The Poopsie Collective

My Proudest Mom Moments

Written by ERICA 

In the past, I’ve shared plenty of moments that I am NOT proud of as a mom. I’ve happily dished on things I’ve done that maybe I’m a little embarrassed about. I’ve talked about crapping myself during childbirth (3 times!), eating my son’s chewed up food, about my irrational fear of birds, my dependence on stretch pants, and my potty mouth. I would happily shout “I SUCKED AT BREASTFEEDING” from the mountaintops or tell you that this morning I let my kid eat food off the dirty (and very public) floor. I’m not exactly proud of any of those behaviors, but I can also share my faults with minimal humiliation because I’m a mom, and moms make mistakes all the time.

As it turns out, it’s pretty easy to recall and share your less stellar moments of motherhood. On the flip side, it’s a lot harder to think about the experiences that you ARE proud of. Maybe it’s because confidence can quickly become cocky, or because if you discuss your achievements you run the risk of sounding arrogant. I get it… nobody wants to be that girl. “Ooooh look at me… today I baked a pie and climbed a mountain and fed the homeless and knit a sweater and wrote a novel and waxed my own bikini and still managed to put a home-cooked meal on the table.” NOBODY LIKES A SHOWOFF.

But today I realized something: motherhood is filled with uphill battles, frustrating scenarios and no-win situations. Yes, you have to be able to laugh at your blunders. But you also HAVE to focus on the moments that make you feel accomplished. It’s OK to want to be praised for your good days and it’s not only OK, but also essential, that you be your own biggest supporter. After all, if you don’t give yourself a pat on the back for changing your kid’s poopy diaper while he’s standing up in the backseat of your car, who will? 

So, at the risk of sounding totally obnoxious, here are a few of my proud mom moments (not counting the obvious, when I actually squeezed a human being out of my lady parts)… 

Traveling Solo with Two “Kids” – When AJ was away on business I decided to take Owen and our puppy to New York, by myself. Sydney, our 17-pound Schnoodle, in her dog carrier on one arm, Owen in my other. It was exhausting, my back hurt, my head hurt and I had to go about 6 hours without peeing, which is hard when the only thing keeping you awake is chugging coffee. But I did it. And every time a passerby would say, “wow, you’ve got your hands full, you’re a brave mom” I would smile to myself and think, “damn straight.”

Anything to keep him happy at 35,000 feet…

Running My First Post-Motherhood Marathon – I had to take almost a year off from the adrenalin rush of running when I was pregnant. So when I completed my 5th NYC Marathon on the same weekend that Owen turned 11 months old, and finished with my fastest time yet, I felt on top of the world. But there is nothing like a sloppy kiss from your toddler, followed by a massive dirty diaper, to knock you back to reality when you get home.

Successful Mealtime – I am lucky…Owen is a really good eater. And he always has been. Pretty sure that has nothing to do with me or my cooking. But AJ has a much more demanding palette. So if I’m able to make a meal (after a long day of entertaining a 17-month-old, mind you) that both Owen and AJ devour, then I think I’ve earned that glass of wine I guzzle at dinnertime. 

Diaper Changing Combat – Owen will not sit still. Never. Unless Dora the Explorer is on, he’s moving around at maniac speed. So to change a diaper without the contents of said dirty diaper ending up on my nice white rug is a challenge. 9 times out of 10 I am sweating bullets by the time a new Pampers is covering O’s crack. So every time I find a new way to keep my kiddo occupied while I wipe his a$$ I get a huge sense of pride. 

Possibly the only time a toddler diaper change has been this easy.

Thank You Mommy – Owen has become very verbal over the past few months. He went from saying one word to full phrases to saying those same phrases at appropriate times, showing me that he actually understands what he’s saying, at least in theory. And one of his most recent favorites is “thank you” after I give him a toy, hand him his water, or put on his shoes. I swear to god I almost eat his face off when he says that. I honestly feel more proud when my little munchkin shows some appreciation and affection than I ever did when I got a promotion at work or an A in college. 

Bottom line: I am finally realizing how important it is to toot your own horn from time to time. I get that if you don’t relish in your own successes as a mom, you’ll surely feel overwhelmed by your failures. Because we do all make mistakes, and we do all have many moments we’re not proud of. But for every bad decision there are a million things we do right to make our kids feel special, safe and loved on a daily basis. So go ahead, share your proudest success stories below…Even if it’s just for a few minutes, take pride in your mothering! You’ve earned it!

In Sickness and in Health… Survival Guide for a Sick Family

Written by ERICA

A while ago I admitted that I am a terrible patient. Ever since I was a kid and being sick meant skipping school (hey Jell-O, ginger ale and re-runs, how do you do?), I’ve hated being under the weather. In fairness, I don’t think anyone likes feeling like crap. Unless you have Münchausen syndrome, in which case you’ve got a whole lot of problems that span well beyond diarrhea. Anyway, it was a big personality flaw…the only thing I hated more than being sick was having to take care of other sick people. It wasn’t something my husband supported, it wasn’t something I was proud of, and it was certainly something I was worried about as I prepared for motherhood. 

But here I am, with 15 months of motherhood and 3.5 years of marriage under my belt, and I finally get the meaning of the whole “in sickness and in health…” part of our vows.

It began last Saturday night. AJ and I went out for an amazing celebratory/goodbye dinner with our friends who were heading back to their primary home in Italy. And as we tend to do when we have any (or no) excuse, we indulged. A lot. And about 10 shared dishes and one glass of wine in to our meal I started to feel a rumble down below. 

Thank god we managed to get home and I somehow poured myself into my pajamas before the real drama kicked in. After about 12 hours, zero sleep, nonstop puking and rhea-wouldn’t-wanna-be-ya, it was clear something was not OK. I assumed food poisoning but turns out our family would not be so lucky. Because 5 hours later AJ felt the thunder down under. And about 12 hours after that, Owen hopped on board. 

Owen, in his 3rd round of pajamas on day 2 of our family’s bout with the stomach bug. 

If you think having the stomach bug is bad, then try having the stomach bug, an alert gag reflex, and two boys under one roof puking in your lap. OK fine, AJ didn’t puke on me, he puked in the toilet. But Owen, on the other hand, literally puked ON, MY, LAP. 3 times. You’d think I’d learn after rounds 1 and 2 to move aside and let him hurl on the (easily cleanable) tile floor. But no. He was screaming, I was clutching him tight, and there we stood, half naked, covered in vomit, on his white rug, with the third member of team “Oops I (Almost) Crapped My Pants” in fetal position in the other room.

The next 36 hours that followed were not pretty. In fact, they were the most depressing, disgusting, disturbing hours our family has faced in a while, maybe ever. But somehow, they also bonded us all together in a way that only gastroenteritis can. We were in it together. You jump I jump. And now that we’ve come out the other side in one piece, albeit a few pounds lighter, I have a few tips to share that helped me stay sane during our dark days…

1) Remember, it will pass. 

As bad as being sick can feel at any given moment, it cannot and often does not last. So take deep breaths, get fresh air when you can, and take it one minute at a time.

2) It is just stuff. 

Owen puked all over his nice ivory rug. And unluckily for me, his last pre-puke meal was peach yogurt and berries. So his once-white rug is now orange. But when I had to choose between de-staining and comforting my son, I left the rug alone and instead relaxed on towels in the living room. Rugs are replaceable; being there for your family is priceless.

Looking slightly out of it (but still so damn sweet) and on a protective mat, preparing for the next round of puke. 

3) It’s OK to slow down.

Moms do not know how to take it easy. It’s not in our DNA. The second we pop out a kid we are programmed to work on overdrive all the time. But when you and your family get sick, it’s OK, if not necessary, to take it easy. Allow yourself to wear PJs all day (hell you’re probably going to get puked on anyway), embrace the all-day Friends marathon on TBS, leave the bed un-made. You can get back on schedule tomorrow.

4) And finally, ask for help. 

I’ve never been good at this, but when things get really bad, a mom cannot do it all. You need help. We had our doorman buy us Gatorade, our cleaning lady came to de-germ our apartment, AJ called his uncle (who’s a doctor) for advice, and our parents offered up extra hands and company. 

The Baby Nurse Chronicles

Written by ERICA

These days it seems as if everyone I know is pregnant. In reality it’s only about a small handful of friends, but it’s enough that I feel like I’ve been talking about childbirth, strollers, breastfeeding and, of course, poop fairly often. And I love doing it, because I remember at month 5 of my pregnancy (when I was having my nervous breakdown over baby gear), just how helpful it is to have friends who have been there and who are willing to share the dirty/embarrassing/honest details of their experiences. 

Which brings me to my most recent conversation… the age-old debate of whether or not you should get a baby nurse.

Let me start by explaining exactly what a baby nurse is, because apparently, to my dismay, baby nurses are not a very common practice outside of New York City Jews. A baby nurse is a woman, who you hire to live with you and care for you and your baby in the days/weeks/sometimes months following childbirth. The nurse typically sleeps in the baby’s nursery, handles nighttime feedings (if you’re not breastfeeding), does the baby’s laundry, cleans up after the baby, helps teach the new parents how to care for their child, and just generally acts as a support figure for the new (insanely exhausted and overwhelmed) mom.

Pre-baby I knew that I wanted a nurse… mostly because while I can (but don’t choose to) function on little to no sleep, I knew AJ would be a mess if he didn’t get his 8 hours, and quite frankly I didn’t want either of us to be miserable in the first few precious weeks of Owen’s life. I felt that a baby nurse was a luxury and if we could afford to make it happen, then we’d be forever grateful. What I didn’t know was how ridiculous the baby nurse hiring process would be. Finding a good nurse in Manhattan is more competitive than signing your fetus up for private school. We got a ton of recommendations from friends, but everyone was booked. Apparently most nurses book up like 9 months before you give birth which means we were about 2 months behind schedule. So we kept searching and in the end we had a list of like 30 potential nurses. We spoke to a lot of lovely women and we hired a nurse named Josephine (who we called, per her request, Baby Mama Jo). She seemed amazing on the phone and was really sweet during our first interview. When we popped Owen out a month early, we called her from the hospital and she packed her bags. It wasn’t until the four of us (me, AJ, Owen, and Baby Mama Jo) cozied up back at home that I realized we were going to have our hands and our apartment full.

Let me preface this next bit by saying that I know everyone is different, and our experience with a baby nurse is by no means indicative of how your experience might be. Most people I know adored their nurse and would gladly have her move-in for life. Our situation was a bit different…

Mama Jo was SUPER high maintenance. The girl was ballsy. She always seemed cranky and to have a huge puss on her face. She sat playing Farmville on her computer all the time and she literally watched Lifetime Movie Network 24 hours a day. And, you know what, it’s fine if that’s how she chose to spend her time while Owen slept, that’s not my problem. But what was my problem was that she often made me feel bad about my mothering. Like, how dare I ask her to change Owen’s diaper when I was paying her $230 a day? (Did I mention that these nurses make bank?) Any time I had friends over she would give dirty looks when we all shuffled into the baby’s room (also her room) to gawk at him. 

She also asked us to order her take-out 3 meals a day, every damn day. Truthfully, I offered, so maybe it was my fault. But I’d also offer to get any groceries she wanted and all she asked for was Oreos and Ritz Crackers. And then every day, she’d demand that we order her food for each meal. Which is not the end of the world, but she refused to look up menus and order for herself. By the end of her stay I felt like I was taking care of two babies, not one.

So clearly Mama Jo and I did’t really mesh. And based on these stories you might think that having a baby nurse is a terrible decision, a waste of money, an unnecessary source of stress and anxiety. 

But here’s the thing: as difficult as she was, Mama Jo taught me everything I needed to know. I was clueless when we got home with Owen. I’ll never forget when AJ and I looked at each other as we left the hospital and thought, “Wait, so, like, that’s it? We take this kid home now? No one is going to give us a test or come home with us?” We felt like we were stealing someone else’s baby and were in no way fit to be parents.

Ready to go home from the hospital… and with absolutely NO IDEA what we are supposed to do.

Mama Jo eased those concerns. She taught me how to handle diaper changes, bath time, feedings, she helped me pump, taught me to swaddle etc. It’s not rocket science, and somehow as a new mom you just know what to do. But it’s also scary because you’re super tired and overwhelmed. In a lot of ways I was really grateful to have Mama Jo around. The best part was at nighttime. At 10pm, we’d give Owen to her, and we’d watch TV, or go out, or do ANYTHING WE WANTED. And then we could sleep through the night until about 8am when I’d go in to get Owen for his morning feeding. We went out to dinner A LOT that month.  

Owen’s first bath with Baby Mama Jo. And yes, I blurred out his penis. Let the boy have a little privacy!

So in short (or not short at all)… I had our nurse for 5 weeks, I couldn’t stand her most of the time, but she was super helpful in teaching me what to do and allowing me to sleep. Having a nurse was a massive luxury in many ways, a burden in others, and when I get knocked up and have baby # 2, I will probably not get one. Although, ask me again when I’m actually about to be a mother of two and I might be singing a different tune.

Facebook: Acknowledgement for Moms

Written by BROOKE

I know you have one of these friends too. On a daily basis her Facebook status usually says something like the following:

“Gave birth, ran 12 miles, canned tomatoes I grew in my own garden, cleaned my baseboards with a toothbrush, made my family an organic dinner, took some to the neighbors, whipped up a batch of homemade bread with wheat I ground myself and now I’m pooped! Time for The Bachelor!” 

Gag. Overachiever. Why does she have to post that on Facebook? Does she want the rest of us to feel bad about ourselves? Job well done. 

And then, the other day I did it, too. I Facebook-bragged about cleaning. It was only my pantry; I cleaned it out and organized it. It was something that had been on my to-do list for about, umm, four years (not joking). I did it. And, well, I knew something. I knew that my KIDS were not going to open up the pantry and say “Wow mom! Look how clean and organized this is! It must have taken you all day! Good job, thanks!” I mean, if they said anything remotely like that I would have keeled over and died right there on the spot. No, they just wanted to know where their snacks were now. And my husband? Well I SHOULD be able to count on him to acknowledge that type of thing but let’s be honest. He’s also pretty much only worrying about snacks. I learned the lesson about him and acknowledgement when I proudly showed him one of the cupboards I had spent all day reorganizing in the kitchen shortly after Zach was born. I was SO proud of my productivity. His response? To open up another cupboard, unorganized and overflowing with stuff, and say “What about this one?” I gave up on him after that. 

So what’s a mom to do? I mean come on, I spent ALL day on this project! So I did it. I wrote about it on Facebook. And you know what? It made me feel good! I got the virtual pats on the back from my mom friends. Even those virtual thumbs up brought me a little smile and made me feel like, see, I’m doing a good job here! 

I even took a picture of part of my organized pantry: the snack basket I made for the kids (which turned out to be an epic fail but that’s for another post!)  

And the best part? I didn’t have to post the next day that we stayed in our pajamas and watched movies all day. Nope, no one has to know about that. So now, instead of rolling my eyes at my friends who post about their productive days, I acknowledge them. I tell them, “good job supermom!” or “I could never do that!” After all, isn’t that what we’re all looking for? A little pat on the back for the thankless job we do every day. Thank you Facebook for giving us moms a place to be acknowledged for all the hard work we do.

The Most Beautiful Mother I Have Ever Known

Guest Written by JESSICA ERICKSON

Sharlie and Harrison. Some people come into your life and you know, somehow or another, because of them you will never be the same.

Meet Sharlie. She is my earth angel. She is the most beautiful mother I know.

When I met Sharlie over 25 years ago, I had no idea how she would change my life and my heart. I had no idea how much she would teach me about love, courage, joy and compassion. And in those 25 years, we’ve laughed till we cried, we’ve fought like 13 year old girls, we’ve experienced first loves, real loves, and now motherhood together.

Sharlie’s influence has been a vital part in my “kind-of-mother-I-want-to-be” file that I keep tucked away in my heart. 

She radiates love.

She loves to laugh.

She is joyful and selfless.

She is courageous.

Being a mother is a miracle for Sharlie. And on those days, when I need to remember that my children are a miracle (and not a curse), I think of her.

Born with Cystic Fibrosis, a chronic, degenerative, terminal disease, at the age of 26 doctors advised Sharlie not to continue with her pregnancy. However, she was born with a mother’s heart, not just CF—and she fought every day of that pregnancy to bring her sweet Harrison into the world. Now, almost 5 years later—she lives to be a wife and mother. 

Sharlie survives on 17% function of one lung. She struggles for every breath. She now wears oxygen day and night. And right now, she is waiting for a new chance at life—a double lung and heart transplant.

When your best friend has a life threatening/degenerative/terminal illness such as Cystic Fibrosis, you spend days, weeks, months, YEARS feeling helpless, like there is nothing you can do to make it all better. And really, all this time, all I could do was pray and be there when she needed me. But this is different. She is a wife. She is a mother. She is a fighter. But she is sick. And finally, there is something I can do. We have been told the transplant, rehabilitation and related expenses could exceed insurance coverage by several hundred thousand dollars. This, I can do.

How can I not?

Want to help? Here’s how:

1. Visit Sharlie’s Give Forward page and make a donation. There you will find more information about Sharlie and her family. Even the smallest donation helps!

2. Visit the shop that my sister and I set up: Shop for Sharlie. You can buy patterns, tutorials, printables all for $5 that will be sent to your email address within 24 hours. Every last penny goes to Shar.

3. If you will be in the San Diego area on November 5th, join us for Air Supply: Filling Lungs with Love—a benefit for Sharlie. There will be food, live and silent auctions, music, and fun for the whole family. Come to participate in all the fun, but if you would also like to volunteer, just let me know!

4. Leave Sharlie a message of support on her blog (and prepare to be inspired by her courageous words!)

5. Of course, keep Sharlie and her family in your prayers. She has told me several times how much lighter her burden feels and that she knows all the prayers offered on her behalf play a huge part in that.

Watching the community, friends, family members, and total strangers rally around Sharlie at this delicate time in her life has helped me to realize how lucky I am to call her my friend, and what a blessing it is to watch her mother in patience, joy, and love.

Oct. 15th is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day

Written by BROOKE

To me, it is ironic that this day, a reminder of the greatest tragedy in my life, falls the day before my birthday, a day of celebration. However, it does remind me that while I have suffered a terrible tragedy, I have gone on living. We are almost at the 5-year anniversary of the death and subsequent birth of our twin daughters.

The day after our first wedding anniversary we found out we were pregnant. A few weeks later, we found out we were pregnant with twins. Life was good. We made it through the “scary” first trimester and felt like we were smooth sailing. We made it past 24 weeks, viability!  We ordered two cribs, we had two baby showers, we bought two of everything. Heck, we bought a freakin’ minivan! I just knew at that point everything would be ok.

But it wasn’t. Around 26 weeks I started to feel like the babies weren’t moving enough. I had a perfect ultrasound the week before so I tried not to worry. They probably just moved positions or something. When I went in for my next ultrasound at 27 weeks, I got the most devastating news of my life. My babies, both of them, had died. They did not have heartbeats. 

I was induced the next day and after 14 hours of miserable, painful, epidural-failing labor, our daughters, Kate Evelyn and Riley Lynn came silently into this world. The only sounds of crying were mine, my husband’s and yes both nurses and my wonderful doctor who cried and mourned along with us.

Those days and months following were bad. Life was dark; it was hard. Babies seemed to be everywhere. It felt like all my friends were pregnant. And it felt like no one knew what to say to me or how to act around me.

I found a wonderful online support community (silentgrief.com) and time and faith have helped me to move forward. We have since welcomed our two beautiful boys into our lives and although we miss Kate and Riley every day, we no longer feel the dark emptiness that we did when they first left us. We have been able to become stronger and more faithful through our loss.

I had wonderful friends and family rally around me and my husband during this time. I thought I would share the good/right things that they did so that if this ever happens to someone you know you might have some ideas of what to do. I also thought I’d share a few ideas of what not to do.

Don’t

—Say this was “meant to be”. I don’t care what you have to believe to justify it in your own head; no one wants to hear that it was anything other than a terrible tragedy. It really doesn’t help.

— Compare it to something totally different. I had a stillbirth at 27 weeks. I know mothers who had them at 40 weeks. I don’t pretend to understand their pain or the pain of someone who has lost a spouse, older child or had an earlier miscarriage.  Although it is always well meaning, don’t compare your pain to theirs. Someone I knew actually said to me “It happens to everyone”. No, it doesn’t. The stillbirth rate is about 1%, so 1 in 100 which, although it is far too many, isn’t exactly “everyone”. It is ok to talk about your grief with them, just try to avoid making comparisons or saying “I know how you feel because…”

—Tell them “something was probably wrong” only 25% of stillbirths happen because something was genetically or otherwise wrong with the baby. That means 75% happen for other reasons, many of which are unexplained. Most of us would happily take a baby with some problems over having no baby at all. It does not make anyone feel better to think that something would have been wrong with their baby.

Do

—Their baby is real. They were born, they were held, loved, buried, etc. It is ok and welcomed to ask about that baby. The best thing anyone did for me was ask their names, how much did they weigh, about my labor, etc.

—They might need to be left alone, they might want to talk. Put yourself out there (again and again if necessary) but don’t be offended if they don’t answer right away. Knowing that you are there and that you care is enough. It is OK to call back if you already called 2 or 3 times.

—Let them talk, and talk and talk (if they want). That’s what I needed a lot, just to talk.

—Offer to do things they might not have the ability to (call and cancel the cribs that were ordered, help find a mortuary, find info. on a support group)

—-Find a photographer. That might sound weird to you but I promise it is not. There is an organization called Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. They will take pictures of stillborn babies or babies who die shortly after birth. There is nothing I envy more of the other stillbirth moms I know than the NILMDS pictures. They are beautiful works of art. I have some pictures, taken by well meaning nurses in terrible lighting and although I’m grateful for them, professional pictures would have been priceless.

—Be sensitive. It is one thing to still look pregnant when you are toting around a newborn and it is an entirely other thing to still look pregnant when you are grieving the death of your baby. I was paranoid to go out because I thought someone would ask me when I was due. I most appreciated the friends who were willing to come, sit on my couch and talk. I did, eventually, want to get out but it took some time.

— Remember. It doesn’t go away. You don’t get “better” from your baby dying. There isn’t a time period for grief. You don’t get better because you got pregnant again or because you had another baby. Try to remember. On my girls’ first birthday my friends brought over a cake and presents (we donate presents on their birthday to charity). It meant SO much to me that they remembered. 

Warning: Change Ahead

Written by ERICA

Some important things to know about me: I am from New York. I love New York. I hate humidity. I am terrified of the ocean (sharks). I despise change. To give you an idea just how much I hate change, picture this… it’s about 11 years ago. I’m about to head off to college, and one of my most favorite shows ever (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, obvi) is switching networks. And to make the transition really shocking to adoring fans, wait for it, they KILLED BUFFY. They had her jump off a tower to save the world (yes, again) and she actually died! Spoiler alert, she comes back. Phew. And when she does she is better than ever, making some amazing decisions like to nail the bad boy vampire in town and get a super cutie new haircut. But when she died, when everything changed, I lost my $h*t. I slammed my door shut and cried for hours. To the point where my terrified mother asked if I “needed to speak to someone.” Yes, I can now look back at that reaction and recognize it was a teensy bit over the top (but just a little, it was REALLY sad!). But the extreme overreaction in which I lost my shizzle came from an honest place—a place where I utterly hate change.

So man have I gotten myself into a pickle now… because I just moved to Miami. A place that isn’t just a 3 hour flight from my home in New York City… it’s a WORLD away. 

Yes, I’ve known this move was coming for a while now. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I left my job, my family, my friends, and my support system back in NYC. I left my most recent obsession (Soul Cycle), my favorite wine bar, the best local market, my baby playgroup, my usual walking/running routes and my go-to boutiques. Sure, things could be worse… I’m in South Beach. I wake up every morning looking at the ocean. I am steps from the beach. And at least I’m still in the east coast time zone. But things could also be way better. My hair is pretty much always a mess here (dang humidity). I know, like, zero people. I have to drive most places (I was so used to being able to walk to literally anything, any time of day or night). My family, my besties and Owen’s besties are not here.

And this got me thinking… change sucks. For me at least, it always has and always will, to put it bluntly, blow. But I better get used to it. ‘Cause I’m fairly certain that with a kid (or one day, kids), things are ALWAYS changing. Any time you get used to a schedule, an activity, a favorite outfit, hell, even a personality trait, they go ahead and change $h*t up on you. One day, Owen’s favorite thing to do is suck on my cell phone and the only word in his vocabulary is ma-ma. The next day he’s over cell phones and onto electrical outlets, and his favorite word is now gi-gi (we think short for doggy). Kids are growing and changing every day. They keep you on your toes so you can never really get too comfortable with anything. So as much as I hate changes, big (moving to Miami) or small (Buffy dying/coming back to life on TV), I guess I’ve got to suck it up.  Yet another perk of being a mom…