The Poopsie Collective

The Terrible Twos Come Early?

Written by GWEN 

Sometimes I read Brooke’s posts about tantrums and grocery store scenes and I get really, really scared. (No offense Brooke!) But I wonder how I will handle it and, of course, deep down think, my Izzy will NEVER throw tantrums. And yet, at 17 months, it has already started. They’re not full fledged yet and don’t include any I HATE YOU MOMs, since he has a pretty limited vocabulary, but the screaming fits and crying over something utterly ridiculous have definitely arrived.

Mainly, they occur when we take things away from him—duh. Izzy seems to have a penchant for playing with things that aren’t toys at all. And when I say penchant, I mean he becomes OBSESSED. Like with the vacuum, cereals, pens, and just this morning… my razor. This brings me to my next point. With these irrational obsessions and tantrums comes the necessity for actual parenting skills and discipline. Things I have worked very hard to avoid up until now. Obviously I had to draw the line at my razor, but I mean… if he wants to play with the cereal, it’s not hurting anyone. I say go for it. That is until Adam comes downstairs and sees a trail of Cheerios all over the living room rug.

“GWEN! Why does he have that? That is just asking to make a mess!”

“Well, he took it out of the cupboard. I didn’t even see him do it.”

“Did you open the cupboard for him?”

“I mean… yeah, but he loves it so much! Look how happy he is.”

These conversations are then followed by Adam grabbing the cereal box from Izzy and putting it away. Which is then followed by Izzy bursting into hysterical tears. Usually these little tanties pass fairly quickly and I am able to distract him with other things, but Izzy does not forget. Twenty minutes later, he’s back in from of the kitchen cupboard saying, “More! More. MORE!” Clearly I need to be more disciplined with him, and I have started, but he’s always going to want what he can’t have, right? I know, I know, BOUNDARIES!

This morning, I was upstairs getting ready for work, while Adam was downstairs with Izzy, when all of a sudden Izzy burst into tears. Face bright red sobbing, “MOMMY! MOMMY!” I ran downstairs to hold him and asked Adam what had happened. Nothing. He was standing in the middle of the room and had a melt down. Just missed me I guess. Kinda flattering, but also kinda terrifying.

Did I also mention he’s obsessed with toothbrushes? And bowls?

A Poopsie Giveaway: Mother’s Day Jewels!

Happy Mother’s Day, From the Poopsie Team

One of the more awesome Mother’s Day cards any of us have received to date…

In honor of Mother’s Day, and all that us moms do on a daily basis, we want to give a quick shout out to the husbands and fathers who have made us feel special when we need it most. Sometimes it’s not the grand gifts (though we like those too) or the big gestures that make us smile, it’s the small moments that make our days of poop-filled fun worth it. So to get you geared up for a fabulous Mother’s Day, here are some of our favorite—and most appreciated—moments that have made us proud to be moms and able to tackle whatever chaotic kid adventures come our way.

Erica

It’s not so much of a singular moment as it is a daily occurrence, but it is widely known that I cannot function without coffee. Like, my mind is on the verge of exploding until that dreamy drop of caffeine hits my lips. I have a hard time doing anything before I’ve had coffee, let alone take care of another human being who’s tugging on my leg begging for food and attention. And because my wonderful husband understands—and sympathizes with—this, he brings me coffee every morning. Not just on Mother’s Day, but every single day. True, he only has to venture as far as the free coffee room in our condo lobby (best perk ever!), but every day I know he’s going to come back from his morning puppy stroll with a pipping hot cup of joe. And that coffee usually comes with a kiss too…though sometimes it’s served with a “I can’t believe you’re still in bed” eye-roll on the days Owen decides to sleep late. Anyway, it’s his daily gift to me. A small gesture with big returns, so that I can start my crazy day as a mom on the right (and caffeinated) foot. Bring on the poop!

Stephanie

“Supposed to” isn’t part of my husband’s vocabulary. So when it comes to Hallmark holidays like Mother’s Day and Valentine’s, he isn’t eager to fulfill wishlists. It’s the days between that mean more to him. In the early months after my daughter’s birth, while I was in the depths of laundry misery, mentally cursing everyone in my household and wondering why the F I’d had a baby, he came in and said the best thing I’d ever heard: he’d hired a cleaning lady. I was so happy, relieved and surprised, I immediately started crying (probably a hormone/sleep deprivation combination). It was the best gift I’d ever gotten and was perfectly timed. I didn’t ask for it, and it wasn’t for any occasion. He just saw that I was struggling and did what he could to alleviate it. Nice one, Alan. 

Gwen

When Izzy was just a couple days old, I vividly remember walking down the stairs of our flat thinking/freaking out to myself over how my life had changed forever and when was anyone ever going to consider me and my feelings ever again?! I had this unbelievable sense of responsibility hanging over me and couldn’t see a light at the end of my sleepless tunnel, when I would once again be deemed important to anyone for anything except my boobs. AND, with this roller coaster of emotions whirling around in my head, I reached our kitchen. At which point Adam looked at me, held his arms out and gave me a big hug. Obviously I burst into tears. It was exactly what I needed in that moment.  Not only did he make me feel loved and like he knew how I was feeling, but most of all that I was still his wife, as important to him as ever and not alone.

Brooke

My husband is practical, not romantic. This is why I love him; I’m not interested in sap (well, occasionally a little might be nice) but more importantly, I need those little things. This is why I love Aaron. I am a sleeper. I need sleep. So having a baby was hard on me. Really hard. Aaron is also a sleeper, but he stepped up when Zach was a baby and it continues to this day. In those early baby days when I am up all night and a mess of lactating exhaustion, he gets up with the baby sometimes as early as 5 am and goes in to work late just so I can catch a few extra hours in the mornings. I can’t say what a difference it makes to get those 2-3 extra hours in the morning. It makes the day manageable with a new one. Eventually we all get back into sleeping normal hours but Aaron still sacrifices sleep for me regularly. Whether it’s getting up with the kids so I can go on my 5am runs or feeding them breakfast every morning these days so my tired pregnant body can get that extra hour, he does it without complaining. I’ll take sleep over flowers any day. 

Recipe: The Easiest Tomato Sauce in the World

written by STEPHANIE

3 ingredients and 5 minutes of active prep (45 minutes cooking time) are all you need to make the easiest tomato sauce in the world, courtesy of Smitten Kitchen. It’s a staple in our household because it’s so freakin’ easy and it freezes well for those last minute weeknight dinners when my husband and I look at each other and ask, “What are we going to eat tonight? Uhhh….???” I’ve made this recipe at friends’ houses and for family, and everyone has since made it a staple in their household too. 

Ingredients

28oz can San Marzano tomatoes, whole peeled 

5 T butter

1 medium onion, peeled and halved

Put all ingredients into a pot, simmer on low heat for 45 minutes. Do not break apart the onion, as you will remove it at the end of the cooking time. Stir occasionally and crush the tomatoes as you cook. 

Meanwhile, boil water and cook pasta according to the package. Drain. Top with sauce and parmesan, if desired. Sprinkle a nice, flakey salt on top like Maldon, if desired. 

To store in freezer, put into freezer proof container like ziplock bag or canning jars. I recommend freezing in smaller portions appropriate for 4 servings or less. 

Have I Become a Gross Mom?

Written by ERICA 

First off, let me clarify why I mean by “gross” because it’s not what you might think. I don’t mean frumpy or sloppy. I may wear leggings-as-pants as my daily wardrobe, but somehow I think—I hope—I manage to make myself look somewhat put together despite my loyalty to spandex. And while there are definitely times I look in the mirror and see wrinkles/grey hairs/under-eye circles that never used to be there pre-baby, generally speaking I think I look like the same 15-year-old that I did before Owen came along.

So in (not so) short, when I say gross, I’m not referring to my looks. I’m referring to my actions. 

I’ll never forget two specific scenes from the amazingly hysterical movie Baby Mama starring Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, who are comic geniuses in my book. The first is during birthing class when Amy Poehler asks if she can “just spray some Pam on her taint” instead of rubbing olive oil on her perineum to prepare for labor. ABSOLUTELY GENIUS. 

But the second (and more relevant to my point) scene is when Tina Fey’s sister goes up to her son and says, “What is that brown stuff? Chocolate or poop?” And then she LICKS IT to see what the culprit is. And her response to Tina Fey’s look of disgust is “I told you, motherhood is messy. Great, but messy.” Oooooooohmygod. 

I thought to myself, “I’ll never be like that.” I watched, I laughed, and I shook it off as an exaggerated situation that only exists for comedic purposes on the big screen. Moms don’t really do that. I would most definitely NOT risk putting poop in my mouth, even if it was my own child’s feces. NEVER.

But then, the other day something happened. Owen had just finished eating his dinner and had managed to accidentally leave a piece of half-chewed chicken on his face. Did I get a napkin and wipe it away? No, of course not. It was a perfectly good bite of rotisserie chicken. So, I picked it off his cheek, and I ate it. When faced with my son’s discarded food I chose to eat his CHEWED UP leftovers instead of getting a napkin and tossing it into the trash. And I didn’t think twice about it. 

There has been a significant change in my perception of what is appropriate and what is disgusting. I wipe Owen’s snot and boogers on my leg and think it’s totally fine even though I freak out when I catch AJ picking his own nose. I let Owen crawl around on the dirty city streets and then happily shove those same nasty hands in my mouth (and his own). I have spent an entire morning feeling like something doesn’t smell quite right, only to find a little bit of throw-up in my hair hours later. And on occasion I eat my son’s half-chewed food because it seems like an easier clean-up method than the alternative. 

What has happened to me? I was never a germaphob by any means, but if I had seen someone else perform the same nasty behaviors that I’m currently practicing I’m fairly certain I would have gagged, judged and run the other way, in that order. I’m not sure if it was when I pooped myself during childbirth or when Owen pissed through all of his clothes and onto mine (numerous times)…but at some point in the past 17 months I have gone from a civilized adult to a gross mom.

And the hardest part to process is that I’m actually OK with it. I still clean up nice when I want to…dinners, the occasional concert, weddings, date nights. But if you gave me the choice between looking fancy and being a hands-off mom, or being covered in boogers and having my giggling (and disgustingly dirty) son snuggling on my lap, I’d choose the latter any day. So I guess it’s a good thing I typically wear a uniform of sweaty gym clothes. I’d feel way worse about getting soaked in half-digested-scrambled-eggs puke when sporting my favorite Marc Jacobs top.

Maternity Wardrobe on a Budget

Written by BROOKE

Pregnancy. Round four. Yep, four pregnancies in less than 6 years. And they all had different requirements when it came to clothes. 

Pregnancies 1 and 2 (first, our twins who passed away, second Zach)—I was working full time. This meant slacks, blouses, dresses and skirts. I couldn’t be that teacher who wore the same outfit every three days. I felt my only option was to hit up the maternity store and buy lots of boring and frumpy looking clothes. Ugly.

Pregnancy 3 (Brady)—I wasn’t working outside the home then. Thought I would survive on sweats but realized that gets depressing quickly. I got great hand-me-downs from a friend and bought a few decent pairs of jeans. I also tried shopping outside the maternity department and layering—two things that saved me. Layering helps with the fact that my hips get as big as my belly. Shopping outside the maternity department gave me so many more options and more clothes for that dreaded 4th trimester when none of my normal clothes will fit yet, but when wearing maternity clothes invites that awful question, “when is your baby due?” And sadly, the answer is, “he was born 3 weeks ago.” 

Pregnancy 4 (now)—I thought that I had enough clothes from Brady’s pregnancy to get by. But we’re in completely different seasons and truthfully, I was shocked at how out of style those clothes are three years later. I’m no fashionista either so for me to say they’re out of style means they are bad. I was actually embarrassed to wear my old maternity jeans to the mall to buy new ones! 

I thought I just might splurge a little this pregnancy. I went to the high-end maternity store and bought a $200 pair of jeans. “I want to feel GOOD,” I reasoned. “I need to look CUTE,” I justified. Then I got home and calculated how many hours of tutoring it would take to pay for those jeans. And how often I would wear them being pregnant mostly over the summer. And how at 16 weeks I wasn’t even half as big as I was going to get and the chance of those super tight, skinny jeans fitting me in another 15-20 weeks was slim to none. (And if you have any comments about me wearing maternity clothes at 16 weeks you can call me back after you’ve been pregnant four times.)

My accountant husband has worn off on me and I returned the expensive jeans. I decided there was no reason I couldn’t put together a cute, cheap, updated wardrobe on a budget. In fact, I was pretty sure I could take back those $200 jeans and get myself most of the items I needed for the same amount of money. 

Here’s what is floating my boat this round…

Maxi Skirts

Does it get any more comfortable? Nope. I bought one that was maternity with a roll over top but the rest have been cheapies from the non-maternity section. Paired with a tee and contrasting colored cardigan it looks super cute and I know these are one thing I’ll actually wear after the baby is born. I think I might even have to jump back on the jean jacket bandwagon because this skirt would look so cute with one.

Jeans

My maternity jeans were in desperate need of updating. I haven’t ordered these mint ones yet because I’m nervous about how big they’ll make my thighs look but I’m kind of drooling over them. ASOS is new to me but they have a lot of trendy cute options and the prices are really reasonable. 

I was also really happy when I returned my designer maternity jeans and bought these ones from Old Navy. Although I haven’t loved their jeans in the past, these are actually cute, comfortable and super cheap! If I have to size up at the end I won’t even feel bad buying another pair. They have that stretchy panel which I love and I find to be the only kind that doesn’t have to be yanked up all day long. 

For the Gym

It is sort of sad and shocking how few options there are for working out during pregnancy. But I have found some good options with non-maternity clothes. I wanted workout leggings that were fitted all the way down instead of flared out since I spin and the flares always get caught in the bike. These GAP body fit the bill and with the roll over waist I know they’ll last the whole time. I got them on sale for $20 and at that price, I picked up a pair in my size and a size up for later on. 

I also got some blousy workout tanks from Old Navy but they don’t have them on the website right now. I have to say that ON is doing a great job at knocking off the higher-end workout clothes lately. Their stuff is adorable, comfortable and so cheap. 

Tops

So far, my non-maternity tops are all still fitting. Thanks to this year’s long lengths and blousy styles I’m hoping they’ll last for a while. This Old Navy top is especially flattering on my not-too-huge-yet belly. I saw it in the store they had several more colors than online.

I also have a poncho style top I love, like this one from Loft.

And all my open and flowy cardigans look great over a tighter top. 

So, there you have it! I took back those $200 jeans and haven’t looked back. I think I’ll save the expensive jeans for a losing all the baby weight celebration. 

The Family Unit: The Good, The Bad & The Sickly

Written by GWEN 

I have a friend who’s a pediatrician. That’s it. Just wanted to brag a little.

Anyway, we had dinner the other night and I asked her if there was anything to be worried about since Izzy seems to be chronically sick with a cough and runny nose. She asked me for his symptoms, like a responsible doctor, and then simply said it was normal and to get used to it. Since he’s always around other kids and has a limited immune system at this point, he’s just going to keep picking up bugs for the next few years. AWESOME. Obviously, I’m very concerned for Izzy and it breaks my heart to see him ill, but actually his cough doesn’t seem to bother him all that much most of the time. It does, however, seem to bother mommy. Every time Izzy gets sick, I get sick. Adult sick. Like, right now, I have a chest infection. Two weeks ago I had conjunctivitis. Twice. Before that it was a fever and the flu. I kinda feel like I want to shoot myself in my ridiculously fuzzy head, all the time.

Does my mister get sick, you ask? Rarely. Nice for him and nice to have one healthy, fully-functioning adult in the house. Not so nice when I get sick so often that he stops feeling sorry for me and starts telling me it’s my fault. I mean, I have asthma. I’m Jewish. I like to make out with my son, even when he has snot smeared all over his head. I can’t help that I was born to these circumstances. I work out…I eat healthily…I wash my hands every time I go to the bathroom…well except in the middle of the night, but that’s just excessive. Right? If it’s dark it doesn’t count.

I know there was a point in here somewhere. Mainly, it’s that I feel very very sorry for myself that for the next three years I’m just going to continue to get infections and sinusitis and diarrhea while my arian race husband pops his echinacea pills and stays healthy by sheer positive spirit and lack of bad genes.

I suppose I could keep Izzy away from other kids and the sand pit, but that seems cruel and not very smart. Maybe I’ll buy a humidifier. That oughta do it. A humidifier and a lot of Afrin.

Izzy and his friend Jakey in the sand pit of germs!

Fitness: My Postnatal Yoga Experience

guest written by Jessica James of www.solpoweryoga.com

As a yoga teacher I was considered successful. I taught privates exclusively, had celebrity clients and was booked months in advance, yet I secretly felt a little like a fraud. Almost like my success as a teacher came faster than my practice could support, because I hadn’t mastered the handstand. I felt that if I were to teach and accept people’s hard earned cash then I should be able to perform the tricks as well, and worried that I couldn’t be taken seriously if I didn’t have the handstand mastered. While the rush of balancing upside down on my hands for 10 seconds led me into a deeper state of at oneness that we call “yoga bliss”, it was honestly ego driven. I was determined to be “worthy” to teach, so I sought out the best gravity defying teacher in town and my practice shifted from a moving meditation to inversion boot camp, complete with grunting, cursing and “atta girl” coaching. I was just starting to get it, or so I thought…

Jessica in handstand.

I found out I was pregnant and quickly shifted my practice by excluding most poses that twisted my mid section and ab work. I continued practicing inversions, but I had someone spotting me, and inherently lower expectations for myself and from my teachers. I was pregnant… of course pouncing like a cat from a pushup position into a handstand would be difficult. But I remained committed to my practice through my pregnancy like it was a lifeline. The support from my peers and colleagues was overwhelming. No one was judging me or measuring my abilities as a yogi and teacher. My pregnancy was, appropriately, my focus.

Jessica in Astavakrasana, or Eight-Angle Pose. Inspiring and impressive, right? 

After my delivery I was strictly instructed by my doula not to exercise for six weeks. She warned me that if I went back to soon I could undo my healing making it harder for my body to bounce back. I felt stuck.  What?  No Yoga at all? I had a whole new way of being in the world, new responsibilities, a lot of pent up energy and I was told that my practice was suddenly off limits? The one thing that kept me sane, the one thing that I ran to for comfort in times of big change was just beyond my grasp.

I heeded my doula’s advice and counted down the days until that “yoga bliss” could be all mine again! I waited…

Three days before my six weeks was up, my boyfriend’s instructor knocked on the door for his private lesson. I greeted and escorted him to the yoga space downstairs. My boyfriend and new daughter, Ava, were still sound asleep. I woke my boyfriend telling him it was time for his yoga when he surprised me: He offered to watch Ava while I took his session. I knew he just wanted to sleep longer and thought watching Ava meant sleeping next to her, but I jumped at the opportunity, and played it off accepting his generosity. I changed  and headed downstairs secretly hoping Ava would wake and my boyfriend would experience some of what I had been doing for the past six weeks. 

The instructor was my pre-pregnancy gravity defying inversion coach. He seemed genuinely happy to see me; we did the regular new-mommy small talk, then got to work. He didn’t mess around. No more than five minutes in, I started daydreaming about changing a diaper. I thought, “Holy hell, what have I gotten myself into? I am hating this!” I can’t blame my instructor, he’s a guy, and was used to my pre-baby attitude of “if I don’t get this I am no good”. He had me in a standing splits and was picking on the alignment of my hips! He wanted them square, but I practically had a new set of hips on me! I tried. I gritted my teeth through mustering up everything I had, to hating my teacher, wanting to punch him, and then eventually just collapsed to the floor in a puddle of tears.

I apologized and blamed my crazy post-baby hormones. He felt badly and backed way off. We finished the session and I ran upstairs quickly resuming my position as “mommy”.  Ava had done her part and tormented her daddy, who was equally relived that our roles had fallen back into place.

The following day my back was a mess. I tried to delicately place Ava in her car seat while pain shot up my back. I sat on my yoga ball with my new daughter and cried again in mourning of my yoga practice. My body was ready for activity but apparently not that kind. I began to quietly skip out of my boyfriend’s private classes, and started to practice by myself again. I tuned in, listened to what I needed that day and began to let the practice lead me.

While taking myself through my own sequences I was reminded of why my clients liked my brand of yoga in the first place. Yoga was the one thing that they could do for themselves, at which they didn’t have to compete or even be very good. They just had to show up on the mat and breathe.

As my yoga journey spiraled inward, I reemerged with a different sense of self. I was a mother now; I had to take care of myself so that I could care for my daughter. Instead of following my ego I began to follow my bliss. My practice is not “back”, I still haven’t mastered handstand, but no one cares. Truth is the only person who ever cared about my handstand was me.

Every single one of my clients was anxious for me to return to teaching, and when I did I came with a much deeper understanding of the practice. I discovered that the quality of my teaching and my mothering is in direct proportion to my dedication and cultivation of self-love. I got my ego out of the way and allowed my practice to finally become an expression of love and devotion. I found that center and sense of self that I thought mastering handstand would give me, but I found it within myself, not within a pose. In a way, my practice was reborn and with it, so was I.

Jessica James has been practicing yoga seriously for 8 years, and for the last 4 years she has taught movie stars, pop stars and all sorts of fancy people that pay her to keep them looking “Hollywood ready.” As a teacher, she has developed yoga sets that sculpt the body and clear the mind. Yoga has brought a whole new dimension to her life, and she loves both her practice and her clients. She is currently developing and shooting a Prenatal Vinyasa Flow program (DVD) due out this Summer. For more on Jessica, visit her website: www.solpoweryoga.com. 

A Poopsie Giveaway: Mother’s Day Jewels!

The most special day of the year is almost upon us. And no, we’re not talking about Cinco de Mayo (though a good margarita goes a long way after the 10th diaper change of the day). We’re talking about the upcoming day when all of us moms finally get the rest, pampering, love and attention we deserve…at least in theory. It’s almost Mother’s Day! 

So this year, treat yourself (and your friends, and your mom) to a little something sparkly. After all, nothing can spruce up a leggings-as-pants, my-kid-just-puked-on-me-but-I’m-too-lazy-to-change outfit quite like some new jewels. 

It’s not that we don’t consider wiping up boogers and doing 4 loads of laundry a day to be rewarding enough. It’s just that it’s Mother’s Day, and we know that we’d all feel better doing those tasks with some new gems.

And lucky for you, those gems are yours for the winning! We’re giving away a set of amazingly gorgeous jewels from Amanda Rudey Jewelry Designs! One lucky winner will receive an Aria Necklace and Bracelet, retail value of $395! It’s our gift to you—our favorite moms and mommy supporters. 

Aria necklace 

Aria bracelet 

All you have to do is leave a comment below with your email address and your favorite Mother’s Day tradition. We’ll pick a winner on May 9th so let the commenting begin!

And because we are equal opportunity givers and we want everyone to look special this Mother’s Day, Amanda Rudey Jewelry Designs is ALSO offering 50% off select items, just for Poopsie readers! CLICK HERE and start shopping some of the Poopsie ladies’ favorite looks for spring. 

Toddler Solutions: Snack Trays for Mealtime

written by STEPHANIE

You might recall from last week’s post that I have a finicky eater in my household. After  Activities for Toddlers: Sorting my daughter became obsessed with having her snack from the mini-muffin tin. As I was getting her lunch ready yesterday, she held up the tin and pointed to the food I was prepping. I obliged, filling each of the twelve spots with something bite sized, colorful, healthy and tasty. And you know what? She ate and had fun.

Since, each of her meals have been from the tray. Not sure how this will translate when we go out for a meal, but I’ll cross that tantrum when we get to it. 

It’s challenging to keep meals fun and interesting, while also imparting good manners and expectations. I try my best to avoid the pitfalls of convenience when they aren’t in her best interests, but some days she only eats yogurt drops (and not the homemade version!) and I have to accept that. I’m not sure if the muffin tins are setting her me up for a nightmare in the future, but for the time being I will indulge her.

I’d love to know what you do to keep your kids engaged with their meals, while still serving up healthy food and habits. Post your comments below.  

Look Who’s Talking!

Written by Erica 

So it’s happened. Well, it’s been happening for a while, but I think it is now fair to say that Owen is officially talking. I can’t remember exactly when it started, so we can add this to the list of milestones that I will never be able to accurately recall along with the first time he smiled, first time he crawled and his real first meal. For someone who has always prided herself on having an impressive memory, I really suck at commemorating my son’s developmental feats. 

Anyway, even though the whole talking thing began months ago (if my muddled memory serves he started saying mom first, then dad, sometime around 9 months?), in recent weeks it’s gone from random words that have zero meaning to actually being able to communicate. There is absolutely no denying that Owen now speaks. And just like when he started walking, it’s both amazing to watch, hysterical to experience and exhausting to keep up with. He talks ALL. THE. TIME. He has a lot to say, which isn’t shocking since I too am a talker. And now when I go an entire day without any other (adult) human contact, I’m OK with it because at least I have someone to chat with. And now he can finally talk back. It’s pretty great actually. “What do you want for breakfast Owen? How about a waffle?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Waffle!” Or when I’m picking out his outfit for the day and I’m really just talking to myself, he chimes in…”This. This one!” Typically he points at something that completely doesn’t match so I smile, thank him for his input, ignore his request and move on. But the point is, he talks!

The other day we were out and were chatting away when a woman in the elevator looked at me and goes “Wait, what did he just say? Did you understand that?” (Of course I did, he clearly said “oh my gosh” and shook his head.) And then it dawned on me. Owen definitely speaks; it’s definitely real, complete words and phrases that come out of his mouth. But it’s also in a weird baby-voiced language that maybe only I can comprehend. A total stranger might hear “wa wa weeeze” but I hear “water please.” Or maybe he’ll mutter something that resembles “ah-na sure” but I know he said “I’m not sure.”

So in an effort to help out anyone who may converse with my kiddo, and quite frankly, to mark in writing his latest ventures in the world of verbal communication (so that a few months down the road I don’t have to add this to the list of moments I completely forgot), here’s a quick dictionary of Owen’s current favorite words and phrases. And no, I am not entirely shocked that “‘sup” made the cut.

Hiiiii (and Byeeeeeeee) - Self-explanatory and easy to understand. Also impossible to ignore since he screams both words whenever someone enters or leaves his peripheral vision.

Hello - Similar to above, but reserved for when he answers the phone (or puts any electronic device up to his ear).

Yeah, Yeah Yeah! - When he agrees with something. He rarely offers a singular “yeah”. He usually triples it up for emphasis and includes a nice enthusiastic head nod for good measure. (See the above video for proof.)

No, No No - Said combined with a finger shaking when he doesn’t want to do something. He’s basically mimicking the way I must look when I scold him, which is hysterical because it makes me realize how not-scary I am when I’m mad. Oh well…

Uh Oh (sometimes replaced by “Oh No!”) - When he drops something (aka throws something on the floor). So, we hear this one A LOT.

Nana - Nope, not in reference to either of his Grandmothers. Here he’s talking about the “ba” kind of nana. As in, banana. In related news, I’m working on teaching him to say “that’s bananas” but so far no dice.

Fank Fu (otherwise known as Thank you) - The good news is, my boy is learning manners. He might not be able to pronounce his “th” sound yet but at least he’s got most of right. And here’s hoping he learns his “t-h” before his “f-u”.

I Wuv Woooo (I Love You) - He apparently also can’t really squeeze out the “L” sound. But his inflection is perfect. Plus he does a nice little hand motion where he puts his finger to his eye when he says “I” then across his chest for “wuv” and then he points at pretty much anyone walking by for “woo”.

Ah-na Sure (I’m Not Sure) - And yes, I know that’s what he’s actually saying because he shrugs his shoulders and lifts up his little hands like he’s confused every time he says it.

‘Sup (short for our attempted What’s Up) - Let’s be honest, we all use the phrase “what’s up” 90% of the time when greeting one another. Or maybe that’s just me. It only seemed appropriate this be one of Owen’s first words. The best part is, he’s already too cool to say the fully pronounced “what is up”. He jumped right to the slightly more ghetto “‘sup.”

Sock (and Shoe) - As if getting Owen dressed wasn’t getting difficult enough now that he wants to do everything himself without help. Now that he knows the words “sock” and “shoe” he also insists on taking off his socks and shoes just so he can say the words as he throws the items on the floor.

Sissy (short for Sister) - And NO! I’m not pregnant. When he says sissy he is solely referring to his dog, who is 100% his sister. A much hairier sister with far fewer words in her vocab, but a sissy nonetheless.

Chick-Fil-A: A Pregnancy Love Affair

written by BROOKE

Ok seriously? Am I writing a post about this? I have already confessed my love for my minivan, my Diet Coke, and Rubio’s so let me add one more embarrassing one to the list, lest you start to think I have only a few vices.

When I’m pregnant, especially in the first trimester, cooking is hard. I find that once I’ve cooked something myself I usually can’t eat it. Especially meat. So we end up eating out a little more than normal. OK, maybe a lot. And I can’t eat Rubio’s every day. Well, I could but it gets embarrassing.

Enter Chick-Fil-A. I am seriously having a pregnancy/tax-season-widow love affair with this place! It has to be the most mom-friendly fast food stop ever. Do you know they have a mom-valet? Yes, you can drive through the drive through, place your order, pay for it and then when you get your kids out of the car and inside they have your food already set-up at a table. What!? This is amazing. Avoiding the line and a fight with my kids is awesome. Plus they have a playground (so… Brady may or may not have contracted pink eye in the play land). Then comes their staff. They answer every thank you or request with “my pleasure” it makes me feel like I am a few steps up from Mickey-D’s or BK, for sure. And they come around to refill my diet coke FOR me! Awesome.

Oh, and the food? Not really so bad. They actually offer grilled chicken nuggets, which is really just a chicken breast broken into pieces but tell your kids they are nuggets and everyone’s happy. Milk instead of soda? Apple sauce instead of fries? And for mom? Grilled chicken sandwich and side salad runs you like 400 cals. And the salads are actually really good. But I’m not going to lie, the fries are good too and, well, every now and then.

The other night my girlfriend and I met up at Chick-Fil-A. We were the only ones there in the evening and we let our kids play in the playland while we chatted for almost an hour. Those nice little teenage workers refilled our drinks about five times and said “my pleasure” every time. We chatted and the kids were happy and I decided, this is a little piece of heaven.

Recipe: Roasted Lemon Garlic Herb Shrimp

Written by GWEN 

Today I received an email from one of my FAVE fellow yummy mummies - a mother of twin girls. She is an AMAZING chef and I trust her on everything to do with food, babies and most things really! 

ENJOY… a la Natalia.

ROASTED LEMON GARLIC HERB SHRIMP

Source: Cinnamon Spice & Everything Nice

Prep Time: 20 minutes

Cook Time: 20 minutes

Total Time: 40 minutes

Yields: 3-4 servings

Ingredients:

1/3 cup olive oil

1 lemon, zested then half cut into thin slices and other half into wedges

3-4 fresh thyme sprigs, leaves removed

sea or kosher salt and fresh black pepper

spaghetti/pasta, couscous or rice for serving

2 tablespoons butter

1 pound fresh shrimp, medium-sized, deveined with tails off

5 cloves garlic, minced

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. In an 8x8 glass baking pan combine olive oil, lemon zest and thyme. Olive oil should liberally cover the bottom of the pan, if it doesn’t drizzle in a little more. Season with salt and pepper. Bake in oven for 10-12 minutes, checking every few minutes, if it looks like it is getting too brown remove and proceed to next step. Meanwhile cook pasta, drain and toss with a pat of butter or olive oil.

2. Remove pan from oven, add butter and move it around a little to melt, add shrimp, garlic and the thin sliced lemons (don’t squeeze them), toss to coat with oil mixture. Bake for 8-10 more minutes or until shrimp turn pink and just start to curl, check often. Serve over pasta, couscous or rice tossed with additional extra-virgin olive oil and fresh-squeezed lemon with additional lemon wedges for serving.

Note: Adapted from Fine Cooking

Positive Birth: What Really Happens in a Water Birth

Guest Written by Jennifer Prinzing

I grew up with positive birth stories. Two, to be exact. Every year on our birthdays, my mom tells my brother and I the story of how we were born. It’s fun and exciting to hear year after year, but as a child the story was all about *me.* How *I* came into the world. I hadn’t given much thought to my mom’s perspective. As I’ve gotten older, and especially when I became pregnant, my Mom’s birth stories grew even more significant. I learned to appreciate the amazing experience my Mom—and Dad—went through. But the stories also became incredibly sacred because I realized the gift of what she shared with me: a subconscious knowledge that birth is amazing, it isn’t scary and women are powerful. To this day, it just wouldn’t be my birthday without hearing the story and I plan on always telling Mia her story too. 

My mom had drug-free births and I was certainly influenced by her. I knew from the beginning of my pregnancy that I wanted to have a natural birth. I didn’t want drugs or to be induced unless there was an emergency. But I also had to remind myself that I couldn’t control the final outcome and I had to be prepared for that too. So instead of a birth “plan,” I wrote birth “notes.” Instead of worrying about a c-section, I decided we would call it a cesarian birth if I was taken into emergency surgery. I wanted to embrace the experience and not feel like a failure if things didn’t go the way I wanted them to. But hard work and circumstance came together that day and I was able to have a natural child birth in the water.  

“A water birth?!” you might be thinking. Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I had never even heard of water births until I was pregnant. I had so many questions: Doesn’t the baby drown? What’s the point of the water? Would I have to do it at home in my tub? But through an informational class at my hospital, I learned that as long as the baby is kept underwater, the entire birth can happen there; the transition from amniotic fluid to water doesn’t signal the baby to breathe, air touching the baby’s head does. (Amazing, right?) I learned that the water is soothing and helps you move how you need to during labor. I learned that a water birth is less messy. From the few videos I saw, the water and baby didn’t seem that bloody. (And it’s true…in Mia’s case anyway.) I learned that if you poop, they just scoop it out with a skimmer like you would a fish bowl. (Ha!) Finally, I learned you can have a water birth in any type of tub, from your regular home shower/bath combo to a jacuzzi tub to a big inflatable tub. My hospital had inflatable tubs. They regulate the temperature, but other than that it’s just your standard bath water. 

At my hospital, water births happen right there in the labor/delivery room. When you’re in the water, the nurses and midwives check you occasionally, but mostly just leave you alone if you want. When it comes time to push, the midwife is right next to you, reaching in to help deliver the baby. Once the baby is delivered, you’re able to snuggle in the water for a little bit. Then they weigh the baby and check vitals while you get out and deliver the placenta. Next thing you know, your baby’s already back in your arms.

And so this brings us to the official story of Mia’s water birth: 

It started on Super Bowl Sunday. Steelers vs. Packers, blah blah blah. Technically I was in labor for about 24 hours, but the hard part was more like 6 hours. 

I woke up around 5 am with contractions that definitely felt different than Braxton Hicks. They went away and came back all day long. Until around 4 pm, I wasn’t even sure it was the real deal yet. But the tell-tale signs started appearing; I lost my mucus plug, I had to start walking around the house to get through the contractions and the Super Bowl halftime show was making me crazy (that was probably just the Black Eyed Peas, though). 

At 10 pm I had my bloody show (such a weird term) and by 11 pm, my water broke. Luckily, I was walking around through a contraction and not sitting on the couch! We had called the hospital at 10 and 11 but since it was my first baby (and you know, us first timers take like a week to go through labor), they said as long as I was comfortable at home, I could stay there for awhile. Because my water already broke, I just needed to be there by 5 am or something. But I could really feel a lot of pressure in my pelvic floor and it was taking more concentration to get through the contractions. I knew I’d feel better if I could just get the traveling-to-the-hospital part over with. So we finally left around midnight. Until then, the worst part was that I puked two or three times during the evening. At the time I completely forgot that you can sometimes vomit during the transition phase, so we didn’t realize how far along I was. 

When we arrived at the hospital 15 minutes later, they wheeled me upstairs and I checked in. Everyone assumed my focused demeanor was because I was a first-time mom and I must be nervous. But I wasn’t that nervous—just a regular amount of nerves for going into labor for the first time. I wasn’t a wreck by any means. When I got to the labor/delivery room, they had to monitor me and the baby for 20 minutes (standard stuff) and did a test to confirm my water broke. The nurses were in no hurry. Finally at about 1:30am they checked me….and I was 10 cm dilated! We were all very surprised. I was definitely feeling pain, but I was hoping to be around 8 cm (and not only 4 or something). All the nurses and midwives were shocked and immediately started hurrying about. They were worried they wouldn’t have time to fill the tub before the baby came since it takes approximately 45 minutes, but my husband insisted and I’m so glad he did.

Around 3 am when the tub was ready, I climbed in and continued breathing through contractions. The water was warm and relaxing and my husband saw an immediate change in my demeanor. I could move freely, resting between contractions while letting the water and inflated tub support me during them. The best piece of advice the midwives gave me was to breath through the tough contractions with shorter breaths and to not push. Let my body do all the work until I got to the point where no one was gonna stop me from pushing. They said I would know when I got to that point. So because I was being patient and not pushing, I didn’t have Mia until about 4:50 am. Now I’m a firm believer in letting your body do the work! I didn’t have an episiotomy or any tearing or even swelling. The breathing through helped so much in fact, that as I finally began to push at the end, her head came out and I squealed in surprise because I didn’t even realize she was that close to coming out. And then, of course, came the quick and exciting part. I remember feeling a huge rush of relief and pride that I did it. Like I couldn’t actually believe the labor was over. Throughout the entire birth, I was calm and inwardly-focused. I wasn’t scared, I was just in the zone. I thought, “This is it. And I’m ready. I can do this.” 

I feel very fortunate that I was able to have a natural birth, and a water birth at that. And while I’ll never know how much of it was genetics, preparation or circumstance, I do know there are certain things that helped me accomplish my goal:

• Reading Birthing From Within— Though I never did any of the art exercises in the book (weird, since I’m a graphic designer), the words and coping techniques were immensely helpful and shaped my birthing experience. 

• Watching The Business of Being Born — I think every pregnant woman should see this. It was very eye-opening for me. With knowledge comes power, and that’s never more appropriate than in child birth.

• Choosing a water birth — I started out thinking it was such a weird thing, but this is why I feel education and sharing our stories is so important. Now I can’t imagine NOT doing it and I plan on doing one for the next kiddo.  

• Seeing midwives — I started with an OB/Gyn at the beginning of my pregnancy, but had to switch because I wanted a water birth. While my doctor was very nice, she always seemed to be in a hurry. The midwives were more personal, warm and relaxed. I had wonderful conversations with them, plus, they do everything they can to avoid medical interventions.

• Exercising and being in-tune with my body — I never took Lamaze or any other pain-coping class, but I think my exercise class—barre3, a combination of ballet barre, yoga and pilates—helped me be strong in mind and body, be aware of my breath and harness the power of mental focus. I’m sure any exercise could do this; yoga, running, swimming. 

• Visualization — I really do think SO much of it is mental…accepting that it will be painful (and it ended up being way less painful than I was expecting) but knowing that this is nature’s way and that women have done this for thousands of years. A favorite line from Birthing From Within is “Labor is hard work. It hurts. And you can do it. All the rest you learn about is icing on the cake.” I really bought into the idea that labor/birth is a natural process (not a medical event) and that the pain is there to guide you. Pain is information. It helps you move in ways that get you more comfortable and helps the labor progress. I also made a couple vision boards to look at during labor with visualization words and reminders of coping techniques. I did look at them during some tough moments and it really helped, but even more than that, the act of making the boards helped me to create my own personal birth philosophy. 

My vision boards full of personal inspiration and pain coping technique reminders (mostly from Birthing From Within).

One final birth story detail I can’t wait to tell Mia every year: she was born on her due date. 

Sibling Rivalry: Some Things Never Mature

written by STEPHANIE

At Marlowe’s 18 month check-up last week, the pediatrician liberated me. She said, “It’s not up to you to get the food in her anymore, it’s only your responsibility to give her healthy options.” With that statement, the weight of those unending hours spent nursing, pumping, pureeing, planning, coaxing, tricking and bargaining was lifted from my shoulders. My eyes teared. It was such a sweet relief, and it was almost too much. As the mother of a preterm child, low birth weight isn’t a burden forgotten as they plot along on the charts. It’s a guilt, panic and fear that linger over, and potentially sour, every bite. It’s a constant struggle, but not a struggle that others are necessarily sensitive to, namely my family. With the birth of my child, followed shortly afterward by the birth of my nephew, sibling rivalry has found new ammunition in unexpected places.

It started innocently enough. My brother would call after each doctor’s appointment to report his son’s progress, which included height and weight typically around the 95th percentile. “Wow, that’s amazing,” I would muster, trying hard to allow my words to do their due diligence while my tone would fall flat, unimpressed by the kid’s apparent gigantism. I mean, my brother and his wife are both smallish people. Why would their child be SO BIG? Gigantism, while no laughing matter in reality, is quite clearly the only explanation. Or, the only one I could find.

I’d get off the phone feeling frustrated, outraged and humiliated. “What’s soooooooo great about being in the 95th percentile anyway?!” I’d shout at my husband. “If he was 30 years old and in the 95th percentile, would they be bragging? NO! Because then he’d be over 7 feet tall and obese.” I’d then look at my daughter, whose weight hovers around the 5th percentile, thoughtfully and delicately plucking one pea at a time from her plate, spitting out every third in disgust, as if poisonous. “Oh, just eat it already,” I would bark.        

Next in line was my mom. Why she felt the need to recount every gratuitous detail of my nephew’s feedings is beyond me. She delighted in his vigor and enthusiasm for consumption. “He just sucked that bottle right down! So I gave him another and he nearly finished that one too, can you believe it?” Ugh.

I didn’t think my dad would get on the bandwagon too, because I’m clearly his favorite child and everything I do is perfection in his eyes. I thought my child would fall under the category of my perfect doings. But during a visit “home”, while Marlowe played with her milk rather than drinking it, he helpfully asked, “Isn’t there some kind of Ensure for babies? You know, to bulk ‘em up?” If my eyes could shoot daggers, I’d be an orphan.

I can’t help feeling like I’ve fallen into an episode of “The Twilight Zone”. What the heck has happened to these people? 95th percentile means BIGGER than 95% of people the same age and gender. It doesn’t mean the norm, and it doesn’t translate to an A+. And can’t they see how hard I’m trying just to keep my kid on the charts? Can’t they find a shred of sympathy without condescending me? 

Nope, because this “issue” is mine and mine alone. It’s not my family’s, or my brother’s, or my daughter’s, or my nephew’s. Just mine. Sibling rivalry was going to find me, whether it was here or somewhere else. We grow-up, sure, but some things never mature. I’m also quite certain that the two cousins will make their own rivalries and competitions in places we don’t expect. 

*Post Script: I admonish my daughter when she puts her feet on the table, throws food on the floor, smacks me in the face, pulls the dog’s hair, and pinches her cousin’s ear, among many other unruly behaviors. I removed a photo which was part of the original post, at the request of my family. It was a photo of my daughter pinching her cousin’s ear, while he screamed. At the time the photo was taken, everyone present laughed and thought it was unfortunate but funny. This included, my family. In the caption I wrote that the look on my daughter’s face asked, “‘Like this, Mommy’, to which I responded, ‘Perfect, my sweet girl.’” It didn’t occur to me at the time that a reader might take the caption literally because it was overtly facetious. I am sorry to those who were offended by it.