fours and I was in search of a weight loss plan.

I started Weight Watchers last night. Immediately, I saw that I am way off in terms of what I have been eating. I want to lose about 15 pounds and even with all of the activity I do, I am still on track to keep gaining--slowly, but surely. It will be hard, no doubt. I am not a dieter. Not even close. I have always worked out so much that my weight (except in college) has been relatively stable. But I am 31 now and things are not the way I want them. And while I am not ruling out a tummy tuck (and boob job) in the future, I am starting here.

In other news, I spent about 2 weeks in training for the marathon, ran 10 miles in 1:15 (roughly a 7:10 pace) and then promptly injured myself. I am a bloody mess. On the left side, my knee aches, on the right, my calf/achilles burns. And of course, because I am me, I could not just rest. So I stepped it up while skipping running. I biked more, I spun, I took kickboxing and weight classes. And now my back hurts, too. I am not sure what all of this means for the marathon. I am a bit torn (literally). Is it smart to begin such an intense training program when I do not have the time to stretch after runs?

Within seconds of my return from my longer runs, R is tossing the kids into my arms. I need to nurse or to feed someone or Sam needs to peepee potty. Additionally, there is no single more important component to a training program than sleep--something I am not getting much of these days. Six hours, tops. I need about nine.

The amount of work this marathon will take might not be worth it at this point in my life. On the other hand, I am starting a new training blog for Fit Pregnancy and have pitched the story to other major mags and had a positive response. So... Stay tuned. I really want to do it, but I also do not want to kill myself to get there.

Sam at 2 Years, 5 Months

2009-06-25T05:58:00.000-07:00

This month I feel a bit like we are back to the early days of Sam and Alan when she tried to kill him daily and I felt like my every minute was spent telling her no and trying to keep him safe from certain death. Perhaps it is because he is suddenly crawling all over the house (getting faster every hour) and taking her toys, but whatever the reason, we are having a very hard time with her right now.

I think she needs some Mommy alone time, to be honest. She seems to be struggling a bit with being a big girl. She is about 95% potty trained, but still has enough accidents that I would rather her be in a diaper on most outings. Sam is not a big fan of this idea.

I can't understand people who complain about "two kids in diapers" because honestly, it was easier when we had two kids in diapers. One in diapers and one who can't completely hold it all in when she has to go is much, much worse.

She has memorized all of her favorite books and can "read" them--a great parlor trick that impresses most people (even though it is just rote memorization). She has also started sight reading a bit, too. She can spell and then sound out basic words on the page when she does not know them. She is not always right, but it is damn impressive nonetheless. She gets the concept of reading down and actually can sound out some words. Blowing my mind, this one is.

On the other hand, my little (nearly) potty trained reader is still not off the bottle. It is my dirty little secret. Much like little Suri Cruise, Sam still takes two bottles of milk a day. The thing is, she is perfectly capable of drinking from a cup or a sippy cup and takes all other forms of liquid that way, but somehow milk and bottle became permanently linked in her mind and provide such an enormous amount of comfort, that I feel too guilty to completely take it away. This month we tried to cold turkey her and the result was a lot of acting out and murder attempts aimed at Alan.

Perhaps even more distressing than her addiction to the sauce is Sam's behavior. She is so much like me, it actually frightens a bit. In fact, I am learning much about my own parents and my own thought process through watching her. This shite is genetic, yo.

Sam hits, she screams, she punches, she gets frustrated beyond all reason. She is 20 times as intense as any kids I know her age. All moms say this, but they have not seen my daughter. Believe me, I am not bragging when I say that my kid could blow any other kid out of the water with her "intensity." There is no negotiation. There is no distraction. When she gets her mind set on something, she remembers for hours, days, months. She is a trying, trying child. I take comfort in the idea that these qualities will serve her well someday. As someone who is no stranger to being strong-willed, I know it is a good thing for a girl to be. When she is older.

Since Sam is just like me, I can see we have a lot to figure out. Let's just say I have never been a well-behaved little lady. Now, yes, "well-behaved women seldom make history" according to the ubiquitous bumper sticker (and, I believe Mae West), but they also rarely leave their parents with any hair (or, in my case any hair that is not gray). I happen to like my hair brown and get a little sick of visiting my stylist every three weeks. Something has to be done. We have to get her in line without crushing her dynamic soul. A tall order, indeed.

Maybe it is better to just put up with the stuff my parents did--constant cursing, shoplifting, no rules EVER, no curfew, etc--than crush her spirit. I have an enormous amount of confidence because of the autonomy I was given at a young age. Until very recently, I thought it was because my parents were hippies and wanted free-range kids. But now I think they just saw very early that I was independent and firey and most things were not worth the thrashing, foaming at the mouth insanity that would ensue should they try to enforce any rules. I feel like all I do is say no, punish her and scream. It needs to stop.

On the other hand... having a rabid beast for a daughter (not far from the truth) is both embarrassing and impractical. What is a hippy, "don't tame the wild soul" leaning mama to do? Stay tuned, people.

Here is the rabid beast in all her untamed glory:

Other Moms

2009-06-22T05:28:00.000-07:00

Since the co-op incident, I have had a lot of time to consider what it was that went so horribly awry and in that time I have come to the following conclusion: I really do not like a lot of fellow mothers.

I have never been the type of person who has groups of friends. Even in high school, I was an ala carte type of girl, choosing people from different social groups based on how I felt about them individually. I have been told many times in my life by many women that I am "intimidating." I assume that means extremely self-assured, honest and blunt. All of which I am.

My friends have always been a mix of cool, fun, honest, funny and (perhaps most importantly) not too sensitive. This is important because I have a dirty sense of humor and like the dark side of life. It doesn't mean they have to be equally obscene, but I cannot be close friends with people who are too squeamish and can't hang when the talk gets dirty. I have learned this lesson many times the hard way. Perhaps this is another hindrance.

When I had children, I vowed to myself that I would not change my fundamental self. I still curse. I still (mostly) listen to my own music. I still workout constantly, get manis/pedis/massage, shop for myself, read books, have plenty of sex, watch horror movies and even party if the occasion arises. I am still me. I would say that 90 percent of the mothers I meet were either never my kind of fun or they have completely squelched that part of themselves. Case in point: I mentioned smoking in high school the other day to a few moms and they all stared at me as though I had told them I'd been to prison and had the tats to prove it.

This is not to say I am some kind of example of how people should be when they become mothers. Quite the contrary. I think I, in fact, am the opposite of what many women think they need to be in order to be good mothers. I love my children fiercely, passionately and above all else, but I also need conversations about politics, celebrity gossip and the news to keep me happy and sane. This is why recently it seems my only friends are the ones who do not have children. Like wedding planning (which I also find cloying), child rearing can often be a conversation usurper. I can't tell you how bored I get of discussing potty training and whose child learned to jump first.

Maybe that is it, too. I love my babies, but I know they are not perfect. Far from it. Sam (especially) is ridiculously precocious and intelligent, but she is also a storm in the body of a toddler. She gets into trouble constantly, can't handle big crowds, throws huge fits and generally is not the most well-behaved little lady. I recognize this. I cannot tell you the number of women who do not recognize their own child's foibles (case in point: co-op mom). It is very hard to have playdates with moms who think their children are always in the right.

Mostly I am ok with not having too many mom friends. I have one who happens to live in Upstate NY and more who live in other states. And there are a few women I have met (or knew before) in Boston who I think are so cool and I would love to hang out with more, but life always gets in the way. Actually, that is probably the biggest hindrance of all. Time. There is no time to get close with people. I'd like to think that is because I just have not met the moms I want to get close with, but I am not sure. Maybe the days of long lunches with the girlfriends and "just hanging" have passed me by despite my best efforts. Having two kids under three does tend to limit one's free time.

I have always believed that it is a waste of time to hang out with someone I do not really jive with. But I am in need of mommy friends. I have decided this summer especially to really start focusing on "the making of the mom friendships." Maybe it is a mythic quest, but I would like to believe that I can still have close female friendships with women who have also had babies. After all, a girl can't spend ALL her time in the gym. Although, some of the coolest moms I know I met while running or in mommy yoga.....

At least it is a starting point. But if you are a mom and I ask you to coffee or out for a drink, please say yes. I am kind of new to this whole mommy dating thing and I don't care much for rejection. Thank you.

Ani and Preschool News

2009-06-17T05:51:00.000-07:00

As my little bear grows from cub to grizzly, I am awash in a familiar feeling: sadness.

He is 10.5 months, finally getting mobile, drinking from a sippy cup and always trying to be on the floor. Last night, these facts almost incited a panic attack. He is my baby. And he is growing so fast.

This morning I saw a photo of a newborn and burst into tears. I can't believe my baby has gotten so big, so fast.

I know a lot of moms say they feel this as they close in on a year and I remember feeling a mild degree of it when Sam did, but I when Sam was this age I was two months pregnant with Ani. Now? I know he might be my last (although to ask R, we are due three more babies). If you'd asked me last week if I wanted two more kids, I would have laughed. Now? Maybe I do. Gotta keep those babies coming so I can always have one.

Seriously people, I am down. When I sent the kids to the sitter today, R had to forcibly remove Alan from my arms. I miss his little sweet face already and he has only been gone an hour. I am questioning my work and my desire to do it because all I want is to cuddle with my baby before he becomes too big to do so.

Ok, now that I have thoroughly depressed myself, I will move on to other news.

I need to start blogging more, it's true. So much is new over here. Sam was accepted at a bilingual preschool recently. It is more than I wanted to spend. But in the end, we decided to bite the bullet. This is for a lot of reasons.

1.) The bilingual education--At Sam's age, her language retention ability is astounding. This is really the time to expose both kids to this kind of experience. To that end, we are doing sing a longs and story time and playdates, all in Spanish. I am amazed how quickly she is learning.

2.) The program--the place is well-run, professional and jives with my philosophy. The kids get yoga every afternoon, they share friendship fruit (a fruit salad made of various fruits the children bring from home), they play, craft and alternate between drama and dance in the afternoons.

3.) Sam herself--Sam is a precocious kid who I think will benefit from a program like this more than the other schools we toured. The money is hard to part with (and will be even harder once Alan starts, too), but we have been paying $1200 a month for two days of baby sitting anyway. Besides, it is well worth it.

I have also made a big decision in my own life. I am training for my first marathon. I have been a runner for more than six years, run countless 5ks, 10ks, seven-milers and more. I am semi fast for someone who is recreational (ie, never ran in college) and can do about 12 miles without batting an eyelash. I love running--pushing myself to the outer limit of what I am capable of and then going beyond it--as much as I love my family in my many ways. So, it is time to step it up and put my money where my mouth is.

Oct. 4 I will be running the Peak Performance Maine Marathon. Since I am a bit of a running snob, I am clearly going to have to step it up a notch. For me, it is not enough to simply complete the course, I have to do it in a time that makes me proud. I am aiming for under four hours, but what I really want is to run a Boston Marathon qualifying time (under 3:40). I know I can do it. That means maintaining an 8-minute pace the whole time, which is pretty much what I run anyway. But to do so means a combination of speed training, distance training and hill training. It is a lot of work.

Of course, I know myself well enough to know I will do it. I am not a sedentary person. What I am more worried about is that I will injure myself pushing too hard. I have recently started biking again and as always, do yoga and lifting. I am also going to add some spinning to the mix.

Finally I have waited long enough. Boston 2010. Here I come.

Ani 10 Months

2009-06-02T06:38:00.000-07:00

This month Mama has discovered that baby boys are indeed, SO MUCH fun to dress.

Why?

Because of this and this and this and this

It used to be that I thought Ani was a bargain since I cared not what he wore. But now? He may be the pricier one given the biker jackets, flame pants, band onesies and smartass sloagans he can wear. It is so exciting, I can hardly stand it.

In other news, Ani can now say 6, yes SIX words. At 10 months. These words include, dog, Zaydee, Mama, Dada, hi and bye. He is quite the verbal genius, which is a good thing because he is not a physical genius. Like at all. Like to the point where his father said the other day, "maybe he will be a computer programmer because he sure won't be an athlete."

I kid, I kid. I am well aware that kids develop differently and that his physical milestones at 10 months indicate nothing about his future prowess. Still, we are worried. It is that bad.

The boy does not roll (though he can). He does not crawl (or make any attempt to do so). He does not pull up. He does not walk.

I joke, but in truth I am slightly concerned. I know I have said in the past that I am not worrying about milestones, but I feel slightly guilty that he loathes tummy time so much he has done it about five times in his short life. I worry we hold him too much or drag him to too many things for his sister while he stays in the Ergo. I am worried. Period.

The pediatrician says he is just exceptionally verbal and will catch up with the rest, but I am his mommy and I can't help but be concerned that something is wrong with him.

He is a good sleeper for the most part, still wedded to his two naps a day (like clock work at 8:30 and 1). He sleeps through the night mostly, but wakes between 5 and 5:30, which is truly hideous. I have always been an early riser, but 6:30/7. That was early to me. I cannot believe how much of a difference that one hour makes. Luckily, R is almost always willing to get up with him while I grab my last hour of sleep. But the early morning runs/writing hours I had with Sam? Gone like the wind.

He is a sweet, sweet boy. So sweet I never want to put him down. I love when people smile at him and he gives a shy grin and buries his little head in my shoulder. I love his two little teeth at the bottom and his gigantour, Sputnik head. He and his sister go back and forth between holding hands in the backseat of the car, tickling eachother/playing and trying to beat the shite of out one another (with his sister almost always winning. For now.) I guess that is the nature of the sibling relationship, but I wish I could leave them alone together in order to do things like, you know, PEE.

In other Ani-Bear news, he waves hi and bye, claps his hands and laughs almost constantly. He is, like his sister, a slow nurser now, always distracted. I am probably going to wean him around 1, though, so this only works to my advantage. There are some other developments that I do not want to share in a public forum, but do need to remember for the baby book and future mocking, so I will only allude to them here in order to remind myself at a later date.

Sam is starting a Spanish class today to prepare for her new bilingual preschool in the fall (more on this later). The class is for ages 6 months-4 years, so Ani will probably also learn. Perhaps he will be fluent both in English and in Espanol before he learns to crawl.

This kid is muy fabuloso and I thank my bueno suerte every day for having a boy, especially this one.

June

2009-06-01T07:31:00.001-07:00

My June column.

Sam at 2 Years, Four Months

2009-05-26T05:23:00.001-07:00

The past month has been a whirlwind of change for Sammy. It seems that, more than any other month, she has gone from baby/toddler to girl/preschooler. She climbs well, she speaks clearly, she runs, puts her own clothes on and... drum roll please....pees and poops in the potty--almost 100 percent of the time.

In addition to all these changes, she is also bonding with her brother more. She always wants him near, she likes to fetch toys for him, hug him when she sees him and sing to him when he is fussy. It is so sweet and makes me happy that she has finally seen the benefit of this constant companion.

As for the potty, I am ridiculously proud of her. I am not sure whether it was school or what, but all of a sudden, she started telling us when she wanted to go potty. For about three weeks, she has been "bladder trained" but had never gone #2. Until last week. She came upstairs, by herself, sat on the potty and emerged victorious. "I pooped!" she screamed. Sure enough, she had. And that was that. As usual with my Sam, she did it herself. My kid is totally on autopilot. There is not a single milestone we have ever had to help her with. Sleeping through the night, walking, crawling, pulling up, potty training, talking. She has done every one of these things on her own time, when she wants and entirely self-directed (and often early, too). I know, I know. I sound like a braggart, but it is less that (I swear) and more just awe.

My kid is so independent, it takes my breath away. She is like a little adult. I find myself having to be very cautious and remind myself that she is still so young because it would be very easy to forget and have too high of expectations.

This month everything is "let me try"; "I want to do it by myself." She wants to put on her own shoes (thank g-d for baby Havaianas), clothing, underwear. She wants to brush her own hair, soap her own body, wipe her own bum. It is both good and bad. I am the type of person who is in a perpetual hurry, so waiting for my preschooler to do it "myself" often has me tapping my foot anxiously, heart pounding. But, I also know it is good for her to learn this stuff, so I am trying to exercise what little patience I have.

The past two months, she has really started down the "kids say the darndest things" path. She makes me and R pee our pants laughing almost daily. Of course, when pressed, I can never remember all the funny things, but her view of the world and constant commentary is hilarious.

Although she remains a complete Daddy's Girl, I also feel like my role has become clearer this month. She relies on my constant presence and thinks of daddy as a novelty, someone who has more patience and time with her when he is home, but I provide the foundation. I am mostly ok with this since I do think girls need good relationships with their dads. R, on the other hand, is like putty, though he is loath to admit it. I can't imagine how he will take her growing up since right now she absolutely worships him. Both of us are super grossed out by dads who refer to their daughters as "princess" and such nonsense. R has done a great job of treating her just as he would treat a son and I think Sam is better for it. Even still, there is something about that father/daughter bond that is just innate. I think it is very good for Sam, overall.

Since R has gone back to work, we have been buying Sam gifts almost daily. She is going to be so spoiled. But it is so much fun. This month she has amassed two toddler scooters (one for the lake house and one for the city); seven new dresses; one Radio Flyer inchworm; five pairs of shoes; one pair of moose pajamas; a pink umbrella; a stuffed airplane that makes noise; several playskool airplanes; an entire airport and many other small things like books/stickers, etc. I must be stopped. I must. Especially considering Ani has amassed approximately nothing. We have pretty much given her a new toy every day this month. Ugh.

She has become such a little girl this month, oohinh and ahhhing over dresses, necklaces (and even bras!) She is into labeling people, as in, "I am a girl; Ani is a boy; Mommy is a girl and Daddy is a boy." She is also very different with men than with women. The other day we were at the gym and a really cute, young trainer came in and suddenly little miss "BY MYSELF!" was batting her eyelashes and asking for help with her shoes. If this kid continues down this path, we are in big, big trouble. Or, as R says, the boys are in big, big trouble.

She loves, loves, loves her umbrella this month. Photos include my proud #2 potty goer and twirling her fave toy in the world.

Some photos:

Co-Ops Are Not For Me

2009-05-15T05:46:00.000-07:00

After yesterday, I have done much thinking on my situation and I have come to the following conclusion: I must have been mad when I decided to go with a coop.

There are several things you should know about both me and my husband before we go further:

1.) We both loathe sanctimony
2.) When it comes down to it, we are a bit insular/anti-social
3.) Although we are both liberal, we both find it annoying to have to listen to hippie crap.
4.) Both of us have very busy lives/careers outside of our children

In short: WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? Oh yeah. It was about the money. This was a huge mistake on so many levels. And now our money situation has changed and I just want a normal preschool where I have no obligation to tithe my whole life over to them.

Even if it costs 12k it will be well worth it.

Everyday I learn more and more about the parent I am. And I need to learn not to apologize for that. I am not a full time stay at home mom. I am a working mom whose office happens to be out of the home. And we can afford to pay professionals to be with our kids while we both meet our goals.

Why do these things take so long for me to realize? This was an episode in the mommy wars. I am a bad mommy (or at least made to feel like one) because I want my own life.

But the most important lesson of all (as my friend Julia pointed out) is: never, ever tell a group of hyper-vigilant stay at home mommies that your child had a low-grade (possibly non-existent fever) 15 hours ago that is now gone.

Are you listening boys and girls? Give me three months and I guarantee this will be one of the funniest stories in my family lore, like the time my dad got fired from my pediatrician.

But for now, it has made me sad and made me realize how lonely motherhood can really be. There are so few mothers I connect with and that fact makes me sad.

Today Show

2009-05-12T08:07:00.001-07:00

R and I were featured on the Today Show because of an essay that I have coming out this July. Check it out!

My Latest Essay

2009-05-04T09:56:00.000-07:00

I have a new essay in Tango Magazine. Checkity Check it.

Ani at Nine Months

2009-05-02T03:55:00.000-07:00

I remember very clearly when Sam turned nine months. It was two weeks later we found out we were pregnant with Alan.

Nine months has been a very significant time period for us. In April 2006, I fell pregnant with Sam. Nine months later, she was born. Nine months later, I fell pregnant again. And nine months later he was born. Now, we are at the nine month point again and there are no new babies cooking. In fact, the only big news around here is R's new job (YAY!)

The past month there have been a lot of changes. R was home with us all month, which was a blessing in many ways. I was able to get more work done and get farther with my writing than I have been able to do in months. We went to NYC for a writing conference for me and while there, we taped a TV show (because of one of my essays) that may or may not be the Today Show (it may be Today in NY, the details are a bit fuzzy).

There have been a lot of changes with little Ani, too. He grew his first tooth and is working on his second. For Alan, teething has been a much longer, drawn out, painful process than it was for Sam. My poor baby has really been quite miserable--drooly, red-eyed, runny nosed, fussy. It is very sad to watch, although his little drooly 1.5-toothed grin is one of the cutest things I have ever seen.

In nine months he has gone from this:

to this:

He has become a much better sleeper over the past month. He is still an early riser and often wakes once, but usually only once. Other nights he sleeps from about 7:30-5:30/6. Of course, R and I are not good about actually going to bed so I am not sure we are seeing the benefits quite yet. It would be nice if he would sleep a bit later. Baby steps, I guess. With naps he still goes down from 8:30-10:30/11 and from 1-3/3:30 like clockwork each day.

He is getting very close to crawling. He still hates it when we put him on his tummy, but when we do, he pushes all the way up onto his hands and knees and just sort of locks them and cries. He has the strength, now all he needs is the motivation.

He also said his first word this month (Dada), which is the same age Sam said Mama. I think it is a great thing for R because now when he walks into a room, Ani smiles his drooly jack-o-lantern grin, cries "DADA" and reaches for him. It has done much for their bonding (as has this layoff). Recently he has also taken to clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth almost constantly, which makes an amusing clocking not entirely unlike the African clicking language.

As for me, my period has returned and I am more and more aware that I am NOT PREGNANT and very happy about that. But I am also aware of how quickly he is growing and that he may be my last baby. I am trying so hard to savor all of his baby essence because once its gone, it's gone forever. Weep.

Three of my favorite photos from this month:

At the passover seder:

Captain F@#!*)8 Tripps

2009-04-30T10:34:00.000-07:00

I hope that I will look back at this post in a few months and laugh at my paranoia, but I am freaking (FREAKING!) over this swine flu thing.

Please do not bother to tell me the reasons I should not. I know them. It is not rational. It is the deep recesses of my maternal instinct that are telling me to grab my children and husband and run for the hills (or the lake house) until this blows over.

Honestly, I can't believe how scared I am. I am almost never rational about things, a fact I will readily admit and while I always love a little drama, I never really was scared after 9/11, SARS or Anthrax. But I am scared now.

Maybe it is because I look at my babies and I see their fragility, their vulnerability and trust. I can't even bear the thought of them getting sick or hurt. Or maybe it is because I am realistic and I know we are due a major population reduction. It is the way nature works. Or maybe it is the reality of something I can't control.

I am trying not to panic too much. My friends with kids are freaking, the ones without? Not so much. But my kids get everything. And I know if there is a flu to be caught, they are catching it. And then my mind follows the path where I can see oxygen tubes in Alan's nose and Sam weak on a hospital bed and I am panicked once again.

I know it is not rational. But I get really sick of people laughing and acting all superior because they are not freaking out (especially people who freak out all the time about less rational things than this).

To them, I say: go read the Stand. Who's laughing now?

Sam at 2 Years, 3 Months

2009-04-26T04:12:00.000-07:00

A quarter of my daughter's third year has come and gone and while not much has changed since last month, just that idea is blowing my mind.

This month Sam has started to show a tiny bit of fear. We were in NYC this past week and she cried on the merry-go-round, gripping the pole so tight that her little fingers were blanched. We went to Rainforest Cafe a couple weeks ago and the giant gorillas made her grip us.

She is also starting to show a little preference for home. When we are out at the grandparents or a friends' she often asks to go home. On Thursday night in NY, she said, "I want to go home" and when we finally did return home, she was almost as happy as she was in FAO Schwartz, running the hallway, tackling the cat, declaring "I am so happy to see you," to the old fur ball.

R wonders if we might be doing her a disservice by taking her out and about so much, but I think the opposite. I like that she feels so comfortable at home, but I want her out in the world. It is good for her.

She has continued to ask to go to the potty more and more (and does so) to the point where I feel like she is forcing our hand. We may try to do it this month even though I am not really feeling up to it. On the other hand, it would be really nice to lighten our diaper load by half.

We started using No More Tangles on her hair this month, which has at least helped me brush it once a week or so. Her blond mane is my arch nemesis, though. Lucky for her, she got my hair and not her father's (mine is thick, R's was fine and is now mostly gone), but my hair as a child was a nightmare, brambly and dense. As it thickens, I am even more afraid. I can remember living with veritable dreadlocks for park of my childhood because I hated getting it brushed so much. Plus she has cowlicks, which I really hope she outgrows.

She continues to eat almost nothing, but we have instituted the new policy of "you eat what I make or you don't eat." Picky eating, like always wanting to "go home" is a pet peeve of mine. I think it is very important to have an open mind and try new things (both in food and in life), so while I will not force her to eat anything, I also will not provide her with a meal that is different from ours. This has helped a bit. She tried some Thai peanut stir-fry the other day ("too spicy") and has been eating clementines, among some other new fruits. But she is still not a big eater (except for gummy worms and "chocolate bunnies," which she could eat all day).

Not much else is new with her. Her vocabulary continues to expand and grow and she has become more pleasant (marginally so) this past month. But she still expects everything to be her way and throws fits whenever they are not. She is a blast, though and R and I crack up all the time at her silly ways.

Photos:

Madeline Spohr

2009-04-15T08:02:00.000-07:00

I am not really that involved in the mommy blogger community, but there are a few blogs that I read. This is one of them.

I never had a child in the NICU. I did not deal with the same daily struggles, but a fellow mother, I relate to Heather very much. Now she is dealing with a loss I can't even begin to fathom.

Here is a tribute video to her beautiful daughter who died last week.

It would be hard to escape the news as it has proliferated the blogosphere these past few days and while I am sure the outpouring of support must provide some comfort, the amount of pain they are going through--and have yet to go through--is unimagineable.

It makes no sense. There is nothing to say that will make it any less heartbreaking, so I am just trying to take an opportunity to take stock and be appreciative and help keep the memory of this sweet little girl alive.

Sister, Sister

2009-04-03T09:30:00.000-07:00

I keep blogging about boys versus girls this week. I am not really sure what this means. If you are sick of reading my tortured posts about whether boys or girls are superior, read no further. Otherwise, you have been warned.

This article is kind of interesting. It documents a recent study that proves that children that grow up in homes where they have sisters are better adjusted, more ambitious and overall happier than children who grow up with brothers. And that the worst of all worlds is a home with only boys.

I find this research interesting, particularly as it pertains to communication. Having grown up in a all female household (minus my dad who listens to show tunes and gets massages and pedicures, so he may as well be female), I can say this is true. We communicate. And communicate. And communicate.

R, on the other hand, grew up in all male household and communication there? Without delving too deeply into the subject, you may use my silence as an auditory clue.

Now, me being the dominant crazy female I am, R and I have created a household where talking is all we do. I tell R everything, seriously everything. Even the things he does not want to hear. And he does the same (at least he tells me he does) and while I believe this is the key to our good marriage, I am also not convinced that I am this way because I have a sister.

My family just talks a lot.

But the piece did get me thinking about sisters and brothers and brothers and sisters. I enjoy a very close, albeit stormy and explosive, relationship with my sister even though she is 8 years younger than me. I can't imagine having had a brother and although I think brothers and sisters can be close, I have not seen much evidence of that in my real life--at least not in the same way my sister and I are close.

Now, granted, our mother died at a young age, which probably made us closer than we would be otherwise, but I still think we would have been. R and his brother are also close, but not like me and my sister.

If R had a sister would it be different? Or is it just individual? I am interested in this study because I worry about Ani being our last baby (which, with this recession seems likely) and what that will mean for Sam.

Ani, of course, has a sister. So he is the lucky one. And Sam? WhileI am so glad she has a sibling close in age to her, I am worried that it is not a girl and that they will not turn out close in the end. Is that silly? Those of you with bros, can you reassure me that you feel well-adjusted and close to your sibling?

I am feeling like we need to have a third and it needs to be a girl just to cover all of our bases right now.

Ani-Bear at Eight Months

2009-04-02T09:43:00.000-07:00

Until I became the mother of a son, I hated hearing how "great" boys were from other women and secretly thought that the women who said those kinds of things were closet women haters. I still think it is kind of lame because there is beauty in both sexes, but I also kind of get it now. Because I love me some little boy in a way I did not even realize I could.

Is it some biological truth that my daughter will connect so deeply with her father, curling her little hands around his chin and asking for him above me, while my son prefers his mommy and would spend all day in my lap, content and mellow? Maybe it is and I am just doing exactly what I am expected to, but what I know for sure is that my love for this kid grows exponentially each day.

With the first child, the love is fast and fierce. She popped out and I was done, totally head-over-heels mad about this tiny, squirming bundle of pink. It was the only mother-love I had known up to that point and it was as strong as I thought it could be. Of course, now that she is two, I know that what I felt then--a mixture of abject fear, hormones and exhaustion--was nothing compared to what I feel two years later as it has had time to grow and mature.

When Alan was first born, I adored him, of course. But it was also a sense of obligation that got me through those difficult first months. He was my child and I would care for him and kiss him and cuddle him and nurse him, but my heart was not always in it. Gradually that changed, a fact I became aware of this month.

My Ani-bear is so sweet, so himself. This month he has shown more personality than any month before it. He is mellow, so much like his dad where his sister is so like me. He is thoughtful. Sam jumps into everything feet first, screaming, yelling and thrashing. Ani takes his time. He would be more likely to dip his feet first, checking the water before flinging himself from the edge. He smiles a lot, but it is hard to get a photo of him doing so because, like his father, he thinks first, puzzling over whether something is worth an emotion, brow furrowed, lips pursed. A thinking man's baby.

And wow do I love him. I want to squeeze him all day, to memorize the way his cheeks feel when I kiss them, so puffy and smooth, "suckable," I tell R, who mostly thinks I am crazy, but they are. Like candy I just can't stop eating.

I want to bury my face in his soft belly and listen to the giggles it elicits. But most of all, I want to bathe in his smell, so much clearer than Sam's "baby smell." Ani's is an intoxicating musk I can't even pinpoint. "Fresh human," my uncle calls it and it is. The smell reminds me of the first drops of rain on the pavement on a hot summer day, steamy and enticing.

Of course, all this loving does not leave much time for tummy time and other academic pursuits, so my baby is stagnant. He sits, he rolls, blah blah. Honestly, I don't care about milestones because the one thing I am sure about with the second baby is that this time is so fleeting. There is plenty of time to crawl, but far too little time for me to bury my head in him and memorize all the little things that will be gone in just a matter of months. So to hell with milestones and give me more of my poppin' fresh baby who I love, love, love, love, love. Love.

Girls and Boys and Boys and Girls

2009-04-01T04:45:00.000-07:00

Until recently (really until Alan was born), I was convinced that I only wanted girls, that girls were the superior sex and that I would build an all-female army of feisty, intelligent, super hot women out of my daughters who would one day rule the world Lysistrata-style.

Shockingly, I was wrong.

My son is so much fun and as yet, not much different than my daughter. But recent events have made it clear: boys rock. Girls? Whine. They whine a lot.

Last week one girl threw shoes at my daughter's head, another tried to exclude my daughter because she is "too young" off several pieces of playground equipment and yet another insists that every toy another child touches--even if it is across the room--is "hers."

Lest you think I believe my daughter is exempt, let me be clear: my daughter's behavior is the same. All of it. She snatches toys, throws massive fits, screams at other kids and last week, she scratched the faces of both her brother and one of the babies at her daycare. Ani is currently sporting two red streaks on his face from when his sister decided to channel a jungle cat:

This lady is crazy, yo. I love her, but what happened to my sweet little baby with blond curls, big blue eyes and an angelic smile who only wanted to play, be held and laugh all day long? Oh yeah, she turned two. But the other girls are two, three and four and they are all the same.

Ok, so yes, there are a couple girls I would gladly bring home whose personalities are less fierce and feisty than the others, but the rest (my daughter included) are headed straight to adolescent angst without stopping at ages 5-12.

Meanwhile, the boys. Ah, the boys. Those bastions of peace and equanimity. When Sam snatches one of the boys' toys, he only smiles and shows her how to use it. When she scratches their faces, they cry for a bit and then get over it, unlike the girls who are likely to tell their high school guidance counselors about this transgression a decade from now under the "and this is why my life is so screwed up" category.

These boys are chill little dudes and I want to hug each and every one of them. My feelings for the girls are more complicated. Of course, isn't that the male-female truth? We women are infinitely convoluted, complicated and tricky while men employ a simpler is better philosophy. I have always liked men far better than women in general, although the female friends I do have manage to strike a balance between the stereotypes.

Like anything, it is individual. Maybe I have just stumbled into the wrong cabbage patch, the one where the girls have gone rotten and only the boys are harvest-able. But I doubt it. Seasoned farmers tell me that this is the way it goes. That girls are trickier, more emotional, less stable, meaner than the boys. But that in the end, if you grow them right, they are the richer, more delicious crop.

Or maybe that is just what the farmers tell themselves.

My April column.

Sam Officially Knows More Than I Do

2009-03-30T17:57:00.001-07:00

I can not do this. Seriously. Sam can.

The Pox

2009-03-30T06:55:00.001-07:00

Check out my pox article. Please discuss. My own feelings changed significantly after writing this and I am questioning whether to get the vaccine for Alan or not.

Sammy at 2 Years and 2 Months

2009-03-25T09:11:00.000-07:00

I have been saying for months that we were entering the terrible twos. I suppose that is what happens when you have a willful child.

But Oh.My.G-d. I had no idea.

The past couple weeks we have learned what two is really all about and wow. Just wow. Sam is still her incredibly intelligent, precocious self. People often ask us if she is even older than her age, because of her height/long hair, but also because of her speech. No, indeed, I say. This kid is 2. And here is why: she is so manipulative. She puts her foot on the table, I put it down. She puts it back up. I say, "no feet on the table." She grins and puts her foot back up. Her father steps in: "no feet on the table," he says. She screams, thrashes and demands to "put my feet on the table. Put my feet on the table!" And that is just one example.

Everything, yes everything is a fight. She wants to do everything by herself and simple tasks, like putting on her shoes take 20 minutes. My patience is tried, but her father's is fried. Given all the other changes in our lives, the timing of her personality shift is not easy.

Of course there are many good things. She is sounding out words now and her reading has gone from what I assume was on-site memorization to actual sounding out of words. She has learned to jump this month and spends a lot of time tossing herself into the air. She remains a complete and total daredevil, which remains my favorite--and more feared--part of her personality.

R and I both were into skydiving. Anyone who knows me would describe me as an adrenaline junkie. I also have a ridiculously high pain threshold. Do I run 8 miles on a broken foot? Yep. Both of my labors were 100% natural and there is almost nothing that stops me from working out. Her dad is the same. Between us, we have created a child that generally has no fear. And the result? Danger around every corner. She thinks she can jump into the pool by herself. She thinks she can slide head first down the biggest slide and flip on the rings at the playground. She will jump off the couch without warning and laughs when the dog gives his warning nips. In short, I fear she knows no fear. This could be a problem. Her independent streak, which is so like me, also means she gets into trouble. The other day at the Children's Museum, she actually had to be examined by a paramedic after we thought she broke her leg doing g-d knows what while I was paying attention to my friend and to her brother.

These qualities will serve her well in her life, I am sure of it. After all, strong, independent, intelligent women who look like Jolie-Pitts tend to do ok for themselves. But now? Oh man. The kid is killing me. I am only 31. Most moms around here are older than me. How the hell do they do it? She exhausts me every single day.

She asks all the time to pee-pee in the potty now. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't. And while we have had a frustrating two-month constipation stint, she is ready for potty training. In fact, right now, it is R and I who are discouraging it. We want to get the other stuff ironed out before we really go all out on the potty training. She wants it because the older kids at her pre-school do it, I think. We are in no hurry.

It has been a rough month in many ways, perhaps one of the roughest of her short life and definitely one of the roughest in mine. She is a dynamo, but also is a handful. It takes two of us to wrangle her everyday and I can't imagine how it will be as she grows. G-d help us.

Some photos:

First Day of Spring?

2009-03-23T07:54:00.000-07:00

We spent the weekend at the lake house and although the weather was semi-warm for Maine (45 degrees), the ground was still covered in snow, up to four feet in some places.

Some photos:

Clearly I Have Issues

2009-03-16T06:53:00.000-07:00

We ran a 5k yesterday. Ok, so yes, I have a broken foot. But I had paid the race entry fee and was not going to skip the race just because my foot is still, you know, purple and painful.

Since the weather was so lovely, we decided to run it as a family, pushing the double stroller. Rob also has not run in a few weeks so he wanted me to run a bit slower and we thought the stroller might help with that. We ran the mile to the start and I pushed the stroller. Wow. Not easy.

By the time the race started, I had already run about 2 miles between the warm-up and the race to the bib station. Rob decided to push the stroller and I said I would stay with him. It was the first time I have ever run any race without giving it my all. What a blow to my runner's ego it was.

I know I am not going to win the race. And I also know that there are people who would have been happy with the time I ran (27:40). I also know I am not a professional runner, nor did I run division 1 track (as R is so fond of reminding me). I am just someone who loves running and who likes to give my all to everything I do. And yesterday? I did not. I spent a lot of the race running up and back, which at least kept my heart rate up. But it was hard to stay in the back of the pack.

By the time we finished, I was in a horrendous mood. I want to be the kind of person who can just have fun and chill. Clearly I am not. I have a compulsive need to put every bit of myself into everything I do. Can a lot of people run faster than a 23:18 (my PR in a 5k)? Of course. But the person I am competing with is myself. And I know when I am in shape, I can walk 3.1 miles faster than 27:40. So, onwards and upwards. This time I had only run two times in three weeks, was trying to stay with R (who ran a 28:40. I broke away at the last minute), was helping to push 50 pounds of baby (and 20 pounds of stroller), had a broken foot and spent a lot of the race passing people and then running back so as not to lose R. In other words, I can do a lot better next time.

My last 5k time was 24:17. In May, I plan to get under 23:00. I may take it all too seriously, but it is what it is. I love to push myself and running is a very easy measure of that. So, here is to May and a 22-minute 5k.

Whoa

2009-03-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

People always say this and I had mentioned it in the past, but this past week, a new photo of Shiloh Jolie-Pitt surfaced and I have to admit, if you told me that was Sam, I would believe you. Craziness. Of course, I looked a lot like Alyssa Milano as a child. And now? Not so much... But still. I have to believe there is money in this somewhere.

Wordless Wednesday--Sam's Broken Swing

2009-03-11T06:19:00.000-07:00

Swinging and Laughing

2009-03-09T07:30:00.000-07:00

Ani Bear takes to the swing:

We are So Chic

2009-03-06T08:18:00.001-08:00

It has been a very interesting week. Sam started her new pre-school program yesterday.

She did very well, although she was a bit overtired because she woke up early yesterday morning. The day is very regimented: free play, handwashing, snack, "recess", craft time and circle time. I am so excited to have found this entirely parent-run program and am also very excited about my role as curriculum manager. I spent yesterday morning teaching her class with two other parents and yesterday afternoon designing the curriculum for next month.

As we are making these changes in our own lives, I am simultaneously working on a piece for a major magazine discussing the new trends in pre-schools,

Thanks in part to our tanking economy and a movement away from overpressuring our kids, parents are starting to opt towards co-op programs like ours or even towards homeschooling for the pre-school years. Here's why: in Boston the rat race for pre-school is I.N.S.A.N.E. To spend 13k a year on three mornings a week and to stress about how smart one's two-year-old is is destructive and silly. People are starting to realize this.

Yes, the children of these overachieving pushy parents might get into Harvard, but at what cost? Pushing a three-year-old seems ridiculous to me. As I watch Sam gravitate towards reading and art, I am struck by how little I have to do to encourage her. All I had to do was support her and she (at just 18 months) had already picked up the "pre-academic skills" educators recommend for pre-k five-year-olds: letter recognition, shape recognition, color recognition. And yes, she is also reading quite a few words and I have no doubt she will be full-on reading very soon. So, what is she going to learn in pre-school? I hope socialization, how to use scissors and perhaps getting used to a schedule. All of these are things she will gain through this co-op.

Next year we may start a more rigorous (expensive, long waiting listed) pre-school, but for now, I am thrilled with being this involved in my child's education and so excited to have her in this program where she will learn and play and be creative (and not watch the boob tube).

We may even be ultra trendy and bag formal pre-school altogether, choosing instead to follow a play "curriculum" that allows her to explore her own interests. I realize this is not for all kids and maybe Alan will need something more structured and academic, but Sam is a pretty self-driven little girl. It is nothing we did, but she absorbs like a sponge no matter where we are. I have no doubt that if she wants Harvard, she will get there easily without an Ivy League pre-school pedigree.

Us leaving for her first day:

Sammy Fonda

2009-03-04T12:16:00.000-08:00

Turn and Face the Strange

2009-03-03T11:38:00.000-08:00

There have been so many changes around here lately and this week we are living in the eye of the storm.

Among them:

1.) Sam is in a big girl bed. We have been talking about it for weeks and finally just did it when Ani's swing died and he had to take over Sam's crib ASAP. I was worried about how the transition would go. Would she get up in the middle of the night, looking for us? Would I ever be able to get her down for a nap? I have to say, so far, so good. She loves the bed and goes down just as easily as before. We have only had a couple incidents where we had to lead her back to bed and it was really no big deal. Her newfound independence does take some getting used to, though. We had a "should learn to lock the door" moment the other day, but besides that, she seems to get the concept that bedtime means don't bug mommy and daddy.

Some photos:

2.) Sam is starting pre-school on Thursday. I am so excited about it because it seems like it will be a lot of fun for her. The place is very well-run and in a good space with a lot of outdoor space and a great indoor gym for winter despite being smack in the middle of bustling Cambridge. Sam and I visited today and she had a blast. I am working the whole morning on her first official day, so the transition should be ok and I think it will be great for her to have a basic introduction to curriculum and following directions.

3.) R's job situation is ever changing. All signs are pointing to this being one of the best things to ever happen to us in many ways, but we still have no guarantees. I am cagey because we have no idea how things will land, but there have been many positive developments and I do think it is safe to say that Rob is feeling very well-loved, popular and in demand right now. I am endlessly proud of him and so impressed at the number of opportunities he has in this economic climate. Now I just hope some of them work out.

4.) This final one is the one I can scarcely type without crying. Ani is starting one day a week of childcare. I know it is the right thing, but it is so painful. I am lucky to have so much flexbility and in the fact that it is only once a week. To start him in this is entirely my decision and I know what a privilege that is. But it does not make it any easier. He is only seven months old and has never been away from me for more than three hours. I think my arms will literally crave him while he is gone. But I have to cut the cord, painful as it is.

So, there it is. Our influx of change. Luckily, I am almost back to 100 percent physically (except my foot, which still hurts). For all my tears, I love change and crave it. So bring it on. I can take it.

Crazy Sammy

2009-03-02T17:52:00.000-08:00

Ani at Seven Months

2009-03-02T06:51:00.001-08:00

Bear-Bear is now seven months old and for the first time, I am starting to feel like he has really been around a while. That said, I am still treating him like a newborn.

I still swaddle him, nurse him 8 times a day, respond to his cries immediately and hold him all the time. It is very hard to convince myself that my tiny baby really is old enough to get a little bit of independence.

He is generally a pretty lovable guy, very sweet and cuddly.

He smiles a lot and is pretty happy with a few toys and some attention. This month he finally started on solid foods, which has helped him sleep a little better. Now he goes down around 7:30 and sleeps until 3:30 on a good night. He nurses and then goes back down until 6:30.

His daytime sleep schedule is also pretty regulated. He naps from 8:30-10 and then again from 1-4. Sam also naps from 1-4, so most days I get a good chunk of break, which I always desperately need. At his last check-up (on the 25th) he weighed 17.4 and was 28 inches long. His percentiles have dropped a bit, but he is still a relatively big boy for a breastfed baby.

This month he started sleeping in the crib (and Sam got a big girl bed!!). The crib is in our room, which still presents some sleep issues (namely, we wake him when we come to bed), but until he is sleeping through the night and we have figured out the housing situation, he will stay in our room.

He is rolling both ways (when he feels like it), sitting and transferring things hand to hand. He is NOT even close to crawling as he loathes tummy time with the firey heat of 1,000 suns. I am so happy that he is my second child because I am way more chill than I was the first time regarding milestones. He'll get there when he gets there and I have no interest in competing with other moms, which is fabulously liberating.

Some firsts this month: first time in the pool (a little trepidatious). First time on the swings (not into it). First solid foods (took some time, but now loving it). First bath in the big bath (loved the toys).

This is the first month that I have truly seen the joy in having two children. I got our double jogger (the BOB Ironman Duallie) and am in love with it. Because of my broken foot, I have not run with it yet, but the ride is so smooth and easy to push. We also added the double seat to our Phil and Ted's.

The kids have been playing together more and bathing together, which is such a cavalcade of cuteness, I fear the world might implode on itself.

For the past couple weeks, I have affected an extremely smug attitude in regards to the spacing of our children. For the first 6 months, I thought we were nuts, but now I love it. Our kids are true companions. They are a unit, almost like twins and it is going to be that much sooner that they will be playmates and we can do all kinds of fun things as a family of four. It was an incredibly trying first half of the year, but this second half is already making up for it.

Some photos:

Sam at 2 Years, 1 Month

2009-02-26T06:04:00.000-08:00

I am so excited to finally be able to stop referring to Sam's age in months. For some reason, that really bugs me (maybe it is my extreme disdain for math of any kind).

At any rate, it has been a crazy month. Between broken feet, potential layoffs (March 16 is R's last day of work for his old company) and salmonella poisoning, there has been little time to just sit back and enjoy our two-year-old. But Sam is hard to ignore. This month, more than any before it, she is two to a T.

Some highlights include (almost) stroke-inducing tantrums (mine and hers), talking almost non-stop, a new passion for the television that is hard to shake and wanting to do almost everything (including swim in the deep end of our gym pool) "by myself." The kids is like her mama, whose motto (according to Auntie K) has always been "go big or go home." Sammy brings it, baby.

I love it. I love her fire and her passion and her determination and her will. She is the daughter I always wanted and even though I know adolescence will be rough, I would not want it any other way. This girl does not take no for an answer. I believe she will probably declare herself world dictator someday. Chick's got charisma.

She speaks in complete sentences and says something new everyday. At this point she and I have entire conversations. There are almost no words she can't say and this communication is fantastic. It is hard to remember what it was like before she talked. She is also reading some basic words, which I believe is due, in part, to her favorite show, "Word World." Yes, we have discovered the tv.

We do family movie night once a week (this week's feature: Lady and the Tramp) and she gets a half hour of Curious George or Word World ("da dog,"as she calls it). I can't imagine how we lived without it for almost two years. It has made my life much easier and I actually think she is learning a lot. I like the placement of our one TV (in the basement, away from her playroom/kitchen/bedroom) because it will never be a focal point in our lives. She gets her show, it ends and then she plays without the incessant background noise and clutter of the television. I still hate the TV in many ways, but used in the right way, it is an absolute godsend.

We started an art class this month and Sam loves to paint and explore. As of next week, she will start at a co-op pre-school. I am really looking forward to this development and seeing how much it helps her.

She also continues to love reading and has many of her favorites memorized. She loves to sing, especially Twinkle, Twinkle; Baba Black Sheep; the Alphabet Song; the Hokey Pokey and the Farmer in the Dell. This girl has got charisma in spades.

Both R and I are so gaga over her, I worry she will become totally narcissistic. After she is in bed, we talk in her voice, we crack up about all the things she said and did that day, we check on her five times, we look at photos and we count down the hours until she wakes up. It is probably safe to say, she is the lord and master of our small family. Even the pets worship her ladyship.

Wearing her crown:

And more:

Explanations

2009-02-24T07:37:00.000-08:00

People have often asked me why I am willing to live in Boston, where the cost of living is so high. What is the point? I have always responded by basically saying, "just because." It is very hard to explain, but I believe this Atlantic article does that.

The point of the article is not this and it is worth a read, even though it is very long. But here is the best explanation I can give as to why it is worth it to live in an area that is so expensive and at time, extremely stressful.

"Thirty years ago, educational attainment was spread relatively uniformly throughout the country, but that’s no longer the case. Cities like Seattle, San Francisco, Austin, Raleigh, and Boston now have two or three times the concentration of college graduates of Akron or Buffalo. Among people with postgraduate degrees, the disparities are wider still. The geographic sorting of people by ability and educational attainment, on this scale, is unprecedented.

The University of Chicago economist and Nobel laureate Robert Lucas declared that the spillovers in knowledge that result from talent-clustering are the main cause of economic growth. Well-educated professionals and creative workers who live together in dense ecosystems, interacting directly, generate ideas and turn them into products and services faster than talented people in other places can. There is no evidence that globalization or the Internet has changed that. Indeed, as globalization has increased the financial return on innovation by widening the consumer market, the pull of innovative places, already dense with highly talented workers, has only grown stronger, creating a snowball effect. Talent-rich ecosystems are not easy to replicate, and to realize their full economic value, talented and ambitious people increasingly need to live within them."

Super Bad

2009-02-23T06:03:00.000-08:00

It has been a bad, bad week. Just bad. Among the highlights (and not in order of importance):

1.) I broke my foot. And not even in a good way. I fell down the stairs while running up to retrieve a toy for Ani. I stubbed my toe and fractured my first metatarsal. Luckily I can still work out, but I can't run. For 6-10 weeks (but probably more like 3) When the doctor told me this I burst into tears. Since then, I have discovered that a broken foot really does not hurt that much. Had I not gone to the doctor, I would have surely continued to run. Instead, I am using this as an excuse to focus my attention on weight training, cross training, the step mill and the rower (!!) I am off to a good start and am already sporting five massive blood blisters from rowing for an hour. So, look out abs and arms, it is your turn this next three weeks.

My foot:

Sam keeps saying, "mommy foot purple?"

2.) I have salmonella. Thanks to the gym and the free sample of peanut butter smoothie, I am now ill. Super ill. I will spare the details, but suffice it to say that the Oscars now seem like they were a long, long time ago to me.

3.) R's dad is sick. Per R's request, these are all the details we are sharing, but again, very stressful.

4.) R's job situation is extremely volatile right now. Again, details are being withheld, but this could be a massive positive, it good be a massive downer. We just don't know yet. And the way things are going in our lives, I am fearing the worst.

5.) Last week I was puked on by Sam. She pooped in the tub Rocky pooped on my sister while she was babysitting and Sam has been slightly under the weather all week.

I really hope things get better because, while I am thankful that my two children are healthy, this is a whole lotta bad for one week.

The Great Weight Hope

2009-02-19T08:40:00.000-08:00

I am down to my pre-Alan weight and have been for about the last month. I am fitting into all of my old clothes and I am working out 7 days a week, at least one hour a day. So why do I still look like crap?

I am not looking for sympathy or people to tell me that I look better than I think. I can see.

My stomach has lost all of its elasticity it seems. Other body parts are sagging and things are just not as firm as they once were.

Dude, where's my body?

It is not that I expect perfection, although it is a shame that I was the leanest and most in-shape ever just before I got pregnant with Sam, which leaves me forever trying to get back to that point. But I do expect at least some version of my old self and quite frankly, the first time it was easier. I looked almost exactly the same within six months of Sam's birth.

My questions: is this because I am older or because it was my second? Am I not doing enough crunches? I suspect the latter, but it is so hard for me to motivate to do anything beyond cardio. I love working out, but I hate lifting and floor work. Clearly, I need to get past that if I ever have any hope of getting back into a bikini this summer. I am not of the opinion that all people should wear bikinis. That is why G-d made one pieces.

All this said, I am well aware that this is a shallow concern, especially in this economy. That is precisely why I want to focus on it. Working towards a physical goal allows me to take my mind off the very scary other things going on around me. So, I will be in my little bubble, earbuds on, listening to 80's music and doing crunches while the city burns.

Like, Whoa

2009-02-18T04:45:00.000-08:00

The octuplet mom has been getting a lot of press lately and while I mostly do not care what people do with their uteri (is that the plural?), I am kind of freaked out by the backlash against this woman thanks to this article.

Maybe it is the timing with the recession and people worrying more about their own resources, but I kind of think this is insane. Are people really making DEATH THREATS against this woman? Jesus people, you watch the Duggars and Jon and Kate, Plus 8, both of whom I find to be repugnant, resource-sucking uterus exploiting weirdos. So why all the hate on this woman?

I get that she can't afford to raise the kids, but is she really the first psycho to make bad parenting choices? The idea that these 8 kids will receive no resources, that people have pledged to boycott any product that donates to this poor woman, is pretty depressing. Am I the only one who thinks these kids ought to have diapered bums? How else are they going to get them when this family so clearly cannot afford them?

This woman has mental issues, it is clear. I wish she would give up some of these babies, but this is not our decision, people. What happens in someone else's uterus is (gasp) none of our damn business. If it were, and if I were in control, you'd better believe the number of babies born each year would dramatically decline. There would be no teen moms, no moms who had not passed parenting tests. Or better yet, let's let my husband decide. He thinks all people should be sterilized at birth and then have to pass a series of tests and get a parenting license before they can get the procedure reversed. How is that for an Orwellian future?

Look, I am not defending this woman and her despicable actions. Who could? But I am defending these poor babies who do exist and I am so sick of the mob mentality my fellow citizens like to take on when things like this come up. Take your pitchforks and head over to the Duggars. It seems they are teaching some screwed up values involving horrific hair and sewing projects gone awry.

Happy Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T10:44:00.000-08:00

Most people I know find Valentine's Day cheesy and silly. But not me. A holiday devoted to consuming a mass quantity of candy, having loads of sex and spending time with the one I love is a holiday I wholeheartedly support.

This year, R and I have finally agreed to get the tattoos we have talked about for years, but never been able to do. I love my husband so much, I would sky write it, but I will settle for permanently etching it onto my body. Stay tuned for photos.

I don't love R for dozens of roses or boxes of chocolate. I don't love him for supporting a lifestyle that keeps me in $100 yoga pants or diamond rings. None of that matters. He is kind, but not in the cheesy sense of the word.

This is a man who really listens to me, who offers criticism when it is needed and will not let me get away with the crap I have always pulled with all past boyfriends. He provides the perfect counterbalance to my insanity and remains the only evidence I can find that G-d does exist. I am not the type to believe in fate or fairy tales, but he changes that. He is not perfect, but he is absolutely perfect for me.

Sometimes I wonder why I would get so lucky in love while so many others don't. I don't have an answer, but I am grateful every day for the fact that I did. And I hope every single day that my children find someone who makes them feel this comfortable, secure and happy.

Today I am also thinking of my uncles in LA who are the only happily coupled adults I saw growing up. The way they looked at eachother, laughed together and held hands after more than 30 years together serves as an example of what I want in my life and I think R and I are a lot like them.

I am thinking of 18,000 couples in California who want only to feel this same way and the fact that there are people out there who want to take that away from them. Why anyone wants to destroy love remains a mystery to me. Maybe they are the bitter types who have found their own love lives lacking (I believe Ken Starr must have the worst sex/love life in history given his history of utter prudery--a made-up word).

I have it on good authority that love always trumps hatred. So, I am signing this petition. and I hope you will, too.

Let's let everyone have as happy a Valentine's Day as I plan to have.

What's The Haps

2009-02-10T13:29:00.000-08:00

I have been remiss in blogging. I blame this on several things.

1.) The bad economy has me down
2.) I am working so hard on other things, I have zero to nothing to give here. I want to at least have a semblance of decent writing and I need to focus on those projects that pay me. Sad, but true.
3.) I get no comments here! C'mon people, give me some love.
4.) Facebook. I can't.Get.Enough. I am like an addict. I need to quit, just go cold turkey. The site is evil and is sucking my life force and creativity.

Also, my house smells like dirty diapers. That may not be relevant, but it is a fact.

We have had a lot of news around here, some of which I cannot yet share in a public forum, but potentially we have some very lucrative developments in the works. Now they just need to come through.

The big news I CAN share is as follows:

1.) Ani has started solid foods. It was a challenge for me to let go enough to allow something other than breastmilk into his diet. But given he is now way older than any other kids I know when he is starting solids, I gave in. And since then he has slept much better. Two nights of one wakeup each and last night all the way through the night! He even let R put him down while I was at yoga.

2.) Sam got into pre-school. We got off the waiting list and into one of the co-op pre-schools we wanted. I will likely reevaluate when she is 3.9, but for now, this is a great alternative. It is three mornings a week (I work one of them) and is in a church basement in Cambridge. Great facilities, great people. I am thrilled. Plus, I am sure I will have many posts on this so stay tuned.

3.) I bought my "I lost the baby weight" Lulu Lemon clothing. $100 per pair of yoga pants is totally unreasonable, I said on Sunday, but by last night after my five-mile run/90 minute hot yoga practice, I was singing the praises of $100 yoga pants. Wow. That is some fan-friggin-tastic moisture wicking.

And if you want to criticize me for spending so much in a recession, feel free. I always say that the runners with the most expensive, most useless gear (mileage tracker on shoelace thing) are the ones who run the slowest. So maybe my $100 yoga pants mean I suck at yoga, but since I have been practicing my whole life, I doubt it. Or, as they say in my practice: my downward dog can kick your downward dog's ass.

4.) More news in the works. Stay tuned.

I shall become a better blogger. Or not. We'll see.

Ch Ch Changes

2009-02-06T07:08:00.000-08:00

This morning we got up at 7 a.m. and all piled into the playroom/office. Ani was sitting up, playing with his toys, Sam was making breakfast in her play kitchen and bringing food to him. R and I watched in awe. This is why we had our kids so close together. It was beautiful.

Yes, after five months of frustration and annoyance, things are coming together. I think i have the hang of this whole "mom of two" thing. They nap at the same time most days, they both go to bed at the same time and now they are getting along and--dare I say it--almost playing together. It is nothing short of a miracle.

Watching them interact--Ani's face so bright and happy when his sister is around, Sammy always thoughtful and worried about her brother--has convinced me that 18 months between kids may not be so crazy after all.

Bear-Bear Grows

2009-02-04T11:42:00.000-08:00

Today Sam's amazing daycare teacher called to confirm that we will be placing Alan into her care for one day a week starting next month.

I know we need it. Yesterday I had a phone meeting about an exciting story with a new to me editor at (Major National Consumer Magazine) and Anni burped, farted and needed to be rocked for the duration--30 minutes. There I was, trying to be professional, all while praying that my editor did not think it was me having such blatant digestion issues.

I need the time to myself and I need the time to make real money. This past half year has been at times incredibly stressful when I have taken on too much (like in the first weeks after Ani's birth) and so boring (when I decided to cut back and focus only on the kids). I am a working mom and am very lucky to have a flexible career that allows me to maximize my time with my kids. But the reality is, I need work. I need a creative outlet. I need intellectual stimulation that does not come from craft projects, trips to the gym and playgroup. And because I need these things I also need childcare.

I was lucky with Sam that it worked for so long (12 months). But I did not have the workload then that I have now. Then my freelancing was confined to small projects that could be confined to nap times and evening hours. Now? Not so much. And the past two months with little to no work has taught me that I need the validation and pride that comes from bringing my own income to the family. I am lucky that I have an advanced degree in something so flexible.

I know I revisit this Mommy War issue from time to time here. It is nothing new. I am a mom who needs work, blah, blah. But I do feel the need to justify my choices, because saying goodbye to my baby once a week is going to be really, really hard. I have not been away from him for more than three hours since he was born. And somehow all of this feels so much harder knowing that he is likely to be my last baby. It is all happening too fast.

But it is the right thing. And it is only once a week. So, I will do it. Even though it makes me want to cry.

Alan at Six Months

2009-02-02T05:28:00.001-08:00

I was at a party yesterday where there were three newborns. Suddenly Anni looked huge and I realized we are not in Newborn-town anymore.

It made me sad.

Alan is six months today, one half of a year has gone by. He can grasp things, sit up for about one minute on his own, roll over and babble consonants, but he is still the same newborn I brought home August 4, so red-faced and cozy.

Maybe he always will be.

Because Alan is my youngest, my only boy and he is so much harder than his sister ever was. We joke that the "legend of Samara" will haunt Alan all his days. She who slept through the night at 6 weeks. She who was smiles all the time, independent play at the age of four months, healthy the whole first year (not one fever!) and took bottles like a champ. She who is endlessly independent, witty and inquisitive. How can he ever live up to this?

But he can. He is difficult, to be sure. The last two night, in particular, have been harrowing--up every hour or so. He screams for no reason as though he had colic despite being too old for it. He leaks fluids from his eyes, nose and toes and he has excema, red, peely skin in the folds of his skin that look uncomfortable and make my eyes water in sympathy. He has also had a fever. Twice.

But he smells divine. He is funny and smiles easily and he loves his mama more than anyone. When I came home from yoga last night, his face lit up as though he had been waiting out each second, just for this moment. When I held him, he dug his face into my upper arm and chewed on my shoulder. He clings to me for stability and all night, he needs little reassurances that yes, I am here. And no, I will never leave you.

Alan is not an easy baby, but he is my baby and he is uniquely himself. Maybe this month more than any other I am connecting to the differences between him and Sam and while it may sound like I am saying one is superior, I am not. I love them for the different sides they bring out in me as a mother and for the different people they
are. Sam hated the exersaucer, Alan loves it. Sam loved the sling, Alan hates it.

These are my children.

Would I like more sleep? Hell yes. But would I have wanted a little Sam clone? No way. To have such distinct children is what motherhood is all about and I love watching Alan's little quirks emerge, seeing him become a person and building his own legend.

Movin' to the Country

2009-01-29T05:16:00.001-08:00

I am a pretty big fan of Boston. I feel very lucky to have lived in a city for 16 years (a little more than half my life) that suits me so well.

I grew up in the Midwest and never really felt like I belonged, so to say that I feel at home here, that these are my people, is really a big thing. I love Boston because religion is not that big of a deal here.

I love Boston because we have four of the 20 most educated community spots in the country. I love living in a city that challenges me, where I feel like an underachiever with only a Master's degree.

I love Boston for stoic New Englanders who brave 2 feet of snow to go running or shopping, who never let hurricane-force winds keep them indoors or off Mount Washington. I love Boston for its proximity to great skiing, hiking, rock climbing and--above all--the ocean.

In short, I love, love, love my city.

But there are a few things I don't love.

The cost of living is chief among them. I love living in a community most people consider to be what Brooklyn is to Manhattan in NYC, but it is a very urban area. For our condo, we paid as much as some people pay for a whole house outside the Boston loop and what people in my Midwestern town would pay for a McMansion.

We will pay close to $40,000 a year if we want to send both our kids to full time pre-school. And no, I am not talking about fancy pre-schools (A small aside: I get pretty irritated when my childless friends tell me to look at other, cheaper, easier-to-get-into pre-schools as if there are any).

Everything in Boston is twice the price it is in other cities and while San Fran and NYC have us beat, there is almost no other city like us. Additionally, living in Boston you get to run into women like one I recently did (with a blog I won't name for fear of sending any more traffic her way) who can only talk about how rich she is, how many Marc Jacobs bags she has and her long days spent lounging at the Equinox clad in Lulu Lemon. Oh and also, Boston is full of prudes in pearls and sweater sets. It is not the place to take fashion risks.

So, we are considering our options. R had a good opportunity in Philly that seemed promising, but when faced with the possibility of actually leaving my beloved city, I balked. I always said I would only be willing to consider LA, NYC or San Fran as alternatives to Boston. I have loosened my standards somewhat and Philly seems like a great place, often compared to Boston with a much better cost of living, but many of the same amenities. Still, I would no longer have my sister nearby to babysit on a whim. I would not have my parents nearby for dinners and spontaneous day trips with Sam. I would not have access to the lake house or the skiing we can do there in the winter. Most of all I would not have the life I have spent almost two decades of my life building here.

When I moved to Boston back in 1993, I was scared and sad. I sobbed as we pulled away from our Ohio house. Now this is my home, in many ways more than Ohio ever was. I want my kids to grow up here in a place where our family's beliefs are the majority held opinion.

But I can't live like sardines in a house we overpaid for anymore. Something has to give. Stay tuned.

A Tale Sad Yet True

2009-01-28T13:38:00.000-08:00

Check this out.

To Sam on Your Second

2009-01-25T16:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Sam,

This morning you got up and ran into the kitchen, excited to see a present waiting on your chair. "Sammy present! Sammy present" you screamed, little fingers rushing over to tear off the paper. When you finally got it open, you gasped with wonder, eyes wide.

It was a My Little Pony--one of your mommy's favorites from childhood, which is fitting. Because you are so much like me. You look just like me, you pout just like me, you demand big things of the world just like me and you despair when things do not go your way. Just like me.

In the past year, you have been the daughter I hoped for, loving shoes, tea parties and lip gloss, but you are not quite the daughter I expected. Though you have your girly moments and you love your dolls fed and your nails manicured, you also exclaim over trucks. Every Wed. morning, you hear the garbage truck coming and you scream, "Mommy! Truck! Mommy! Truck!" until I rush to your crib, pull you out and let you watch the garbage men do their work. You love the moon, space and all planets, most of which you can name on sight. You seek out balls, primarily of the basket variety and you adore your father above all other human beings.

But you love your "ishy" the best.

You are your own person, nobody pushes Sammy around. You scream when you do not get what you need, but you still have more patience than most toddlers should. You wait when I ask you to and you seem excited to please, to help and to make people like you. You are hard not to like. Your brother thinks you are the bees knees and more and more, you are warming up to him. When you think no one is looking, you hug him, kiss him and breathe him in. You ask for him when you wake up in the morning.

You are smiles and laughter and silliness and diaper changes on the floor because you refuse to go onto your table. You are "pokey" 30 times a day and "baba bla sheep" 30 more. You are books on mommy's "lap, lap" and requests for "Elmo and chocolate and cheese." You want to watch the monkey, the dog and Elmo and if I would let you, you could eat 45 chocolate chips for dinner one night and hate chocolate the next.

I can't believe you are two and yet it feels like you have been in my life forever. How could you not be? Your soul is strong, your force in this world large. How is it possible that just 2 years and one day ago, I did not even know you. You are my daughter, the one I wished for every day and I can't imagine any other now. You may love your daddy more and tell me to go back to my "puter" when I come to get you, but I am your mommy and I love you fiercely, passionately and more than you may ever know.

The other night I dreamt that you fell off a boat and I could not get to you in time to save you. I woke up crying, but reassured that it was just a dream. Because, in real life, I will always get to you. I will always be there for you. I will always save you, whether you are 2 or 40.

Happy birthday baby. I can't wait to see more of this lovely, independent, intelligent girl who is my daughter. How did I get so lucky?

Remiss

2009-01-23T06:29:00.000-08:00

I am so sorry to be so remiss about blogging. I have had an influx of work this month (and in this economy, you have to take it where you can get it) and I have also been blogging on my Pregnancy Magazine blog.

Things are good. Alan slept through the night last night (miraculously) and Sam is turning 2 (!!!!) on Sunday.

I can't believe it has been two years since my little girl was born.

My sister has started a new blog. Head over there and give her some love!

See YA!

2009-01-19T10:02:00.000-08:00

As I ran this morning, I got goosebumps. Tomorrow is historic, indeed and I am so happy that my children are by my side to witness it.

Tomorrow we will be singing "Here Comes the Sun" and ushering the light back into this sorry country.

But first, I will sing the song I have waited EIGHT LONG YEARS to sing to the Bush administration:

Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey-ey, goodbye

So long, sucker. I almost felt bad for you the other night as you addressed a nation full of people convinced you were the Worst President in History. And you were. Don't let the door hit you on your way out.

Shameless Plug

2009-01-13T08:21:00.000-08:00

Check out the Feb. issues of Parenting and Parents. I have a feature story in Parenting (although, I have yet to see it, so I THINK it is there) and an essay in Parents.

Yay!

Drained

2009-01-09T11:48:00.000-08:00

I am utterly drained from these past couple weeks of not getting to bed before 1 a.m. and stressing about everything from money to weather to jobs. On top of that, I have nothing to blog about save for these few gems:

1.) I have discovered a new downside to interfaith marriage. This has nothing to do with my own interfaith marriage and everything to do with my parents. Perhaps had I known this, I would have thought twice about beginning one of my own. On the upside, I have an excellent essay topic.

2.) I am down to my pre-Alan weight. I attribute most of this to cutting out sugar, but also to cutting out food in general. My two children keep me from eating. Baby-induced anorexia. Yay.

3.) Despite #2, I am still not back in all of my old clothes perfectly. Sure, I can get them on. But do they look good? Nope. So... What's up with that?

For more details, please check out the Pregnancy blog.

Ani at Five Months (AKA: Sleep, Where Art Thou?)

2009-01-02T06:22:00.000-08:00

Ani is a wonderful baby in so many ways. He smiles easily, laughs frequently and generally seems to enjoy life. But, Oh G-d do I miss sleep.

Nothing changes with Ani. We will have a couple nights of 9-hour stretches and then a week of pure torture where he is up every two hours. You saw my goals yesterday. We cannot keep existing on 6-7 broken hours of sleep per night. It is not awful, but it does not allow me to function at peak level and I am desperate for normalcy and the guarantee of a solid eight hour stretch (and time alone at the end of the evening with my spouse).

We were so spoiled with Sam.

Beyond that, Ani is a joy. He is working very hard on rolling over. He has done both back to front and front to back once, but does not do it consistently so we are trying to give him some more time on the floor and on his tummy. Now that his sister is going through a devotion stage (instead of a Must Kill Anni stage), we can allow him more time on the floor and in other places that are within her reach.

He is so close to sitting and can do so for a couple seconds before toppling. I am really looking forward to him being able to sit on his own as I suspect (and have heard) it will make my life markedly easier.

Having two kids is a challenge (see my Jan. column) Or maybe it just is for me. But either way, this is the hardest thing I have ever done. Don't get me wrong, they are amazing and there are moments of pure joy and warmth and coziness, but there are also a lot of wanting to cry moments and moments of pure boredom. I feel like the moms who say two are easy are either not also trying to have a career or are lying (or have more childcare than I do and an easygoing, sleeping, bottle drinking baby). I am not going to do that. Ani has made my life infinitely more difficult, but he is also his own little person and has brought something exciting and unique to our family.

I can't wait to watch him grow into a fun-loving, adorable boy.

New Year, New Starts

2009-01-01T06:27:00.000-08:00

Happy 2009!

As much as 2008 was an ok year for me personally, I am glad to leave it behind on a national level. The economy is terrifying and I am hoping it improves this year. But since I can't resolve to secure my husband a job or to make people shop more to stimulate the retail economy, I will instead make personal resolutions.

My resolutions for 2009:

First, the professional:

1.) Get my non-fiction book proposal together and off to an agent before the year's end.

2.) Get something published in the paper of record.

3.) Hone the relationships I have with editors, get some repeat business and also bring in at least a few new clients.

4.) Work on my novel and get it to the agent who was interested in it last year.

5.) Go to bed earlier (pre-11 p.m.) so that I can get up by 6 a.m. to write for an hour each day.

Second, the personal:

1.) Spend at least one date night/day alone together with R per month.

2.) Run the BAA half marathon in October in under 1 hour, 45 minutes.

3.) Get my 5k time under 23 minutes and PR this summer.

4.) Two supplemental workouts a week of lifting/pilates/yoga in addition to the running/stepmill.

5.) Get more quality alone time with Sam. Try to do at least 15 minutes per day and one mother-daughter alone thing per week.

6.) Get my weight down below where I was pre-Sam. That means losing about 10 pounds from where I am right now. I plan to start this year on a no-sugar diet and see how far I can get.

So there it is. I have 11 major goals, both personal and professional. These are a bit more ambitious than last year's. I am starting today both by working on my novel and by going off to yoga.

Happy new year everybody! May 2009 bring joy and prosperity (especially).

Highlights of 2008

2008-12-31T07:57:00.000-08:00

It has been a good year. Last year I set my resolutions:

My 2008 "resolutions":

1.) Spend more quality alone time with R
2.) Contine to work out at least one hour, five days a week throughout this pregnancy
3.) Eat small portions and dessert only two times a week (try to keep this pregnancy weight gain more reasonable than the last)
4.) Work on getting one new client a month, either through essay sales or queries

I am proud of the fact that I have kept #1. R and I have been through a lot this year and we are stronger and happier than ever. Our relationship remains my top priority.

I also kept resolution #2 and actually went into labor at the gym and walked six miles hours before giving birth to Alan.

Resolution #3 was a little more difficult. I gained 50 pounds, just like in the last pregnancy. I am glad to report, however, that I am back in my size four clothing and have lost 45 of the 50 pounds I gained in the nearly five months since Alan's birth. Tomorrow's resolutions will talk about weight loss, but I am happy and relieved to have gotten this far already.

#4 is my proudest achievement. I did work with 10 new clients this year with two promising pitches left that could mean two more new clients. And even if those do not come through, I am still very proud of my work this year with magazines like Self, Parenting, Pregnancy, Wondertime and many more.

My top 10 list of 2008:

1.) Giving birth to Alan
2.) Sam learning to walk
3.) Getting an essay published in one of my favorite magazines
4.) Sam's first birthday
5.) Running a 24:17 in a 5k--just one minute shy of my PR--four months postpartum
6.) Obama getting elected
7.) Our weekend sans kids four 5the wedding anniversary.
8.) NY writer's conference
9.) Fun fall activities with toddler
10.) Reawakened holiday spirit

Happy New Year all!

Sam at 23 Months

2008-12-27T11:06:00.000-08:00

Last year I found the last month before Sam's first to be bittersweet and this month is shaping up to be the same. I am so thrilled with the funny, confident, adorable person she is becoming but so sad for the funny, adorable baby she is leaving behind.

This month has been much the same as last. She continues to love the ABCs and is slightly obsessed with it. She also knows all her shapes now as well. She is gradually becoming more interested in numbers and is counting to four by herself and 10 with help. She loves to count the things she sees on walks and everywhere.

With the holidays she has become obsessed by Santa and enjoys cooking with me, mostly involving putting her hands into bowls of flour or confectioners sugar, licking it off and shouting.

She has become better with her brother this month (knock wood) with her adoration winning out over her violence. She loves to bring him toys, hug him, kiss him and hold him. I still don't leave them alone, but am really happy to see more interaction.

She is still in the midst of potty training herself. She is fascinated by the potty and likes to walk around naked, but refuses to do #2. She has also been very sick a couple times this month, the first time with terrible stomach stuff and the second with Roseola, so I think potty training has taken a back seat.

There is almost nothing she does not say. She knows hundreds of words and mostly speaks in complete sentences. She makes little jokes, gets little jokes and is generally honing a great sense of humor. She loves Elmo and has a very hard time when we tell her that "no, you cannot watch anymore YouTube Elmo videos." Luckily her Auntie Mar is a total pushover and has been known to spend hours watching Elmo with the bean. Her favorite song? Low, by Flo Rida. And yes, she knows most of the words.

As we head towards two, I am just amazed by the idea that I am a mother of a two-year-old. There was a time where that age sounded very old to me. But now? I have one. I adore her more everyday.

The One Where I am a Giant Hypocrite

2008-12-23T05:06:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I had the best intentions when I said last year that we were not going to the whole Santa thing.

But then my daughter became a defiant, opinionated almost 2-year-old who has fallen head over heels for "Seeta." She sees him everywhere and gasps. She points him out in the stores, on posters, in photos and on the news. She screams "Ho!Ho!Ho!"

I still resisted the temptation of taking her to see the man in the red suit because a.) I would be a giant hypocrite and b.) I did not want to wait in a long line. But then I started to feel guilty. What if we never got this chance again? What if she was the ONLY kid whose grinchy parents would not let her see Santa?

So I acquiesced and the result is as follows:

She was thrilled when she saw him, screaming "SEETA! SEETA!" But then cooled quickly when we suggested she sit on his lap with her brother. So, we all piled on. And yes, I realize I have done a complete 180. It's my prerogative, yo.

Having a two-year-old is very different than having a baby and I am not opposed to being flexible. The kid has her own mind and desires and my job is to support them. And if that means I have to sit on a jolly man's lap, well then so be it.

Besides, this Santa could almost make me believe.

Life Lessons

2008-12-19T06:22:00.000-08:00

This past week has been a bit harrowing thanks to Sam's illness. She is finally better, but staying at home and going stir crazy allowed me a lot of time to think and much of what I thought about was the life lessons I would like to impart to my children.

The other day a friend--a therapist--told me something about myself I did not know. "You allow more than most people for the 'bad' in life." At the time, she was talking about the fact that I allow Sam to tantrum, to feel all of her feelings. I never shoot her down or tell her she is being irrational. This is not to say her fits don't irritate me. It is just that I grew up in an egalitarian household where I was encouraged to voice my thoughts (even if they did not listen).

Later, I took it a step further. Not only to I allow the bad, I embrace it in some ways. There is nothing a person could call me that I could not call myself. Think I am snobby? Mean? Selfish? Well, I have thought all those things about myself as well. There is nothing anyone can call me that I won't call myself. But I don't care. I am proud of my bad side as much as I am of my good side. Am I selfish? Well, maybe. But I would not be where I am today if I were not a little selfish. I embrace it.

In our culture, it is counter-intuitive and disturbing to most when you say anything that is not pretty. But life is not pretty. Life can really, really suck and it is way too short. My biggest worry for my children is that they will spend too much time putting a pretty bow on their crappy feelings. I say no way. I want them to let their freak flags fly, to be who they are and to not be concerned with what others think or how they are perceived.

R and I talk about this often because he was painfully self conscious as a child. I never was and am not now. Do I sometimes make a total ass out of myself? Absolutely. All the time. But I don't care. I can't teach my kids not to make fools of themselves. Why would I want to? The people that make fools of themselves, fall flat and make mistakes are the ones who are really living. They are risking and taking chances and putting themselves out there.

My hopes for my children are that they will be bold. Say what they think, fail and make asses of themselves. There is nothing worse than mediocrity. I like failing spectacularly.

This is not to say that there is only one measure of success. They don't have to be rich or famous to be successful. They just have to be themselves. They have to be real. They have to embrace life's shades of grey and not live like things are black and white. The people who think they have all the answer are often the most unwise. My favorite thing about getting older is realizing how much I don't know. It is so easy at 15 to think you have all the answers, that all is black and white. But at 31, I know there is so much grey. It has made me a lot more forgiving of myself and of others even while it makes me sad that there are some who still live in a permanent state of adolescence.

It is a shame that we can't start our kids knowing what we know. They have to go through it all, too. But my hopes for them are that they will have confidence, that they will see the world for what it is and not try to sell themselves on lies about "being nice." Do I want them to be kind people? Sure. But not in the traditional sense. I think it is most important to be kind to themselves. To forgive themselves of their mistakes and stumbles and to keep on trying. But most of all, not to be afraid. Fear is probably the single most paralyzing emotion. People who are afraid never DO. They never live.

So be bold my babies. Or, as my mom always said, "feel the fear and do it anyway."

Down with the Sickness

2008-12-15T11:48:00.000-08:00

Poor little Sammy is really, really sick. Yesterday after our race, she spiked a fever of 104. We have been giving her fluids and rest, but it seems the fever is here to stay.

In all likelihood, she has Roseola, which is not serious, but we took her to the doctor anyway just to confirm my rapid googling last night.

But that is not the weird part.

That part came on the walk home when a man who was clearly homeless or something close to that came running over to Sam exclaiming how beautiful she was.

Then he handed her a $20 bill. Really. I am not lying.

"No," I said, firmly refusing to allow my 22-month-old to take a $20 from the nice homeless man.

"She's a princess. She is too beautiful not to take it," he assured me.

Sam dropped the bill. I picked it up, handed it back to the man and explained, "we really can't take this."

"It is not for you, it is for her," he said, handing it back to my confused toddler.

Both R and I were totally freaked out, but did not feel like arguing anymore. So, my kid is $20 richer and now thinks that homeless men give YOU money. Especially if you are beautiful.

And I here I was trying to give my child an accurate view of our world. Silly me. You can't make crap like this up, can you?

Babies, Babies, Babies

2008-12-15T06:00:00.001-08:00

Two of my friends had babies this weekend. N over at Griffyslave gave birth to the lovely Josie on Sun. and my running friend J had a baby girl on Saturday.

I am so happy for both of them and can't wait to meet their little ones.

But I also feel a bit wistful. It is entirely likely that Alan--my little sweet boy--is my last baby. It is the last time I will go through the ups and downs of pregnancy, the last time I will feel kicks from within and the last time I will have the excitemtent and anticipation of waiting for a new life.

I love, no I adore, our family of four. At times, like this weekend making our gingerbread house with Alan on my lap and Sam in her chair, I feel so blessed and overwhelmingly happy with our balanced family. I get these glimpses lately of why having our kids close together was pure genius (they like the same things, they will be companions to us and each other much faster, we will be able to be a four-person unit much faster).

I know keeping our family this size is likely the right choice. We all fit in the Volvo comfortably, we make sense this way. I want a third child, but I also know myself and my limitations and I do believe I could not handle a third.

All this is true, but I may never get over the longing. Only four months after the birth of my second, I already feel like his infancy is fleeting. I had to go to the midwife the other day for a check up and I burst into tears in her office. Gone is all the excitement, anticipation and, of course, stress of the final month of pregnancy. In its place is a new knowledge and a body that is getting closer to normal everyday. It is everything I said I wanted in July, so why is it making me so sad now?

I think even if we had four children, I would still be sad when our final one was out and we closed the door on that part of our lives. I am thrilled with our family the way it is, but will always feel a little wistful and slightly envious when I see women starting all this for the first time.

The Jingle Bell

2008-12-14T12:05:00.000-08:00

R and I ran a 5k this weekend. I ran about a 24:40 (still waiting on the official results). This means that I have improved my time by about 4 minutes since Alan's birth.

My first was with the stroller around 28:40. My next was 25:10.

So, hopefully I will keep improving over the winter and eventually get myself down to 21, which is my goal for the spring.

And by the way, I beat the hubs by three minutes. He had barely trained, but it still feels like a small victory to beat a former D1 track athlete.

As Promised...

2008-12-12T10:59:00.000-08:00

My cookie post.

Enjoy!

C is for Cookie

2008-12-08T10:10:00.000-08:00

Little piece of trivia about the B-W Family: nobody does anything alone. If R cooks, we are there to entertain him, we all grocery shop/run errands/go to the Dr. and do everything else together. R and I started it when we first got married and saw no reason to amend it after we had children. They just come along for the ride.

Making cookies is no different. R beat the butter, I made the rest of the dough, R rolled it out, Sammy and I decorated it. And somewhere in that family togetherness, Ms Grinchy Pants (me) actually caught a little yuletide cheer. We listened to my running music instead of carols. We had to rock, bounce and cajole Alan into submission. And our entire kitchen is now covered in a fine layer of red and green crystallized sugar. But the spirit of the holiday--family togetherness--was rocked. We had a blast.

I will have a big exciting post on our adventure at my other blog tomorrow, but I will leave you with these photos and the promise of manana.

Big Day

2008-12-05T17:10:00.000-08:00

We had a big day around here.

Sam hit a big milestone when she saw her first movie (Bolt). She has noticed posters of it and R had let her watch some previews. She was so riveted that we thought she might be able to sit through it. And we were right.

She was totally, utterly, entirely fixated on the screen. For two hours. It was almost scary. At the end, she screamed, "MORE DOG! MORE DOG!" She was ready to sit through it again. I am not a fan of kid's movies, but I am a fan of any movie, so the idea that she can sit through a whole one is pretty exciting and offers a new form of entertainment this winter.

MORE DOG:

We also put the double stroller together for the first time, which is a welcome change from the Bjorn that broke the mommy's back.

Alan at Four Months

2008-12-02T07:51:00.000-08:00

Four months have passed since the whiny end of my pregnancy. It is kind of hard for me to believe.

Four months of adorable, drooly, smiley, non-sleeping Alan.

This past month has been a mixed bag. He has become much sturdier, starting to hold his head and body rigid, lifting his head very high during tummy time and sitting in a tripod position. During tummy time, he almost looks like he is going to start to crawl and can move forward quite a bit. He has also forsaken sleep and has continued to be inexplicably fussy much of the evening.

He is no easy baby. He wants to be held all the time and cannot stand to be left alone. He wakes up every hour many nights and still refuses any food except the stuff directly from my breast. These facts make it very hard for me to work or to focus on anything else besides him.

He adores his sister. She is the only thing, thus far, that has made him laugh and he just stares at her with such awe. It is very similar to the way Sam used to stare at the dog. I am really looking forward to the day when the kids are the same size and he is more sturdy and I will worry less about her accidentally killing him. Until then, I never leave them alone together, even for a second.

He is also huge, bypassing his three month clothing altogether. He is now into 9 month clothing and my guess is he will soon outgrow that, too. I am so happy that he is such a robust baby, but I am concerned with how quickly he is outgrowing the swing, bassinet, bouncy seat and (most importantly) the Bjorn. I thought I had more time before we had to figure out how to take two kids to the store without a carrier.

Alan is starting to reach for his toys. He can grasp a rattle and bring his hands together and a toy to his mouth. It is so amazing to see him unfold in this way, just as amazing as it was with hit sister. Even so, I feel enormous guilt that there is less time for he and I to bond, stare into eachother's eyes and for me fawn. I guess that is the lot of second children, but it still makes me sad. He is so special and unique and I often wish there were more of me to give to each kid. I can't wait until their interactions convince me that we did the right thing in having a second. For now, I just have to take solace in the beauty and balance of our four person, evenly sex-distributed family.

Some photos:

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-11-28T18:52:00.000-08:00

It was a swell holiday, the highlight of which was building the most wonderous, most giant, loveliest snowman in Southern Maine.

Hope you all had a fabulous time as well.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-27T08:35:00.000-08:00

Today, the name of the game is gratitude and despite the sleepless nights, near constant crying, juggling and stress, I do have a whole lot to be grateful for this year.

We had a new baby, my work has gone to places I never even imagined when I started freelancing, I have set new and exciting goals and Sam has blossomed into a feisty, loving, fun toddler.

I love Thanksgiving, not just for the food, but also for the reflection. Sometimes when I get so stressed, I forget how lucky I really am to have an extended family who drives me insane sometimes but with whom I can always be myself and love fiercely.

Most of all, though, I am eminently grateful for my husband and children. As difficult as it can be, I would not want any other life than the one I am currently living.

I am totally in sync with my husband, something that I am learning is very rare. He remains my best friend, favorite sparring partner and the only person who can make me pee my pants laughing even at the times I feel like burying my head under a cushion for a month. Every year I say I am grateful for him, but I never really go into why. I think his sense of humor is such a blessing. Sometimes after we put the kids to bed, we get in these silly moods that I can't explain, but our constant laughter and friendship helps me destress in a way that nothing else does. 5.5 years into our marriage and two kids later, I am more in love with my husband than I was the day we got married. Not many couples can say that and, of anything else in my life, it is this I am the most thankful for.

This is not to say I do not have other blessings. I am also ever grateful for the newbie. He is different than his sister and has brought a balance to our family that we definitely needed. I am looking forward to all of the changes that will come over the years and to watching our children grow.

My career has gone places this year I never expected and I am so grateful for the work I find creatively fulfilling, interesting, fun and lucrative.

All in all, I have a lot to be thankful for this year and I am so grateful to the yearly reminder. What are you most grateful for?

Happy thanksgiving.

Sam at 22 Months

2008-11-25T05:29:00.000-08:00

This past month has been one of the best in her development as well as one of the most trying.

First, the bad.

She has become increasingly violent with her brother. This month she found a closed pocket knife the cleaning ladies left out and she whacked him in the head with it. Needless to say, I did not take this well and the three of us went off to the pediatrician where we were told--after a 45-minute evaluation--that Sam is "scary smart." I am loath to say that my child is a "genius" or "gifted" because I absolutely hate when parents say that stuff about their kids. It is not a competition and I hate how those comments make other parents feel. But this month I am accepting that Sam is very curious and is retaining knowledge in a away that is quite advanced.

I am proud of her (although I take no credit), but am worried she will be bored or that she will eventually be socially ostracized. I am slow on following up on some of our pediatrician's suggestions because I do not want to hear that our child needs a special school or is different. I will get on the ball with this, but am really trying to just see what develops. All kids just advance at different rates and maybe she is just a bit faster now. We'll see.

She knows all of her letters (upper and lower case) on sight and can spell and read many words. The whole world is letters to Sam. She spells almost everything she sees and is fairly obsessed by letters, wanting to "read! read!" all the time. She can read several words, including "moon," R's name, her own name, "stop" and "car." My guess? She will be actually reading books before she is 2. Although she is less interested in numbers, she has started to recognize them on sight this week.

She also has learned all of her colors this month and is particularly fascinated by colored font and telling us that "the R is red" or "the G is orange." She started saying her name and speaks of herself only in the third person--"Sammy is happy"; "Sammy wants milk"; "Sammy goes night-night." She says "bless you" when people sneeze, which is adorable.

One of the things about Sam that I have always admired and loved is her fierce independence. She slept through the night at 6 weeks, never needing to be rocked or nursed. She has never cried when I leave her, whether at daycare, in the gym or with my parents. She is teaching herself how to read. She puts herself in time-out when she hits her brother by closing her bedroom door, crying for a minute, letting herself out and then admonishing, "Sammy say sorry to Anni--Sorry Anni."

Potty training has been no different. About two months ago we bought a potty when Sam became obsessed by all things bathroom related but never felt like dealing with it with the new baby and all. Sam has other plans. She is basically in the midst of potty training herself. She is done with diapers and want to go on the potty. The other night she peed in it and I am sure within the month, she will be fully trained. Of course, I did nothing, so I take no credit. My child is really an independent wonder. Sometimes it scares me. She is like a tiny woman in so many ways and it is easy to forget she is not even 2-years-old yet.

Sam's memory is astounding. She remembers things that happened months ago and refers to them often. At Whole Foods there was a dog outside the store one time in July and now Sam points to that spot every time we go and says, "Dog!" She remembers that Whole Foods has cheese and she remembers that she likes the Gruyere better than the cheddar before we even get to the samples. When I misplace something, Sam can usually help me find it.

I love Sam, but I have to say, this month she kind of unnerved me. "Scary smart," indeed. She is always processing, always plotting and I hope she will use her skills for good, not evil. Because right now? It could go either way.

Her new fave hiding place:

Burn, Baby, Burn

2008-11-24T14:02:00.001-08:00

Check out my Pregnancy Blog for info on the Disco. It was fun.

Let's Dance

2008-11-21T06:27:00.000-08:00

What does my latest pedicure tell you?

Hint: Sittin' here eatin' my heart out baby; The moon is rising; Don't tip the boat over; At first I was afraid...

All disco, all the time! We are going to Baby Loves Disco this weekend (FINALLY!)

Would you please help Sam pick her shoes from the amazing assortment sent by her Nana? Here they are:

I am partial to the gold boots, but that is just me... Send your thoughts by Sunday!

Searching, Searching, Searching

2008-11-19T05:00:00.000-08:00

Last night I started my official tours of preschools. Last night I also discovered I am about two years late in my search with Sam when I was told that I should apply for "that one" (gesturing at the sleeping three-month-old in my arms) right now.

I liked the school a lot--a great religious program, extremely qualified teachers and a play-based (over academic-based) curriculum. But never have a I felt more like Jamie Lynne Spears or Bristol Palin. Over the months I have spent parenting I have had quite a few teen mom moments, but never more so than last night.

I am not sure this is the right preschool for us. It is very expensive (read: 15k a year for two half days a week) and somewhat far away. I get the sense that many of the mothers would only do this, meanwhile I also need childcare while I work.

Now we are starting to look into co-op preschools, which I think may be more our scene. But this is far more stressful--and I am far more self conscious--than originally believed.

Exciting New Digs

2008-11-18T05:54:00.001-08:00

Come over to the new website for Pregnancy Magazine and give my blog--Sasha's Newborn Chronicles--some love!

It Has Been 15 Years

2008-11-17T07:00:00.000-08:00

Today it has been 15 years since my mom died. Next year marks an important milestone--the year where I have lived more than half my life without her.

I miss her less than I did when I was 16. But I also miss her more. I wish she could see her grandchildren. I wish she had left some kind of legacy--cards, videos, a letter--anything, really. But she didn't.

My takeaway lesson is this: take care of myself. I am going to get gene tested (the cancer she had may or may not have been the genetic kind), do rigorous self-checks, stay on top of my fat intake and eat right because I never want my kids to go through what I have gone through.

But if I ever (G-d forbid) have to leave my children, I will also leave them things to remember me by, this blog, the letters I write to them on their birthdays, the essays I have written about them. I never want them to forget how much I love them.

My children/husband have done more for healing the wound then anything before them, but it will always be there and I will do my best to never leave my children with the same hole.

Alan Looks Like an Olmec Head

2008-11-16T09:47:00.000-08:00

It is a grand tradition for R and I to make fun of our children. When Sam was six weeks old, we became convinced she was the love child of Winston and Churchill.

Now it has come to our attention that our littlest one looks a lot like an Olmec Head.

So without further ado, I present Alan:

And an Olmec Head:

I think you will agree. If his head gets any larger, I fear he will float away like a balloon. If he had a tv show, it would be called "the Big Head Chronicles."

Does anyone else fear their child will some day be a giant, floating head?

Body By Baby

2008-11-14T09:45:00.000-08:00

I have complained, bitched and bemoaned the loss of my flat abs ever since having a baby.

I have cried and missed my body like a crazy person had taken residence inside my brain and was making me focus only on numbers on the scale. I have good reason for my tears.

Before:

After:

I was lucky the first time. My body went back to "normal" with minimal effort--the running and working out I love to do anyway. This time it seems to be doing the same, although my patience is even thinner (hard as that is to believe and pun intended). I have tried again and again to tell myself that my babies are worth it. And they mostly are.

But I have never seen other postpartum bodies to know if I was normal. Was the flab I sported until 6 months postpartum the same as all women. And the answer? Yes.

Thanks to this site I have some insight into the lines and marks other women deal with as well. I am normal.

Seeing this sort of opened my eyes. My body has been through a major change. I can't expect to look exactly the same (at least not for a while). In some ways, I like the scars. How amazing is my body? Wow. I used to climb mountains, but this is so much cooler, such a greater high.

I may not have the courage to ever post my unclothed "after" photos online, but the fact that some women do has given me strength and made me a little less anxious about my flaws.

The Postpartum Brain

2008-11-13T09:28:00.000-08:00

Last time I had a baby, I was paid by my old job for three months while I stared at my newborn, watched all of Six Feet Under, attempted new workout DVDs and generally amended my entire life to revolve around the tiniest dictator.

Then I quit and slowly started to freelance.

This past year things picked up to a point where some of the things I dreamed about in journalism school (publishing essays, features in national consumer mags) were starting to happen and I did not feel comfortable taking a maternity leave.

Somehow I managed to eek out a few big pieces soon after my littlest one was born. Looking back, I am really not sure how I did it except that he slept a lot back then. Now? Not so much. And while I have promised myself a month or two to just be home, "stuff" keeps getting in the way (one project in particular which is probably my worst nightmare in terms of amount of people weighing in on tiny, pedantic matters; utter lack of creativity/soul and general hair pulling out-ness is particularly vexing right now). I have reached a point where I need to make some decisions.

We are currently paying about $1,000 a month for childcare. I adore Sam's teacher and I know Sam loves it, but I get almost no work done on the days she is there because I have Alan. Even when I have a babysitter come into the house, it is very difficult to work because I hear him, worry and go to him, particularly when he refuses a bottle, which is all the time (he has not taken a bottle of pumped milk in weeks). Basically we are wasting the money. I can't work and we can't afford to pay for childcare while I am bringing in very little income.

This is not even mentioning my poor, addled brain. It no function good. Let's just say that the work I have turned in in these past three months is not my finest work and while I have focused very hard on turning the pieces around and really giving it my all, work like the above mentioned project is stressful, upsetting and totally unnecessary. I want to reserve what tiny brain power I have for the work I love: the features, the essays, the column--the projects that allow me to be creative and play with words and talk to interesting people.

(and a little aside: men DO NOT GET THIS. I adore my husband, I really do. He is an amazing father, my best friend and a huge participant in our family life but oh man is he clueless when it comes to how hard all this is for me. He will take the kids for an afternoon and act like it was so easy--"why is this so hard for you?" he asks. Well... Hmmm.. Let me see: I am nursing round the clock, listening for my baby, totally sleep deprived, preoccupied with the 10 pounds I have yet to lose and utterly dismayed at the demise of my perfectly ordered life)

This ain't me. This person who is turning in less than the best work I can do, who is not pitching, who can barely form a sentence, let alone write an essay. I am scared, but putting my faith in the idea that this will become the new normal and I will be able to write again. But in the meantime, what do I do? Keep the childcare and waste the money? Try to be a stay at home mom for a year?

(another aside: how bored would I be? Very. I love my kids, but they are mind numbing a lot of the time.)

I feel like a shite mama, a shite writer and a shite freelancer. Mama lacks focus and brain cells. Why don't people talk about this more?

Something has to give. I am just not sure what it will be yet.

Talking Bout My Generation

2008-11-11T06:57:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking a lot about generations recently. For years I heard my parents complain about my generation's apathy as they waxed nostalgic about their own political activity. My father, in particular, enjoys speaking of the 60's as the greatest time our world has ever known.

Maybe it was. And maybe we generation XYers are a bunch of apathetic, nintendo playing, IMing, Mac-loving, children of baby boomers. But here is one area we have all those ex-hippies beat in: child rearing.

Yesterday my father called me after Sam had attacked Alan with a pocket knife (longer post to follow on my insane child who was called "scary smart" by her pediatrician). "Put her in a playpen," he suggested sagely. "It was good enough for you and your sister." Hmmm... Ok. Perhaps this explains why neither my sister nor I graduated Cum Laude... But I digress.

Then last night I read the book my mother read when she was pregnant with me--a lovely book about the first year of parenthood with a wild-eyed hippy mama on the cover who appears to need both a haircut and a bath, stat, holding a naked baby aloft in field of daisies. Ah, the 70's. Such a peaceful time:

In it, parents are advised to feed their three-month-olds solid food, place their babies in walkers (which I believe kill something like 5 million children a year) and use playpens. They were also encouraged to dress their children in pea-green cordoroy overalls regardless of sex, but that seems less egregious in light of these other pieces of helpful advice.

Hmmm... I think not. Look, I am aware we all survived (otherwise, how would I be writing this?) But what of the ones who did not? Who will speak for them? I have appointed myself to the position. Let's face it, some of what our parents practiced, their benign neglect, may have fostered creativity and made us more independent. But some stuff was just stupid--a fact I will remember the next time my father helpfully suggests placing my almost 2-year-old in what is essentially a baby cage.

So please, for the love of G-d, check the copyright on your parenting advice books--and your parents.

Tempered with the Sadness

2008-11-06T05:02:00.000-08:00

I was so blissful Tuesday night. We had won, defeated the Sith. I swear I felt a little like I do at the end of Return of the Jedi.

But then came Wednesday and the results of Prop 8, a measure on the California ballot banning gay marriage (a "Yes" vote amended the constitution to define marriage as between a "man and woman"; a "No" vote did not). 52 to 48, the measure passed and with it, went the hopes of so many gay men and women.

I am just sick about it and can't possibly celebrate a victory as a "triumph over fear and hatred" when something as evil, archaic and senseless as this bill can still be passed. Similar bills were passed in Arizona and Florida, which are equally depressing, but far less surprising. In Arkansas, voters decided to stop allowing gays to adopt children. But Cali is the one that burns. California, you beautiful sea of blue, how could you pass something so red, so archaic, so prejudiced?

Facebook was all a flutter yesterday with people who were thrilled with Obama's victory. It was a historic day of beauty and hope and elation, but my happiness was tempered by the fact that my little cousins in Los Angeles have to feel a little more discrimination. They have to question the validity and security of their family. And they have to feel, way too young, just how backwards this country still is in so many ways.

It bothered me yesterday that only a handful of straight people I know addressed Prop 8. I know we were all thrilled, but how thrilled can we be when our gay friends and family are in pain? I can't celebrate fully until we can all do it together.

I appreciate so much that we finally have a democrat and I am definitely going to need something new to be snobby about now that so many people have shown they are capable of opening their minds and actually listening to what the candidates are saying instead of towing their party line or voting based on fear. But we have such a long way to go. It makes me so sad that the same people who wiped away years of oppression and racism as they cast their ballot for Obama, also cast a vote for hate. Why? Why? Why?

I just don't get it. Why does anyone care so much? Is it their religion? Really? Because "the bible tells you so"? Because the bible says a lot and contradicts itself even more. Spirituality and the belief in G-d are beautiful and comforting and can be a part of a person's life as long as they also understand that their beliefs are just that--beliefs. They do not give anyone the right to take away another's rights. Gay people are seeking the same civil rights that most Americans enjoy: marrying the person of your choice, safety from violence, the ability to adopt a child and fair treatment.

How dare we tell them otherwise? How dare we?

Yes, there is a part of me that wants to talk about how utterly lame these people are, how the woman who headed up the whole thing is likely either closeted herself or knows her "straight" husband would rather be married to a man (because let's face it: what kind of frigid, sexless prude really cares that much?)

But I will refrain (mostly). Because hatred is what got us here and only hope can get us out. And I am hopeful. I am hopeful that the thousands of people who gathered all over California to protest the measure will have some success. I believe that in 2010 they will get it on the ballot again and show just what we can accomplish when we unite to fight this kind of bigotry.

But we still live in a bigoted country. Make no mistake about it. Obama may have won, but this fight is far, far from over.

Thank G-d. Thank G-d.

2008-11-05T05:58:00.000-08:00

When Sam woke up this morning, I could not stop crying. My babies' rights are safe. She will be treated equally and be able to decide what to do with her own body.

I have never had more faith in my country than I do today. And though I am bitterly disappointed that Prop 8 passed in California, I am so grateful that Obama beat McCain in a landslide. America the beautiful, indeed.

I never thought I would see it. Maybe President Bush was truly just that bad. Or maybe the tide of the country is changing. But what I really believe more than anything is that Obama supporters entered the polls full of hope and faith while McCain's were voting based on hatred and fear. Positive energy wins every time. Eight years of hell are over. Thank G-d. Thank G-d.

And what would today be without my victory mix? So here it is:

Miracle of Miracle
-Fiddler on the Roof
A Change Is Gonna Come
-Sam Cooke
Blue (Da Ba Dee)
-Eiffel 65
I Will Buy You a New Life
-Everclear
Here Comes The Sun
-Nina Simone
Talkin' Bout a Revolution
-Tracy Chapman
This Will Be Our Year
-The Zombies
Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours
-Stevie Wonder
We Are the Champions
-Queen
Imagine
-John Lennon
American Prayer
-Dave Stewart & His Rock Fabulous Orchestra
People Get Ready
-Curtis Mayfield
No Surrender
-Bruce Springsteen
One Day More
-Cindy Benson & Jesse Corti
Do You Hear the People Sing?
-Michael Maguire
The Times They Are A-Changin'
-Bob Dylan

Barack the Vote

2008-11-04T07:42:00.000-08:00

Since I have been unable to campaign like I would have liked this election, I have done everything "for Obama."

These cookies?

They are for Obama

This manicure?

Also for Obama

In the past 24 hours, I have eaten Macaroni for Obama, spent quality time with my husband for Obama and run five miles while listening to the entire score of Les Mis (Do YOU Hear the People Sing? Because I sure do) for OBAMA.

Because living in a state as blue as Mass, we already knows how this story ends. But the big story? Well, that one is just beginning.

I am full of audacious hope today, full of the belief that change is afoot and when I cast my ballot, together with my family, all I could do was cry. To see their name (Obama Biden) and to mark it, it is official. The reign of evil is over. Eight years I have waited, four years to the day after I cried on my kitchen floor. We will win today. I feel it. I know it.

I would have waited hours, but today I only had to wait 45 minutes. And tonight, we will know.

Anatomy of a Meltdown

2008-11-03T04:08:00.001-08:00

It all started with the American Girl doll store.

Since Sammy (and her mommy and her Auntie Mar) are all big fans of these dolls, it made sense for us to trek out to their grand opening. It all started so well. Sam loved the dolls and books and her mommy was contemplating buying everything (Matching dresses! Cute dolls! Thousands of accessories!), like a gambling addict in Vegas (Wait, what was my credit limit again? Can I get cash on credit?)

I probably would have, too, if it had all not started to break down.

The happy beginning:

It is always a doll stroller. For whatever reason, these toys have caused more fights among little girls than all the dolls, swings and cars at the playground. If there is a tiny stroller to be had, Sammy must have it in her possession.

Note the way she looks behind her, darting her eyes about, on the lookout for any other little girl who might want to also play with the stroller. To them, she has only this to say: "NO! MINE! NO! MINE!"

As you can see, this one was particularly large and cumbersome. Sam absconded with a it and tried to push it up the escalator, when she did not accomplish that, she gathered every displayed "bitty baby" doll (black, white, asian and hispanic) one on top of the other into a multi-cultural orgy, stuffed them into this frustrating SUV of strollers and tried to run away with them, bowling over at least three fifth-grade girls in the process.

Roughly 550 upscale mommies and their equally upscale daughters (dolls in tow) witnessed my daughter's mayhem, snotty looks upon their botoxed faces (as if their child never behaved this way).

Ani just watched:

If we tried to touch her or g-d forbid, suggest she might like to keep the stroller confined (or better yet, stop using it) she would fall to the floor, scream like we were beating her and kick her legs. I had Anni strapped to my chest in the Bjorn and Mariel had no clue what to do, so between us all we looked like complete amateurs.

By the end, we were asked by a security guard if we needed "help," which I believe was code for: "don't let the door hit you on your way out."

Once we got her to the street, this was the scene:

I just pretended Mar was her mother and I was merely a shocked spectator. Now I try to laugh and focus on the fact that, as Auntie K says, "She looks like an angry political protester who has been nabbed by the police."

I definitely plan to take her there for her birthday. I am serious, by the way. Crazy, I know. But definitely serious.

(Note the young girls in the background, their bags stuffed with American Girl goodness, terrified of the crazed little person kicking her clodhopper sneakers and screaming: "MORE DOLL!! MORE DOLL!! SAMMY PUSH! I WANT MORE DOLL!")

Ani-Bear at Three Month

2008-11-02T06:26:00.000-08:00

Ani is not my baby. He is not R's baby. He is not Sam's baby.

Ani is our baby.

When he cries, Sam says "Stop!" and she shushes him and tries to rock him. When he wants something she rushes to get it for him. She is always concerned when he is not around and wants to "help" change his diapers, give him baths and do his tummy time. In short, she is a mini mommy for my little boy (a mini mommy who occasionally hits or scratches him).

This has been a tough couple weeks for my littlest one. He is still a generally mellow fellow, but he has had a bit of newborn fussiness that seems to have been waiting to surface. For the past couple weeks, he has spent the "witching hour" (6-7 p.m.) largely engaged in fussy behavior. I fear it is interfering with R's ability to bond with him.

His sleep schedule is fairly consistent. He goes down around 8 p.m. and sleeps until his dream feed around midnight. Then he sleeps until 3 or 4, we bring him into our bed and he sleeps until around 5:30, feeds again and then sleeps until 10 or 11. If I could sleep in with him, it would be no problem and we are learning to deal with the sleepus interruptus, but it would be much easier if he slept through the night, so we are still hopeful.

He needs to be where the action is and will not sit in his swing or bed alone, preferring the bouncy chair and the company of others. He has no problem watching me do an hour or yoga or pilates from his bouncy seat, he just will not nap during it.

He and his sister are so different. She preferred pumped milk from a bottle, he prefers the breast (and will not take a bottle). She preferred the swing and sling, he prefers the bouncy seat and the Bjorn. It is a good thing we have $9 million in baby accessories. He is also huge (75th percentile) in weight, height and head circumference. He weighs 13 pounds, 11 ounces (probably more right now), is 24.5 inches and wears clothing meant for 6-9 month-olds. The other day I had to retire all of his newborn-3 month clothing, which ought to pay my shrink's mortgage for a few months. I am so glad he is growing, but can't believe how fast it is happening.

He still prefers me, which warms the cockles of my cold heart every day, especially given his sister wavers between hate and cold tolerance of her mommy. Ani is such a precious boy and even though I am not a proponent of the family bed, there are mornings where I wake to his smiling face and wish I could keep him this age forever. He smells so wonderful, like fresh, sweet baby and he lets me cuddle and hold him for hours. The part of me that wants him to hurry up and grow so that I can have some independence is fighting with the side of me that never wants to let him go.

Happy Halloween

2008-11-01T08:11:00.000-07:00

We had a fantastic night full of candy and horror. The night started with a hurried exodus out of our house over to Oma and Zaydee's where we ate pizza and got ready (while my poor dad missed it all because he was stuck in Casablanca--alas, the show must go on).

We got into our costumes and hurried out the door. This year was such a change. Sam loved trick-or-treating and probably could have gone all night. She was so pumped to walk outside, see the other kids, get candy and get fawned over at each house.

Once we finished with that, we hurried off to our horror movie marathon featuring The Shining, It's Alive and Halloween. It was a blast and, of course, we won the trivia contest because that's how we roll (the winning question--"what was the girl's name from the Ring?" 10 points to whoever guesses correctly). Being out without kids was pretty incredible, especially on Halloween night and both kids were well behaved (read: sleeping) so we were quite pleased.

Some photos:

In the Begining there was a Lion...

2008-10-31T09:25:00.001-07:00

He roared:

Stay tuned for more...

Halloween (and Rob at 32 years)

2008-10-31T05:22:00.000-07:00

Halloween is my favorite holiday and my husband's birthday--a twofer!

We have many fun plans, including story time at the library and then costume prep. We are all going as characters from the Wizard of Oz for trick-or-treat. Stay tuned for photos.

And HAPPY HALLOWEEEN!

My Mama Loves Obama***Now with photos!

2008-10-30T06:16:00.001-07:00

On Tuesday, I have a whole event planned because, let's face it, almost nothing gives me more pleasure than a theme.

Our events:

On Mon. night Sam and I will both have our nails painted (with non-toxic, child friendly nail polish) red, white and blue.

Tues. morning we will all wake at 6, dress up in red, white and blue and walk out to breakfast near our polling place. Then we will all vote (except Sam and Alan, although let's face it, both of my children are more civically engaged than 90% of the population. Personally, I'd rather see them vote than the toothless masses).

Tues evening we will have a little election party complete with themed dessert(s) and appetizer(s). For those attending, please wear flag colors or at least a flag pin on your lapel.

Here's why:

I am knocking on wood with all my might, but it looks good, my friends (not in the John McCain way), it looks really good.

For the first time in years, we may actually be celebrating instead of crying. Lifelong republicans I know are voting for Obama. People are crawling out of the woodwork to say enough with the attacks on intellect, science, decency and humanity. In fact, the recent polls I have seen are showing that we may have our candidate locked in before the polls even close in the West.

Here's hoping...

I don't want to be premature when I say a new day may be dawning and there may be hope for this country yet. The liberal elite is speaking and apparently, some people are listening.

****Auntie K does her patriotic duty and is, therefore, welcome at my party:

Photograph by Caitlin Thorne, New York Post.

Wordless Wednesday

2008-10-29T11:36:00.001-07:00

Kissing Jack:

The Fourth Trimester and Other Tales from the Trenches

2008-10-28T05:36:00.000-07:00

Alan is just a few days away from his three-month birthday.

This milestone marks a few important things:

1.) He is FINALLY old enough for the gym daycare
2.) I have managed to keep two children alive for one quarter of a year
3.) Barack Obama is almost our president (knockin' ye olde wood)

and

4.) The fourth trimester is coming to a close

For those of you not reading Harvey Karp's Happiest Baby/Toddler series, let me explain. The fourth trimester is considered the time when human babies should still be in the womb (and if the human vagina were bigger, still would be). They have to come out with teeny brains to not rip their teeny mommy apart (although if you ask me, that head thing is still way too big), but the trade-off is a helpless creature with zero skill.

Most of the time, this translates into much crying, fussing and difficulty. We have been so lucky. So far. Until this week, actually. Our first child was a dream. She slept 12 hours a night by this time and has never stopped. I can count on one hand the number of times over her lifetime (after six weeks) that I have had to wake in the night for her. Alan has also been ok--not ideal--but definitely better than most kids. He goes to bed at 8, gets a sleep feed at midnight when R and I go to bed and then sleeps until around 4. On a good night. On a bad night all bets are off. Last night? He slept from 9:30-6:30. Best. Night. Ever.

But that was an anomaly in this past week. It has been a harrowing one.

Generally speaking our little man has been mellow, quiet and good natured so this sudden onset of screaming is a bit shocking. I am not sure if this is the transition to three months (I hope) or something physical, but Alan has, in the past week, decided to refuse all bottles, eschew all naps and wake every two hours all. Night. Long.

This is making our lives kinda suck right now. I went out to dinner with some friends the other night and had to come home early because R could not stop the screaming. We had a date night Saturday night that we had to cancel. I canceled today's babysitter and I am very scared that our Friday night plans (R's birthday and Halloween) will have to be cancelled as well (an all-night horror movie marathon at a local theater featuring The Shining, It's Alive and Halloween). I will be pretty miserable if that happens.

What to do? Why is he doing this?

The bottle thing is the worst. I cannot leave him. At all. A three-month-old can be as enigmatic as the Sphinx and sometimes just as trippy (esp. at 3 a.m. when mommy starts seeing imaginary bugs crawling on the wall thanks to sleep deprivation). Somehow we are going to have to crawl out of this hole. We have no other choice.

5k

2008-10-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

I ran a 5k today with a good friend. My goal was under 25:00 (I am still not in my best shape) and I ran it in 25:10. I am trying not to be disappointed. My friend did meet her gal, though so yay! Here we are: