Blogcation
You know that word that suddenly just sprung up in 2010 when the recession hit? “Staycation” was the word and this is SO NOT THAT.
I’m going on a real vacation with planes, bitchy flight attendants, plasticized airline food, and most importantly, time off!! I thought about taking the time to write a bunch of posts to keep for later when things got busy when we got back but then I thought wtf am i doing?! Vacation is vacation. Period. Sorry to my hundred of readers and 3 commenters ( seriously guys, leave me a comment sometimes like even “hey your hair looks great in that pic” or “Hello this is BabyGap, we saw your son on the interwebz and would like him to be the face of our summer line”), you will have to make due w/o for an undisclosed period of time. I WILL make attempts to check in but my grandparent’s wifi isn’t exactly “first world” quality.
Send me good jujus. Hopefully this 10 hour flight won’t be like the first one we took….that and no poops.
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My first Nana’s Day
Let’s start by just getting this out of the way: No, my son did not say Mama on Sunday He decided that being original was much cooler and will continue to call me Nana. I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed but he made it up to us eventually by doing something cute.
My mother isn’t a fan of mother’s day. She says mamas should be celebrated every day with small gestures of kindess and thoughtfullness rather than one forced day. I tended to agree with her, until last Sunday! It was awesome. People entered me in raffels, on the street when they saw me pushing a stroller they would shout “Happy Mother’s Day!” It felt pretty cool, like celebrity cool. Everyone was especially ooo-ing around O that day. THAT will never get old.
So what did my son do for me you ask? With some help from an unidentified mystery person, he managed to make me a card. This was it.
Oh you want me to flip the pic for a surprise? Any guesses? nope, it’s not hand or foot prints, those are so 2011. It’s….
Yes. A big smurfy butt print. I laughed so hard I managed to pee a little.
Oh, I forgot to mention there was a little poop on it. Daddy Day Care has been shut down for violations of diaper health.
Thanks to my little man and little baby
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Mama(n) didn’t raise no fool.
With what it surely to be an EPIC first mother’s day for me (I’ve given O a list of my demands, which basically just includes saying “mama” and giving me a foot rub), it makes me think about all the things my own mother use to say or do.
First things first: look at my mom!! Yeah I know. One of my sister’s Russian friends from college once said (and i quote) “Nice, in my country they would go crazy over this one.” In the 27 years I’ve known her (yes, I’m counting time spent in utero) it doesn’t appear that she’s aged! Oh and yes, I do look pimp in this pic.
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Water Baby
My boy loves water. I say it’s because of my whole hippie water birth so you’re welcome world, I just gave you the next Michael Phelps but minus the man whoring and drugs. Ok, i know he’s ridiculously good looking so I suppose just minus the drugs….
This weekend was a hot one in the good ol’ dirty ‘lou. Temp was like in the low 90′s! So we did what any urban folk would do and saddled up the stroller and made way for the nearest water source. We were in luck! The City Garden was open and buzzing with other city slip n’ slide deprived city kids. O loved the water feature they have there. It’s encouraged that the kids climb and play on all the sculptures and pools/water fountains. It’s what the park was made for (experience the art rather than just admiring it). It’s a great place and we love to go there. Here’s me when I was hugely prego days away from giving birth to the Big O. Seriously what was with the shape of my belly? Looks like i was poorly shoplifting 5 cantaloups and a bag of flour. And something pointy like a pineapple…
So anyways, we spent about an hour with him this weekend wondering if he would like the water. Saturday we had taken a trip to the farmer’s market where there’s a big water area for kids to play in and he was terrified. Probably didn’t help that the water was freezing and stupid children kept splashing us or using water guns to splash me. What d*cks, don’t they know mamas hate being splashed!?
Here’s a cute video of my baby boy enjoying himself and apparently insanely thirsty…
Oh and here’s me photo bombing and doing the angelina jolie Oscar leg….
Read MoreLactation Station
Sometimes being a breast feeder can suck major ass. Or I guess boob in this situation. Before you click that little “X” in the corner of your AOL browser know that this won’t be a complaint post. This is more a post about the weird shit I find in my workplace “lactation stations.” In my case, having to pump 2-3 times a day at my work is what sucks majorly BUT can be extremely humorous…
first let me give you a visual so you can accurately picture the place. Picture a small stall right before the bathroom with a single 78 year old chair and one power strip. I suppose that’s all one really needs but it doesn’t exactly scream “Hey women, you can do your mama business here and not get hepatitis!” There’s room for improvement…
So here are my observations:
1. Romance Novels. They are freaking everywhere. It’s as if reading trashy paperbacks ups your milk production. My favorites include:
2. Someone will have to let me in on the big secret of what actually goes on in there…there is a collection, nay a potpourri, of milk and snots plastered on the walls and single black chair. I picture this:
3. Because the lactation station is f-ing gross, I usually book a small conference room to do my business. Of course the doors don’t lock so I have to resort to sticking a flimsy chair at the door to slow down any possible intruders and give me a chance to scream “No don’t come in, I’m wearing this thing!!” ===> 
Well the other day I was grade A multitasking (pumping, playing drawsomething, and reading on the kindle) when I heard shuffling outside the door. F. I had forgotten to book the room or check if someone else had it booked! After a series of hotflashes and possible explanations for my current topless state ran through my head there was a knock and a jiggle of the handle. The only thing my post-pumping sleepy brain could muster up was “UHHHH HANG ON?” Luckily the person didn’t come in but I would love to know what thoughts ran through his head as to what a single person was doing in there with a mysterious unmarked black backpack….
Read MoreMr. Personality
I don’t know what’s gotten into my son lately. Perhaps it’s that cold bug he has, complete with runny nose that god forbid you try to wipe, or maybe it’s those front teeth coming in but he’s had a mind of his own lately! ”Mr.Personality” is his new name at daycare and you know that can only mean one thing: he’s being a monster. It’s the teachers’ nicest way of saying that he’s a terror. Ok, not a terror. I’ve seen much worse kids at the checkout late of the grocery store flailing about on the ground over some coconut M&Ms. But for US, this is nightmare baby.
For one: I can’t take the freaking whining. His newest thing is to throw his head back while crying tearless tears and just SOB. Like he’s been abandoned all alone in the world and not two feet away from his mommy who is scurrying about to find a distraction toy. Don’t even say it. No, my kid isn’t like this!
Behold my worst nightmare. Pasta on the floor….Parenthood gives new meaning to phrase “makin’ in rain”
Yep. My floor IS still dirty. Figured they would be easier to vacuum up once they dry. Don’t judge.
Read MoreThe epic showdown battle begins
You know the scene. Two heavyweights, each boasting vastly different strengths, each painfully aware of each other’s weaknesses, ready to fight. In one corner, a warrior who has mastered the art of Pinteresting and is considered one of the world’s leading experts in cat-vomit reading. In the other corner resides a beast so ghastly, so evil yet so dang cute you can’t take your eyes off him. A small and nimble Japanese man coyly bites into a pepper then shouts “allez cuisine!” and the battle begins: It’s MAMA vs BABY.
Drama aside, the iron chef reference above is somewhat topical. There is no secret ingredient in this battle though. And if there was, I would hope it was carrots because that would SO piss him off. It’s gone from his most favorite food to least favorite. I mean, boyfriend is GAGGING (much like I did when I was cruelly tricked into watching 2 girls 1 cup*) when I dare hand him a small piece. How can this be?! How can he go from “omg love love love can’t get enough of carrots want carrots all day every day”to “F no ho. Get that piece of vitamin A and beta carotene outta my face ‘fo I waste you.” (this is what being born in St Louis aka the dirty ‘lou will get you).
I guess this is it. The turning point. The point I will remember as the day I started caving into all of his baseless and most ridiculous demands/cries or the day i taught my son to listen to his mother and do what she says.
This all started with a stupid falafel. I made him baby-versions of the yummy dish (recipe below if you’re interested) and apparently did a fine job because when I offered the falafel alongside green beans and carrots he picked out only the falafel and threw the veggies on the floor. WHAT A B-WORD. I have no idea why the carrots were so offensive, I prepared them just as I normally do.
I believe my baby understands a lot more than I give him credit for. I also think he’s a rational being. Lots of studies show that even small babies can do simple math, play memory games, recognize language and even have a sense of morality or fairness. Side note: I read about this study done with 10 month olds where the kids watched a puppet show with a good guy rolling a rock up a hill and then a bad guy pushing the rock down just when the good one almost got to the top. The kids where then offered to play with the puppets and almost all of them chose the one that had played “the good guy.” End Side note.
So what are my choices here? I’ve been acting calm, explaining that he has to eat them but he just looks up at the sky and whines (pretty sure he’s asking God to smite me for presenting the offending carrots). I’ve tried sneaking them into his food with some success but I can’t stand that angle, I don’t want him to think veggies are bad and the only way they can be eaten is if their taste is covered by something else. I WILL NOT be overruled by a 9 month old. O is at the age where he’s starting to listen to what I say. When I tell him “No” he usually stops, waits a respectable 10 seconds before attempting the nono again. I want to teach him he’s not the boss. I want to teach him to deal with his frustrations and to control himself when he doesn’t get his way. Part of me feels like if I don’t implant this idea into his head now I will lose him forever. Bah! the second kid is going to have such a huge advantage…
Wish me luck on my Mommying…hopefully I get a few punches in. Not literal ones.
Baby Falafel: make at your own risk
What you’ll need:
1 can garbanzo beans
Some parsley, some cilantro
1 garlic clove minced
1/2 onion diced
Zucchini diced
Some cumin
Some baby cereal or whole wheat flour or some other flour
Rice, cow’s or breast milk
Wheat germ (optional but I sneak it in when i can)
Cook the Zucchini, garlic and onion…add in your cumin
Blend all ingredients besides the flour/cereal and milk
Mix in the flour and milk by hand until you have a good dough like consistency. If it’s too sticky to roll into little balls add more cereal or flour
Let your dough rest a bit in the fridge
Roll ‘em up into balls
I baked mine at 400 but you could also put some oil in a pan and fry them. If you’re baking them don’t forget to turn them!
*for the love of lady gaga DO NOT google this trust me
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