Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Eating.


Teaching Jane the joys of eating has been one of my favorite things about motherhood thus far. It’s really fun to introduce new foods, especially those that are favorites of mine. What follows is a brief explanation of the past few months in the riveting world of baby rearing.

Six months. I will admit, it totally snuck up on me. When we went in for Jane’s 6-month check up, I was asked what foods she had tried so far. (Just as an aside, I lie to the doctor a lot. When they asked me if she was smiling, rolling over, sitting up, etc. etc., I always answered “yes”. I don’t want them thinking my baby is behind. I know, awful habit to get into. But I’ve probably lied more to Jane’s pediatrician than to anyone else in the world. Except maybe my mother.) I lied and told her she had been eating infant cereal mixed with breast milk for about a month. The Doc told me it was a good start, and now I needed to start introducing fruits and vegetables. I told her I would.

On the way home, I stopped at the grocery store and got yams and green beans. I boiled them, then blended them with an immersion blender. Jane fell in love. Instead of trying to pump and mix milk with cereal, I just put the cereal into whatever fruit or veggie I had prepared and continued nursing as normal. Success.

Nine months. Transitioning from baby food puree to real meals was a little tricky. Admittedly, the adjustment was difficult mostly because I am lazy. It is so much easier to carry around jars of food than little packs of cut up cheese, chicken and zucchini. So far (knock on wood), Jane isn’t a picky eater at all. The only thing she doesn’t love is peas, and let’s be honest: who does? Above is a picture of her post- lunch with avocado and yogurtness all over her. Check out that piece of hair standing on end. She really spreads the love.

Clothing. Jane’s laundry has quickly transitioned from a quick and easy chore to a lengthy task. Raspberry, blackberry, avacado, banana, lima beans, and crackers can be found crusted to her clothes at any given moment. I have even had to pry her fists open before naptime to remove a few snacks she’s taken for the road. It has become exponentially harder to keep her clean, and most importantly, smelling presentable. I can only imagine it gets worse from here.

Teething biscuits. These are simultaneously the most amazing and awful invention. Basically, a biscuit is made of ingredients that will disintegrate in the baby’s mouth without breaking off in large, choke-size pieces. One biscuit can hold Jane’s attention for up to a half an hour. However, little slimy biscuit pieces penetrate every surface within a five-foot radius of the highchair. I swear, the mess that a teething biscuit leaves behind is scientifically impossible. Normally, eating a biscuit renders an outfit unwearable, and I am forced to change Jane into yet another clean ensemble.

In some ways, I feel like Jane is my pet when it comes to food. I totally sneak her things that she shouldn’t really have (like a little piece of McDonald’s hash brown) and I get way too much satisfaction out of her reactions to things. And, also like a pet, she will crawl over to the couch, pull up on my leg, and make sweet little noises and nuzzle on my knee in hopes of some “people food”. Hopefully she doesn’t start doing that to guests… they will think we don’t feed her.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

O.P.'s and Babies


I have a friend that has often professed her love of two very opposite but equally lovable types of human beings: babies and old people. And I think I finally understand what she means.

I mean babies, sure. I can get behind that. They are soft and cuddly and are delighted with basically any thing you do. You can talk about anything you want and they are just happy that you're there to play with.

This September I took a gig as a choir director at a local retirement village. I take Jane with me and there is a rotation of retired nurses that push her stroller up and down the hallways while we rehearse. It's the ideal job for me and Jane gets a major kick out of it.

The very first day we went I could see the joy on the residents' faces when Jane came by their apartments. In about an hour everyone knew Jane by name and I was known as "Jane's mother, the new choir director". Jane is somewhat of a local celebrity around the place.

It's an interesting dynamic during choir rehearsals. I slow everything down in the hopes that my O.P.'s (aka Old People) are able to keep up. I reiterate page and measure numbers four or five times to make sure we are together. And without fail, a man in the front row is always shuffling pages trying to figure out where we are, and yelling "WHAT PAGE ARE WE ON?!" to the man sitting next to him. This same man regularly proclaims, "I'M HUNGRY" during songs. He has also worried aloud that I might "wear out people's pants" by making them practice standing and sitting together. I have heard that he was late for rehearsal last year because he "couldn't find his teeth". Needless to say, I love him.

I have witnessed two yelling matches. One because someone in the back couldn't hear over talking, and another because someone felt as though their seat had been stolen. I just let them self govern. I'm not trying to jump in the middle of two senile 90 year olds. That's just not in my job description.

Each week, after rehearsal, Jane and I have lunch with the chorus officers. There are four ladies, and each comes from a very different background. Chris is from North Jersey and owned a catering business and deli for thirty years with her husband, Frank. Elva raised her children in Germany and is a retired teacher. Gerry, the youngest of the bunch, just finished a music ed degree at a local university and has two grown daughters. Helen has a son that lives nearby, but she wishes she had a daughter because she thinks daughters visit more often.

I love these women. Elva and Chris are my favorite. They remind me most of my grandmothers, who have now passed on. They give me parenting advice and encourage me. They even pay for my lunch. They ask me if I am eating enough and how Jane is doing. They tell me the same three stories each week and they get better every time. They take pride in the chorus and their community. They care deeply about our country and trust in God.

I've realized in the last three months that old people aren't that different from babies. They are usually soft, if not cuddly. They don't care what you do as long as you keep your promises and show up every week. I can talk about anything I want because they only hear about half of it anyway. I. Love. Old. People.

I am so happy that I have these ladies in my life. Chris even sent Jane her first Christmas card! I wish I had a picture of them to share with you, but I have yet to take my camera with me to rehearsal. So please enjoy this holiday shot of Jane with her peeps instead.

Monday, October 11, 2010

The "B" Word


There’s a certain sense of entitlement that a Mommy- to- Be feels when she finds out she’s pregnant. For years before experiencing pregnancy firsthand, I routinely heard pregnant women (mostly on TV) say things like “I can eat whatever I want. I’m pregnant!” and I got the idea that pregnancy was something like a free pass.

So then, when I actually was pregnant, I was very upset to find out that the things preggo Me could eat were limited. And people wouldn’t let me butt them in line at the supermarket, no matter how far I leaned back to give them a wide view of my belly. And most people avoided mentioning it altogether just in case I was carboloading or drinking too much beer instead of legitimately pregnant. I was so disappointed.

One day, when I was about six months along, that I got really pissed when someone stole a parking spot right out from under me. I exclaimed, out loud (to myself), “Don’t they realize I’m PREGNANT?!” Of course they couldn’t possibly realize. I wasn’t really showing yet, and, even if I had been, my car was conveniently blocking their view of my belly. But of course I didn’t think of this until later (when the Hubbo kindly pointed that part out to me).

Anyway, I have found that having a baby can get you free stuff. I swear, I’ve called my cell phone provider two or three times since having Jane, and I always walk away with extra minutes and discounts just for dropping the “B” word. People like to give new parents breaks. And you better believe we need them. The Hubs often suggests we start house- hunting with the baby to see if anyone wants to give a young couple with an adorable baby a one hundred thousand dollar discount. So keep your fingers crossed for that one.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Vacation= Relocation


I was talking to yet another mother of twins about vacationing with children. She informed me that, at least for the first few years, vacation would mean relocation for me. Same routines, same setup, just a different (and often more stressful) setting. I wasn’t really sure if I was buying into it until this past week, when we trekked all over Tarnation with Jane in the backseat. So here are some things that I’ve learned about vacationing with an infant.

When vacationing with an infant, you will bring (and need) every baby item in your house. Though Hubbo cut me off before I could bring the Jumparoo, it’s completely ridiculous how much stuff you really need for such a small person. Heck, I even had to bring her personal bathtub. What a DIVA.

Grandparents are essential. The Hubster and I took Jane for a long weekend in LBI with his parents and grandparents. I know… all of you Delawarians are cringing at the thought of going to the Jersey Shore. Barf me. But this wasn’t Snooky’s Jersey Shore (much to my husband’s surprise and bewilderment). It was really laid back, and reminded me a lot of North Carolina. There was no boardwalk, rides, or ski ball (sad face), but it was really family oriented which boded well for our family vacation avec Jane. Anyway, It was so great to have other people that love her as much as we do to hang out with her. It was so easy and stress free! I even pumped some ahead so we could even go out to dinner without her! Bliss, I tell you.

There will be lots and lots of dirty laundry. We all know how many outfits a child can soil per day, so how could one possibly plan to have said child away from home (and, subsequently, her closet) for an entire week?! Jane had the largest suitcase and ended up really needing a lot of it. We ended up bringing home a good four loads of dirties. Crazy baby.

Bringing a baby is not the same as bringing a pet. When you take a pet on vacation, you can tie them to the back porch of the house or let them run along side you on the beach. No such luck with a child. Jane ended up really hating the beach, so she spent most of her time hanging out with Gmom and Pops and playing on her activity mat. But really, who can blame her? She can’t crawl, so she was forced to lie on a lumpy blanket in a baby tent while the wind whipped around her. And the water is so cold! Poor Jane just couldn’t get comfortable.

Other vacationers will give you dirty looks. And I got really upset about this one. Dude, I have a five- month old on the beach. She’s probably going to cry a little bit. Deal with it. Chances are, it won’t ruin your vacation.

White noise is your best friend. We stayed in an upstairs room with a window air conditioner. This was the best thing that ever happened to Jane’s sleeping patterns. She wasn’t able to hear anything from downstairs, and was oblivious to our movements in the room for the most part. Even when it got chilly at night, I had that thing blasting on the “fan” setting just for the noise barrier. Definitely clutch.

So pack everything, bring grandparents, be prepared for laundry, and use white noise and a monitor. This should help you get at least a few minutes of relaxation during your baby- filled vacation.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

How to: Exercise After Popping Out A Child.

I’ve realized over the years that cardiovascular activity just isn’t for me. Sure, I played soccer and field hockey and I could run if I had to. But it’s just so boring. I’m running, for no reason, with no direction, just for the sake of running. And if I’m at a track, I’m literally running in circles. I’ll pass, thank you.

I know some people claim that it makes them happier because of endorphins and they can clear their mind, whatever, whatever. Not enough incentive to run. Just not gonna happen.

I will say, however, that I’ve found a few ways to burn calories that don’t involve deliberate physical exertion. I’ve found that, ultimately, being a ridiculous human being can help you get into shape. Here are a few things that you can do to force yourself into physical activity:

Play with a baby. And I don’t mean watch a baby play. Get down on the floor with her. Eventually, she will cry, and you’ll have to pick her up and then stand up yourself. You’d be surprised how much this gets the abs going.

Once you are up, throw her up in the air a couple times. If she feels heavy, don’t let go. Just zoom her around the house a little, and you’ve worked your tri’s and bi’s.

Breastfeed. And only if it’s your baby. (Really people, let’s not let things get out of hand.) I read that feeding a baby burns an average of 500 calories a day!

In related news, I’ve recently discovered that there is a huge black market for breast milk. Personally, I wouldn’t trust someone else’s bodily secretions (too far?), but I am ready and willing to make some money off of mine- and burn some extra calories while I’m at it.

Forget everything. And I mean everything. When you leave the house for a walk (with the kids, dog, significant other, friend, what have you), leave something behind that you desperately need. Like a binky, plastic bags for your dog’s poo, the leash for your husband (gotta keep him on a tight one these days).

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to turn back after walking two and a half blocks or so. Most of the time I forget the thing that caused me to take the walk in the first place, like the dirty dry cleaning or bills that need mailing. So really, I’m forcing myself to walk five extra blocks when all is said and done. Yay,exercise.

Lock yourself out of the house (with the baby). I’ve only done this once, but I really got some exercise in. I walked to the Husband’s building, which was actually pretty pleasant. It took me about 25 minutes, so it wasn’t so bad.

On the way back, however, it began to rain. I stepped up my pace to just a stride below running, and I really thought I was going to die by the time I got home. Man did I feel that one the next day.

Put the nursery upstairs. Who needs a StairMaster when they have a crying baby? I average about six baby- related trips up and down the stairs each day. If you can also convince yourself to rely on your upstairs bathroom, there's another six or so (don't thank me, thank Mother Nature for that one). Exhilarating, I tell you.

So there they are. My very best ways to lose baby weight without actually thinking about it. I know, I know, you’re welcome.

And for your viewing pleasure, here are some babies in action:

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Baby Hands


Baby parts are most likely the cutest things that God created. Except maybe those really little monkeys I just saw on National Geographic channel. They are so little and cute! I want one for a pet so I can carry her around in my pocket and take her out to do tricks for family and friends! But I digress.

I never really understood what was going through the minds of people that remark, “I just want to EAT her!” until I had a baby of my own. I really do understand the sentiment. I just want to nibble her little baby fingers off one by one and then start gnawing up her arm. If I’m not amply conveying sarcasm here, I still think it’s borderline sick to say that you want to eat any part of a child.

Which (somehow) brings me to baby hands. I can’t get enough of how cute Jane’s hands are. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught her with her hands clasped together, and for some reason it seems so unnatural for a baby to be able to do that. It’s one of the many scenes that will lead me to follow her every movement with the camera for twenty minutes. Gotta love the Parent Paparazzi.

I learned really quickly that baby hands are cute to look at, but are lethal weapons when the baby is within an arm’s reach of your body. When Jane was born, she had one pinky nail that was an inch long! Okay, maybe not an inch, but it was pretty spectacular. So right away I began to learn the pain and sadness that come with baby fingernails.

Though baby nails are paper thin, they are like shards of glass. And babies don’t understand that clutching onto skin HURTS. Jane got me so often with her little daggers in the first week. I had scratches all over my neck and chest and I had to put mittens over her hands to preserve my fragile visage. Then she started on her OWN face. The damage that was done under her eyes and jaw line made me feel like an unfit parent.

Another baby body part that needs to be mentioned is the baby bottom. Yet another baby body part that is really cute until you get too close one time. Hah, just kidding. But really.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Budget Smudget


The Husband and I took a giant hit to the cash flow when the child arrived. Though we are still using diapers that were given as gifts at the shower and we have enough hand- me- downs to dress an army, we no longer have the luxury of two salaries to pay the bills. And since the Hub just started a new job, what’s coming in is depleted after paying for the necessities.

The irony of all of this is that before having the baby I blogged about personal finance for a savings bank. And here we are, with little to no savings, trying to scrape up rent money. If only I had taken my own advice.

So since Jane arrived, I’ve come up with a few surefire ways to save money. And by save money I mean to successfully pay all of the bills and break even at the end of the month. By budgeting strategies will work for people at any stage in life, not just those of us starting out with a little one in tow.

The Grocery Bill. Don’t go to the store hungry. Plan meals. Buy things on sale only if they are cheaper than the cheapest item of its kind. A lot of times, ACME brand will be ten for ten when something else is .89. If you HAVE To have Skippy brand creamy peanut butter, fine. Just make up for it by buying a store brand of something else.

Stay IN. We have enjoyed a lot of time here at home with friends since the baby came. It’s less stressful since we don’t have to pack her up to leave and listen to her cry the whole time we’re out. And by we (let’s be honest) I mean I’ll be listening to her cry while I’m bouncing her around the restaurant lobby.

A lot of times we take turns going out for a drink or two after dinner with a friend instead of going out for dinner with each other. It saves a lot of money and gives us time to talk crap on each other. Juuuuuust kidding.

Use Your Asssssets. This one’s more for the ladies. But I guess if you’re a guy with really smooth game and a knack for catching a Sugar Mama, it might work for you, too. A few weekends ago the girls and I managed to go out for dinner and drinks without paying a DIME of the tab. This can all be attributed to a certain friend that just so happens to work at a high- end spa. It’s really all about whom you know. You better believe that I’ll be dragging her along every time I go out around here.

Sacrifice your Vice. As stated previously in this blog, I love TV. We recently canceled our cable (EEK) and got an antenna and converter box. It’s really not bad. We get the major networks, and I can still watch Judge Joe Brown and The View during the day. And it’s FREE. (Why didn’t we think of this before?!) This could be equated to any number of habits, like renting movies on Demand or shopping for new duds for every occasion outside of your living room.

So I’ll leave it at that. Tight budgets suck. But credit card debt sucks even more.

The Husband is always talking about how Jane will pay our tab once she becomes the tennis star that she is meant to be. Or maybe we’ll mold her into a triple threat child star and embezzle her funds Gary Coleman style. All I know is, she sure as heck better pay my nursing home bill. And come and visit me a few times a month if she knows what’s good for her.